“He’s dying—stage four cancer. The doctors say he has less than a year, but he wants to end his life now. He’s asked me to do it, and he is trying to bribe me with my inheritance.” It all came tumbling out of his mouth then; he felt like humpty-dumpty sitting on the edge of the wall.
“What the actual fuck?” Bilal said.
Fola whipped her head around, her eyes wide. “Father, is… is this true?”
Mr. Button moved another piece.
“If you are to trust what your brother says, then you may believe it to be true. But if you trust me, my dear daughter, then you’ll know where the real truth lies.”
This is what their father always did with Fola. He handed her ultimatums, making her choose him over everyone else, over and over again.
Octavius had never held it against his sister. He knew why she was this way. He remembered a childhood of nasty remarks about her made by the media, remarks about how she looked nothing like a genius, let alone one that was a math and chess genius; they were convinced that she must be cheating somehow, must be a fraud. Accusations he never got. He knew she fought every day to prove that she was better, not because she believed in it, but because she needed to make sure everyone else did. Having their father’s favor and favoritism was one way to ensure that she was always protected from most of the media’s scorn.
Fola’s eyes flickered back and forth between the two most important men in her life, but she remained quiet and that was answer enough.
Their father smiled.
“I trust what Octavius says,” Bilal replied, and then looked his brother in the eye. “You can’t kill him, Octavius. It is a trap. It’ll ruin your future.”
“I know, I’m not going to—” Octavius began, but Bilal was talking again.
“Let me do it,” Bilal said.
“What? Bilal, what are you saying?” Fola asked, her voice wobbling.
“I have no future,” Bilal replied. “Let me be the one to kill him.”
8:01P.M.—THE BUTTON MANOR
“You think it wasOctavius?” Fola asked, looking perplexed.
Evie nodded. “Yes. In fact, I’m certain it was,” she said, making eye contact with the musician, who was staring at her in a vulnerable way that confirmed her suspicions. He’d been looking at her like that all day. She’d never seen anyone look as guilty as Octavius did.
It was kind of making her uncomfortable, even. She looked away from him, staring now at the others in the room. Everyone looked alert now that there had been a murder accusation thrown out there. Even the boy who seemed to be having some sort of breakdown before on the sofa was staring wide-eyed.
“Sorry, Miss…,” one of the guests started, stepping forward. Evie couldn’t tell by just looking at them whether they were one of the teenage prodigies or not. Despite their youngish appearance, their clothes seemed to be straight out of an old man’s closet.
“Gray,” Evie replied.
“Right, Miss Gray,” the person continued with a frown. “Do you think it is appropriate to be throwing around words like that right now? I’m sure we all have our theories, and we are all desperate to go home, but you can’t make such uncertain libelous declarations—”
“And I wouldn’t be making them if I wasn’t certain,” Evie replied frostily. She wasn’t sure she liked this person.
“What makes you so certain?” Perdita asked suddenly, her eyes narrowed. She was defensive. Evie couldn’t blame her; she understood more than anyone what it felt like to be protective over your brother.
“Well, I told you I had access to the cloud earlier—to the police logs. I reviewed all of your alibis, and while Octavius’s is not the only one with inconsistencies as to his whereabouts,hisis the only one that failed its fact-checking measures with flying colors.” Evie did not need her notes to recite her findings. She had been waiting for this moment for a long time—the moment she’d be able to take down the Buttons.
“At 11:39P.M., mere minutes before Mr. Button’s murder, Octavius sent a text message and it pinged near to a cell tower where the yacht had been docked at that point in the night, proving that he did not leave the boat at the time he claimed he did.”
“You went through his messages?” A voice came from behind her as Bilal entered the room with the Button secretary, Henry. Bilal’s tone was accusatory, his expression severe as he hobbled forward.
“No, I didn’t need to access Octavius’s message. All I’m telling you is what was in the police notes,” Evie replied, and then faced Octavius once again. “The police already know you lied in your alibi, Octavius. I think they’ve been trying to figure out why all day, and see if you had an accomplice. They just didn’t want to reveal their cards too early by arresting their main suspect, especially as that suspect is Mr. Button’sson—the same Mr. Button who was a longtime friend of one Chief Waxler. It would not only be a bad look for them to arrest the victim’s son without beingreallysure, but also he probably just didn’t want the killer to be someone he felt tasked with protecting. They probably kept us all back here while they were trying to find evidence itwasn’tyou. It must be nice, this privileged life of yours where you get to be above the law… above even murder.”
There was silence then. Octavius looked like he was moments from collapse.
Evie continued. “And even if we were to believe Octavius’s lie about leaving the boat to get his violin bow fixed, there is no such thing as anemergency luthier. I assumed that because you have connections in high places, there was probably a specialist who might open for you after hours. Only, I calledevery luthier within a feasible distance from the boat. None of them open past nineP.M., and none of them had received a bow to fix. And if that wasn’t enough, I also found what I’m assuming to be your broken bow in the trash in the second-floor bathroom. Considering Mr. Button was killed with a blunt instrument, I’d bet good money that yourbowwas the murder weapon, and in that case, I must tell you for future reference that you really shouldn’t throw away murder weapons so haphazardly like that. It really does raise suspicion.”
Evie felt a renewed confidence. It was all slotting into place. Justice was so close she could feel it. She just needed to drive this home now.
