The crack in her jaw is the only indication she’s not going to attack back like always. She may have gotten changed after they’d ventured outside, but her curls are still damp and frizzed, the first time I’ve seen her without any makeup and lookingslightly disheveled. It makes her look almost human, despite her death glare.
“That doesn’t matter when it could help a murder investigation.”
“She’s right,” Wren admits from behind that chewed nail that’s found its way back into his mouth. “It also means the secret was wrong. Corbin had incorrect information. He either saw something with his own eyes and misinterpreted it, or someone told him, but they didn't know the truth.”
“Could she have told him herself? She was still cheating on him.” Cardinal asks, throwing the question out there, but it wouldn’t make sense for her to tell him a lie about herself. Maybe she hadn’t wanted to admit to regularly having threesomes?
“So what do we do then? Tell Starling the secret is wrong, Bran hasn’t done anything and they can let him go?” Willow asks the room.
“Let’s keep it to ourselves until we can figure out more. Even if they arrest him, they can’t take him out of the hotel. Everywhere is still flooding and the gates are locked. One of the guests has committed two murders. I know he’s your friend—bandmate, but we can’t rule him out of what’s happened to Jay. If he doesn't have anything to do with it, he’s safe in his room, being guarded by Goldie and nothing else should happen during our stay. The detectives are tools, but at least he’s posted in the hallway.” Cardinal decides for us all, but I’m more focused on his opinion of both detectives. He’s not the first guest to complain.
“What’s wrong with them?”
He remains silent for at least a minute, mulling over how to answer my question or maybe wanting to phrase his words really carefully. After a long sigh, he places his hands in his pockets. “In my line of work, I know a lot of Goldies. Side men, usually the brute behind brains, but I don't think Starling has those. I’vebeen watching him whilst they’ve been staying at the hotel and I’m surprised his type of character was even approved by the police force. Let alone make detective.”
Willow laughs, looking up at him and the action seems to stun him temporarily. “Yeah, and he’s always fumbling. DS, DC, Officer—at first, I thought he was getting brain fog staring at my tits whenever we spoke, but I really think he’s just in over his head and can’t remember their hierarchy.”
He grumbles, blinking from her spell and looks away towards the window. “Maybe cover up said tits and he won’t look.”
Her lip turns up and thankfully she doesn’t retaliate.
Throwing floppy hair out of his eyes, Phin props himself up on his elbow and throws his other arm over me. He’s giving me permission to lean on him and take the moment I need to curl in on myself.
“What are we actually going to do? Bran, Mavis and my sister are down one corridor which Goldie is watching, so they’re safe. Merle has hopefully fallen down a hole somewhere, but I guess we still need to make sure he’s ok. Eventually the rain will stop and the roads will clear, so we need to figure out how we can all leave without being in handcuffs.”
“I still haven’t figured out who did it.” I say into his side, so it sounds muffled.
“I think it’s best if we all either stay here tonight or Phin, you go room with your sister and Willow hits up Mavis? If we all double up it’ll make us safer.” Wren suggests.
“Great. Yeah, it makes sense for you both to be in here. Together.” Phoenix grumbles, his tone worrying me again like the sad looks he'd been giving me. I almost thought for a moment he wasn't happy I was staying with Wren, but his arm remains over me.
Now that my Merle theory has been squashed, I’m back to considering that maybe it wasn’t one of the guests. He’dprobably kill me if I voiced it, but what if the altercation was with Aya and she left in a panic over what she did?
“What about me? Do I just fend for myself?” Cardinal throws his hands out wide, but no one muses him because I don’t believe for a second he wouldn’t be able to defend himself. His muscles look like he’s been developing them since leaving his mother's womb. He’s fit from running every day and quick to react, like when he dived into the pool to pull Corbin out.
“You can go find Merle, make sure he’s in our room. You’re welcome to stay there.” Phin says, not really looking at anyone. I hate that I kept my theory from him and worse, if it had been true than we’d kept him in a dangerous spot.
“I'm really sorry,” I say, but it only causes him to remove his arm and rise from the bed.
Striding over to the bedroom door, Cardinal waits for Willow to brush down her sweatshirt and they both leave.
“For the record, we’re the worst Scooby gang ever.” Phin says before letting the door fall shut by itself.
“In my defense, I’ve only ever written one detective novel and it took me a long time to figure out the plot. Planning murder is hard.” I say more to myself, but receiving a small laugh from Wren, who’s been so quiet.
ROLLING onto my back, I let out an elaborate sigh. How in the world have I been raised on Agatha Christie, and I can’t figure out who is responsible for all of this? We each had a secret no one wanted out there, which means everyone, including myself, has a motive. On paper any one of us could have done this, but even suspecting Merle twisted my stomach. My theory was a fantasy. I could picture a situation where he acted in self-defense against Corbin in my head, but his position could twist into any one of the guests. Aya, Mavis, Bran—even Wren. We never had evidence, despite the heaps of debt and secrets he keptfrom Phin. If that was all it took to have motive, then maybe Mavis did it when she found out he had a fiancée, or Cardinal did it because he was marrying his sister. Maybe his siblings did it because he was in fact a giant pain in everyone’s side. My faith in both Detective Starling and Goldie was starting to wane, because as the week stretched on, my room had been vandalized, we were all trapped on the property, and another murder had been committed.
Peer up at Wren, he rubs the edge of his palm against his eyes. Now the guests have gone, his shoulders have relaxed slightly, but he still seems on edge. The mask he’d slipped on after returning to the room is nowhere to be seen, and he’s chewing his lip. “I don’t know if I feel sick again or if I just need to calm down and eat something,”
“Do you have any food in your room?” I finally sit up, grabbing a pillow.
He nods, moving over to his unpacked suitcase and rummaging around in the top compartment. His brow furrows as he digs with concentration, but then his eyes brighten for a mere second as he pulls out two pots of instant ramen.
I laugh, feeling like I haven’t heard the sound in what feels like weeks. “Out of all the things to bring with you, why ramen?”
“Hey, I didn’t pack my suitcase; Bran did whilst I got manhandled into the van. I think it was still in here from tour—we always have stashes of food on us, in case we can’t run out and grab something before soundcheck. Everywhere always has a kettle,” He hits a long finger against his temple like he’s a genius. “Hence my secret stash of noodles I'll allow you to have.”
I plant my palm against my chest, “Forever the gentleman.”
