Beauty In Death Page 7
Monica stopped dead. Michael hurried in after her to see what the problem was. He went to her side and ground to a halt, his jaw clenching.
The problem was six feet tall and wrapped in a designer suit. Glenmore Grimm turned away from Beauty’s bedside and smiled when his eyes landed on them. “Hello, son. Hello, princess.”
Monica beamed. “Daddy.” She rushed over to him and threw her arms around him. “What are you doing here?”
“The Cadals are friends of mine,” he replied before dropping a kiss on her forehead. “I wanted to check in and see how Beauty was doing.”
“Thank you for coming, Glenmore,” Claudia said. “We don’t know where we would be without friends like you.”
Despite the supposed support of their friends, the Cadals looked awful. Michael was sure they hadn’t slept or gone home since they came to the hospital on Saturday. The bags under their eyes were packed for a long trip and their clothes were rumpled.
His father looked over Monica’s head and locked eyes with Michael. “I heard you have been working to find the person who attacked Beauty.”
Michael nodded stiffly. “That’s right. That’s why we’re here actually. To give the Cadals an update.”
Charles got to his feet. “What have you found?” he demanded. “Do you know who it was?”
“We don’t know who,” Monica said, stepping out of their father’s grasp. “But we may know why. We looked through Beauty’s blog and found The List, as she called it.”
He frowned. “The blog? What does that have to do with anything?”
“Beauty had a list of people who had made fashion mistakes on campus. She photographed them and wrote some pretty mean comments.”
Charles flapped his hand in agitation. “That was nothing. It was just a joke.”
“So you knew about it?”
“Yes, we knew. We’ve had people calling to complain, claiming they were on the blog and they wanted their photos taken down, but they couldn’t prove they were the people in the pictures so I told Beauty to ignore it.”
Monica shook her head. “Mr. Cadal, why did you tell us no one held a grudge against Beauty when you knew what she posted on her site, and that people were angry about it?”
He blinked at her. “Because that was nothing. Beauty was just having a little fun, being silly with her whole fashion police routine. You can’t prove the identity of the people in the pictures,” he repeated.
“Charles,” Michael said, drawing the man’s gaze. “It doesn’t matter that you couldn’t prove who was in the photos, all that mattered was who people thought were in the photos. It’s a college campus, stuff gets around. If people guessed the identity of the girl who got dumped or the girl who woke up in her own vomit, they could have taunted them mercilessly and made their lives unbearable. Then you add them begging and pleading with Beauty to take their pictures down and her refusal? That is a recipe for a grudge.”
He still looked dumbfounded. “But it was a joke. Beauty would never try to hurt anyone on purpose.”
Michael sighed internally. Did we read the same blog? There was nothing funny about the things she wrote.
Out loud, he said, “Are there anymore jokes we need to know about?”
Charles’s brows came together. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Monica stepped forward. “We need to know everything, if we’re going to prove her fall wasn’t an accident. If you can think of anything else, no matter how small, that can help us figure out who would do this and why?”
Charles shook his head. “There’s nothing. Honestly, everyone loved Beauty. And I’m telling you this blog thing was no big deal.”
“Of course not, dear friend,” Glenmore suddenly spoke up. “My children are just being thorough, making sure they explore every avenue and kick over every rock. That is what Beauty deserves.”
Charles’s shoulders relaxed. He took a deep breath. “Yes, I know. Thank you again, Michael. Monica.”
Glenmore put his arm around Monica. “We’ll give you some privacy.”
They said their goodbyes, and the Grimms stepped out.
His father caught him in a hug before Michael had time to react. “It’s good to see you, Michael. It’s been too long.”
Michael awkwardly patted him on the back before escaping his hold. “We’ve been busy,” he said while smoothing down his clothes. “Working.”
“Oh?” Glenmore glanced at his sister. “Monica said things have been slow at the office. You haven’t had any cases in a while.”
Michael flashed his sister a withering glare and she smiled back innocently.
Why does Mo have to tell our parents everything?!
“Well, we have a case now,” Michael said lightly, turning back to his father. “Now isn’t a good time to catch up.”
“As I recall, you still need to eat. I would love to take you both out to dinner.”
“Daddy, that—”
“Can’t.” Michael smoothly cut off his sister. “Monica has band practice, and I have plans.”
“But we can have dinner this week, Daddy,” Monica rushed to say. “Tomorrow night or the next, all three of us, I promise.”
“Wonderful.” Glenmore dropped another kiss on Monica’s head, squeezed Michael’s shoulder, then he glided away leaving behind only the scent of his expensive cologne.
“Mo!” Michael hissed the moment their father was out of earshot. “Why did you do that?”
Planting her hands on her hips, she lifted her chin. “I don’t want to hear it, Michael. I’m so sick of you. Both of you. You need to stop tiptoeing around each other and talk things out. If I can forgive Dad, then so can you.”
“You were three,” he snapped. “You didn’t have a clue what was going on. You were in your stroller sleeping, when our suitcases were thrown out on the lawn and we were told to get off the property. You didn’t hear Mom cry herself to sleep every night for four months. I did. I watched it all happen, so don’t act like our situations are the same.”
