I nodded and followed him as he began checking the rooms.
“Whatever happened to his wife?” I asked. “I don’t remember her.”
“I always assumed she fled after Graham was born.” Ace stomped out of a bedroom. It had taken him less than a minute to search the space. It must’ve been Graham’s, but it held no memories of the old man’s son. Instead, it had a simple bed, an empty dresser and a barren closet.
“I still don’t see what Sley saw in that guy.” Sley had dated Graham but made every excuse to get out of joining him when he went to visit his father.
We walked through the last door to find O’Reilly’s bedroom. A worn quilt with a crisscrossing red and black pattern covered the mattress, tightly tucked at the corners to create a smooth surface. A desk sat on the opposite wall under a large window. The curtains had been pulled back and light streamed into the room to illuminate the papers neatly piled on the desk.
A large irregular stain marred the floorboards. Dried blood, though the smudged edges indicated someone had tried to clean up.
“He died here.” Ace nodded at the stain.
“Your powers of observation never cease to amaze me.”
“And your ability to compliment my talents has my heart aflutter,” Ace replied, tone dry.
I wanted to wipe the grin off his face with my mouth.
Clearly there was something wrong with me. We stood in the middle of a murder scene.
“Where do you want to start?” Ace asked.
I pushed away thoughts of Ace’s lips and refocused on the room. “If he’s as fastidious with his book-keeping as he is with his housekeeping, maybe we’ll find a nicely labelled file on the rogue hunters.”
“We can hope.” Ace went to the closet and started to rummage around the clothes and neatly stacked storage boxes.
I walked over to the desk where neatly stacked invoices sat on the smooth surface. Tidy printing indicating which ones had been paid. I rifled through papers until I came across something unusual. Everything else had been ledgers and invoices. The handwritten letter stood out. I took a seat and pulled the paper free from the pile.
The letter was unaddressed.
I have given the hunters their orders, but I worry he’ll stay his hand out of sentiment. He must survive long enough to serve his purpose. If we are to succeed, the galeons must learn their secrets can betray them, and the heirs must not survive.
Meet me at the place of the three-marked tree when the moon wanes.
~O
“O as in Orion?” Ace asked, reading over my shoulder.
“Or O as in O’Reilly?” I countered. Ace was letting his personal hatred get in the way. I placed the letter beside the invoices. “See? The writing is the same. This was definitely written by the old man.”
Ace shrugged. “If you say so. But if it was written by O’Reilly, who was he writing to?”
“Could be anyone.” I reread the letter. “Do you think he’s referring to Paul? The one who will stay his hand out of sentiment.”
“It makes sense. He didn’t kill you and we know someone else ordered the hunters to attack. But that means there’s a third person involved here. O’Reilly wouldn’t be sending this to Paul.”
I ran my finger along the writing, wishing for the first time the old man was still alive so I could question him. “And the heirs? As far as I know Titania and Oberon have no children.”
“That we know of. Maybe they’ve hidden them away.” He was looking at me funny. “That flirt also referred to your brother as the heir. Is there a chance you’re the king and queen’s long lost love child? It would explain why the letter mentions secrets and also why you ended up in the orphanage.”
“The king and queen are both galeons,” I said.
Ace tapped his chin. “Good point. So either there are more heirs running around or the heirs the old man was referring to are you and your brother and we’re misreading the letter.” He scowled and glared at the letter.
“What?”
“I wish O’Reilly was still alive.”
