The Four Tales

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The Four Tales Page 65

by Rebecca Reddell


  “I’ve been doing both. It’s difficult to sleep when your house is being broken into and random people are running all over the place.”

  “You might have a point.”

  Wren rolled her eyes and leaned her head against the back of the couch. “So, basically, I don’t know anything. There’s a chance Sybelle could be involved, and there’s just as great of a chance that she’s not. Since the universe hates me, I’m sure she’s innocent.”

  “You know, I’m not sure how to respond to that. However, I can say, it will be all right. I have faith in the constable and the PI. Now, would you like me to get anything for you?”

  “No.” Wren shook her head. “I would love some company though. Do you have time to stay?”

  “Yes, I can. What would you like to do?”

  “Search Mrs. Griffith’s room?”

  “Wren, no. We aren’t going to do that.”

  “What if she—”

  “No. Now, do you want to watch a movie or see what’s on tv? You haven’t watched tv in a very long time. It might be good for you to veg out.”

  Wren shrugged. Rubbing her forehead, she nodded. “Sure. Why not?”

  “Headache?”

  “A little, but nothing I can’t handle.”

  “Let’s go downstairs then. We can hang out in the all-purpose room, right?”

  “I think so. There’s the green room if we can’t.”

  Ellie paused at the door. “I forgot about the green room. It does have a tv, doesn’t it?”

  Wren nodded.

  “Let’s go to the green room,” she said, leading Wren out of the room and down the hall.

  Even though Ellie was helping to distract her, Wren could feel her headache continue to persist. She also wished Ellie would have agreed to search Mrs. Griffith’s room. She wanted to find out what the maid knew.

  However, the longer she thought about it, the likelier it was Mrs. Griffith didn’t know anything and hadn’t done anything.

  So, I get to sit around and watch tv and not think about who might be trying to kill me or frame me or both. That’s great.

  “Do you want me to make some popcorn while you pick a movie?”

  “Sure,” Wren agreed. Sighing, she took a seat on the emerald and gold sofa and turned on the tv.

  “I’ll be right back,” Ellie told her, before backing out the door.

  Watching the channels flip by, Wren felt a sharp pain stab through her head. Letting out a whimper, she dropped the beeper and put a hand to her head.

  Not again, she thought.

  Another sharp pain echoed throughout her whole head. Gasping, she grasped both sides of her head. It had been a few days since she’d had one this bad. The night before the intruders had come.

  Taking deep breaths, she waited for the excruciating pain to pass. It always did after a few minutes. Sometimes it took longer than others, but it was always over in a short amount of time.

  She’d gone to the doctor when they’d first started coming on at thirteen. They couldn’t find anything wrong with her. The doctors had said it was a migraine. There hadn’t been any evidence of tumors or pinched nerves, and they had ruled out aneurism. It was just something she had to live with.

  The medication they gave her didn’t work. The headaches still came, but the meds just made her feel drowsy and slow. If she stayed still and let them run their course, they usually ended after a while.

  “Finally,” she whispered, sitting back up. The headache had subsided, and the sharp pains were at an end.

  “Popcorn,” Ellie announced, as she entered the room.

  The salty, popped corn smell came in with her, and Wren took a deep breath and smiled.

  “Great timing,” Wren told her.

  “You haven’t picked a movie?”

  “No. I was waiting for you. What do you feel in the mood for?”

  Ellie’s eyes lit up. “Well, there’s movie out I’ve been wanting to watch but haven’t had time for. School has been messing up my time. Anyway, I think it just came out on video. Can we watch it?”

  “Sure, what is it?”

  “Black Panther. Have you heard of it?”

  “Have I been living in a barrel? Yes, I’ve heard of it! I’m all for watching Black Panther. I heard it was fantastic.”

  “Have you watched all of the Marvel movies then?” Ellie asked as she settled onto the sofa and grabbed a handful of popcorn.

