Chapter 22
?
The price of being right.
August
Is he Ali…or isn’t he?
That’s the question.
True, he didn’t go to that meeting the other day, but I’ve been paying careful attention since, and there’s just enough times where he’s absent in accordance with a scheduled meeting that I’m not yet willing to believe this hypothesis has been debunked.
I could have missed him postponing his other meeting, even though postponing a meeting on my account seems really, really stupid. Despite that, stupid isn’t impossible. Even though it is improbable.
As far as I can tell, both Dominic and Ali work incredibly hard.
Their work ethic matches their aptitude for devotion.
Their tones are similar. And, the other day when we got shaved ice, we had a moment that felt suspiciously like girl talk.
We just fell into it. Like Ali and I have done countless times before.
All this to say: I’m not convinced that he isn’t Ali yet, which brings me here.
To Beth’s humble abode.
Adjusting my sleuthing hat, I ring the doorbell and wait.
Shortly thereafter, Beth’s husband, Edgar, greets me, filling the doorframe with his broad, tall form. “Oh my,” the elderly man murmurs, running his fingers through thick strands of salt-and-pepper hair. “To what do we owe the pleasure, Sherlock?”
Flicking the rim of my hat, I stare at the blue-eyed man. It’s been a while since I’ve seen Edgar. Probably at least a year. The few shifts I’ve been taking at Bear’s this summer haven’t aligned with when Beth and her husband come out on the town.
Now, however, I find myself staring at an oddly familiar face.
Edgar waves his hand in front of me. “August?”
I blink out of the daze. “Um. Hello.”
“Yes.” His brows furrow—the expression familiar. “Hello?”
I swallow. “I was wondering if Beth was home?”
“Beth, love?” Edgar calls through the quaint cottage abode.
“Someone is here to see you.” He steps back, welcoming me in.
“She’ll just be a moment. Can I get you something to drink?
” He scans me, from my sleuthing hat down the khaki ensemble I threw together for the occasion. “Wine or a whiskey and soda, perhaps?”
Friendly, I smile. “No, thank you. I brought my own spirits.” I lift my bag.
It possesses a frozen water bottle and a snack, in case I grew peckish while I was on the hunt for clues.
Retrieving my case notebook now, I clear my throat and say, “If I could, I’d love to ask you a few questions as well, sir. ”
“Well, well.” Edgar folds his arms. “Where was I the night of the murder, you say? Let’s see…”
I fix my disapproval on the man. “Sir, please. This is serious business. We’re discussing the case of The Mysterious Millionaire.”
“Oh?” His gaze drifts. “Why, I’m afraid I don’t know any mysterious millionaires…”
After he suspiciously says as much, Beth comes down a short set of stairs opposite the entryway, sees me, and gasps.
Eyes going wide, she pales, lifts her skirts, and bustles the rest of the way up the hall.
“August!” Her smile shakes. “Whatever are you doing here, dear?” Forcibly, she takes her husband and utilizes his broad form like a wall, sequestering me at the end of the foyer with my back to the front door.
Edgar beholds his wife. “Don’t tell me you’re the murderer, my love.”
Beth’s gaze could cut diamond when it slices toward her husband.
Innocent, Edgar tucks his hands in his pockets and begins to peruse the ceiling.
Clicking open my pen, I scribble. “So…Beth…”
She gulps.
“I was just wondering…” I inch forward.
She inches back.
“…why exactly are you, my grandmother, and everyone else so supportive of Dominic?”
“I’m sure I don’t…know what you mean? He seems a fine gentleman, doesn’t he?”
“If he were a complete stranger, I doubt anyone but my grandmother would be so gung-ho about this whole scheme. Therefore, I’ve deduced that—somehow—I must know him.
But that alone doesn’t quite explain how he conned my brother into helping him, now does it?
No. For that, I think there’d need to be more history between him and the people in this town that Wynn already tolerates.
As far as I know, you’re the least involved, which means you must be hiding something. ”
She refuses to meet my eyes. “He’s…become friends with Wynn?”
“Friends… Accomplices… Semantics. Are you aware he’s currently guilty of committing arson?”
