by Valia Lind
"So, what have you learned, meddling girl?" She looks eager and aloof at the same time. I should really be taking notes because I've always wanted to be able to balance that expression on my face.
"Honestly, not much. I don't believe Dean had anything to do with it, but I haven't been able to find any information to back that fact."
"And the good detective won't go off feelings," Victoria comments, taking the words out of my mouth. I nod before leaning in a little closer.
"Have you heard anything?"
"Oh, I hear all kinds of things, but I do wonder why you're so invested in this. Is it because of your boy toy?"
Penny's eyes bug out so much, she looks like a doll.
"He's not my boy toy," I reply. "Or my anything actually."
"You say that like I don't have two perfectly good working eyes in this head of mine." Victoria huffs, and this time, Penny is for sure trying not to laugh. I send her a warning look, but she's having way too much fun. That's it, I've got to stop bringing her as backup.
"Dean and I are...friends." I try again to steer the conversation in the right direction. Both Penny and Victoria give me a look like they know I'm full of it, but they don't comment. Much.
"Mhhm, sure, honey. It's so nice to live in denial." Victoria reaches over and pats my hand before picking up her cup and taking another sip. "But to answer your earlier question, I heard that Walter and Lizette were getting into all kinds of arguments earlier."
"Walter?"
"The Sanchez's grandson, of course. Try and keep up, meddling girl. He's been working as a cook here for a few years now. He had some grand plans to be a chef in the big city, but then grandpapi asked him to come and oversee the food at the resort, and he packed up and showed up. But between you and me, I think he's been quite bitter that Grandpapi Sanchez didn't hand over the reins to him but chose Lizette instead."
I let myself mull that over before I lean forward, lowering my voice.
"You don't seem to like Lizette much?" I leave it as an open-ended sentence and Victoria doesn't disappoint.
"I don't like anyone who comes in thinking they know better than years of tradition." Victoria huffs, her eyes shining. She might be older than I initially thought, pushing seventies at least, but there's a fire about her that I find charming. "The new staff all wanted to shake things up, but that's not the appeal of a place such as this. It's the old way of life. That's what people who come here are looking for. No television in the rooms or bungalows, no internet, and only a landline to reach the main town. People come here searching for peace."
As Victoria talks, I realize that was partially why Penny and I picked this place. We wanted to be cut off from the rest of the world, if only for a few days. But in that, I also realize why this place is such a perfect place for a murder. It took the police ten minutes to reach the resort when I called. The campus is spread out with the forest weaving in and out, and there is plenty of room to hide.
I make a mental note to find Walter and talk to him. Maybe he’ll be more talkative than Priscilla. Actually, now I really want to hear what both of them have to say about this place.
"Whose idea was it to host the game night?" I ask next, as I watch people walking out of the dining room after lunch is finished.
"Oh, that is an old tradition of this place," Victoria says, sitting up a little straighter. "The Sanchez's started it when they opened this resort. Back then, we played bingo and such. Now, there's an array of games available. It's such a delight."
"Is everyone required to come?"
"Of course they won't make anyone come, but the staff gets pretty into it usually, so most of the guests show up."
It does sound fun. But it also sounds like a great opportunity to observe and maybe talk to those pesky people I've been missing.
12
I try to catch the detective's attention a few times, but he's completely avoiding me. The one piece of information I don't have is the cause of death, and it's been bugging me. Personally, and I'm not sure if it's a gut feeling or what, I don't think Arthur drowned. I need to know the other sides of the story to build a solid narrative.
"Are you ready?" Penny asks later that night. Game night is starting any minute now, and I'm eager and nervous. Not sure why I'm feeling that last emotion, but here we are.
"Sure. Have you seen Birdie at all?" I ask. Penny shakes her head no. I called Auntie Grace to go over the spell a little bit ago, and she also hasn't seen Birdie. That cat better be staying out of trouble. Not that I'm worried or anything.
"Let's go."
The ballroom has been converted into a casino type setup. When we step inside, following the signs and directions, I'm amazed at how much energy I'm feeling in the room. Maybe I expected everyone to be more subdued, but there's general excitement here. People really do bounce back from tragedies faster than we give them credit for. I scan the faces as we make our way around the tables, trying to pinpoint any glimpse of sadness or guilt or even fear. But everyone seems to be just fine. I'm not sure if I'm supposed to feel better about that though.
"There's Finn." Penny tugs on my arm, pulling me to the corner of the room. Finn is standing beside the table. When we're almost there, I notice Dean sitting behind him. Dean's eyes find mine immediately, and he's displaying all the emotions I've been looking for in these people. My heart squeezes at the sight. I have a desire to reach out and hug him. Which obviously I don't.
Chill, Cassie.
"There you ladies are. How goes the sleuthing?" Finn asks as soon as we take our seats at the table. I roll my eyes at him, and then throw Penny a look.
"I am innocent of any wrongdoing," she comments, shrugging.
"Cassie, I have known you for most of my life. Don't you think I know how you think by now?" Finn raises an eyebrow at me, and I try to play it off nonchalantly.