  “I love their movies. They’re the only thing I ever got into at school. One of the girls there loved them and got me hooked. We’d watch them at night when we were supposed to be sleeping.”

  “Yeah? Who was your friend? I’ve never heard you mention her.” Ellie turned to look at Wren as she munched on her popcorn.

  Wren froze mid-reach for the popcorn bowl. Grabbing a handful, she shrugged. “It wasn’t anyone special. She only stayed for a semester, and we didn’t stay in touch.”

  Ellie continued to watch her and didn’t say anything. Wren picked up the remote and navigated it to the movies. She found Black Panther at the top and pushed play while avoiding eye contact.

  “You’ve never mentioned her,” Ellie said, softly.

  “It’s starting,” Wren said, ignoring her words.

  Taking the hint, Ellie turned to watch the opening credits. The music poured through the speakers, and Wren relaxed into the cushions. She didn’t talk about her time at school or about her friend. She’d made a promise a long time ago, and she planned to keep it.

  Crunching on the popcorn, she smiled at Ellie. “This is going to be good,” she said.

  Ellie smiled at her and nodded. Chewing a handful of popcorn, Wren didn’t ask any more questions. Instead, she pulled her legs up and sat criss-cross with the bowl of popcorn on a pillow between them.

  Knowing she couldn’t do anything else, Wren focused on the movie and pushed everything out of her mind. Tonight, she was safe.

  Hunter sat on his couch, drinking iced tea, and picturing the princess in his mind. She’d been standing at the window staring down at him as if she was pleading with him to find the answers. He needed to find those answers.

  Pulling out his notepad, he began to look over the key points in the case that he’d written down. Most of them he knew by heart.

  First, the king had been murdered between 2:00 am and 3:30 am based on the evidence and medical examiner’s report. Second, the murder weapon was a long bladed, kitchen knife that was found underneath the princess’s bed. Third, no fingerprints were found on the weapon. Fourth, typical fingerprints were found in the king’s bedroom and surrounding areas. Fifth, the queen and princess stood to gain from the king’s death.

  Sighing, Hunter shook his head. The police were at a standstill until new information could be found. The various people injured at the first shooting indicated random selection, but the PI wondered if they really were random targets.

  Finding another paper in his file with notes from the assassination attempt at the cemetery, he pulled it out and perused the names. Three people had minor injuries from a bullet grazing them. Ten had minor injuries from incidents occurring while they’d ran away. Only one had a significant wound: Father Henry Grigor. The principal figure of the all-girl’s private school.

  He reached for his laptop and opened it. Waiting for it to load, he decided to learn a little more about the man running the school. Accessing the school’s website, he reviewed the academics, teachers’ profiles, and the reviews concerning the school before turning to the man in question.

  The father gave his spiel concerning the learning environment of the school before giving a bit of his own background. He had been a teacher himself before securing the role of Head Master at Westridge All Girl’s Academy.

  “Hmm,” Hunter muttered to himself before trying to find the father through other means. However, the gentleman in question had no social media sites, and he’d only been in three articles concerning the progress and high-achieving academic scores for testing.<
br />
  Westridge was considered one of the top-notch schools in the area. Many families from other countries, including the United States, were eager to put their children on the arm-length long waiting list.

  “Prominent families and tuition to support their high-standards,” Hunter whispered, shaking his head. “The only connection he has to the royal family is Princess Wren. However, at least thirteen other people were harmed as well in the shooting. So, it could be coincidental that the father got hit harder or not.”

  There was only one way to find out. He’d have to go visit the school himself. He’d also call on the status of the father in the morning.

  “One more box to check off, and if it ends without further lead, I’ll have to sniff out a new one.” Sighing, he shut down his computer and picked up his notebook once more.

  Making a few notes, Hunter stuck the pen in his mouth and reviewed what he’d already written. First, he’d check on the father in the morning. Second, he’d visit the school and talk to the teachers and students about the father. Third, he’d head back to the palace to walk through what might have happened last night.

