“What did you collect?” he questioned, his voice going up.
“Everything about the family, that day, the staff, the guards, everything.”
“How many staff members do they have?”
“At least twenty, all the time. They hire extra as needed for special events and parties. They have an average of one hundred men and women in the king’s guard, now the queen’s guard. The captain is Sinclair Ward, and he’s in charge.”
“Seriously? That’s a lot of people.”
“The king took giving people jobs very earnestly. Anyone who works directly for him is given the opportunity to have their college education fully paid for, and he sets up a small trust for their families. He gives amazing benefits and pays well.”
“Did you find this all out from your research?”
“I did. Talking to the servants is a real eye-opener. Although, I’m sure it doesn’t discount one of them from being the murderer, if he or she was brought in as a spy or from some nefarious purpose.”
“You just can’t find out if there is one?” Hunter speculated.
“Not yet,” the chief replied. “I’ve been over those files three times now. I requestioned the staff and the guards. I’ve had my men look through to give it fresh eyes, but they can’t figure it out either.”
“Basically, everyone loved the king?”
“That’s the word on the street, and they’re sticking to it.”
Hunter sighed and nodded. “Have you figured out who the assassin is then?”
“His prints are in our system and lead us to believe he is Grumley Roderick. Petty thief, amateur racketeer, and the suspicion of mob activity. We can’t find any other deaths connected to his name.”
“Interesting,” Hunter added. “Has the second assassin been found?”
“No trace of him. Since we don’t know who he is or what he looked like, we can’t continue the search blind. No one saw him enter the museum, and no one saw him leave it. He’s definitely a professional because there weren’t any prints or DNA left behind in the room we suspected he shot from.”
“Whoever is doing this knows how to plan.”
“I know. Which makes me skeptical that the princess or queen know how to do it.”
“True, but they have people to do those things for them.”
“Good point. However, I’m not going to go after either without solid proof and a lot of it.”
“Understood. Can I head to this conference room then? I’d like to get started.”
“Of course,” the chief told him and stood. “The background checks are all clean.”
He led the PI out of his office and turned right down a hallway. They passed the front desks and several closed doors. Turning down another hallway, the chief opened a door on the left.
Inside, PI Hunter found a long table with the papers piled on top. Chairs crowded around the lengthy wooden slab. The walls were painted off-white. Windows lined the wall across from them and showed the sunlight streaming through. More windows lined the wall to the right of the door, but these looked out into the hallway.
“Will this be comfortable enough for you?”
“Yes, it will. Thank you.”
“Thank you,” Chief Constable said. “If you can shine any light on this mystery, we’ll be thrilled to have you.”
“Well, I aim to please,” Hunter told him and gave a cocky smile before sauntering into the room and grabbing the chair at the end of the table.
“I’ll have Officer Dylan bring you more coffee,” he added.
Hunter nodded and picked up the nearest file. “Thanks,” he muttered as his eyes scanned the first page.
The chief nodded and closed the door. Hunter didn’t notice him leaving, he had Princess Wren’s file in front of him. Looking over the first page, he recognized the stats he already knew.
Birth date, schools, parents, and basic appearance. He perused it and pictured Princess Wren Snow. The stats didn’t do her justice. Black hair and blue eyes, it stated. Five feet, seven inches and one hundred twenty pounds.
Her eyes weren’t just blue. They were grey-blue. Steel enhanced and only ringed with the softer, darker blue color. They had sparked and darkened at different times, and he’d exaggerated his attitude in order to see them change.
Her hair wasn’t just black either. It held a blue tint to it in certain lights. It waved over her shoulder and was longer than the last picture he’d seen of her indicated. Then again, it was down instead of up or pulled back in some way.
She was tall enough, shorter than him by five inches or so. Her outfit had been normal. He thought that surprised him the most. Tailored jeans and a royal blue blouse tucked into them. They’d definitely brought out the blue in her eyes.
“You’re hiding something,” he muttered to the image in his head. “I don’t know what it is, but I’m betting you have several secrets.”
He watched as her image blurred before his eyes, and he shook his head. Rubbing his face, he tucked back into the work in front of him. Reading the statements, he found the princess being even more blunt in her concerns about the queen’s culpability to the king’s murder.
There was no mention of her accusations at her school. In fact, he’d found that out by visiting the school himself the day after his family had agreed to take the case. He’d wanted unbiased opinions of the princess before beginning. What he’d found had been enlightening.
Today, she’d been defensive and dismissive about what had happened at the school. However, he didn’t think she’d been honest with him. Although she’d asked what the school had to do with her father’s death, Hunter hadn’t brought it up because of any bearing it had but because he wanted to get a reaction from her.
It had been minimal, but he’d seen the stress in her eyes. Her clenched fists and curt tone told him something as well. This was a subject the princess didn’t appreciate.
“But why?” he asked, aloud.
There was a knock on the door, and Officer Dylan came through it right afterward. He was carrying a tray of coffee. Hunter took a stand and reached for the tray.
