Mr Baker’s sister isn’t as faithful as he thinks. Nearly one million and counting knocked off the books for a rainy-day escape.
“Oh boy. Cardinal.” I start, but shut my mouth firmly when he turns and kicks the fire guard straight into the bricks and a cloud of ash falls from inside. A feral noise straight from his chest erupts and I scramble back to give him space.
“Fuck! Fucking, fuck, fuck.” He chants, ripping at his usually perfectly swept hair and screwing up the secret. Beginning to pace, he looks at me and then to the floor, repeating the action, breathing hard. “You can’t tell anyone we found that.”
I hold up my hands. “I promise. I’ve kept your secret, remember? But if you do want to talk about it, I’m here.”
Running his thumb over his lip, he shakes his head. “Dad knew someone was skimming from the books; he had an investigation in place and lots of people got…taken care of. Ayasuddenly appears with Corbin, who swoops in and arranges connections with investors and everything’s forgotten.” He huffs, pointing at me. “Your ex was a fucking piece of work. That secret was typed.”
I raise a brow, palms splayed out wide. “I’m very aware. Why would he include his own fiancée in the game? Your sister seemed happy this weekend.”
He shakes his head. “I overheard him and Dad throwing the word arranged around and took it as something to do with work. Fuck—what has she got herself into.” Cardinal resembles a dragon ready to blow fire with the way his nostrils flare, small glances in my direction as he continues to pace.
I close my eyes as a wave of dizziness hits me again, my stomach grumbling as a reminder I still haven’t been fed. Slapping the envelope against my hand, I tear it open because I can’t think of anything else to do right now as the grumpy dragon continues to tear up the carpet with his shoes.
Murder whispers through each page, A brilliant mind created with age.
Thankfully, the scent of coffee fills my senses as I fall flat on this one, the clue surely referring to a book, which is funny because we’re standing in a room lined with them.
“I found pastries still fresh and Cardy mate, I couldn't find that weird tea you've been drinking, but I made you a coffee.” Wren says, entering with his hands full. In a couple of long strides, he discards our breakfast on a table and has his hands on me, fluttering over my hair, face, making sure I’m still in one piece. My head hurts still; nausea and brief dizziness, a dear friend at this point.
“What's wrong? Are you alright? I think you should sit down.”
I don't argue as he leads me to my pile of pillows and blankets. “We erm—god, I have a headache coming on. We found another clue and Aya's secret.”
His head whips round to look over Cardinal's looming figure. “Guessing it was bad?”
I nod. “Bad. Turns out Corbin knew no bounds. I’m sure he wouldn't have left here with a fiancée after dropping that secret.”
“He wouldn't have left at all, I'd have killed him myself!” He snaps from over by the fireplace.
“Did he plan on burning ties with everyone? How did he expect things to go once the game was over?” Wren muses, not necessarily to anyone. “Phin would have wanted nothing to do with him, the hotel would be done, no fiancée, no you.” He tenses a little on that last word. “The idea of him upsetting or hurting you boils my blood.”
Rubbing at my temple, I look down at the envelope I’ve laid on my lap. “We don't know what my secret is.” I have no doubts that after exposing all of us, I'd have returned to wanting no contact from him. He'd died alone like he wanted in life, this weekend maybe a way to implode it all at once.
The way Wren dotes on me feels like second nature; I'm not sure he's even aware he's doing it as his eye contact never wavers, he collects both our coffees and pastries, placing them in front of me. As I stare lost in thought at the clue, I can see his fingers practically twitching over my croissant like he'll lose the fight and feed me if I don't pick it up soon. It would actually fuel my brain back into consciousness, so I ignore the burn from the coffee and take a bite to chew on whilst I will myself to figure this clue out.
I don't know how long we have before the other guests make it downstairs, but I think we need to hunt through the shelves until I can latch onto a possible answer. “We need to search in the books.” I say to them both, shoving more of the pastry into mymouth unapologetically. The coffee actually makes quick work of getting the headache at bay and I see Wren’s shoulders relax a little as he downs his own cup.
Watching Cardinal from the corner of my eye, I frown when he doesn’t touch his own coffee but instead shoves his hands in his pockets and sulks to the door. “I’m going to go get the girls. I don’t know what’s taking them so fucking long.” He’s gone without even looking back, the excuse tangible but what he really means is he wants to check on Willow.
“Great—thanks for the help looking, mate!” Wren shouts, throwing his hands up and turning to face the full wall of books and the scatters around the fireplace. “Any ideas where to start, Love?”
I rub a hand over the sensitive skin on my face and regret it instantly, my lip feeling so swollen from where I assume I bit them. Turning over his question, I point to a section on the wall where there was a lot of classic literature. I had wanted to spend hours here, checking out all the novels the guys had chosen. Phin mentioned he’d included a bunch of musical scripts and even comic novels for younger guests if they were dragged here with parents.
“Try to find The Great Gatsby. It won’t hurt to go from there, seeing as it was the theme of the weekend.”
He wastes no time following orders and I finally feel strong enough to stand up, heading over to the shelves too, running my index finger along the spines till I find what I’m after. There’s empty space on the shelf, Wren obviously taking a copy of Detective Featherton himself, but I’d say a couple more had been plucked. Luckily, I’d given Phin a bunch of different artwork versions, even special editions, but he’d secretly ordered a bunch online to fully stock out the place. He truly was my biggest Featherton supporter.
The only guests left without their secrets were myself, Bran and we hadn't found Mavis’, but knew what it would be. I think we’d skipped at least one by accidentally coming across the clue in the fireplace. The knot in my stomach just told me this was going to be mine, hidden in the most like-me hiding spot.A book.It made sense to check my own novel, but as I pull out each copy one by one, no red envelope or slip of paper falls out. I can hear Wren bristling on my right trying to find Gatsby, cursing under his breath when he finally locates it, but nothing falls out either.
“Not here. Are there any other copies in the hotel, or should I just start choosing books at random?”
“Some of the rooms have books in them. If we don’t find anything here, we should check the guest room I stayed in.” I think about the clue. “It may not be Gatsby. The story doesn’t really focus on the murder of him but his life, his relationship with Nick and Daisy.”
“Yeah, Corbin didn’t seem to know shit about it.”
Running my finger down the spine of the hardback version of Detective Featherton, I take it down from the shelf, I run my hand over the embossed cover, loving the smell of ink on paper, the uncracked spine, and the weight of a hardback. Not to everyone’s taste, but I knew for a special edition, it just had to happen. My paperbacks get battered in my bag and around the apartment, so I practically cherish a hardcover.
