Chapter 15 Robin #3
Passing through the bookcase, I focus on the desk which is the biggest piece of furniture.
There's a leather pilots chair, a small wooden set of drawers and on top sits a Tiffany lamp with a butterfly glass design.
Three framed pieces of art are on the back wall, dark brush strokes depicting close up woodland and spring flowers.
The dark markings heavily contrast against the subject, but they are so beautiful.
The closer I look, the more little marks I find.
The bottom has a looping signature, making me realise these are painted by the same artist I have in my own apartment.
Phoenix gifted me a portrait of a woman, sketched in different variations of harsh and soft line work.
It's beautifully sad, her gaze longing from her perch on a balcony.
Like she knew the world was so big and it was all just out there ready for her. I also think she looked lonely.
The desk was much tidier than the main study, still no devices or laptop though.
Opening the top drawer, I find more paperwork for the hotel, but addressed to Merle.
Was this his office? Flicking through some of the organised papers, my hand pauses on a set of bills with words like overdue and debt stamped across the top.
“What the hell?” I whisper, laying them out on the desk and scanning over more piles of unpaid bills against the construction of the lake house and outbuildings on the property.
From what I can gather, he had lent a lot of money for the projects and he still owes more.
Until they can open the hotel and get guests in, they're accumulating debt at a rapid pace.
Pulling more paperwork from the second drawer, tingles stab up my spine and a ringing starts in my ears.
I blink, unable to make the words disappear on the all too familiar long strip of paper.
Mr Carraway doesn’t know when to stop taking from Mr Buchanan’s pockets. All take and no repayments.
I think I start to see stars from how long I’m holding my breath, reading the secret over and over. This was Merle's secret. He’d found it himself and stashed it away. I doubt Phin knew—he’d never want to owe his brother anything.
Flicking through the rest of the papers in the same drawer, I find a note with Corbin’s messy scribble demanding Merle pay it all back within the month or he would claim the property as debt.
I know they’d outright bought the hotel from him with a giant portion funded by Phin, but they’d worked so hard to convert not only the house, but the lake house and the outer buildings.
Was Merle's entire share really all borrowed from Corbin? That meant he’d sold the house, but had a share of his own money still in the property until it was paid.
Laying the note on the table next to the secret, I beckon Cardinal over. “Look. Merle leant money from Corbin to renovate the hotel and the grounds. Bloody hell, the lake house would have cost them so much money and all the permits they needed.”
Leaning over me to read the papers, he rubs at his jaw.
“This could be a motive. If he hasn't told Phoenix, he may have known this would be his secret.” I begin to shake my head in disbelief but he gives me a pointed look, resting a palm beside my head on the leather chair and caging me in. “You can’t think he’s not capable of doing something just because he’s your friend.
If this came out it could ruin his relationship and business.
He has nothing. That’s a pretty big reason to murder someone. ”
Pushing at his chest gently but firm, I stand from the chair and finally inhale air to my burning lungs. On paper it was a solid motive, but I knew my friend. “No. He wouldn’t do that to Phin. He wouldn’t take his brother away from him.”
“What if it was an accident? What if he just saw red and hit him?” He asks, straightening which made it feel like he took up the entire small room.
“I understand how it looks, but I just don’t believe he could have done this. Yes this looks really bad.” I couldn’t continue, pleading with my eyes for him to understand. His shoulders drop a fraction, but he looks at me with pity.
I hate it.
“I know he’s a close friend, but you need to think objectively and just write this down as a motive. It could be nothing, but it's the only lead you have. If we can’t figure it out, the detectives are going to only focus on you.”
This was all just too much, like a fairground ride I couldn't get off because I wasn't in control. My life could drastically change for the worst if I didn’t figure out who had murdered Corbin and why they were angling it my way.
“I'll see you later.” I say, already running out of the office and passing through the main study.
My thoughts weigh me down, spiraling till I feel like Alice in the rabbit hole.
