by Valia Lind
"Penny, I think I found something."
That's when my eyes land on the top cover of the trunk. There's a piece of material attached to the top with metal snaps. I pull on one of the snaps, revealing a whole set of stitching tools beneath. Lizette isn't just an amateur hobbyist, she's serious about this.
"What is it, Cassie?"
"Look at this." I point to the logos, both on the lanyard and the throw.
“It’s the medical symbol?”
“Yes, although technically it should be the Rod of Asclepius, but that’s a whole different story.” And it’s from a lifetime ago when I thought I was going to study history. “But you know what this means.”
"Lizette is a nurse?"
"She at least participated in the honor society. I'm not sure how that works, but she would have to be, right? But this is the symbol Pricilla has on her shirt in that picture. She at least volunteered too.“
“Oh. How does that help us?"
That's right. We haven't really discussed what Detective Ames and I talked about.
"The way Arthur was killed—it wasn't a sloppy job. Someone knew what they were doing. It had to be premeditated, and it had to be done by someone who knew where to strike."
"A nurse would."
"Yes. But what's the motive? With Priscilla, it makes more sense if she was the one helping Arthur with the money. If Lizette was helping them with the money theft but decided to pull out, she could’ve just fired him. She has the run of this place. It would make more sense for Walter to take Lizette out so he could have the resort back to himself. And he’s a big dude, he could do it too. Although, he’d probably be messier. Then again, he’s a chef, so maybe not?"
"Honestly, Cassie," Penny says, her eyes big. "Sometimes your brain scares me."
"Yeah, same here." I chuckle. The phone in my pocket buzzes, and I pull it out in time to hear Dean say my name.
"What is it?" I reply immediately.
"We've lost sight of both of them. Get out now," he says. Penny and I glance at each other before we rush to opposite sides of the room, to place things where we found them. We're at the door, pulling it open, just as a noise catches my attention. I glance back into the room as I'm shutting the door, and something clicks into place.
19
“These near...something experiences are not good for my heart,” Penny says as we take our seats on the cots. The guys are there, both looking at us with worry.
“It's usually near death,” Finn points out.
“Very helpful, Harvey.” Penny rolls her eyes. They're cute and all, but right now, I'm nearly bouncing out of my seat with excitement.
“Cassie, is there something you'd like to share with the class?” Dean asks, his eyes on me. He hasn't really looked away from me since we met them in the hall outside of the side kitchens. Apparently even sneaking into other people's rooms is giving the poor man anxiety over me.
“We found out some things.”
"Okay."
"I think the only way to be sure is to—" I stop, thinking over what needs to be done.
"To what?" Penny exclaims, "Don't keep us in suspense."
"Is to get them talking about it. Hold on, I'll be back."
Now that I think I have figured it out, I need to talk to Detective Ames. Jumping to my feet, I leave my friends gaping after me as I weave in and out of the cots toward the dining room. As far as I know, Detective Ames was going to hold more interviews today, so it's only natural he'd be using the same room. He's standing outside it, talking to none other than Walter. Perfect timing.
"Detective, can I have a word?" I ask, coming up to the two of them. Walter gives me a clipped smile and goes to step away when I stop him. "And can I talk to you about something as well? In a little bit?" I put on my best Bambi eyes look, and it works.
Walter watches me for a moment before nodding.
"I'll be over there." He points to the buffet.
"Nicely handled, Miss Duke," the detective says.
"It's taken years to perfect," I reply, turning to face him.
"As long as you don't use those on me," he says, and I grin.
"No promises. But what I can promise you is that I know who killed Arthur."
All sense of humor goes out of Detective Ames's eyes as he narrows them on me.
"Explain yourself."
So I do. In hushed tones, I tell him what I found. He listens without interruption, and then muses over my words before finally replying.
"It makes sense, but—"
"But it's all circumstantial," I finish for him, because I already know this part as well. "You can't take anything I found into evidence because it wasn't obtained legally. And you need more than this to get a warrant."
"You really have taken on this persona, haven't you?"
"I'm going to take that as a compliment and run with it," I say. "We need them to admit it."
"How do you suppose we do that?"
I smile, glancing back to where Walter is waiting before looking at the detective once more.
"With a little help. First, I need you to check on something for me."
It takes us about an hour to set everything up the way I want it. The plan is truly simple. We have a sit-down with our three main suspects and discuss the crime. Sure, it can go up in flames about a dozen different ways, but with the detective not having direct contact with his precinct, we have to do something.
Detective Ames has arranged the upstairs meeting room as the designated place for our meeting. Dean is sitting on one side of the room as Lizette, Priscilla, and Walter walk in. I'm standing near the left side of the room while Detective Ames is at the front.
"What is the meaning of this?" Lizette asks when her eyes land on me. "I'm in the middle of preparing lunch for the guests."
"Yes, we all have important jobs. Like actually cooking the lunch," Walter says. Lizette sends an array of glares his way. Priscilla looks between the two before rolling her eyes and taking a seat.
"Can we get started?" she asks.
