“Agatha.”
“Hmm?”
“Agatha.”
“What, br–”
She stopped. I felt her stand next to me.
“Good God,” she said. She took in a breath, then another.
The body itself didn’t smell that bad. I was almost positive that if I touched it, it would still be warm.
Agatha’s hands fumbled on her person. “Where’s my phone?” she murmured. “I need to call this in.”
I couldn’t speak. I had never seen a dead body before. I stared at it, trying to figure out what, exactly, I was feeling. Numbness crept into my body. I didn’t want to feel anything. I wasn’t sure if I could let myself feel something.
She sounded so nice.
That was what I took away from this?
As much as I didn’t want to think about her, about the fact that I had heard her speak, the voice wasn’t wrong. Even with George snipping at her, she still sounded kind. It was like she understood George’s frustrations with her and didn’t fault him for it.
And now…
I wasn’t sure how long I stood like that for. Agatha slid her phone in her purse. “Luckily, Nathan and Simon were still around,” she said.
“And George?”
I winced. I shouldn’t have said his name.
Then again, what if…what if he’d been involved –
But no. There was no way.
Except…I didn’t really know George. I didn’t know anyone. That was the whole point of this little gathering, wasn’t it? For me to get to know them better?
“He’s coming too,” Agatha said. She pinched the bridge of her nose. “I hate getting sober like this. It’s such a rush to my head.”
I blinked. How could she just…talk? Was this normal for her?
But then, of course it was.
How could I be foolish to think otherwise?
She was the chief of police. We had just closed a murder case. Why would I assume otherwise? Agatha dealt with this more than I could imagine.
Footsteps in the sand caused my shoulders to jump to my ear. I whirled around, only to see Nathan, Simon, and George rushing over.
I stepped back, though I wasn’t sure why.
I wasn’t afraid of George, not really.
But.
But I didn’t want him to see me. I didn’t think I’d be able to hide the fact that I was trying to read his eyes to see if anything would give him away.
“We need to secure the scene,” Agatha told them. Her focus was entirely on them, on this victim who had a kind voice, and I was left to my devices. I stepped back, not wanting to get in anyone’s way. “Body of a Jane Doe.”
“Murder?” Simon asked.
“I don’t know,” she said. “I don’t have any gloves on me. You?”
Both Nathan and Simon reached into their pockets to pull out rubber gloves like they expected to encounter a crime scene wherever they went.
“Check for an id and any possible indication it was murder,” she instructed them.
George was quiet.
Too quiet.
I noticed an unmistakable expression of shock and sorrow sweep across his face. His usual playful composure wavered for a moment, his features contorting with a mix of disbelief and pain. It was evident he knew her, and the realization of the victim’s identity seemed to hit him like a tidal wave.
George's eyes widened, their usually relaxed gaze softening with a poignant sadness. He took a step back, as if needing a moment to process the grim reality before him. His jaw tensed, and his brows furrowed as emotions flickered across his face like shadows in the moonlight. If he had had a toothpick before, it had disappeared the second he appeared.
A hint of guilt lingered in his eyes, as if he wished he could have prevented this tragedy. I couldn't help but wonder what had transpired between him and the victim during their argument earlier that night, wondered if he could have –
But no.
For a brief moment, I saw vulnerability in George's demeanor—a side of him I had never witnessed before. It was as if the weight of the body, coupled with his personal connection to the victim, weighed heavily on his shoulders.
“Richmond, earth to Richmond!” Agatha exclaimed, waving her hands. “I know you were drunk back there, but so was I, and I’m unfortunately stone-cold sober right now. Can I count on you?”
George took a deep breath and stepped forward again, regaining some of his composure. His lips pressed into a firm line, and his eyes darted between the lifeless form on the beach and the surrounding area.
Though he attempted to mask his emotions, a trace of determination shone in his eyes, as if he was silently vowing to bring justice to the victim and find the truth behind her death.
“Yes, ma’am,” he murmured in a low, serious voice.
Despite all of my observations, I couldn't shake the feeling that George's involvement in this case ran deeper than he was letting on. Something in his reaction to seeing the body hinted at a personal connection that he wasn’t telling my aunt.
Why? Why wouldn’t he say anything to her?
I made a mental note to tread carefully, to observe George's actions and words throughout the investigation. There was more to this case than met the eye, and uncovering the truth would require navigating the intricate web of emotions and secrets that seemed to envelop George and whoever this was.
“ID says Victoria Scheffeld,” Simon read out. “Looks like an art student at Willowbrook Academy of the Arts.”
