Chapter 18
The police arrived shortly after Henry had broken the news that their father was dead.
Perdita could hear Henry now, reciting the same words to the officers in the foyer, his voice echoing through the hollows of the Manor’s walls as she sat with her four siblings in the far-reaching silence of the vast drawing room.
The air felt heavy. So thick with fresh wounds of grief that she felt as though she were suffocating in the quiet. She looked up at the others, spread around the sprawling room in various stages of shock.
Bilal was seated at the edge of their dad’s armchair, hunched over with his head bowed and shoulders tense, his face paler and greener than usual.
Perdita thought she heard sniffling coming from his direction but wasn’t sure.
Fola was perched on the bay window seat, staring out into the gardens, her eyes glazed over in a way Perdita had never seen before.
Fola looked nothing at all like the calm and calculating older sister she knew and loved.
She looked as broken as Perdita felt. Romeo was standing in the center of the room, dried tears on his pale white cheeks and a crestfallen look in his sky-blue eyes.
Romeo was the only one who had cried when Henry had told them, which wasn’t at all surprising. Rome was always the first one to cry whenever bad things happened. Perdita suspected she would be next.
They were all drowning together in the abyss of shared sorrow.
Everyone in the room looked an equal level of distraught at the news.
Almost everyone, anyway.
She glanced over at Octavius, who was seated on the ground by the fireplace in deep concentration, hunched over a checkerboard, playing himself at a game of checkers and seeming, at least from her perspective, to be losing.
He looked ridiculous in more ways than one, still dressed in his sleepwear, with his odd socks and muttering to himself by the fire.
Maybe we all wear grief differently, she thought.
Just then, the voices in the foyer grew close, and in a rather abrupt fashion, the doors of the drawing room swung wide open, revealing five men all dressed in police uniforms. An exhausted-looking Henry stood next to them.
With the exception of Octavius, who was still engaged in his own games, Perdita and her siblings turned toward the men.
Henry stepped forward. “I’m sure you remember the chief of police, Chief Waxler. He wanted to speak with you all this morning,” Henry said.
Perdita recalled brief meetings with Chief Waxler at several of her father’s dinner parties growing up. The police chief was always overly excitable at these dinners and spent most of the night at their father’s feet, kissing the ground Mr. Button walked on.
“It’s good to see you all again, albeit under these unfortunate circumstances,” Waxler said hoarsely with a downcast expression.
“I’m so sorry for your loss. Leontes … Mr. Button …
was a dear friend of mine and a huge support to the police department.
He will be missed by us all. Myself and my officers just wanted to check in on how you kids are doing and whether there is any way we could be of help? ”
Waxler’s words were met with complete silence.
He nodded anyway as though they’d given him some kind of assurance before he continued speaking.
“We also wanted to let you know the next steps. We will be spending today drawing a picture of the events of last night, starting with the team who was dispatched to the yacht. This is all standard procedure. We aim to interview everyone who attended the Prodigy Ball last night. Thankfully, Henry tells us that because of your father’s annual banquet brunch, the guests are already on the way to the Manor.
We have also recalled all the staff and crew that were working on the yacht last night, who should be arriving by midday.
Ultimately, we want to make sure you are all okay.
No one wants to see you kids go through any more trouble, especially not me.
I owe it to your father,” Chief Waxler said, a deep sadness to his expression as he stared across at them all.
Still, no one said anything.
Language seemed useless when all you wanted to do was break something, even if that thing was yourself. Their father was dead and there was nothing Waxler or Henry or anyone could do or say to change that.
After a few moments of quiet, Fola finally spoke. “Are you investigating something in particular? Do you think there was foul play involved?” she asked, her voice fragile as she switched into problem-solving mode.
Waxler paused, noticeably hesitant to answer.
“I won’t know the details until we get a full report back from the officers on the ship.
Right now we are not too concerned, as we know that this case is in the safest hands possible.
Our principal aim is keeping this contained.
No one except the people in this room is aware of your father’s passing, and we will aim to keep it that way for as long as we can, to ensure Henry, the lawyers, and your father’s estate are able to control the news as desired.
“That will be pretty difficult, what with the brunch starting in a few hours. Guests will be here soon, and they will be expecting my father to be here too,” Fola said.
“Yes, we plan on controlling the flow of information. We don’t want to raise too much alarm, so when the guests settle down, I will simply let them know that there was an incident on the boat last night and ask them to recount their version of events to my officers.
Given your father’s high status, we will not be releasing a statement to the press until we’ve heard from his lawyers about next steps.
To eliminate the spreading of this news, we’ll be taking everyone’s phones and electronic devices upon their arrival and until further notice. ”
“Even our devices?” Perdita asked.
Henry nodded. “Yes, though the police won’t be searching through the devices at this point; this is just to stop the news spreading to the outside,” he said as he removed his glasses and gave them a quick clean.
She noticed the slight tremor in his hands and the way his face was overcast by shadow.
Perdita tried not to look too visibly relieved at the confirmation that their devices wouldn’t be searched.
Bilal’s low rumble of a voice broke through. “You said you were interrogating all the guests from last night. Does that mean us too?” he asked.
“Yes, that will be the case. Though I hasten to add it isn’t an interrogation, more so an informal interview. In fact, why don’t we do all your interviews now? Get them out of the way before the others arrive?”
No one said a word. Instead they all just stared helplessly at the uniformed men before them. For some reason Waxler saw this response as an affirmative.
“Wonderful! Mr. Xu, is there a room we can use for the interviews?” Waxler turned to face Henry now.
Henry’s eyes were bloodshot as he nodded. “Yes, I’ll have the staff prepare some rooms, and you can do the children’s interviews in Eden—I mean, Mr. Button’s office … his old office now that he’s … It’s upstairs,” Henry said with finality, his fingers shaking as he clasped his hands together.
“Great,” Waxler said in too jolly of a tone for the situation.
Then again, Perdita imagined it would be hard for Mr. Waxler not to look jolly in general, given the chief’s very bushy upturned mustache and wide dazzling brown eyes.
“I say we go in alphabetical order, to save you all the hassle of deciding.” He gave a final nod, not waiting to get their approval.
Did he even need it? While they were all seventeen and thus still children in the eyes of the law, Perdita didn’t feel she could refuse their questioning.
She and her siblings were privileged in many ways, but having agency wasn’t one of them.
“No need to look so worried,” Waxler said, staring at the misery mirrored across all of their expressions.
“I’m just going to ask you to take me through your entire night from start to finish, with special attention paid to anything strange you might have seen or heard.
” Waxler looked hopeful that this added detail would help the heirs to see the situation as less complicated than he believed it was, but was only met with more silence and more gloom.
Henry stepped in before Waxler could speak again. “Chief, one of the maids, Lara, will show you to Eden,” Henry said, and then he turned to Bilal. “Billy, you’re up first.”