"Maybe you don't know me as well as you think."
"Really? You're going to tell me that you've given up?" The way he's looking at me is making me squirm in my seat. It really is a bother sometimes, having people who know you this well. Okay, okay, not a bother. I am blessed. But also annoyed.
"I'm just trying to help."
"Have you—" But before Finn can ask whatever question he has, the crackle of a microphone sounds over the speakers. We turn as one toward the small stage setup on the opposite side of the room. Unable to help myself, I glance over at Dean and find his eyes on me. He looks tired and sad. I offer him the tiniest of smiles, which he returns.
"Good evening, everyone." Lizette's voice comes over the speakers, and I turn back to the front of the room. "Welcome to the annual game night! In light of recent events, please make sure to follow all the posted and spoken rules. Detective Ames and his officers are here to make sure we are safe for the night."
My eyes scan the crowd, focusing on where each officer is posted, before they land on Detective Ames. He's standing to the left of the stage, near the double doors that lead out into the main house. As if he can feel me watching him, his eyes find mine. Even though he's been here since around one in the morning, he still looks sharp. From this distance, I can tell he's not missing anything. That makes me think I probably am.
I go back to scanning the crowd, looking for any signs that will give me a clue. But I've only done this a few times. I'm still a newbie. I wonder if the detective would be willing to share some tips on how to spot suspects. Lizette is still rattling off instructions, and once she announces the games to commence, I get to my feet.
"Where are you going?" Finn asks.
"I'll be back. You can start without me."
Our table has the game of Clue on it, which I find a little too appropriate. I wonder if that's why the guys chose this spot.
It’s something Finn would do. I ignore their inquisitive looks and weave around the tables to where Detective Ames is making his rounds.
"Miss Duke," he says when I come up to him. "Enjoying your evening?"
"Yes, thank you." I gla
nce around to see how many people are in the direct vicinity of our conversation and see that it's too many. If I'm going to ask him questions, I can't do it here. "Mind taking a walk with me?"
"Are you sure your friends would be okay with that?" I glance over my shoulder to where he's looking and see all three of my friends watching me like a hawk. I can also see a lot of other people have their attention on us now. Maybe I should've been more subtle about coming over here.
"Maybe we should talk later."
"No, it's okay. Let's make it look official." He motions to the officer closest to us, and the man steps up to escort me out of the room. Detective Ames follows.
When the doors shut behind us, the officer moves off, and the detective and I step across the hall.
"It wasn't all that smart for me to do that," I admit, because I know how it can look. People will be less willing to talk to me now if they think I'm working with the police. Although, I haven’t been able to talk to that many people anyway.
"It could've been better." The detective smiles. It's the kind of fatherly smile that makes me feel better about my mishap immediately. "What have you found out?"
"Not much, actually. Everyone I've spoken to didn't even know there was a gardener on site. I've been trying to talk to Priscilla, but she's been running around, too busy. The only other thing I know is that Walter Sanchez had an argument with Lizette Bats about the way things are run around here."
That seems like new information to Detective Ames.
"Tell me more."
"I only know what I've been told, but according to my source, there's bad blood between him and the rest of the staff. He was probably thinking he'd run of this place. Did you talk to him?"
"When I talked to him, he only had the nicest things to say about the people here."
I mull that over.
"I suppose that makes sense, right? People want to put their best foot forward when they're being interviewed by the police."
"There's a lot to this case that doesn't add up." I'm almost positive I wasn't supposed to hear him mumble that. But he did, and now I want to press him for some answers.
"How did Arthur die?" I ask, not beating around the bush. Detective's eyes snap up to meet mine, but there's not an ounce of emotion there. He's giving nothing away.
"I can't disclose that information."
"But it wasn't drowning."
"Miss Duke—"
"It wasn't right? There's something about this that seems like—"
"Like what?"
"Nothing." My mind just keeps going back to this. For some reason, I think if I knew how he died, something would actually fall into place. But what? I can't be sure.
"That's not something I'm willing to share, Miss Duke."
Just then, a movement catches my eye down the hall, and I nod.
"That's okay, Detective. Thanks anyway. I should visit the ladies’ room while I'm here."
With that, I pivot and head to the bathroom. I already have a new plan in the works.
When I step inside the bathroom, a tiny black shadow sneaks in behind me. I flip the fan on and then turn to Birdie. She's perching on top of the counter, staring at me.
"Where have you been?" I ask.
"Around."
Seriously, this cat is full of attitude. She's a mix between a cranky old lady and a hormonal teenager. That's the best description I can come up with and no one can convince me otherwise. But I can't say it, because I need her help, which might be physically painful for me to admit.
"Birdie, I need you to help me with something."
"I figured you'd be hopeless without me."
I bite the inside of my cheek to keep back the retort. I really need to stop arguing with a feline.
"Detective Ames won't share information with me, like how Arthur died. Do you think you can sneak into the room they used for the interviews to see if there are any files there?"
"I suppose that's a possibility."
