The Four Tales

by Rebecca Reddell

  He nodded. “Please tell me about your misgivings.”

  “Diolch, Chief Constable. My stepmother will have full access to the royal spending accounts. Sybelle already has her own spending account and usually overspends. This opens up a whole new set of opportunities to her. She will be in charge of everything and will have veto powers until I turn eighteen and can step into the role.”

  He was writing everything down! She took a deep breath.

  “Sybelle also has her own agendas she wants to push, and this will give her an unobstructed ear of the Prime Minister. She isn’t as nice as everyone thinks. She was there that night. She could have planned everything, and she knows where my room is and could have hidden the knife before the screaming charade.”

  The chief continued to write, and Wren felt so relieved she wanted to cry. It was the first time in a while someone was actually hearing her and listening to her.

  “My stepmother doesn’t like me. She never has. I know everyone thinks she does, but trust me, she doesn’t. This would solve several problems for her at once. I know it sounds childish and immature for me to bring up her dislike of me, but I want you to know I’m being sincere in my concerns.”

  Nodding, he finished making notes and looked up at her. His eyes were craggy and stoic. The chief constable didn’t look as if he believed what she was saying, but he had listened.

  “I understand your concerns, Princess. I appreciate your time and cooperation. I know this took a lot longer than you expected, and I apologize. I’m going to add the details to your previous statement and have Officer Arwell bring it to you to sign.”

  Officer Arwell opened the door with a water bottle in her hand. “I got the water. I’m sorry it took me so long. I had to go to the second floor to find water. This floor had already run out. Do you want anything else?”

  “No, thank you,” Wren told her and took the bottle.

  “Officer, will you please type these notes up and give a copy to the princess, so she can sign them?”

  “Yes! I would like to help. I think Officer Dylan is finished with the queen. She looks lovely. You look lovely too, Princess Wren. I think you both have –”

  “Officer Arwell,” the chief interrupted.

  “Oh,” the officer put a hand to her mouth. She held up the papers with raised brows and a smile. “Mae’n ddrwg gen i,” she said and slipped out the door.

  “I apologize. Officer Brady is off today, or I would have assigned her to you instead. Officer Arwell is a wonderful officer, but she is a bit royal crazed.”

  “It’s perfectly fine. I really appreciate you helping to curb her enthusiasm.”

  “My pleasure, Princess. We’ll take everything you have said into consideration as we continue our investigation.”

  “Thank you. May I ask, when will we be able to return to our rooms?”

  “As soon as we are able to conclude our immediate initial investigation. We may need to review the scenes at some point. I know this is very uncomfortable for you, and I apologize. The Prime Minister has already been in contact, and I’m to assure you we are going to make every effort to find the killer.”

  “Chief Constable Hector, I appreciate all you’re doing. I know your job won’t be easy, and I want you to know you have my full support.”

  “Diolch, Princess Wren,” he said, as he held the door open for her to pass through.

  Instead, she held up her hand to stop him from allowing her to exit. “I have a few questions, if you don’t mind?”

  Brows raised, the chief nodded before closing the door once more.

  “Have you been able to determine if the knife in my room is indeed the weapon used against my father?”

  “At this time, I can only confirm that it fits the description of the murder weapon.”

  “Was the blood my father’s?”

  “We’re waiting for the results to come back from the lab. We’ve put a rush on it, of course, but we have to wait for the clogs in the wheel to turn.”

  “I understand. Do you know if the medical examiner has confirmed how my father died?”

  “What do you mean, Princess?”

  “Well, there was a pillow over his face when I entered the bedroom. I know he was stabbed, but I wanted to know if he’d been suffocated first.”

  Clearing his throat, the chief crossed his arms. “We are waiting on the full report, Princess. We will let you know the results once we are aware. The ME is determining what happened even as we speak.”

  “I see. I just want to know what happened. Please keep me updated,” Wren made the plea once more.

  “Of course,” the chief said.

