41. Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-One
E mma
Declan and I blink at Amelia in surprise, but she doesn’t even take a second to register our shock.
She immediately marches to the center of the room, the sound of her steps muffled by the rug. She spins around to face the rest of us, eager to share information, planting her hands on her waist with aplomb.
"Over sixty years ago," she begins. "Madam Thornley arrived at the Pink Hotel with her fiancé Victor. According to what I can piece together, through the journal and your Grandpa’s stories, they were either acquaintances or family friends and the marriage was something both their families pushed for.
"Madam T's father had just died and while she was still grieving over that, she accepted Victor's proposal, because it's what her dad wanted, even though they didn’t really love each other. Before getting married though, Victor and Madam T came to the Pink Hotel alone so they could get to know each other better. Victor also thought it would be a great business opportunity and convinced Madam T it would be a nice break from her controlling mother."
While Amelia takes a breath, Declan asks, "How do you know her mother was controlling?"
"Because of how Madam T talks about her," she responds. "Her mom was super old-fashioned and super protective, so she forbade Madam T from doing things she considered 'unbecoming.'" Amelia puts the word in air quotes. "She also told her how to dress, what to eat, where to go. Her mother was kinda like you and mom combined, but on steroids."
"Thanks," I comment drily, as Cross chuckles in the background.
Amelia shrugs. "In his letters, V would often encourage Madam T to break some of her mother's rules, starting with small things like putting an extra cube of sugar in her tea, or even nursing wounded birds which her mother strictly told her not to do. She thought it was unladylike, but Madam T loved animals. So V encouraged her to help this bird that had fallen by her window. This was pretty much how she fell in love with him in the first place. Except the 'V' who was writing her letters wasn't Victor."
"What?" Confusion contorts Declan's face. I understand it must be difficult to follow the story or even believe it. I came to the same conclusion as Amelia, but it's still kinda difficult to understand how anyone can come up with that scheme, much less pull it off.
"The 'V' who wrote her those letters was one of the thieves," Amelia continues. "Everything after the first letter that is. I think the first letter is from the real Victor, but almost every other letter, save a few, is from the thief posing as Victor.
"Why would he do that, you may ask? Now here's where my theory comes in. We know the three thieves infiltrated the hotel pretending to be guests and they were trying to figure out where the Pink Pearl was kept. They couldn't exactly go around asking questions because then they would draw attention to themselves. And people might realize that no one there actually knew who they were.
“Their invitation to the hotel was forged. So while lurking around at night, 'V' probably found one of Victor's letters, just like Grandpa did occasionally, and figured that he could use that to get Madam T to do their dirty work for them. He would pretend to be Victor and ask her to ask the staff questions about the Pink Pearl."
"Hold on, how did she not notice the letters weren’t actually from her fiancé?" Declan asks, still appearing perplexed. "Did she never speak to him in person? Did she not realize that Victor couldn't remember details from the letters?"
Amelia nods enthusiastically. "But here's why the plan is so genius. Everyone at the hotel, including the staff, knew that Victor barely ever spoke to Madam T. He was so busy trying to get his business deals through, and he spent more time socializing with his business partners than with her. The men would go hunting and drinking all day, while Madam T pretty much stayed locked up in her room."
"Plus remember, Victor thought that Madam Thornley was going crazy from the grief of losing her dad," I add, as the thought occurs to me. "So whenever Madam Thornley would mention anything about the letters, he probably just thought it was part of her mental breakdown."
Amelia nods excitedly. "Probably. And on Madam T's end, she likely thought Victor was too shy to admit to the things he wrote in the letters because they were all romantic and stuff. I mean if I wrote all that mushy stuff, I would be embarrassed about that too."
Monty makes a sound in agreement and, from the corner of my vision, I notice Cross roll his eyes at him.
"The thief faked Victor’s handwriting very well," I say. "I didn’t notice anything was amiss and I must have read things a bunch of times. I only realized yesterday that V used the term 'striking ivory' which isn’t a commonly used phrase at all. That was what piqued my suspicion, and when I looked closely, I realized that the handwriting was actually different."
"V was good," Amelia continues. "But eventually, Madam T figured out that something was off. On August 13th, she writes in her journal that Victor feels like an entirely different person from who she thought he was. I think that's when she started suspecting that V wasn't really Victor."
"She was bound to know something was up," Monty points out, clearly getting into the story now. "Why would he be all romantic in letters and then practically ignore her in person?"
"You think the thief did that to confuse her? So, he could manipulate her?" Cross asks.
"Maybe," Amelia says.
"I’m not so sure," I respond and they both turn to me. "It was in V's best interest to keep his personality as close to Victor's as possible so that Thornley didn't notice the difference. He should have copied Victor's tone and standoffishness. His being the complete opposite made it easier for Madam Thornley to catch on. In which case, it didn't make any sense for him to sabotage his mission by being gentle and romantic with Madam Thornley, unless–"
"Unless he genuinely fell in love with her," Declan completes.
Amelia rubs her chin. "Another angle to my theory."
"The thief fell in love with his mark?" Cross asks.
"Yup," I answer still holding Declan's gaze. "It's the only thing that makes sense. I mean think about it. His best bet would be to get the information about the Pink Pearl as quickly as possible and move on. But he barely asked any questions about it and only half heartedly told her to inquire from the staff about the Pink Pearl.
"Instead, they talked about love, life and philosophy. He dragged out their conversations, back and forth with letters, until he got caught by Madam T. Then again, maybe a part of him wanted to get caught. Maybe because when Madam Thornley eventually demanded they meet up to confirm he was who he said he was, he showed up, even though it put the whole plan in jeopardy. Why would he do that if he wasn't in love with her?"