“I’ve got it, sir. Would you like it here?” He indicated a clear space on the table.
“Sure, thanks. I see you brought a whole pot.”
“I didn’t know how long you’d be here. If you want another pot made, just let me know. I’m in my office this evening.”
“Officer Dylan?”
“Yes, sir?” The officer had to be around the same age as Hunter, and the respectful title made him cringe a bit.
“You can feel free to call me Hunter.”
“Of course,” the officer replied.
“I wondered if I could ask you a couple of questions about the king’s murder. You were there, correct?”
“I was,” he said.
“What was your impression of the princess and the queen at that time?”
“Well,” he clasped his hands behind his back and looked up at the ceiling as he thought, “distraught is the closest word I can come to, Hunter. The queen looked very shaken, and the princess was angry but terrified. She believed the queen was framing her.”
“Did this news upset the queen?”
“She seemed to take it in stride.”
“Really?”
“Yes, she did. I don’t think Queen Sybelle took Princess Wren’s words to heart. I watched the queen at one point, and she just seemed sad.”
“Anything else you can recall?”
“No, not especially. Except, I know the guards locked the princess up in her room when they found the knife. Captain Ward confessed to me when I interviewed him that it was for the princess’s own good. He seemed to think she’d get hurt or something. I couldn’t get him to clarify the point.”
“He did? Well, that’s news. He locked her in her room? Where the knife was found?”
“Yes, he did.”
“Why would he do that? He must have known the crime scene would have been compromised?” Hunte
r’s eyes widened at this confession, and he shook his head.
“He might not have thought about it at the time. It seems to me he and the others are devoted to the princess.”
“What about to the queen?”
“They are loyal, of course, but I suspect the princess is considered of higher value. That probably doesn’t make any sense.”
“No, I see what you’re saying. Anything else?”
“I can’t think of anything,” Officer Dylan said, with a shake of his head.
“If you do, let me know.” He handed the officer a card before pouring himself a cup of coffee.
The officer nodded and left the room, closing the door behind him. Hunter added sugar and milk, stirring the coffee, and taking a tentative sip. He thought about Princess Wren again. More beautiful in person than in the papers, and if he was correct, she was full of secrets and fears. There had to be more than the reasons she gave about why she suspected the queen.
“I’m going to have to go there and interview everyone. I need a firsthand look at how they treat each other. I need to know their secrets.” Talking to himself, he looked at the papers on the table.
Sighing, he took his seat again and got to work.
17
“Hello?” Wren sat up in bed and looked around the room. The clink-clank of rain and flash of lightning outside the windows lit up the whole room as another roll of thunder crashed through.
Shivering, she pulled the covers higher and relaxed onto her pillow once again. The rumble of echoing thunder and beating rain made it difficult for her to shut her eyes. Recalling her supper with Sybelle, she remembered the words she'd used to describe the private detective.
“He's cocky and disrespectful. I don't know if he will actually find out anything. I suppose we can try him, but I may discuss with Mr. Gabriel about his attitude.”
Watching her stepmother take a sip of water and then hide her lips behind her napkin, gave Wren the impression Sybelle was laughing at her.
BOOM!
Jerking, Wren sat up in bed and looked around once more.
Why was she under the impression of being watched? Squinting and staring into the shadows, she tried to pick out a shape. Nothing stood out in the dark. Even as her eyes adjusted, and the storm noise continued, with lightning giving off bright flashes of light, her eyes couldn't pick up anything.
Imagination.
Since her father's death, she had been seeing and hearing things more often. Right before bed, she had found apple cores inside her trash can. Disgusted, she had called for Ellie to come and remove them. Her best friend had looked at her strangely and asked how the cores had gotten there.
“Nid wyf yn gwybod, Ellie. I don't like apples. Someone put them there on purpose.”
She wasn't sure if Ellie believed her or not, and it was becoming more difficult to look at her friend and the others who had worked in the house forever, and not believe one of them was involved in her father's murder.
Murder.
The word sounded as large and loud as a clap of thunder.
A long, drawn-out squeak sounded nearby. The sound pulsated through Wren. She knew it wasn't the thunder, but a sound from inside the house. It happened again.
The sound of footfalls seemed close.
Wren slid out of bed. Her cold feet muffled on the carpet. She pulled her robe off the end of her bed and slipped her arms through the sleeves.
A crash had her jerking, jumping into the air, Wren felt her heart pick up speed and slam repeatedly against her chest. Swallowing, she heard the distant echo of the thunder.
No other sound came through. Searching the room, she tried to spy what had caused the sounds. Maybe she was just imagining it all. The storm probably was setting her on edge.
Or perhaps a servant was up and about, or Sybelle had awakened. There were a few different explanations for what was going on here.
The creak resounding through the hallway. Sucking in a breath, Wren dashed for her door. Hand on the knob, she was turning it in her palm when she heard another sound.
Flying backward, she landed on her behind. Two hands had thrown her backward but disappeared into the dark again.
Why didn't I turn on the light?