  He opened the door for her once more and stood back to allow her to pass in front of him. There, waiting by the front desk, was her stepmother. The woman had a compact mirror in her hand and was smoothing down her perfect hair. Sighing, Wren wanted to shout at everyone to look.

  See what a vain, egotistical woman she is! She can’t go two seconds without checking her reflection!

  Wren knew this wouldn’t help her case. However, she wanted everyone to see her stepmother for who she really is. Crossing her arms, she waited for Sybelle to notice her.

  “Princess,” the chief spoke in a low voice at her side. She thought he’d already left.

  “Yes?” she asked.

  “Your lawyer called to ensure we’re taking very good care of you, and I let him know, we aren’t planning on arresting you anytime soon. I hope you know we’re going to handle this with complete professionalism. We won’t be arresting the princess on anything short of a confession.”

  Frowning, Wren took her eyes off her stepmother and turned to him. She wasn’t sure if he was joking or not. His straight-faced look didn’t indicate he was.

  “Chief Constable, I’m not a murderer. My father meant a lot to me. Please take that into consideration while you’re working on this investigation. I do want the real culprit caught.”

  “I will,” he told her and bowed before he walked away.

  Feeling uncertain now of his convictions, Wren watched him leave before turning to Sybelle. The woman was now staring at her with a raised brow. She waved Wren over. Sighing, Wren shoved her shoulders back and walked to Sybelle’s side.

  “This is an outrageous amount of time to go over the facts we already presented the previous day. It’s despicable that they’re wasting our time like this. We have a funeral to plan, and I’m not happy to have to prepare to put my husband to rest.”

  “I’m sure you’re heartbroken over it,” Wren muttered.

  “Esgusodwch fi?” Sybelle stopped ranting in a whisper and put her full attention on Wren.

  “You’re just worried they’ll start to suspect you.”

  “I would appreciate if you would refrain from throwing around false accusations, Wren. Otherwise, I’ll start talking about the knife under your bed. How can you explain that?”

  “You put it there!”

  Sybelle sighed and put on a proper smile, complete with a tight jaw. “We are going to end this current conversation. Mr. Gabriel called me and said his office has contacted the funeral home, florist, and the priest. They have it all under control.”

  Her phone started to ring. She pulled it out of her purse. “I need to take this, Wren. I’ll be right back to sign those papers.”

  Wren nodded and leaned against the counter. The officer behind her was tapping away on her computer. Waiting, Wren tried to stand as straight as she could.

  Princesses don’t slouch, cross their arms in public, or twist their legs at odd angles. She could hear her father’s voice in her ear.

  Stand straight with your shoulders back, her father’s voice whispered in her ear. Be proud of your status and heritage. You’re the next generation of royals. I need you to be ready to take over for me.

  “Princess?” Mr. Gabriel came to the top of the stairs and called to her.

  “Mr. Gabriel, it’s good to see you.”

  “I apologize.
I had hoped to get here sooner, but I was making some final arrangements for the funeral and delegating, and by the time I started out here, traffic was heavier. What did I miss? Is Queen Sybelle here?”

  “She had a phone call,” Wren told him and pointed in the direction her stepmother had gone. She’d thought the phone call was Mr. Gabriel and now wondered who it could be.

  He nodded and looked in the direction she’d indicated.

  “Did you already go over your statements and sign them?” He leaned one elbow onto the counter and faced her.

  “We were reinterviewed. Chief Constable Hector had me answer a few more questions. In fact, he asked me to walk through the whole evening once more.”

  “Really? Did he have the queen do that as well?”

  “I think so. We were in separate rooms, so I don’t know what she was asked.”

  A frown covered his face, and he stared off into space for a few minutes. “I want to talk to the chief.”

  “Okay,” Wren was confused.

  She watched as he asked the officer at the desk to alert the chief of his presence and his desire to speak with him. The woman nodded and left the desk. Five minutes later she reappeared with the chief constable behind her.