Agatha’s eyes met mine. Willowbrook. The city I came back from. The city where I went to college. With Alexander.
“An artist, hmm?” Agatha’s eyes went back to the body. “Well, the Festival of Cherry Blossoms is next weekend. Perhaps she had a booth there and wanted to come early to check everything out. We should run her name and see if she applied for a business voucher.”
“Got it,” Nathan said, taking notes in his notebook.
“Simon,” Agatha said, turning to the dark-haired officer. “Call CSI. They need to check the body and get it out of here before we risk contaminating the crime scene any further.” She turned to look at me. “You need to go home.”
My heart sank.
“Wait, but –”
Agatha approached me with a somber expression, and I could see the conflict in her eyes. She knew how much I wanted to help with the investigation, but she also understood that I had no official right to be at the crime scene. And she had to do what was best for the scene.
"Piper," she said gently, placing a comforting hand on my shoulder, two actions completely uncharacteristic of her, "I know how much you want to be here, but this is an active crime scene, and you can't be involved in the investigation. It's for your own safety and the integrity of the case."
Her words stung, but deep down, I knew she was right. I may have assisted Kitsune with his private investigations, but I was still an amateur with no official authority or training. As much as I yearned to uncover the truth behind the victim's death, I had to respect the boundaries set by my aunt.
I sighed. "Of course," I replied, trying to hide the disappointment in my voice. "I just... I wanted to help, you know? It's hard to stand on the sidelines when something like this happens, especially finding the body."
Agatha’s expression softened, something else that was strange to see, and she nodded. “I know, kid, and your desire to help is commendable,” she said. “But this is a delicate investigation, and we need to follow proper procedures to ensure justice is served."
I sighed, realizing that she was right. My enthusiasm to be involved in solving the case had clouded my judgment. I needed to step back and let the professionals handle the investigation. It wasn't easy, but it was the right thing to do.
"I'll go home," I said, trying to sound resolute. "But if you need any help with anything else related to the case, please don't hesitate to call me. Or if you need help with…" I cleared my throat. “Other stuff.”
Agatha smiled, but it waned. “Thank you,” she said. “I promise to keep you informed, and if we need any help, I'll reach out to you. But don’t wait around for it.”
With a heavy heart, I turned away from the crime scene and walked back to my car. As I drove home, my mind was filled with thoughts of the victim and the unanswered questions surrounding her death. I might not have been able to be at the crime scene, but I was determined to support my aunt in any way I could.
Would she go to Kitsune?
I paused.
Maybe I could ask him to take the case?
As I drove home, my mind was a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts and emotions. The image of the lifeless body lingered in my mind. Part of me wanted to respect my aunt's wishes and stay out of the investigation. But another part of me, the curious and determined part, couldn't let go of the nagging feeling that there was more to the story, especially with George's involvement.
I debated whether to ask Kitsune to look into the case discreetly. After all, he had experience and connections in the world of investigations, and his insights could help shed light on the situation without interfering with the official police investigation. He knew George…maybe he knew the vic as well? But at the same time, involving Kitsune meant potentially going against my aunt's wishes and risking further complications.
Plus, would he even want to?
He might be too consumed with his current romance read to even care.
I scowled as I pulled up to a red light.
I kept going back to George. How George knew the vic. How he had been arguing with her. How he hadn’t said anything when he saw the body to my aunt despite having a personal reaction to it.
In fact, I couldn’t help but recall his reaction when he saw the body. There was something in his eyes, a flicker of vulnerability and guilt, that I couldn't shake off. I wondered if he was hiding something, or if he truly had nothing to do with her death. But regardless of his involvement, the fact remained that George was a detective, and I couldn't help but feel that it might influence the investigation in some way.
My thoughts swirled with uncertainty and determination, and I couldn't deny the pull of the mystery tugging at me. I had a personal connection to this case, having witnessed the argument between George and the vic earlier that night. It gnawed at me, knowing that I had information that could be crucial to understanding what happened.
Finally, as I pulled into the driveway, I decided that I couldn't just stand idly by. Even if it meant going against my aunt's wishes, I had to talk to Kitsune. I would approach him carefully, explaining my reasons and emphasizing the need for discretion. Maybe he could help me make sense of the situation without compromising the integrity of the official investigation.
Taking a deep breath, I gathered my resolve. I knew it wouldn't be an easy conversation, but I didn’t care.
At the very least, Kitsune might have answers I didn’t, explanations, and insights that I didn’t.
For now, I had no choice but to head inside and try to catch a few hours of sleep before the sun came back up.