5
“Let her believe we killed Maxwell. It’ll work in our favor,” I told Lev, then pointed to the room on the other side of Adina’s. “Still empty?”
“Yep,” he nodded, scowling. Lev was the only one who wasn’t keen on kidnapping Adina. He’s catching feelings for her, and our brutality was ribbing him up the wrong way. He’s going to have to get over that. “You planned it that way. Most of the Morgana is empty.”
“Good, I’ll move in,” I stated, “I’ll grab my bags and the key. So she’s surrounded. Is that other chick still the violinist?”
“Base. I think it’s a base, which is, you know, four times larger, and yes, she’s upstairs on the third floor,” he said and detected a tone.
“Are you alright?” I asked as I stepped toward the stairs, “You’re looking a little pale.”
“I’m fine,” he snapped, and I placed my hand firmly on his shoulder.
“Don’t fall under the spell, bro,” I warned him. “You knew from the beginning what our plans were.” Once down on the ground floor and walking past the empty common room and kitchen, “The daughter of the man who put my father in prison. Never forget that, Lev. Never forget that.”
“I haven't forgotten,” he said gruffly. “But some things don’t add up.”
“Like her old man killing himself?” I chuckled, finding it all rather amusing. “Yeah, I admit that’s a pleasant surprise, best birthday you could give me.”
“It’s not your birthday,” he stated the obvious, which only proves he was in a bad mood.
“No kidding, Einstein. I didn't think he had it in him to hang himself while his precious daughter was in the house, though,” I said as we arrived at the door, and the meek, little nerdy Wolsey chick walked in and was startled seeing us standing there.
Her family was powerful as well, but not a threat to our territory like the Boleyns.
Once we got outside and out of earshot of students nearby, Lev argued, “I wasn’t talking about his suicide, although that seems out of character; I meant when she thinks we set her up.”
“Huh?” I was a little confused. “We did set her up to live in Morgana under your watch-”
“I wasn’t meaning that,” he interrupted. “She accused me of taking pictures of her when we were raking her in the gardens the other night.”
“Did you take pictures of her? Your hands would be full of tit and ass, and” I paused as a memory struck me. “There were flashing lights, like someone was taking pics. I vaguely remember that, but I was too busy working that vibrator,” I explained.
“She said they used the pics to blackmail her father,” Lev informed me, and I wondered if Sick set that up.
“With what? Money. Did they want money in exchange for pics of his sweet daughter getting fucked by her enemy?” I pressed, slightly confused.
“She didn’t say,” he said glumly, as we headed toward Ashthorn Castle to walk through to the cafes on the other side.
“He wouldn’t buy into that shit, though, would he?
” I said, imagining the reaction our father would have if he were blackmailed by someone who took pics of us.
“He wouldn’t hand over money to stop pics of his daughter going viral; instead, he’d grin and bear the shame and embarrassment for a week or so before the internet moved on to something else. ”
“Maybe he doesn’t think like your dad,” Lev blurted. “Fuck, man. Besides, fathers treat their daughters differently from their sons.”
“Meh, well... he's got a thot daughter now. Not that he’s alive anymore to experience the humiliation,” I rationalized bluntly. I didn’t care about Maxwell Boleyn and his fat rope-grazed neck, but fuck, it’s going to put a smile on our father’s face.
When we called Nicolae with the latest news as we drove to the station with the Boleyn girl drugged in the back seat, he was pleased, well, about as pleased as a man like him could be, and when he spoke, it sounded as if he was smiling.
But he was genuinely surprised by his death, as we were, so I knew he had nothing to do with it.
So, Adina’s accusations that we killed her father and made it look like a suicide were false.
We’re not the guilty party, but maybe it was easier for her to lay the blame on someone else than admit the worst, that her father didn’t want to be her father anymore.
Then he sealed the deal by hanging himself while she was in the house.
It was a low blow, but I never held the man in high regard anyway.
As far as I was concerned, he was capable of any amount of treachery, this included.
Perhaps this was the wake-up call Adina needed that her old man was not who she thought he was. The ice palace eventually melted.
“Anyway, she’ll be a mess for a while,” he said in that gloomy tone, and I shot him a look.
“I’ll go easier on her in the gym, then, and use lighter weights,” I chuckled, enjoying our position in the game and looking forward to our father patting us on the back. “Anyway, how many students live in Morgana?”
“Three,” he answered swiftly. “Actually, I think there might be one or two more. Maybe the admin had some strays left over from other halls.”
“Got names?” I pressed, because we had to ensure that they wouldn’t grow suspicious over our caging of Adina.
“Nah, I've barely seen them,” he answered slowly.
“Find them and perhaps organize their transfer to another hall,” I ordered as we walked into the cool, shady Ashthorn Castle and under the archway.