I swing around corners, fling myself down the corridors until I'm standing outside the room of the one person who could make me feel whole right now.
I can't explain the cosmic pull, but I’m drawn to Wren like a moth to a flame.
My fist knocks against the hardwood frantically and for a long moment I think he must still be downstairs.
There's quiet shuffling and his desk chair scrapes backwards, before the door cracks open. I can finally breathe at his mess of curls and tattooed skin. Everything in my body tells me to throw myself into the bedroom and wrap myself in him, but I’ve never seen the expression on his face before.
He looks…reserved. His lips are pressed together in a firm line, but he slides out into the corridor and shuts the door behind him.
What the hell, did he have someone in there? My eyes track down his body and settle on the papers in his hands; my makeshift murder board.
“Robin.” He says my name with strain and I don’t like it one bit.
It sounds off, unfamiliar and wrong. The warmth of green in his gaze is gone, replaced by a stale shade that just doesn't represent the Wren I’ve come to know this weekend.
He doesn’t touch me and keeps his back pressed against his door.
“Are you alright?” I can't help asking, unable to explain away his weird behaviour.
“Yep. All fine. You probably want these.” My hands take the papers from him, before dropping to my side.
My body feels like it’s floating, my mind disconnecting with how overwhelming everything is.
Tapering my unexpected anger, I push away the realization I desperately need his comfort right now, and he’s not giving it to me.
“Has something happened? What did the detectives ask you?” I nearly beg for him to tell me what's going on. He looks stricken, before slipping a mask of indifference into place.
“It’s nothing honestly. They just asked the same questions as before.
Sweetheart, I’m sorry but I think I’m getting a migraine so I’m gonna call it a night.
” He rubs just above his eyebrow and it’s completely for my sake.
The pet name doesn’t heat my skin like before and I take a step backwards to create the space between us that I should have from the start.
Lil had warned me not to fall for his charm and I’d ignored her, letting him sweep me up in pretty words that now felt hollow.
“Sure.” I can’t bring myself to say goodnight or look at him in case I fall again for his fake charm.
Turning on my heel I walk away, placing the bricks back into my wall one by one and tell myself to not bring them down until I get out of this hotel.
Clutching the papers to my chest, I let my eyelids burn until I'm forced to blink back the gloomy emptiness gorged into my chest.
The air crackles with pressing heat that wails to be broken, to let the rain we desperately need fall.
Despite the warmth, the sky is layered with thick, rolling clouds, grey and casting a stagnant glow with how the sun pleads to be let through.
It’s humid and I hated it, my curls heavy and already creating a stickiness on the back of my neck.
I’m down to the dregs of my clothes now it's Monday, but I’m sure the guys have some form of a laundrette here, but it also wasn’t out of the realm that they’d arrange an external cleaning service to have their own clothing done.
It meant I was wearing a very worn Fleetwood Mac t-shirt and gingham shorts, with a frill along the hem which made them super cute.
Stepping out onto the back patio, I felt the heat sting my cheeks and I can’t wait for the rain to crack through.
“Ah, Rob Sweetheart!” Phin pushes his sunglasses down and stretches out on the sun lounger he occupies.
Merle sits beside him and places his book down, smiling up at me softly but he looks so tired.
I’d seen them both last night for a small dinner, but they’d just laid food out and told guests to help themselves.
My stomach tightens with the knowledge I now possess and there's no way I can keep this from my best friend. “It feels like I haven’t seen you in life times. I think you’re purposely hiding from me.
Swept away with that rockstar of ours.” He’s teasing, but I look down at my sandals and try to muster a chuckle not to worry him.
It feels wrong to not be truthful with him, but as weekends go, this one has been horrendous and he doesn't need to worry about me too.
Looking up, I change the subject. “I started the suspects list and put together some motives, where everyone was and their secrets. Getting a jump on the detectives might stop them from asking everyone questions about me finally.” Last night I'd thought about ways to subtly push Merle to figure him out, and getting him involved in my self-preservation plan meant I could watch him closely.