Finding Dracula, he removes the book and pulls the latch forward, moving with the entire bookcase as it swings open on hinges to reveal a secret room.
“A little secret office. A writing room for me.” I say, eyes glazing as I remember Corbin showing me a rare moment of adoration.A room next to mine so we can always be with each other.I don’t know what possessed him to buy the house or want me to live with him, still now I work it over because it never made sense. He pushed me away, I would do the same. Whenever I crossed a line he deemed too far, he’d pull me back in with promises that he’d make more effort to work less and spend more time with me. He never made good on them and the house was his last ditch attempt to control me, probably his siblings too.
I need this to be the last time I give our failed relationship thought. He's gone and he can't taunt me or hurt me ever again.
“What the fuck.” He exclaims on a breath, walking into a room that is a smaller, mirrored version of the gentleman theme. A small window lets in the last of the day's sun and would be theonly indication from outside that there is a hidden room. “This isn’t some safe room or, I don’t fucking know. We won't get locked in?”
I shake my head. “No, it's just a normal door mechanism. There's a door latch on the other side and it can't lock. We would only be stuck if someone put something in front of the bookcase.”
His eyebrows shoot up and he retreats out of the room, not hesitating to drag the drinks trolley over to wedge it against the open case.
“Yeah that's not fucking happening.” He grunts, the different coloured liquids sloshing in their decanters.
Passing through the bookcase, I focus on the desk which is the biggest piece of furniture. There's a leather pilots chair, a small wooden set of drawers and on top sits a Tiffany lamp with a butterfly glass design. Three framed pieces of art are on the back wall, dark brush strokes depicting close up woodland and spring flowers. The dark markings heavily contrast against the subject, but they are so beautiful. The closer I look, the more little marks I find. The bottom has a looping signature, making me realise these are painted by the same artist I have in my own apartment. Phoenix gifted me a portrait of a woman, sketched in different variations of harsh and soft line work. It's beautifully sad, her gaze longing from her perch on a balcony. Like she knew the world was so big and it was all just out there ready for her. I also think she looked lonely.
The desk was much tidier than the main study, still no devices or laptop though. Opening the top drawer, I find more paperwork for the hotel, but addressed to Merle. Was this his office? Flicking through some of the organised papers, my hand pauses on a set of bills with words likeoverdueanddebtstamped across the top.
“What the hell?” I whisper, laying them out on the desk and scanning over more piles of unpaid bills against the construction of the lake house and outbuildings on the property. From what I can gather, he had lent a lot of money for the projects and he still owes more. Until they can open the hotel and get guests in, they're accumulating debt at a rapid pace. Pulling more paperwork from the second drawer, tingles stab up my spine and a ringing starts in my ears. I blink, unable to make the words disappear on the all too familiar long strip of paper.
Mr Carraway doesn’t know when to stop taking from Mr Buchanan’s pockets. All take and no repayments.
I think I start to see stars from how long I’m holding my breath, reading the secret over and over. This was Merle's secret. He’d found it himself and stashed it away. I doubt Phin knew—he’d never want to owe his brother anything.
Flicking through the rest of the papers in the same drawer, I find a note with Corbin’s messy scribble demanding Merle pay it all back within the month or he would claim the property as debt. I know they’d outright bought the hotel from him with a giant portion funded by Phin, but they’d worked so hard to convert not only the house, but the lake house and the outer buildings. Was Merle's entire share really all borrowed from Corbin? That meant he’d sold the house, but had a share of his own money still in the property until it was paid.
Laying the note on the table next to the secret, I beckon Cardinal over. “Look. Merle leant money from Corbin to renovate the hotel and the grounds. Bloody hell, the lake house would have cost them so much money and all the permits they needed.”
Leaning over me to read the papers, he rubs at his jaw. “This could be a motive. If he hasn't told Phoenix, he may have known this would be his secret.” I begin to shake my head in disbelief but he gives me a pointed look, resting a palm beside my head on the leather chair and caging me in. “You can’t think he’s not capable of doing something just because he’s your friend. If this came out it could ruin his relationship and business. He has nothing. That’s a pretty big reason to murder someone.”
Pushing at his chest gently but firm, I stand from the chair and finally inhale air to my burning lungs. On paper it was a solid motive, but I knew my friend. “No. He wouldn’t do that to Phin. He wouldn’t take his brother away from him.”
“What if it was an accident? What if he just saw red and hit him?” He asks, straightening which made it feel like he took up the entire small room.
“I understand how it looks, but I just don’t believe he could have done this. Yes this looks really bad.” I couldn’t continue, pleading with my eyes for him to understand. His shoulders drop a fraction, but he looks at me with pity.
I hate it.
“I know he’s a close friend, but you need to think objectively and just write this down as a motive. It could be nothing, but it's the only lead you have. If we can’t figure it out, the detectives are going to only focus on you.”
This was all just too much, like a fairground ride I couldn't get off because I wasn't in control. My life could drastically change for the worst if I didn’t figure out who had murdered Corbin and why they were angling it my way.
“I'll see you later.” I say, already running out of the office and passing through the main study. My thoughts weigh me down, spiraling till I feel like Alice in the rabbit hole. I swing around corners, fling myself down the corridors until I'm standing outside the room of the one person who could make me feelwhole right now. I can't explain the cosmic pull, but I’m drawn to Wren like a moth to a flame.
My fist knocks against the hardwood frantically and for a long moment I think he must still be downstairs. There's quiet shuffling and his desk chair scrapes backwards, before the door cracks open. I can finally breathe at his mess of curls and tattooed skin. Everything in my body tells me to throw myself into the bedroom and wrap myself in him, but I’ve never seen the expression on his face before. He looks…reserved. His lips are pressed together in a firm line, but he slides out into the corridor and shuts the door behind him.
What the hell, did he have someone in there? My eyes track down his body and settle on the papers in his hands; my makeshift murder board.
“Robin.” He says my name with strain and I don’t like it one bit. It sounds off, unfamiliar and wrong. The warmth of green in his gaze is gone, replaced by a stale shade that just doesn't represent the Wren I’ve come to know this weekend. He doesn’t touch me and keeps his back pressed against his door.
“Are you alright?” I can't help asking, unable to explain away his weird behaviour.
“Yep. All fine. You probably want these.” My hands take the papers from him, before dropping to my side. My body feels like it’s floating, my mind disconnecting with how overwhelming everything is. Tapering my unexpected anger, I push away the realization I desperately need his comfort right now, and he’s not giving it to me.
“Has something happened? What did the detectives ask you?” I nearly beg for him to tell me what's going on. He looks stricken, before slipping a mask of indifference into place.
“It’s nothing honestly. They just asked the same questions as before. Sweetheart, I’m sorry but I think I’m getting a migraine so I’m gonna call it a night.” He rubs just above his eyebrowand it’s completely for my sake. The pet name doesn’t heat my skin like before and I take a step backwards to create the space between us that I should have from the start. Lil had warned me not to fall for his charm and I’d ignored her, letting him sweep me up in pretty words that now felt hollow.
“Sure.” I can’t bring myself to say goodnight or look at him in case I fall again for his fake charm. Turning on my heel I walk away, placing the bricks back into my wall one by one and tell myself to not bring them down until I get out of this hotel. Clutching the papers to my chest, I let my eyelids burn until I'm forced to blink back the gloomy emptiness gorged into my chest.