  “Mr. Gabriel,” the chief greeted him and extended a hand to shake.

  “Hello, Chief Constable. Do you have a moment to spare? I’d like to talk with you for a few minutes.”

  “Wrth gwrs,” he said and nodded. “Follow me.”

  “I’ll be right back, Princess,” Mr. Gabriel told her and followed the chief to his office. “Don’t sign anything until I return.”

  “Okay,” she said and watched him disappear.

  Pulling up her sleeves, Wren glanced around the station. She searched the direction her stepmother had disappeared down, but she didn’t see her in the hallway. Tapping a finger against her arm, she stood straighter.

  “Princess Wren, here is your statement. Please feel free to look over it before you sign. Where’s Queen Sybelle?” Officer Dylan reached out to hand her the paper in his hand. His eyes scanned the area for the queen.

  “She had a phone call. I’ll take it, if you want?”

  “I’ll leave it here on the desk,” he said. “Officer Caerwyn, here, can take yours when you finish.”

  “Diolch,” Wren said and set the paper on the counter. She started to read over the document, paying close attention to her answers.

  When she had finished, Sybelle still hadn’t returned and neither had Mr. Gabriel. Officer Caerwyn had moved to the left and was on a phone call. Wren looked down at the second level of the counter on the officer’s side. Her stepmother’s statement was there.

  Glancing around and seeing no one looking in her general direction, she stretched her hand down and grabbed the paper. Putting it on top of her own, she began to read the information her stepmother had shared with the police. The first question asked the queen to walk through the night’s activities.

  Q: What did you do on the day of the king’s murder? A: We attended a benefit for the new End Homelessness initiative. We arrived home in time for supper.

  Q: What did you have for supper? Did everyone eat the same things? A: Yes, we all ate the food our cook prepared. I believe we had pheasant with mashed potatoes and green beans. A salad was served first, of course.

  Q: What happened after you all ate? A: We retired to the library, as we often do. I decided to read a book. I’m in the middle of the Count of Monte Cristo, and my husband played the piano for us. I’m sure Wren took up drawing. She does that or reads most nights. I want to say she was working on a sketch of a tree she means to paint.

  Q: What was the relationship between the king and princess? A: Wren loved her father, of course, but I wouldn’t call them close. She’s never been happy with him for marrying me. I’m afraid she doesn’t like me very much.

  Wren snorted. She felt a frown taking over her face. Taking a quick sweep of the room, she noted she was still being unobserved. Ignoring the minor ache starting in her neck and back of her head, she continued to read.

  Q: Do you think she was angry with her father about his remarriage to you? A: Absolutely. I hate to say it, but everything he suggested after we were married was met with attitude and resistance. Being the princess, she wasn’t used to being told no. However, when I entered the picture, I insisted in order and routine. When we sent her away to school, she threw a fit.

  Q: Was her anger toward her father destructive? A: I honestly couldn’t say. Wren is a dear girl. She’s very smart and creative. I know she resented me and her father’s decision to send her away to school, but we felt it was for the best.

  Q: Why did you both feel it was for the best? A: We were afraid she would slip into a depression with the loss of her mother. Both of us were worried she’d have a harder time adjusting to change if she stayed at home.

  Q: So, she was still angry about the remarriage and relocation? A: I couldn’t say. Possibly.

  Q: Do you believe Princess Wren would be angry enough to murder her father? A: I would hope not! She couldn’t possibly have done such a thing!

  Q: She couldn’t or wouldn’t, Queen Sybelle? A: Either, both.

  Q: You don’t sound convinced. Are you worried she might have done it? A: Pause. I don’t think Wren would murder anyone, especially not her father.

  Q: What makes you hesitate? A: I suppose I’m thinking of the knife being found in her room. It has me worried. Yet, I really can’t picture Wren killing anyone. She’s not a bad child. Angry, but not evil.

  Wren couldn’t read anymore. She felt herself beginning to hyperventilate. Putting a hand to her chest, she changed to breathing through her nose and out through her mouth. Closing her eyes, she pictured her calm place.