Thunder lit the room, a black shadow stood outlined near her and the door.
“WHO ARE YOU?”
The shadow leaped at the door and had it open before she could stand. Following, she looked into the black hallway and made out the shadow running in the direction of the front of the house. She stopped at the corner, seeing a second shadow join the first one, having just come from the other end of the hall.
“Help! Help! Guards!”
Where are they?
“Guards!”
“Ooof!” Slamming into the wall, Wren watched as two more bodies flew past her. They headed in the same direction as the other two. However, they had come in the direction of the queen’s room.
“Sybelle!”
Running, Wren caught the corner and bumped into another body.
“Umpf!”
Both staggered backward.
“Wren?”
“Sybelle?”
“What's going on? I heard you shouting for the guards? Where are they? What's happened?” The echo of thunder ended Sybelle's rambling questions.
“I don't know. I thought they'd be here. I called, but no one came.”
Wren felt her stepmother's hand squeezing her own. Fingers mashed together and started to hurt. Swallowing, Wren looked up and down the hallway. A light peeked from Sybelle's open doorway and coated the hall with a dim glow from around the corner.
Looking around, Wren shuddered.
“There were two men. They were in my room. They ran out, and as I called for guards, two more men came from this direction. Where are the guards?”
Both trembling, Wren returned Sybelle's death grip and glanced back and forth.
“The lights,” Wren said, reaching for the wall and trying to find a switch.
“I already tried,” Sybelle told her, still holding onto her hand. “They aren’t working.”
Wren flicked the switch and found out Sybelle was right. They weren’t turning on. Panicked, she looked back down the hall. “I should have grabbed a flashlight,” she said.
“Let's go in my room and call down. I don't think we should wander around with four men loose in the house. Come on.”
Her light worked, at least. The door closed behind them, Wren settled herself at the end of Sybelle's blue bedspread and listened as she picked up the phone to call the guard quarters.
The phone rang and rang with no one to pick up. The same occurred when she tried the servant line. The thunder and lightning shook the room. The lights flickered on and off before going out, and the phone died.
“EEEEE!” Wren jumped off the bed.
“AHHH!” Sybelle dropped the phone.
Another clap of thunder shook the floor.
“Wren?”
“Wh-at?”
“I think we may need to investigate. Someone should have picked up.”
“What if they're dead?”
“Wren!” She didn't contradict her. They stood still in the darkness waiting for the other to make the first move.
“Maybe we should stay here?” Wren suggested.
“I would like that, but what if they're hurt? We have to find someone to help us. I’ll try to find my flashlight,” the queen added.
“EEEEEEEEEEE!” They both screamed and reached for the other.
Minutes passed before they released their grip on the other. Pulling back, Wren shivered. Her eyes were adjusting to the dark, and she could see Sybelle’s outline in the black.
“Do you think you can find the flashlight?”
“Yes, there's one beside my bed. I'll look.” Sybelle let go of her hand, and Wren followed her shadow. “Here! Got it!”
The beam lit up the room, and Wren blinked.
Sybelle directed the light to the floor. “Ok
ay, let's go see what's going on.”
Sneaking out of the room, they walked along the right wall all the way to the stairs. Sybelle led the way with the flashlight blinding all corners, nooks, and crannies.
Stopping at the top of the stairs, Sybelle shined the light below. All appeared normal. Dark but normal. Starting down the steps, both clung to the railing and took one stair at a time.
“Let's go to the kitchen first,” Sybelle whispered, as they reached the bottom.
Wren nodded when the flashlight turned her way. The thunder shook, and both jumped. Wren tripped as she jerked backward, and Sybelle fell with her.
“Oo-mf!” Wren groaned when Sybelle's arm slammed into her stomach and struck a rib. Head banging against the floor, silver stars, and black dots danced before her eyes, and the flashlight spun around and around and around.
“What happened?” Sybelle moaned.
“I think I tripped over something. My foot caught when I jumped.” Grabbing the flashlight as it rolled to a stop, Wren sat up. Sybelle followed and moved away from Wren.
Wren screamed and dropped the flashlight.
“Oh, my saints!” Sybelle cried out.
The flashlight beams spun across the walls and ceiling and finally landed on the body of Captain Ward.
18
“Captain Ward!” Wren cried and fell to her knees at his side. “Captain?” She shook his shoulder and waited for a response. There wasn’t one.
“Is he dead?” Sybelle asked, her hand fisted at her mouth.
Checking his pulse, Wren shook her head. “No,” she said, “I can feel his heartbeat. He’s definitely breathing.”
“What happened down here?” the queen whispered.
“I don’t know,” Wren shook her head and let her hand rest on the captain’s shoulder.
“Are they still here? Could one of them be in the house?” Sybelle’s whisper was terrified.
Swallowing, Wren shook her hand. She cast the light over the rest of the entryway, including the front doors. The illumination found another body by the front door, another in the doorway across the expansive space covering the entryway, and a third half in and out of the dining room.
“Oh, no,” Wren whispered, as Sybelle whimpered from above her.
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