Chapter 2
Flowers, wine, crime
I wake up shaken once again, but this time calmer, while someone calls my name. My eyes open slowly and meet two sublime blue sapphires.
“Miss Anmara, are you ok?” Blake asks me in a truly concerned voice.
I move my gaze from the two worried eyes. I look around and realise that I’m in a quite dark, unfamiliar apartment. I put the puzzle pieces together in my mind and manage to recall the past events.
I was in Tamwine, but…
“How long have I been here?” I ask in a voice that isn’t mine.
I start coughing instantly. Blake hands me a bottle of water, which I open and drink breathlessly.
“You’ve been in Tamwine Ville for a day and a half. We started to get really worried about you.”
I am about to spit the water I had in my mouth directly on his uniform, but I refrain. I can only make my eyes as big as saucers, while hardly swallowing the water.
“We tried to let you rest, and you’ve only woken up once from your sleep, screaming. Moreover, we’ve put up a cold compress, and your eye is already looking better.”
One and a half days fully unconscious. Great. It can’t be better than that. Alongside this, I move the blanket off me and see that I’m dressed up in a pair of black pyjamas. My glare moves angrily to Blake’s.
“I haven’t changed you! Miss Tamara, the housemaid, did. Calm down,” he rapidly says with a smile that makes my heart pound without realising. “Are you hungry, miss?”
“Please, call me by my name. I don’t think there is a big difference between us to make me feel old,” I say in a more normal voice. “And yes, I would love to eat something, but in here, if it’s possible.”
“Sure, Anmara. I will immediately bring you this evening’s chef’s specialty.
You can get comfortable here or in the living room, wherever you prefer, miss…
I mean, where you prefer, Anmara,” Blake says, with his words a bit stammered in his mouth, but with the same sweet smile on those soft and superb lips that I really wanna bite and…
Ok, that is too much, Anmara. Even for you.
I just manage to smile as a thank you before he leaves the apartment.
It feels like I know him from somewhere. He seems so familiar, but, at the same time, my instinct tells me to stay as far away from him as I can.
Hard thing to do given the fact that I can only turn to Blake for all of my problems in this strange place. I think I can trust him more than Raymond. My instinct tells me that the latter is just a great actor. Not very trustworthy.
Hold on, did he just say living room?
I get out of bed, relieved that my head stopped hurting. My body is full of energy. I feel like I can run a marathon, but I just start by admiring this amazing room I’m in.
I am in a bedroom that has a gigantic bed in which four people can easily sleep.
Above it, there is a canopy in an immaculate white colour.
The walls are white with fine golden details that seem hand-painted.
On the floor, there is a nice brown hardwood on which is one of the softest and cosiest carpets I’ve ever put my feet on.
I start thinking if the creamy carpet I’ve sunken my bare feet in is better to sleep on than the bed.
Looking around, I see an open door leading into a big and bright room, but modern and elegant at the same time.
A big green sofa with golden accents and matching armchairs occupy a large part of the room, alongside the TV that seems to cover at least half of the wall in front of the furniture.
On its left, there is an entire glass wall covered only by a semi-transparent curtain, which hides the beautiful view of the city and its plants.
The details in this room are in the same style as in the bedroom, with a lot of white and gold, but with some cosy green accents.
Looking up, I notice that the entire ceiling has painted leaves on it.
In the middle of the room, there is a big chandelier with lots of golden flowers gracefully hanging down from it.
I come to my senses, being able to also see the black kitchen and the big marble island on the opposite side of the TV, along with a couple of bar chairs in the same shade. The drinks collection underneath the island makes me smile. I need to try them all. They’re free from all I know.
I get startled by the knives with red-as-blood handles next to the drinks, as that place is specially made for them. It is a strange and macabre detail, but, at the same time, it fits right in with this place.
Heading out for the big terrace, a gust of clean air hits me when I open the door. The fact that there is a table with some chairs makes me stay outside and enjoy the magnificent sunset the city is basking in, combining its colours with those of the flowers on the terrace.
I sit on a chair waiting for Blake and the food, already hearing my stomach growling, only thinking about it.
I put away my hunger and try to make my brain give me some useful information regarding why I’ve chosen this place as a destination under the wings of the unknown. And, of course, my mind doesn’t wanna let me find memories from before I arrived in Tamwine.
The paper with the directions from my bag is what pops into my head. It seems strange enough to make me wanna have another look at it.
A crinkled piece of paper is usually a clue, and it should mean something useful or, at least, that is what my intuition says, especially considering that there was nothing written on it before.
I probably watched too many detective movies, or maybe this will help me figure out who I really am and where I come from.
Or why I left with so little luggage. A suitcase and a backpack, however heavy they may look, wouldn’t be all that I would’ve carried if I were to run and hide from the world.
Before getting up to rummage through my goods, I see Blake coming out on the terrace. He is pushing a cart containing multiple food trays and a jug that appears to be filled with orange juice.
I am already drooling, and I haven’t even seen the food he brought. Just the divine smell alone makes my mouth water. And his presence…
Don’t you stare at his muscles! And do not drool that much over Blake!
He looks at me for a moment with an odd expression on his face, but it quickly disappears when he starts taking the trays and putting them on the table.
All my senses are awakened as soon as he takes off the covers. I grow more and more surprised with each plate of food he reveals.
One of them has different types of sushi, another one displays a big portion of shrimp pasta, and the last one has a multitude of small, delicious-looking cakes. He sets the cutlery in its designated place, alongside a glass where he puts a little of the juice from the jug.