  “Four people break into the palace, and no one dies. Their main point was to plant evidence on the princess. Why? If these were more assassins hired by the same person, why shoot at them one day and plant evidence the next?”

  He had a lot of questions, and he hoped in the morning to get more answers. Ones that helped make sense of the chaos surrounding this case.

  Pushing himself off the couch, Hunter decided to call it a night. He went to bed wondering how much longer the queen and princess would be safe, if he didn’t solve this case.

  Waking with his alarm, Hunter checked the time and switched off the annoying buzz. 0600, the clock read. Stretching his arms above his head, he sat up in bed. Within a half-hour, he completed his morning workout and took a shower. He popped two organic, non-GMO, gluten-free waffles into his toaster before making his morning shake.

  Making a face and licking his lips, he gulped down the shake he prepared from vanilla whey protein powder, spinach, Greek yogurt, mixed berries, and flaxseed. He didn’t mind the shakes. They didn’t really taste bad, but he wasn’t a fan of spinach and knowing it was in the drink always made him wince.

  Eating the waffles with banana and organic peanut butter between them, he wrapped it in a paper towel and opened up the contacts on his phone. Chewing, he dialed the constable’s number.

  “Chief,” he spit out, after swallowing, when the constable answered his phone.

  “Yes? Who’s this?”

  “Hunter, sir. I was calling to see if you could give me any information on the status of Father Henry Grigor.”

  There was a shuffling noise, and then, “He’s still in ICU and unconscious. We have a guard posted there, and the officer will call us when there’s a change in his condition. Why? Have you found out anything?”

  “No, sir. Still searching on my end. I thought I’d visit the school and see what I can find out about the father. I wondered if there was any connection between him and the first shooter.”

  “I don’t know how there could be. It seems as if most of the bullets were directed at where the queen and princess stood. Captain Ward said they would have been hit a few different times, if they hadn’t been on the move as soon as the shots were heard.”

  “Huh,” Hunter murmured.

  “Those who were hit were running in the same direction as the queen and princess. It appeared as if the assassin wasn’t a very good shot.”

  “Why would he be hired if he couldn’t fire a gun straight?”

  “Probably made his resume seem greater than it was. The second shooter had a better aim, is still unaccounted for, and we have no leads on him. He almost hit Princess Wren. We have people with them around the clock. The queen called this morning to tell me they have a meeting set up with the Prime Minister next week.”

  “Doesn’t she know it’s a bad idea to leave the house?”

  “Yes, she’s aware. However, this is a meeting of the board. It’s the reading of the will. They’ve had to postpone it because of the two shootings, and she said they couldn’t allow it to wait any longer. The will has to be read within the first 30 days of the king’s passing.”

  “Well, can the PM just visit them?”

  “Apparently, no. I don’t understand all the ceremonial standing of the royal family, but it has to take place in his offices. Numerous people have to attend.”

  “Gotcha,” Hunter said.

  “Have you heard the news this morning?” The chief’s voice went down an octave, and Hunter didn’t think he’d ever heard the man sound so tired.

  “No, what is it?”

  “The news somehow got ahold of the intruders entering the palace, and they know about the clothes that were planted. People know the princess’s birthday is in a few months, and several are leading with stories about the possibility of an inside job.”

  “You mean they’re accusing Princess Wren or Queen Sybelle?”

  “Indirectly, they seem to be targeting the princess. However, it’s not a blatant pointed finger, but the news seems to know more than we want them to know.”

  “Great. Makes our jobs harder, and it doesn’t do well for Princess Wren’s standing in the community as a royal figure.”

  “No, it doesn’t. Queen Sybelle had a few choice things to say about that as well. She believes the leak came from one of my men. I assured her it didn’t, but she refused to listen to my arguments. To be honest, Hunter, I believe there’s someone on the inside.”