She jumps down and heads for the door immediately, and I pull it open so she can sneak through. Leaving the door partially open, I wash my hands and make my way back to the ballroom. The buzz of people talking and laughing hits me before I step through the doors. The energy in the room is so different from what I'm feeling and thinking.
I find my way back to the table, to see the group playing Clue. Penny and Finn seem to be arguing, as usual. Dean sits, watching quietly. I take a spot beside him, and he smiles up at me.
"Are you done sleuthing?" He keeps his voice low, leaning close to me.
"Never," I reply, with a genuine smile. He chuckles at that, and the sound warms my heart. It's clear he's sad, and carrying guilt on his shoulders, but if he can still laugh, then there's hope for healing.
"You're good at it, you know," Dean says, his eyes still on me. I scrunch my face up a little in question. "The sleuthing. You have a knack for seeing things in a way others wouldn't."
"Why Dean Harvey, is that a compliment?" I place one hand against my heart, while the other fans my face.
"It most definitely was. But now you're being all dramatic, so I take it back."
"Nope, too late. No take backs."
I bump my shoulder with his and feel lighter somehow.
A sudden bang echoes through the room and everyone jumps at once.
"What was that?" Penny whispers right before it comes again. That's when I realize what it is. The wind. It's rattling the windows.
"Everyone please stay calm." Lizette is once again up on the platform, microphone in hand. "A storm has rolled in unexpectedly. We are taking precautions and barricading against the gusts. There's no need for alarm."
"Should we go back to our rooms?" someone calls out.
Lizette shakes her head. "It would be best to stay in the main house. The bungalows are built sturdy, but they don't have as much protection as the main house. We will watch the storm closely, but it would be best to prepare to spend the night here. It’s not the first time this has happened. We have cots available and will be setting those up in the foyer, as well as this room. Those who have rooms in the main house, it will be up to you if you would like to share your space. We will not mandate that from anyone."
I look around at the people, the shaken-up faces now showing the fear and comprehension I expected earlier. Staying in the house is probably the best choice for all of us, considering it's built a little higher and sturdier in case there is any flooding.
"Is it fair to keep us here while others have the comfort of their own rooms?" another person calls out, bringing my attention back to the crowd.
"I understand the inconvenience, but they paid extra to stay at the main house. Please understand, we are doing our best to ensure the safety of our guests. If you are absolutely determined to wait out the storm in your bungalow, we will not stop you, but we advise against it."
"Safety?" A man stands up, and even from the side, I can see he's outraged. "Like you made sure that gardener was safe?" Gasps resound all around the room. Finn turns to me, concern plainly on his face.
"Things are going to get out of hand," he says. I can see his law enforcement mind working out scenarios. I notice it too, the signs of panic.
"Should you offer to help?" Penny asks, but Finn is already shaking his head.
"I have already offered. The detective is very insistent on letting his people handle things. I won't overstep my bounds."
Good thing I don't have those restrictions. I know I need to be careful, but I also know I need to ignore some parameters in order to reach my goal.
"What happened to Mr. Gilla is a heartbreaking tragedy." Lizette's voice is calm, catching on the last word. It immediately seems to pacify the man who stood up. "The main building is secure, the officers from the state police are here to make sure it stays that way. But we will leave the decision up to you." She takes a deep breath before continuing on. "We have already begun setting up cots in the main foyer. We will need to clean up this room, and we can set up
a section in here as well."
She continues to give out information as Finn and Penny turn back to me. I glance at them, then at Dean, and realize they're all waiting for me to make a decision.
"If you're waiting for me to tell you where to sleep, that is not my job," I say with a smile.
"But it is," Dean says, and my eyes fly up to meet his. "We'll follow where you lead."
The way he says that—I can't seem to look away or form any coherent responses. The intensity in his words matches the intensity in his gaze. It turns me to a puddle of mush.
I think I fell for this man when I wasn't looking.
The thought slams into me with the speed of a bullet. I tear my eyes away. This is not the time and place for life changing revelations. I glance at my other friends and find them still watching me.
"Okay," I say. "We stay here. I would rather be in the foyer where I can have a better vantage point of who comes in and out."
"Got it." Finn stands, extending his hand to Penny. "Shall we go find ourselves a resting place?"
"Why must you make it sound so ominous?" Penny stands, grabbing his hand and pulling him after her.
"It wasn't. It was grand and exciting."
"No, it made us sound like we're picking out a spot in the cemetery."
They continue to bicker as they walk, and I smile. One of these days, those two will realize they're meant for each other. I glance over at Dean and find him watching them with his own smile. He looks over at me, and that intensity that's reserved just for me is back in his eyes.
I open my mouth to say something, anything, when a tiny prickle on my calf makes me jump.
"What is it?" Dean is immediately reaching for me as I grab my leg. My arm brushes against soft fur, and I bend down to look under the table.
"Stop making eyes at Dean. I found something," Birdie announces, looking way too smug.
"You're ridiculous," I mumble.
"What?" This comes from Dean. I straighten quickly, pushing the hair out of my face.
"Nothing. I—I just need to go to the restroom, that's all."