Perdita sighed. “As bad as you can probably guess. I told them about my birth mother, and explained the inheritance,” she said, feeling that weight from the conversation in the gardens returning.
“How did they take it?”
“I think Bilal was the only one who didn’t seem pissed at me for it. We got interrupted, so I didn’t even get to tell them everything. Which I’m kind of relieved about.”
Thorin raised an eyebrow. “Why?”
She looked at him. “How do you think they’d react to the news that Father had not only been keeping this massive secret about my birth, and he’d not only left me the largest inheritance, but he’d also made me the secret coexecutor? That I literally have control over their entire inheritance. I think they would have killed me… No, Iknowthey would have killed me.”
“That’s definitely a lot to take in. It’s like he’s left you in control of his chessboard…,” he said with a sigh. “But it’s not your fault your father’s will is so fucked. That yourfatherwas so fucked.”
“I know, andtheyknow too, but they don’t see it that way right now,” she replied. “I guess I need to give them time.”
Before Thorin could offer her any more words of comfort, the loud blaring of alarms sounded, followed by a galloping sound from somewhere nearby and then… a boomingcrash.
Two legs came through the French windows.
Perdita watched in shock as a large brown horse reared up on the patio, a rider holding the reins for dear life.
Just as someone was screaming, “Oh my god!” she heard Bilal’s voice shouting, “For fuck’s sake,” nearby, joined by a discordant choir of screams.
Perdita stood, wide-eyed, taking the whole scene in. In the last twenty-four hours, a lot of bizarre things had happened. But now her father being dead was no longer sitting comfortably in the top spot in theweirdest shit to happencontest.
“Is that…,” Thorin started, as bewildered as everyone else.
Perdita nodded. “Octavius riding a horse into the French windows? Why, yes, it is.”
6:39P.M.—THE BUTTON MANOR
It took three police officers to haul Octavius off from the horse and wrangle him inside.
Fola watched them drag her unhinged brother back into the drawing room before two more officers, accompanied by a butler and the stable groom, went into the gardens to deal with the horse and the alarm system while Henry contacted an emergency vet.
The room was silent. All eyes were concentrated on Octavius, who was now on the ground laughing and shivering from the cold as well as, Fola suspected, his injuries. He had a trail of blood running down the side of his face.
What a disaster, Fola thought as she watched her brother rock back and forth, coming down from the high of yet another self-destructive incident. She felt the stares of everyone in the room, heard some of their whispers too. “I’d never have thought that one of his kids could act in such an uncivilized manner,” one voice said, followed by another. “Who knows what else that kid is capable of?” Fola turned sharply, her face screwed up as she tried to identify the voices. But all she could see was a sea of eyes. Very few were looking at them with pity, like Anwar, who was watching with genuine concern, but most of the eyes were filled with obvious contempt.
“I’m going to take him to his room to get cleaned up,” Fola said to Henry once he was off the phone. She reached out to pull Octavius into a standing position, shrugging off the loud stares. A part of her just wanted to no longer be down here in this room with these judgmental know-it-alls.
“Good idea, thank you, Fola,” Henry replied, his gaze focused on theshattered glass doors of the gardens where the weaselly journalist, Jesse Philips, was taking the entire scene in. Fola needed to get them away before Mr. Philips sank his sharp vulture claws into her brother and tried to coax any truths out of him.
“Itisa good idea,” another voice chimed in. Fola looked up to find Chief Waxler staring down at them with his hands behind his back and his face pulled into a tight smile. “I will accompany you both, of course, in case you need any assistance.”
“I think we’ll be fine, but thank you so much for offering your help, Chief,” Fola replied with her own false friendliness, as she reached down to gather up the mess that was her brother.
“It wasn’t a question, Miss Button,” Waxler said, his smile stretching more. “We have noticed your brothers leaving the vicinity on more than one occasion today and, given Octavius’s display just now, we would like to keep a close eye on things. Especially as we begin to wrap up our investigation,” he continued, ignoring Octavius low humming. “We don’t need any more factors distracting us from our main goal, which is of course to ensure your father’s killer is caught. I’m sure you understand. I’ll happily wait outside the room to give you two privacy.”
Fola was gripping onto Octavius’s arm now, a lot tighter than she meant to, as she nodded and smiled wider at the chief of police. “Thank you, Chief Waxler. I really appreciate that. We all want nothing more than justice for our father.”
Octavius snorted then and Fola felt the urge to hit him.
“I’m glad we are on the same page, Folake.” Chief Waxler said her full name with a sense of overfamiliarity she didn’t like. No one really called her that and it was a personal choice of hers. Folake was the person she got to be when she was alone and unmasked; she was Fola to everyone else.
“Let’s get going, then,” Chief Waxler said, and then gestured toward the foyer. “Please lead the way.”
She could feel the curious looks following them out of the room as she begrudgingly dragged the laughing, unhinged Octavius with her. On the way out, she saw Perdita was standing by one of the sofas with her arms crossed, watching the three of them with that same look of worry she’d had in the garden and at the will hearing. After learning the truth, Fola wasn’t as angry at her sister but she still couldn’t quite look her in the eye. She wasn’t sure why, but it hurt a lot. She shifted her gaze to Romeo, who was on a cushion in the corner holding knitting needles and looking at them with concern too. When they stepped over the threshold into the foyer, Bilal was there staring at them with a vexed look on his face.
As Octavius weighed heavily on her shoulders, Fola looked back into the drawing room, past the wall that was Waxler trailing closely behind them, and saw Mr. Philips attempting to enter the garden, but almost immediately he tripped and fell into something that looked suspiciously like horse manure.
