14
“Lev Ashthorn,”Detective Magone faked a surprise tone as he stood over me while I ate dinner, watching a motocross race on my phone. I hadn’t seen Adina for a while. She wasn’t in her room, and I assumed she was with Ezrah because he wasn’t there either. I messaged him, but he hadn’t replied yet. It’s my job to watch over her, but it’s impossible 24/7.
“Yep,” I grunted without looking up from my phone.
“Ezrah Warwick did not show up for our interview again,” he informed me, “and he is not answering his phone.”
“You need to discuss that with him,” I shrugged, feigning a lack of interest in this topic, even though internally I was annoyedthat Ezrah had schooled me as to what to say to the detective, then was too chicken or lazy to go through with it himself. Last time we spoke, he was planning to go, but obviously, something changed his mind. I doubt he’d forget something that important, so it must have been deliberate.
I hoped the detective would move on, but no, he continued, “We checked at the gym he goes to and at his frat house on the hill, but they told us that he has moved into Morgana Hall, I believe, where you live. We pressed the buzzer, but no one answered, as I am told the hall is mostly empty, so would you mind letting us in?”
“He’s not in there,” I told him straight. “I thought he’d be at the Lud. Look, I’m not his minder, so…”
With that comment, I hoped he understood that I didn’t know where he was, but he probably didn’t believe me. I didn’t know what else I could say to convince him that I didn’t live in Ezrah Warwick’s pocket, nor would I want to.
“There’s no reason for Ezrah to avoid us, is there?” the detective pressed, and my eyes almost rolled into the back of my head.
“No, not all,” I lied, “Except for the fact that you know who his father is, so he doesn’t want to be pre-judged, guilt by association, and all that.”
“So, he’s got nothing to hide then?” the detective pressed, making me even more uneasy with him bearing down on me.
“Yeah,” I agreed, shaking my head in frustration.
He grunted, “Very well, and don’t worry about showing us around Morgana, we’ll ask security,” he said, “and take a look in his room.”
“There’s not much in there to look at because he only moved in like two days ago,” I argued, sticking up for the shithead, even though he was dumping me in it.
“We’ll see,” he stated, then he finally walked away, and I continued watching the motocross race until he was gone, then I messaged Ez again:wtf are u? The detective is going into your room.
Since there was still no reply, I returned to the motocross race. Afterward, I flipped throughAshthorn: Myths and Legends. The book was too full of mystical intrigue for my liking; I wanted hard evidence regarding my great-great-grandfather, not myths and folklore.
But then I came across a page titledThe Treasure Under Ashthorn Stone. More myths and legends, probably, but I read further anyway. Our family was broke as fuck, and if it wasn't for the Warwicks, we’d still be living on the bones of our asses. But I hated being reliant on them and hated even more being their paid lackey who had to spy on Adina while they were partying in the frat house.
Ashthorn Stone? According to this book, the stone is a chunk of black granite, transported from Brazil for my father’s maze garden as a centerpiece. According to this book, Ashthorn had a special relationship with one of his nieces and would hide treasure in the maze for her to find.
I paused to think about it. Could the niece be my grandmother? They didn’t give a name, and this story was completely new to me, so it could also be a tale. It was a rumor without substance, and that’s when my phone lit up, and Ezrah’s name flashed up on the screen.
“Yep?” I answered unenthused and shut the book while my mind lingered in the slab of granite.
“Doesn’t he need a search warrant?” Ez sounded angry.
“Maybe he’s got one. Is Adina with you?” I was more concerned about her location than the detective searching his room at Morgana.
“Yeah,” he exhaled. “She’s in the basement waiting for Sickle to come home from practice.”
“What the fuck is she in the basement for?” I stressed, half laughing.
“Because she was snooping around…which reminds me…you weren’t watching her,” he accused me, and I didn't care. We’ve put that under so much stress that I think we should back off. Besides, it’s not like she can take off again. Wherever she goes, we’ll always find her.
“I can’t watch her all the time. And you can’t talk. You weren’t watching her either,” I argued. “Anyway, what was she snooping around for?”
“Don’t know yet. We can’t get into the basement to ask her because Sick took the key,” he told me.
“Well, at least we know where she is,” I chuckled, opening the book again at the black granite rock. I was only half listening to Ez as I read the story of how my great-great-grandfather hid an expensive brooch made of diamonds, believed to be worth 50 million dollars, and so the story goes, when she found the center of the maze, she searched under the granite rock for the treasure, only to discover that it was missing. Mr. Ashthorn blamed the gardener for stealing the diamond brooch, had him arrested, the police searched the gardener's cottage, found no brooch, so they let him go. The diamond brooch has never been found.
50 million dollars.There was no way in hell any sane man would hide a brooch worth fifty mil under a damn rock for a kid to find.
“Lev? Lev?” Ezrah bellowed down the line. “Are you there?”