When he finishes, he looks at me, patiently waiting for me to see that he wants to tell me something. I am too captivated by all the food for a few moments. It looks too good, and I am really hungry.
“You can reach me anytime you need me. Also, call me using the four buttons in your apartment: the first one is next to the bedside table on the left side of the bed, the second is under the sink in the bathroom, the third is in the living room on the right side of the sofa, and the last one is here, under the table right in front of you.”
His words just make my spine shiver.
Buttons? Why the hell would we need four?
“Just press one of them, and I will come as quickly as I can,” he continues, not letting me process the information he shared. “I’m staying on the floor below, and I am at your disposal only, as you required on the phone.”
He winks at me and leaves, but not before bowing in front of me. I am about to laugh at how stupid it seems, but I stay silent.
I am thinking of myself as such an important human being for having so many buttons everywhere and a personal assistant. One sexy as hell. With an even more beautiful smile.
Unfortunately or fortunately, at the moment, the food seems more interesting than the body of my footman, so I don’t even bother to look at the sticks for the sushi. I take a piece directly with my fingers and into my mouth.
Oh my God! I almost moan at how good it is.
I then remember that I’m on a terrace and anyone can hear me, so I try to keep the moans to myself for the other pieces. I also attempt to savour what I am eating, but I am too hungry to even think about that.
?
I kept staring at the small piece of paper for a few good minutes while trying to figure out what the hell is up with it.
Besides what I scribbled on it yesterday, there is absolutely nothing else written.
I don’t know why I’m so interested in finding out its deal, but something tells me that it’s of utter importance.
I search my big suitcase for something useful, but aside from some clothes similar to what I wore, and a couple of different kinds of condoms, I find nothing else interesting in it.
I think I had some kind of sexual fantasies when I packed if there were these types of objects in my luggage.
Who knows? Maybe I thought I was just gonna have a couple of hot dates.
Setting aside my thoughts that want to grow more perverse, I close the suitcase and put the backpack up on the bed. Maybe I can at least find something handy in here.
I start with every pocket separately, getting out all kinds of stupid shit: napkins, five pairs of sunglasses with lenses of different colours, for an unknown reason.
Aside from those, there is also a hair plate, a hairdryer, some scented candles, and a lot of bath products, which seem to have been thrown in a hurry.
Same with a small, but miserable makeup bag that appears to have been dragged through the mud before being put back into the bag.
Other than that, I also find an empty notebook, a bag full of coloured pencils and pens, an empty drawing block, and a lot of small stuff that seems useless at the moment. Oh, yes, and a penknife. At least this can come in handy.
I put aside everything I found and search all the remaining compartments of the backpack.
Just a big waste of my time.
There is nothing helpful in there. No phone, no ID card, not even money, absolutely fucking nothing that can help me figure out what I am doing here.
I bring the backpack upside down, and something else really does fall: a lantern.
The only thing from this bag that can be useful for camping, aside from the pocketknife, which also seems out of place.
I dismiss that thought when I turn it on and notice that it isn’t a normal lantern, but a UV one.
A light bulb goes off in my mind as well, and I hurry to gather that piece of paper that got a little lost under all that stuff on the bed. I manage to spot it, and I put the UV light on it, finally finding what I was looking for: a clue.
Wedding off. Mystery on.
What the fuck is that supposed to mean, mysterious young lady? I think I was already in love with clues, and I am seriously wondering if I wasn’t working as a detective. I don’t even know who is supposed to get married until I look at my left hand.
Shit.
That ring with an enormous diamond sends cold shivers down my spine.
I think someone upset me so much that I ran away from my own wedding. Or I just got out at the last moment and disappeared into the world.
Moreover, I may have even drugged myself not to remember the stupid shit I’ve done. That would explain the amnesia.
What makes me believe it’s not really about the wedding is the cursed paper in my hand.
If I let out this kind of note, the situation is even worse than it seems, and I need to solve a fucked-up mystery that I only have a bad feeling about.
The thoughts in my mind are not nice at all, but full of blood and darkness.
Until I come up with more conspirative theories, I open the notebook that seemed empty.
I’m not even surprised when I realise I was wrong.
There are a lot of names scribbled on the front page, but only one attracts me: Blake Canbert.
It is also the only one surrounded by a multitude of red circles and arrows.
This shit starts to scare me more than I could have ever imagined.
I go through all its pages, which appear to be empty, except for the last one, on which I find a different and hurried calligraphy. I think that’s mine. It looks the same as what I noted on the surprise paper.
Trust him. Don’t trust anybody else.
Flowers.
Wine.
Crime.
Drugs.
Tamwine.
?
I think I stared for at least two full hours on that last page, because I’m now fully numb.
I get out of bed and into the bathroom, feeling extremely dizzy. I dash some cold water over my face and look at my own reflection in the mirror. I only see a tired woman trying to figure out who she was and a pair of lost chocolate eyes.
Okay, so, from what my brain tried to process, I have to trust Blake and nobody else.
Something is truly wrong with all those flowers.
Also, the wine is a big fat problem, and something tells me it’s related to the name of this perfect town.
There clearly is a drug problem here. Probably that is why it seems like a rich-people town.
Not to mention that there is also something about a murder in the middle of all these.
Maybe that is the main activity here in Tamwine. Who knows how many cadavers they dispose of every minute in the depths of some secret tunnels?
I shiver only thinking about that.
Is there something missing?
Oh, yes, there it is.
What the hell am I doing here?