  “Heaving a deep breath, Hunter said, “It’s a possibility. I was starting to wonder about that last night. I’ll touch base at the school and head to the palace to follow-up on a few questions I have about the break-in. I’ll check in with you later.”

  “Thanks, Hunter. I’ll have an officer let you know if the father wakes up.”

  “Thanks,” Hunter hung up and took another bite of his waffle sandwich.

  Grabbing his leather satchel, with his notepads and computer tucked inside, Hunter left his home and locked the door. Inside the car, he put the bag in the back and climbed into the driver’s seat. Sitting for a moment as the engine rumbled, he looked up at his house.

  Again, he thought about the other day when Princess Wren had watched him leave the palace. Her gaze tore into him. He could feel it scrutinizing him now and asking him to help her. If the news was already making connections to the princess being a murderer, he would certainly have his work cut out for him.

  Once a rumor of that nature got started, it was difficult to take it back or ever recover from it. Taking a deep breath, Hunter shifted into reverse and backed from his driveway. The school was about three hours away. He looked at the clock and found 0730. He’d arrive there before lunch.

  Nodding, he shifted again and took off down his street. Of course, lunch time might be a great time to interview people. They were less guarded if they were hungry. He hoped that was the case anyway.

  24

  Wren was still awake. The digital clock beside her showed 3:00 am. She couldn’t sleep. Every movement, every creak, every soft push of wind against her windows, and she would sit up straight in bed.

  After attempting to sleep and carrying on this theatrical for four hours now, she gave up. Climbing from bed, Wren searched every inch of her room. No one was hiding under the bed, in the closet, or in her bathtub.

  Making sure the door leading into the hallway was locked, she decided to take a shower. Pulling fresh clothes out, she walked into the bathroom and locked that door too.

  Stepping beneath the spitting spray, she felt her shoulders slump in relief. The sting of the water was familiar and comfortable. After their movie, Ellie had left, and Wren had walked up to her empty room.

  “Being alone doesn’t frighten me,” Wren whispered. They were the same words she’d said when she entered her bedroom last night.

  Scrubbing her hair, she let the steady
stream calm her and got out when the water started to turn cold. Getting dressed and brushing her hair out, she stared at her reflection in the mirror. Black, purple circles surrounded her eyes. Her cheekbones were a bit sharper than usual, and she wasn’t smiling.

  “I feel like not smiling is my own personal theme,” she told her reflection.

  Grey eyes stared at her, and she thought they looked a little darker and less bright blue. Sighing, she finished brushing out her hair. Her dark lashes didn’t need any darkening, so she decided against mascara. Putting on her face lotion, she dabbed on some lip gloss before putting her night clothes in the new hamper.

  Turning out the light, Wren tried not to think of the reasons for needing a new hamper as she reentered her room. Stretching her arms above her head, she walked to her nightstand and picked up her book. She was still in the middle of Mirror Touch.

  So far, the book hadn’t proven helpful. It seemed a bit hard to believe. She hadn’t found anything inside that led her to think her father knew something. Flipping through the pages, she threw it on her bed and went in search of the other books she’d brought up.

  Piling them beside her on the couch, she sank down onto the soft cushions and looked through them. Magpie Murders didn’t have anything in it, and with everything happening, she didn’t want to read it. The Night Bird was about a homicide detective and a psychiatrist working together. Again, she normally loved mysteries and thrillers, but the content didn’t appeal to her at the moment.

  Next, she looked at Just Checking. It was the author’s journal about dealing with obsessive-compulsive disorder. Wren flipped through the pages again, but she didn’t see anything that could be a clue. However, she wondered if reading it might reveal something she hadn’t thought about before. Maybe her father was trying to send a message with the books he’d been reading?

  “Far-fetched theories, anyone?” Wren muttered. “I doubt my father decided to read a book based on something he knew about his killer. It seems highly unlikely.”

 

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