Declan's eyelids lower slightly over his eyes. There's a message in his gaze that I can't quite decipher, but it's making my heartbeat fast.
"What happened after that?" he asks.
"That's where it gets murky," Amelia continues, drawing our attention once more. "I think Madam T found out that V wasn't Victor, but she likely thought he was another guest. V also confessed he had feelings for her. And I think at that point she was in love with him too, so the two started a real affair. He keeps sending her letters addressed from 'V' though, which makes everything confusing."
"Maybe to hide what they were doing. In case someone else came across the letter, they would assume it was Victor," Cross suggests.
"Or maybe the thief's name also starts with the letter V," I say.
Amelia nods. "All possible. But, that doesn’t matter anyway. What matters is that I think Emma is right, because, at some point, V gives up on the plan to use Madam T. He stops asking about the Pink Pearl entirely and they just keep being romantic and mushy. Plus, it’s implied that they hung out a few times. How come your grandfather never saw them together, Emma?"
"I don't think they hung out in public, at least not while at the hotel," I say. "Whenever Madam T spoke about their outings, it was somewhere far from the hotel, like at the Angel Oak Tree, or it was in her room when all the other guests had left for one activity or another. Grandpa probably never saw them together."
"There’s still one thing I haven’t figured out." Declan suddenly speaks up.
"Which is?" I ask.
"Why on earth did the thieves want the Pink Pearl in the first place." He looks from Amelia to me. "I thought you said Rainbow Pearls weren't particularly valuable."
I shrug. "I don’t think they were, but the Pink Pearl is different. At that time, I think it was pretty much the only naturally occurring pearl of its kind. An extremely rare gem. I'm sure they could have gotten a lot of money from it, from collectors or in the underground art world or something."
"Yes, but whoever bought the Pink Pearl wouldn’t be able to display it. Because then they would be exposing that they were dealing in stolen merchandise."
"Good point," Amelia says.
I shrug because I don't have an answer for that.
Amelia claps her hands together and takes a bow. "Anyway, I solved a major part of the mystery behind the Pink Pearl and finished all my homework. Now I want to go get ice cream."
"You certainly deserve it." I stare at Declan. "Did you know your daughter was such a genius?" I can’t believe a thirteen-year-old figured all that out on her own from having the journal for a few weeks. I had that book for years and I didn't know half that stuff.
"I know," Declan says, beaming with pride. "She gets it from her dad."
Amelia rolls her eyes, but I notice the blush staining her cheek.
But suddenly, Declan's gaze grows dark.
"Rainbow Pearls," he murmurs. "Wouldn't they be considered rare now?"
"I suppose," I say. "Most of the younger people in town have never even seen one."
"So, if your theory is correct about why the thieves wanted the Pink Pearl, then that might apply to Rainbow Pearls now, right? They would probably fetch a lot of money on the black market. Correct?"
The realization hits me a second after he says it.
"The Rainbow Pearls we found in the hotel basement," he continues. "Do you think someone was collecting them?"
The image of the dry sack with the pearls flashes through my mind. The memory seems so long ago. "Maybe."
"And maybe they accidentally left it in the hotel basement. Maybe they're looking for it right now."
"Maybe."
His eyes darken and he mutters something under his breath. Amelia is looking between the two of us now, her eyes wide with curiosity.
"What? What's happening?" she says. "Somebody please talk to me."
"I think I know why my office was broken into," Declan says. "And I think I know who's behind this whole thing."
"Who?" Amelia and I echo.
But Declan watches me carefully and shakes his head. "I'll tell you later."
"Aww." Amelia pouts, but Declan glances at Monty.
"How about you take Amelia to get that ice cream?"
"Yay." The pout gives way to a grin. "Are you coming, Dad?"
He shakes his head. "No, we'll catch up with you two later. Emma and I have to do something first. But you can take Sandy with you."
"Okay." Amelia bounces over to hug her dad and then me. "See you guys later. And you'll tell me the big secret when you come, right?"
"Right."
She waves us goodbye, before flouncing out the door. Monty follows her.
I wait for the door to shut before I speak again.
"What's going on?" I ask. "Who do you have to talk to? Who do you think is behind this?"
But Declan shakes his head again. "A lot has happened in the past hour. There've been enough surprises for one day and I don't want to dump any more on you until I'm absolutely sure I need to."
"But Declan, if you know who broke into your office–"
"That's not my priority right now. My priority is protecting you from Xavier."
He turns to Cross. "I need you to go back to the Tiki Bar and see if Xavier is still there. Once you find him, stay on his tail and report anything strange. Okay?"
"Roger." Cross also rises and gives me a two-finger salute before walking out the door.
And now, Declan and I are alone.
We stare at each other for a few seconds, uncertainty hanging in the atmosphere. After a moment of hesitation, he finally walks to me and draws me into his embrace.
My resistance falls away instantly. I melt into his arms. His breath is in my hair and I shiver as he whispers, "God, I missed you so much."
"I missed you too," I admit and it's almost a relief to finally get it off my chest. No matter how hard I tried to distract myself these past few days, he was never too far from my mind.
"We have to talk," he says. "About us."
I shake my head finally gaining my resolve to push back. "I thought I was clear that there is no us."
"That's where you're wrong. Or maybe I was wrong. God, I don't know how to do this. But I have to tell you that I'm in–"
The phone rings, interrupting us.
I pull away reaching into my pocket, pressing the phone to my ear.
"Emma," Grandpa says. "You weren't just home, were you?"
"Um, no. Why?"
"I thought so," he says. "Didn't sound like you."
"What didn't sound like me?"
"The person upstairs," he says. "I think someone was just in your room."