  “Wren? Are you all right?” Sybelle’s voice broke through her breathing.

  No, I’m not all right! You did everything but convict me of murdering my father!

  Eyes open, Wren glared at her stepmother. Still inhaling and exhaling slowly, she tried not to allow her anger to kick her anxiety up further. Wringing her hands, she just stared over Sybelle’s shoulder.

  “Do you want me to get you some water, Wren?”

  When she didn’t answer, Sybelle waved at the officer behind the counter. “Can I get a glass of water here?” she called.

  A minute later, Wren had a cup of water shoved into her hand. Mr. Gabriel appeared by her side. “Princess? Are you all right?”

  He steered her toward an empty chair and helped her sit. “Drink,” he commanded.

  Everyone was gathering to watch her meltdown. If they didn’t think she was a murderer before, they were probably thinking it was a huge probability now.

  “Princess, what happened?”

  Wren shook her head and took a sip of water. Her heart was pounding, and she had a headache forming throughout her temples.

  “I would like to see the statements. I will look over them and have the queen and princess sign them. My office will return them to you. I want to get the princess home. Now,” Mr. Gabriel snapped orders and glared at the chief.

  “Officer Dylan?” the chief barked.

  “Yes, sir?”

  “I need the statements,” the chief said.

  “I handed the princess her own. It’s right here. Wait, I don’t see the queen’s. I know I set it here,” he muttered to himself and picked up the papers on the counter.

  “What do you mean, you lost the queen’s statement?” The chief went to the officer’s side to look for them.

  Wren watched them look for the statement. She saw the exact moment when they knew she’d been reading it. They exchanged a look, the chief separated Sybelle’s interview from hers. Both turned and looked at her. She met their gaze.

  “What’s going on?” Mr. Gabriel asked, looking from them to her.

  “It seems the princess was reading the queen’s statement,” the chief tattled.

  Mr. Gabriel swung his gaze to her. Wren knew he could rea
d the panic and pain in her eyes. He shook his head and turned back to the police.

  “I see. I will take both copies.”

  “It would be best if they signed here before leaving,” the chief countered.

  “Yes, I’m sure it would be, but I want to go over these with the princess and queen. They will not be answering any other questions without me present. Is that understood?”

  “Yes, Mr. Gabriel,” the chief growled.

  “Good. Princess, we’re going to go. Can you stand?”

  Her head was splitting. It felt as if it were literally coming apart. Eyeballs hurting, she felt as if she would throw up any moment. Swallowing, she couldn’t nod her head or even speak.

  “Princess?” Mr. Gabriel’s voice was far away.

  “Wren? What’s wrong with you? Do you have a headache?” Sybelle’s screech was in her left ear.

  Hunching over, Wren tried not to cry. She felt embarrassed. The agony wasn’t receding. She knew from experience this headache wasn’t going to stop anytime soon.

  “I’m taking her home. Queen Sybelle, let’s go. Chief, I’ll be in touch.”

  Wren didn’t hear the rest. Mr. Gabriel bent over and picked her up. Head swimming, she closed her eyes and rested her head against his soft, pleated coat. The cameras outside the station didn’t register with her as they left.

  Mr. Gabriel tucked her in the back of the limo while her stepmother got in on the other side. The flashes penetrated Wren’s lids, and she kept her eyes closed.

  “Please take a step back,” Mr. Gilbert warned the reporters.

  “What’s wrong with the princess?”

  “Do you know who the killer is?”

  “What did you learn inside the station?”

  “Do the police have any suspects?”

  The questions were shouted, but the door shutting stifled any others she might overhear.

  “Driver, take us home,” Queen Sybelle directed.

  The car began to move forward, and Wren rested her head on the seat. No one said a word on the ride home, and Wren blocked out the quiet noise of the drive. Within a few miles, she started to nod off. The ache dulled as she dropped off into darkness.