“They’re my parents too!”
“But you didn’t—”
“Sir! Ma’am!”
The bickering siblings swiveled to find a nurse bearing down on them. “This is a hospital. You need to keep your voice down or you need to leave.”
“We’re leaving,” Monica growled, and she stomped off.
Reluctantly, Michael followed. They stepped into the elevator and the silence filled the small space like a balloon, too much and it was going to burst.
They left the hospital, got in the car, and Michael set off for the office. He had to drop Monica off so she could pick up her car.
He glanced at her. She looked steadily out the window, arms folded.
“Monica,” he began, “I’m—”
“A jerk,” she stated, without moving her head.
He nodded. “Yes, definitely that.”
She sighed and shifted in her seat, looking away from the passing buildings to finally face him. “I know you think none of it affected me, but that’s not true. I saw more than you thought. I could see how sad you and Mom were. And I hated that there was nothing I could do about it. It would have been easy to blame Dad, but I couldn’t because... I could see he was sad too.” He saw her head shake out of the corner of his eye. “He’s not the villain in our story, Michael. That role belongs to someone else, and you know who it is. We’ve all been hurting over the years, but I don’t want to do it anymore. I just want my family to be happy again.”
“It can’t be that simple, Mo,” he said softly.
“Only because you won’t let it be that simple. Dad and I have talked everything out, but you refuse to. You could at least start small and have dinner with him.”
Michael clenched the steering wheel. “I’ll think about it.”
She sighed again. “It’s because you two are so alike,” she said under her breath, but Michael caught it.
“No, we aren’t,” he protested.
“Um, yes
, you are. You’re practically his clone. You have the same hair, same height, same sticky-outty ears—”
“Sticky-outty?!”
“—same dark brown eyes, and that big, hard head. But if the physical similarities aren’t enough, you have to be just as stubborn, just as enigmatic, and just as noble with that whole family-above-everything routine. I bet you don’t even realize you’re guilty of doing exactly what Daddy did to us.”
Michael jerked the wheel, almost crashing the car. “What? No, I’m not!”
“Yes, you are,” she replied stubbornly. “And if you don’t believe me, I have two words for you: Samira Reddy.”
Michael’s face closed off. “Mo, I love you, but I think we should drop this before we say something we regret.”
Scoffing, Monica threw herself back in her seat. “Dad would say the same thing,” she said, before turning back to the window.
MICHAEL DROPPED HIS sister off. She headed to band practice, while he made the trip he had been threatening all day.
He was caught in his same routine, raising his hand to knock, then lowering it, then trying it again. Monica’s words taunted him, banging around in his head and scrambling his thoughts. This was already going to be a difficult conversation, why did she have to go and make it worse?
He took a deep breath and did it. He knocked on Samira’s door.
Within seconds, he heard footsteps on the other side of the door. It swung open and there she was. Pajama-clad, hair up in a messy bun, face mask firmly in place. Her eyes widened.
“Michael?!” she squeaked. She made a futile attempt to cover her face with her hands. “What are you doing here? I thought you were Chinese food?”
He smiled. “No, sorry. I’m not edible, but I hope you’ll let me in anyway.”
She looked at him and then down at herself. “Hold on.”
“You don’t have to—”
Slam!
“—change for me,” he said to the closed door. “It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”
Michael sighed and leaned against the wall to wait. As the seconds ticked by, he went over in his head what he wanted to say.
The door opened once more, and Samira stood there, face shiny but mask free. The football pajamas were gone, and in their place were a pair of shorts and a tank top. She beckoned him inside.
“What’s this about, Grimm?” she said as they walked into the living room. “I thought I was clear about how I felt.” Samira sat down on the couch and gestured to the cushion next to her.
He made no move to sit. Instead, he planted himself in front of her and looked her right in the eye. “Samira, I don’t have many friends.”
She blinked at him. “Oh... kay?”
“I don’t have many friends,” he continued, “but the ones I do have are important to me. Samira, your friendship means everything to me, and I can’t lose it.”
“Oh, Mikey,” she whispered, dropping her gaze. “I appreciate that, but I need you to understand—”
“I do,” he insisted. He walked toward her and dropped to his knees capturing her gaze again. “Believe it or not, I do understand that I hurt you, and I know that you deserve to know why.” He reached out and captured her chin, lightly stroking it with his thumb. “And I will tell you why... just not right now.”
She scowled and shook him off. “Why not now, Michael? It’s been eight years, how much more time do you need?”
“Mira, please. You deserve the truth, and I’m going to give it to you. I just need you to be patient with me.” He cracked a smile. “I’m the guy who took three years to work up the courage to ask you out, then stood on your welcome mat for twenty minutes the night of our first date. I’ve never been one to do things quickly, but you’ve always been patient. I’m asking for that one more time.”
She sniffed, eyes filling with tears. “What if you’re never ready? I can’t wait another eight years.”
“You won’t have to,” he whispered, taking her hand in his. “I’m not my father, Mira. I’m going to be honest with you.”
She sniffed. A tear rolled down her cheek and landed on his finger. “Okay,” she said softly. “I’ll give you more time.”
