3. Riggs #3
“The cello,” she stated, swallowing hard. “I was supposed to be up there tonight with them, but…” She held up her wrapped wrist. “I took a fall and broke my hand.”
Riggs didn’t know whether he should question her about the princess. Maybe she would know something.
“Looks painful, better let that heal,” Riggs said, noticing the blue insect pin in her hair. It looked similar to the butterfly he captured and pinned last week.
“Beautiful pin.” Riggs pointed to the specimen.
She skimmed the top of her hair, gently patting the hairpiece as blood filled her cheeks. “Thank you. It was my great-grandmother’s.”
Riggs tapped his foot to the beat of the song, taking a sip of his wine and fighting the urge to make a face at the taste. “Do you perform here often?”
“Every year.”
“Oh, for their birthday?” He said too quietly, “Or for a remembrance?”
“Both.” The woman’s smile fell, her features softening. “Just wait till later this evening. We play a special song for Princess Elora. It’s sad, yet comforting.”
“What happened to her?” Riggs asked. He drained his wine, instantly regretting his decision, stomach swirling, throat tightening. Absolutely disgusting.
“It’s all a big mystery, you know?” Her eyes rounded.
“There are whispers…” She swallowed. “I heard the king’s guards sent to search for her never made it past Dark Water Lake.
” She said softer, “And there are some people who say Elora died long ago, eaten by that nasty beast.” She rubbed at her chest like she had heartburn.
“If she did happen to get caught up in those waters with that creature…” Her eyes darkened.
“I don’t think she would have survived.”
Shivers chilled Riggs' spine.
The Rouskla.
A nasty water creature dwelled in the depths of the lake, eating anything and anyone who dared cross its path. For as long as Riggs could remember, the creature had haunted Dark Water Lake.
He puffed out of his cheeks, hoping his facial expression conveyed concern. He needed to press a little harder. “Do you think someone would have abducted her?”
This time she looked at him, really looked at him. She closed the space between them, her breath reeking of alcohol. “There is a rumor her uncle had taken her for himself.” She laughed, throwing her hands out, her wine spilling. “And then, one time I heard this berserk story…”
She’s drunk. Tuning her out, Riggs glanced around the room, impatience surging. He was pressed for time, and she had no concrete information. He needed something real, something better than rumors and gossip.
“It was lovely speaking with you,” he said, raising his empty glass as he took his leave.
Moments later, an older woman dressed in all black leaned against a grand pillar, fanning herself and looking out at the swirling mass of dancers. Riggs moved swiftly through the crowd, assessing the woman’s green-feathered mask, impressed by its craftsmanship. It was glorious and brilliant.
“You must have spent a fortune.” Riggs raised his brows, noticing more intricate details in the feathers. Tiny brown speckled dots lay between. What sort of bird did that come from?
“And you are?” she said with grace. Her eyes pinned him like he was a dessert she wanted to devour.
Riggs cringed. She’s old enough to be my mother.
“Leonard, pleasure.” The lie came smoothly as he bowed at the waist.
The woman hummed. “My husband’s name is Leonard, and it was his fortune that graced me with this mask. We just married, in fact.”
Fuck.
Riggs rubbed at the base of his throat. “Leonard is a popular name, it seems.” He schooled his features into a neutral grace like the rest of these insufferable people. “Where is your husband tonight?”
She dropped her fan, holding it at her waist. “Oh, rubbing elbows and greasing palms. He’s running late, I suppose.”
“Do you happen to know the princesses? I ask because your mask appears to match the king’s and queen’s.” Sort of.
The women giggled. “Oh, honey. I am their great aunt. Of course I do.”
Riggs' chest expanded. She’s my lead.
“Sorry about your niece.” He dipped his head, genuine anguish panging through him. “What even happened to her? If you don’t mind me asking.”
She angled her chin, narrowing her eyes. “Someone stole her from the castle, I’m certain of it.”
Riggs paused for a moment, considering.
“That’s terrible.” Riggs held his hand over his heart, attempting to make the gesture as sincere as possible. He could see wrinkles forming at the edges of her lips. An indicator that she knew he was full of crap.
She peered toward the entrance doors, a dazzling smile spreading across her face. “Oh, there he is!” She waved her hands through the air. Riggs turned, his eyes widening as a heavyset man was hauled in by guards. Marble floors must be sturdy. Riggs half expected the flooring to crack.
“Oh, what did my husband get himself into this time?” The woman shook her head, and said, “Please excuse me. Pleasure speaking with you.”
That’s my cue.
A hot flash surged through him like lightning. Sweat clung to his suit. He tossed his empty glass in a nearby plant and casually strode toward the doors.
Good enough information—for now.