It's an interesting dynamic. I've never seen the three of them interact before. Each holds a high position within the resort, and they’re the three people in the whole place who should be getting along the most. And yet, they're not.
Detective Ames looks at me before nodding his head. The three glance between the two of us as he walks to the back of the room. I take his place at the front.
"I know you have a lot of work ahead of you, but this couldn't wait," I begin. It feels weird to stand in a meeting room like this, with a white screen behind me. It brings back memories of when I presented design ideas to our clients. But now, this is a whole different set of skills that I'm using, and I'm kind of glad I get the opportunity.
"I don't understand what any of this has to do with you," Priscilla comments, ever the expressionless one. I smile at her before I reply.
"As you all know, I found Arthur's body. It seemed such a strange situation, right from the beginning. The pool house was spotless, a body was floating in the pool. Most of his blood drained, but not where he was found. It was odd."
"We are all saddened by Mr. Gilla's passing, but I don't understand how that pertains to this meeting," Lizette says, ever the businesswoman.
"Well, we need to talk about who killed him. But Miss Bats, some of you are more saddened than others. Isn't that right, Miss Janson?"
I turn my gaze to Priscilla, and for the first time, I see her shift uncomfortably.
"I'm not sure what you're insinuating."
"No? You knew Arthur before you came to the resort, did you not?"
Walter and Lizette both turn to Priscilla like they've never seen her before.
"You knew him?" Walter asks.
"Okay, fine. Yes. We worked on a volunteer trip after college. That's all."
"Is that why you had my grandparents hire him? You pushed pretty hard." She shifts in her seat once more, straightening her blouse.
"He wasn't in a good spot, oka
y? I wanted to help him out."
"But it was more than that," I say, and everyone once again turns to me. "You were in love with him. It's why you helped him."
"Helped him?"
"To blackmail."
"What? Blackmail who?" Lizette asks.
"You, of course." Everyone gasps, but I don't give them the chance to continue. It's important that I build a narrative strong enough that the guilty party has no choice but to burst out with a confession. "You, Miss Bats, have been the one skimming off the books. You brought Priscilla on, thinking she’ll be an accomplice, but she wasn’t. She, in turn, brought Arthur. And Arthur found out. So, he blackmailed you to share."
"I have no idea what you're talking about."
"You don't? Because the expensive taste that you've acquired says otherwise. How much do those velvet covers cost?"
"You've been to my room?" The outrage is there, and now everyone is shifting uncomfortably in their seats.
"The door was open, I looked inside."
"The door would never be open. I never leave it unlocked."
"Hmm, I think it might be unlocked now." I made sure it was. A quick spell and I left the door ajar. It’s all I needed to convince the police to walk by and see what's inside.
"That's not true. I make sure to lock it."
"So you can lock away all your secrets?" Walter bursts out, the outrage clear on his face. "My grandparents trusted you. They gave you the resort and you let them down."
"Oh please, don't start with shifting blame. We all know you were the first to let them down."
"Now, listen here you—"
"Excuse me, I'm not done," I interrupt before they really get into it. There's only bad blood between this trio. That much is obvious.
"You're only making up stories," Priscilla says. I can see that I got to her. There's emotion in her eyes for the first time. It was the love comment. I know I hit her where it hurts. My eyes find Dean and his are shining with silent encouragement.
"So which one of you decided to get rid of Arthur first?" I ask. That sends them into complete silence. "No comments on that?"
"What are you talking about?" Walter asks, so I finally turn my attention to him.
"You said you wanted to prove yourself to your grandparents. But when you found out money was going missing and Arthur was making bank, it wasn't hard to figure out what happened. So you had to get rid of him. But first, you wanted the money back."
"I don't—"
"Know what I'm talking about? But you do. I noticed a little bruising on your right hand. It's from where you punched him in the face, isn't it?"
"Walter, what did you do?" Lizette whispers, looking at him in shock.
"Fine. We got into it, okay? But I didn't kill him. He said he'd return what he took. I told him I'd go to the police if I didn't have the money by the end of the week. It took some physical force to convince him, but he promised. I didn't lie before." Walter looks at me. "I do want to do right by my grandparents. I wanted to restore this place to its former glory."
"So you killed him?" Priscilla asks, and now there are tears in her eyes.
"No, I didn't!" Walter snaps. "Why would I kill someone who was getting me my money? That makes no sense."
"That's what I thought too," I comment, and they turn to me once more. "Which is why it made more sense for Priscilla to be the one to kill him. Out of a jealous rage."
"What?"
"You loved him. He didn't love you back. But you saw the way things were between him and Lizette, and you couldn't stand it. You didn't know he was blackmailing her. All you knew is they were whispering and going behind your back."
"That's not true."
"It's not? So if we test the rock you used to smash over his head they won't find your fingerprints all over it?"
The gasp is so loud it echoes in the room. Everyone turns to stare at Priscilla, as she bursts into tears.
"I didn't mean to hurt him. I just got so mad. And he didn't care. Not even a little. He was just working on those stupid flower beds."
"So you grabbed a rock and you hit him in the head."
"But I didn't kill him. He was breathing when I left him!" She turns to the detective, jumping to her feet. "You have to believe me. I didn't want him dead. I just wanted him punished."