“Thank you.” He lifted her hand and placed a gentle kiss on her palm. “I should go.”
He rose to leave, but Samira tightened her grip.
“Wait.” She gifted him with a smile. “Stay. I have food coming. We can talk about the case and catch up. What do you say?”
He grinned and sank into the cushion next to her. “Sounds perfect.”
MICHAEL STROLLED INTO his apartment the next morning and made a beeline for the bathroom. He shed yesterday’s clothes and stepped into the shower. He scrubbed every inch of himself and gave his short hair a good scrubbing too.
Michael shut off the water, grabbed a towel, and padded into the bedroom to get dressed. After throwing together a quick breakfast, Michael ate and then left for the office. Despite his rushing, he was going to be late.
Since they opened, Michael always arrived at work before Monica. He wondered how this was going to go down.
“Well, well, well.”
He sighed.
This was the only thing that could have happened.
Monica folded her arms and leaned back in her seat, smirking away while Michael crossed the room to his desk. “Is little Mister Early Riser late to work? But how can this be?”
Michael waved to Ella. “Morning, Ella.”
She waved back, smothering a giggle.
“Did the unthinkable happen and you forgot to set your alarm?”
Michael faced his sister and her teasing. He held out his arms. “Go ahead, lay it on me. I’m always harping at you to be early for work, so I deserve this.”
Grinning, she stood up and came around her desk. “Yes, you do.” She lurched forward and came in under his arms to hug him tightly. “I’m sorry about yesterday,” she said softly. “I didn’t mean what I said.”
Michael dropped his arms and threw them around his sister. “I’m sorry too. I was a jerk. A stubborn jerk. It wouldn’t hurt for me to open up,” he said, thinking about last night with Samira. “Talk things out instead of sitting around like a ghoul.”
She hummed. “Yeah, that’s true.”
He laughed. “I guess the apology train is over.”
They released each other to clapping. The siblings looked over their shoulders at Ella.
“You guys are so close. I wish I had brothers or sisters.”
Michael stepped back and gestured at Monica. “You can have this one, but I warn you, she comes with snark and head slaps.”
“Hush you.” Monica popped him over the head as if to illustrate his point. “You’re not getting rid of me anytime soon.”
Michael laughed, and they all joined in.
“WHAT TIME ARE WE MEETING them?” Monica asked as they piled into the car.
“Gabriel at eleven, Minnie at eleven thirty, and Emma at noon,” Michael said. “I told them to meet us by the fountain.”
“It will be nice to return to the old alma mater,” Monica said wistfully. “You insisted on going to school out of town and ran off to Snowhaven, but I think you would have liked Castle Rock University.”
“I would have had to go to school with Spencer and his cronies,” Michael shot back. “That was reason enough to leave.”
Monica reached over and patted his hand, but she let it drop.
“Have you heard back from your hacker friend?”
“Not yet,” she said, “but I will soon. He said it shouldn’t take too long to get in and root out anything important. Speaking of which, do you think we should wait until we find something on the computer before we talk to them? I usually do all the talking, but I don’t have more to ask, because we still don’t know enough.”
“We know about her blog now. We know Gabriel’s reaction to her fall was off, and we know Emma is keeping something bottled up. We’ll see how far we can go with that.”
With that uncomfortable thought riding along in the car, they drove to campus and parked in the guest parking lot. The Grimms climbed out and Monica led the way to the fountain.
A smile spread across her face as they passed under shady oak trees and skirted students lying about the lawn enjoying a lazy morning.
“I had so much fun here,” she said. “Staying up late singing karaoke with my friends. Study sessions in the library. Taking a nap on the quad.” Her smile dimmed. “Which makes it even sadder that now people are scared to leave their dorms with a single strand out of place. Wouldn’t want to end up on Beauty Cadal’s blog.”
Michael sighed as they took a seat on the edge of the fountain. “Ella’s still been enjoying herself, but yeah, it’s not right. And even though Charles thought it was just a joke, I doubt her targets were laughing.”
Monica nodded grimly and they soon switched to lighter topics, talking more about Monica’s time at school, until Gabriel saw fit to arrive, twenty minutes late.
“Hey, what’s up,” he said casually, throwing his backpack down. “Got any news on Beauty?”
“Have you not been to see her?” Monica asked.
He shrugged. “Don’t want to get in the way. So how about it? What do her parents say?”
Monica looked at Michael. He answered in her place. “Charles has been texting me, and he says the doctors are worried that Beauty hasn’t come out of the coma. He’s getting more frantic, wanting to know the person who did this to his daughter.”
“So you guys found out for sure it wasn’t an accident?” Gabriel blew out a breath, shaking his head. “That’s rough, man. Messed up.”
Monica eyed him. “Forgive me, Gabriel—”
“Gabe.”
“Forgive me, Gabe, but you don’t seem all that broken up about it? Your girlfriend is fighting for her life, and you can’t even be bothered to see her.”
He frowned. “It’s not like that. Of course, the thought that someone hurt her pisses me off, but Beauty and I weren’t serious. We were just dating, hanging out.” He shrugged. “Her family is going through a rough time. I don’t want to intrude.”