“Technically the paintings weren’t sold,” the detective informs them. “They hadn’t had time to add them to the catalog, so they were still in the storeroom.”
“You see?” Bernie gives Mervyn a triumphant look. “No money changed hands, which means I didn’t do anything wrong. Maybe I was just having them cleaned. Or reframed, to match my decor.”
I tug on Felix’s sleeve. “Thrift store,” I whisper when he looks at me.
His eyes go wide for a split second, and then we’re climbing over and around our grandparents and their friends. It’s not until we stumble into the dining room that I remember we’re not supposed to have any idea what’s happening in here. Luckily Mervyn is quick on the uptake.
“They found your grandfather’s paintings,” he announces.
“That’s great,” Felix says, and I doubt he’s faking the excitement. “All of them?”
“Besides the one weboughtat the thrift store after someone matching Bradley’s description tried to sell it,” I add, pretending not to see the detective’s gaze sharpen.
Meanwhile, Mervyn exhales as if a massive weight has been lifted from his shoulders.
“Let’s pause the art talk for now,” Detective Ortiz says with deceptive mildness. “I want to circle back to the murder.”
By now, everyone has vacated the closet to join us in the dining room, so Mervyn has the full Castle Claude audience when he stands up and holds both arms out in front of him.
“Detective, I’d like to confess.” He gives another of thosepauses that feel like a drumroll, only silent. “I poisoned Bradley Odell.”
Judging by the single eye twitch that disrupts his otherwise impassive expression, Detective Ortiz did not see that one coming. “Do you want to call a lawyer?”
“Probably a good idea,” Mervyn agrees.
While the detective is on the phone, Grandma Lainey smiles sadly at Mervyn. “Impeccable timing,” she tells him. “A tour de force.”
“Thank you,” he replies.
It sounds a lot like “goodbye.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVETHE BODY IN A STATE OF DISBELIEF
That evening, everyone is still reeling. We gather in the kitchen to graze on leftovers, taking turns saying some variation ofI can’t believe…
I can’t believe they took Mervyn away in the back of a squad car.
I can’t believe Bernie asked to be placed in the witness protection program, like she was running from the mafia. (Detective Ortiz said they would give her a ride to a motel.)
I can’t believe we made the classic blunder of assuming the person who died was the intended target, when we should have been focused on his aunt. Trying to figure out who would have wanted to killBradleyskewed all of our deductions.
“We got it all wrong.” That’s my contribution. “I wanted it to be Bernie,” I admit, even though it feels immature, like I have the worldview of a cartoon. Bad people do bad things, and then they get punished. Cue musical theme. The end.
“Me too,” Grandma Lainey sighs. “I let anger cloud my judgment.”
“Murder isn’t always neat.” Mr. Namura purses his lips, like he’s running those words over again for possible use as a catchphrase.
“At least not the real kind,” Malia agrees.
Mrs. A helps herself to a leftover piece of shortbread before passing the platter down the table. “Poor Mervyn.” She takes a bite before adding, “And Bradley.”
We all nod, the atmosphere in the kitchen growing heavy. In theory, the immediate threat to Castle Claude has passed now that Bernie has forfeited her claim to the penthouse. No one here is going to sell so much as a square of carpet to a property developer. On the other hand, victory came at a high cost. It doesn’t feel like a time for celebration.
“We were right about some things,” Felix points out, puncturing the uncomfortable silence. “Mostly by accident, and we would have been cooked without Mervyn, but still.”
Grandma Lainey smiles fondly at both of us. “If you hadn’t bought that painting, I don’t know where we’d be now.”
It could be argued that taking legal advice from an attorney currently serving time for his own criminal activities is not the best policy, but Detective Ortiz didn’t challenge Mervyn’s assessment that removing the paintings from the property with the intent to sell was a clear breach of the conditions of Claude’s will, which is the part that matters.