“Right,” he sounded fed up, so I changed the subject. “Any closer to finding more clues on your grandfather, or is it great-grandfather?”
“Nah,” he shrugged, “every book or website I come across either tells me something I already know or mystifies the man, turning him into some sort of ethereal being when he was, in reality, a tight-ass recluse.”
“Runs in the family,” I joked, but he wasn’t smiling, not that smiling was his thing anyway. He seemed to have a lot on his mind, and I wondered how many of those thoughts were about the Boleyn girl. “Loner, anti-social, peculiar, all you’re missing is the money.”
“I’m not that peculiar,” he argued, and I snorted in laughter as the sun hit faces stepping out into the busy street, and naturally, I gaze down the very end of the road where the campus police station is.
It’s Sunday morning, so they’re probably busy dealing with drunk students recovering from hangovers.
I stalled when he stepped into Scholars to find that detective leading the case, dead guy on the train case, and his eyes narrowed, scrutinizing our body language as we walked in.
My mouth suddenly went dry, made worse by Lev mumbling that he’ll wait outside.
I had to act normal, but he was staring at me, which was pissing me off.
Then I heard, “Ezrah Warwick, is it?”
I nodded as I stepped up to the counter to place my order, “Yeah, and? Two large fraps, one caramel and the other chocolate, plus, give me two of those nut muesli slices.”
I gave the girl the money while ignoring the penetrating stare, then I started to wonder if he knew what was going on with Adina.
“Leon Warwick’s youngest son?” he added, and I bit my tongue. Get to ya point, brah.
“Yeah, it wasn’t me,” I joked, and he smiled appreciating the crim humor. “I saw nothin’.”
“I knew your old man,” he said in a friendly tone as if he did actually know him and wasn’t just trying to make conversation.
“Lots of people know him. He has one of those reputations, Gov. And you’re speaking in past tense. Last time I looked, the man was still alive.”
The girl handed me a paper bag with my nut muesli slices, but they hadn’t started making our Frappuccinos yet, so I stepped away from the detective, then changed my mind when it seemed cowardly or like I had something to hide. I had plenty to hide, but I didn’t want him to know that.
Instead, I dragged out the chair at his table and sat opposite him. His eyes immediately noticed my bulging arm muscles as I folded my arms across my chest.
“Work out, do you?” he stated the obvious. “Isn't your brother in the team?”
“Yeah, but team sports are not my style. I prefer gym training and motocross,” I told him honestly.
He grunted in surprise, “Plenty of dirt tracks around these parts, isn’t there?”
“Yeah, but we had to carve them out ourselves last season, so they’re probably overgrown by now,” I went along with the friendly convo for a while, waiting for him to mention my father again.
“Huh,” he rumbled again, nodding his head, playing that friendly copper game that lures you in, before they do the big slam dunk.
“We received news just this morning,” he began, and I had to suppress my smirk. I know the fucker had some great revelation. “From Richmond.”
“Yeah?” I shrugged indifferently, “And?” I knew exactly what he was going to say next, so I took out a muesli slice and bit into it.
“Your father’ssss,” he deliberately lengthened out the s, “greatest competitor, shall we say, was found deceased.”
I choked on the slice in my mouth, honestly, I faked it to show that the news was completely unexpected. I coughed, cleared my throat, “Seriously?”
Magone nodded and narrowed his eyes again, studying my body language, and I couldn't tell if he believed me. “Your father would be disappointed to lose such a great opponent, would he not?”
“I guess so,” I casually answered, taking another bite of the slice. “Maybe word would get out in prison.”
“When do you visit him next?” he pressed, and my patience was running out.
“No plans,” I lied. Nicolae was planning to see him next week; maybe we should push it forward. Mom should be pleased, too. I should probably call her to tell her the good news, but that can be painful at times, depending on how clingy she is.
“Got a class at eleven twenty tomorrow?” he asked, swiping on his phone, then looked up at me when I hadn’t answered and read my blank face. “The investigation. You were on the train when a body was found.”
“Ah, that. Um, yeah, I think I do have a class at eleven twenty. Can I get back to you after I look at my schedule?” The barista called my number for our Fraps, and I got up off the chair, relieved to be moving away from the detective. Then added, “I thought you were going in alphabetical order.”
“We are, but we have a space just opened up, and when you walked in, I thought, ah, the perfect person to fill that gap – the son of Leon Warwick,” he said, and shot me a sharp look that made me uneasy.
“I'll get back to you,” I told him, then he handed me his card. As I walked away with the fraps in my hands, he called after me, “Get it over and done with, Mr. Warwick.”
I had two options: run or face him. If I ran, I’d have to leave Castlehill and go into hiding, or I could lie to his face that I had nothing to do with the death of the man on the train.