She advances on him, begging for forgiveness. With our attention shifted, no one sees them move. I turn to Lizette, and my heart stops. She's holding a gun and it's trained right on Dean.
20
“You figured it all out, didn't you?” Lizette says. I stare at her with my heart in my throat. “Don't you even think about it, detective,” she warns. I glance over and see the detective raise his hands away from his gun. Priscilla distracted him, and he didn't draw in time.
“Let's take a walk, pretty boy.” She motions for Dean to stand and points him to the side door. Dean’s eyes are on me. I couldn’t look away from him even if I tried. The moment they’re through the door, the detective rushes out the back door to cut her off, but she fires off a shot. My feet carry me toward them before I can think about the fact that I'm running into gunfire. There's screaming, and the detective is near the wall, slumped over. My eyes zero in on Dean, who's back is to the top banister with Lizette still pointing the gun at him.
This is not how I pictured the conversation going. I just wanted to spin a tall tale to get her to confess.
"Please, Lizette, be rational about this."
"What's there to be rational about?" she snaps as she takes a step forward, pushing Dean farther back against the banister. "I gave my everything to this place, and I was getting fired? Because I couldn't make ends meet. It wasn't my fault Arthur was stealing from the Sanchez's. I shouldn't have been the one punished!"
I was wrong on that. He was the one stealing, not her. But then her money situation doesn’t make sense.
"You're right," I keep my voice calm, inching closer to her and Dean. "You've only been trying to do what's right for this place. I'm sure the Sanchez's will understand."
"I didn't mean to hurt him." She's not listening to anything I'm saying, lost in her own mind. "He found out I sold some of their art. I bet it all on black and lost. I didn’t know how I’d repay. He threatened to go to them and tell them I was the one stealing, unless I gave him a big payout."
"He blackmailed you."
"What was I supposed to do? I went to the garden to confront him, and I saw Priscilla hit him on the head. He fell down, unconscious, and I—I took the opportunity. I had to protect myself. And the Sanchez's. They should be grateful I stopped him! They would've been ruined. I only took a little, but he took so much! I saved them."
The logic is definitely skewed, but her aim holds true on Dean. I glance at him, and he's already watching me. He shakes his head ever so slightly, but he's crazy if he thinks I'm just going to back away.
"You can tell the police that, Lizette. You can tell them the truth."
"No one is going to believe me." She's beyond gone now. I can see the manic look in her eyes. "Just let me get out of here, and I'll disappear. I will."
"Lizette—"
“No, you don’t understand. This place was my last chance, and he ruined it. He ruined me. There’s no going back now.”
“Lizette, we can talk—”
Before I could say anything else, a small black form comes out of nowhere, dropping straight onto Lizette's chest. The gun goes off, and then, as if in slow motion, Dean is going over the banister.
"No!" I scream. My hands thrust in front of me as if I can reach him. All of my intention goes into this one moment, my heart and my magic on the line. Lizette is also screaming, but then an officer is there, pulling her down to the floor so he can cuff her. I only see that out of the corner of my eye as my heart threatens to beat right out of my chest. Rushing over, I expect to see him gone, but then I gasp.
"A little help?" Dean asks. Somehow, he managed to grab onto one of the banister's uprights.
"O
h my." I reach for him, but I'm not strong enough to pull him up. He slips a little farther down. My hands latch onto his wrists and then I put all my intention into my magic and pull. There's a second of hesitation, but then I'm lifting him up—or maybe it's my magic—and in the next moment he's tumbling over the banister. He twists at the last moment, so I end up on top of him as we land.
"Oh, my goodness gracious," I mumble as I let my hands roam over every part of him, checking for injuries.
"Cassie, Cassie, I'm okay!" He reaches for my hands, stopping their progress over his chest and our faces are barely inches away and everything I'm feeling is probably written all over my face. I’m entirely on top of him, as close as I’ve ever been, and everything I’m feeling just pours out. I don't think. I act.
My lips are on his and there's no hesitation on his part. He wraps his arms around my waist, pulling him fully flush against him as he devours me just like I devour him. We kiss like we've been doing it all our lives. We kiss like we can't get enough of each other. He's filling my lungs with his breath, giving me life with the touch of his lips. There are no reservations between us, no awkward fumble of the hands.
He holds me like I’m precious and I hold him like he’s mine.
"Well, that's an interesting development." Finn's voice cuts through the euphoria, and I pull back. Then the gravity of what I've done hits me, and I'm scrambling off Dean as fast as I can.
"Yeah, he's fine. Dean's fine. Lizette is in custody. It's a win win," I rattle off, refusing to meet anyone’s gaze. "I need the restroom."
And then I bolt.
"So the whole bullet proof vest thing really works, huh?" I say, coming up to where Detective Ames is getting his ribs looked at a little while later.
"Right down to the fact that it still hurts."
I smile at that, glad that no one was hurt. I still can't believe how close I came to losing Dean. I should've insisted he stay out of it when I decided to do my little presentation.
"Well, I'll keep that in mind for the future," I say.