Beth hardens, and her attention flies to me—square. “He’s what?”
“Is that a no, then?”
“August, what in the world do you mean my—” She flinches. “—that man has committed arson?”
“Your?”
“Answer the question, young lady.”
My stomach drops.
Coughing, I remember my manners and settle back to take my turn not meeting Beth’s eyes.
“It’s not a big deal. He set a bed on fire with my brother as part of a scheme to trick me into inviting him to stay with me.
I was told there was faulty wiring, but I’ve already deduced that there wasn’t faulty wiring.
Regardless, I saw the charred mattress on Wynn’s curb before trash day. In conclusion…” I shrug. “…arson.”
Beth’s mouth drops open.
Edgar, notably, snorts.
Beth twitches. “Is that what happened?”
“As far as I know.” My attention drifts while Beth worries her lip and covers her face with her hand, muttering about where she went wrong. Which is…
A clue.
Probably.
I jot it down, then pause as my mind works over what I’ve learned so far. Beth has narrowly expressed ownership of Dominic, and now she’s contemplating her life choices where it concerns him. Didn’t Dominic once tell me that he was raised by his grandparents?
Could…Beth and Edgar be his grandparents?
They don’t share the last name Montgomery, but there’s a dozen reasons that could be the case.
I could also be wrong about Dominic being Ali.
This could be a different lead altogether.
It might very well be a brand new hypothesis that explains his connection with everyone and why Wynn didn’t hesitate to trust him.
It could be an answer to all sorts of questions.
Wetting my lips, I let my attention skim over Edgar again. Tall. Broad. Once-fully-dark hair. Blue eyes. Very, very familiar blue eyes. Apart from the hair and his age, his features are strikingly reminiscent of Dominic’s.
When Edgar angles his broad shoulders to the side, breaking the wall of his chest so he can cajole his wife, my gaze fixes on a photo hanging behind them. Standing tall and proud in graduation garb, a young man holds a framed Augustus campus diploma.
Upon that diploma, scrawled in gold cursive, rest the words: Alister Dominic Montgomery.
Alister Dominic Montgomery.
Breath leaves me, and I stare.
I was right.
I was right. Dominic is Ali.
My Ali.
My…millionaire girl boss of a best friend. Who is actually a boy. And living with me right now.
I’m living with my boss.
If that’s not a romcom title, I don’t know what is.
I squint at the odd wisps sticking out from beneath his dark graduation cap, and I realize even though they’re the same shade as the cap, they are not part of it. They’re his hair. His dark, dark, dark hair.
Swallowing, I wet my lips and pull my attention off the picture before Beth or Edgar can realize I’ve seen it.
Beth’s still muttering something to her husband about arson and what’s going on in that boy’s head when I force a smile and say, “Well. This has been a lovely little enlightening chat. I apologize for interrupting your afternoon.”
Beth stiffens and turns to me, eyes wary with concern. “Is everything okay, dear? He’s… Dominic is treating you well, isn’t he?”
“Oh, yes. Perfectly so.” He even occasionally pins me to the wall or the couch and teases me before leaving me cold and shivering and…
“He’s neither caged me nor duct taped our hands together, though.
” Despite promises. Honestly. I know we’ve played with mistruths this entire time, but still.
Lying about those sorts of things is so rude of him.
Beth blinks. “Though?”
I wave a hand and tuck my notebook back in my bag, motions fumbling, stilted, and awkward.
“Don’t worry about it, please.” I cough.
“So. Uh. I best be going now. I’ve gotten everything I need here.
The hunt continues. I’ve other interviews to…
conduct.” Beginning to flush, I twirl on my heel and reach for the doorknob.
“August.” Beth’s hand on my shoulder stops me. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
My goodness. People need to stop asking me that.
My smile teeters, but I manage to keep it in place. “Yep. I’m great. Thank you for asking.”
We’re just entirely going to ignore the fact that I’m falling in love with my boss, who I’ve thought was and have treated like a girl for three entire years.
We are also going to ignore the fact I might, perhaps, just the smallest bit…think he’s cuter with dark hair.