Ronnie scrambled around the house to get her notes photocopied. She needed to confront Michelle McKinney before the alderwoman had time to calm down and get her wits back. Amaranth Jones and the Winter Blanket had established how important it was to have evidence when you confronted someone but also how easy it was for them to destroy it, upending the entire case. That part of the book had actually made Nolan cry when he read it.
She took a manila folder and shoved all her photocopied notes into it, grabbed her bike, and took off toward Town Hall. Ronnie had a fantasy of storming in and demanding to see Michelle McKinney before marching right into her office and blowing the lid off this entire mystery. Unfortunately, the front doors were pretty heavy, and the reception area was devoid of bystanders to make a scene in front of, and Ronnie had to ask the receptionist where Missus McKinney’s office even was.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Michelle is out of the office right now. She just put in for a week of vacation time.”
“Vacation?!”
“Yes, it was very sudden, but she needed a break. Don’t worry, she’ll be back before you know it. If you’d like to leave your name and contact information…”
“No, no no no no. That can’t…”
“Miss?”
Ronnie spun around and squeezed through the heavy doors, grabbing her bike and nearly fumbling to get on it. Vacation time? Unlikely. Michelle McKinney was trying to bury the truth as fast as she could! The only hope Ronnie had was to find out what Elizabeth Fabel knew.
By the grace of God, Main Street Roses and Blooms was open. She burst through the glass door, sending the bell into a frenzy and startling Missus Fabel. The old woman scowled and composed herself before turning to face Ronnie.
“Young lady, what do you think you’re doing? You could have given me a heart attack.”
“Where is Michelle McKinney?” Ronnie demanded. “She’s not at her office–they said she was on vacation–and I need to speak with her!”
“There’s no need to shout. Michelle has been known to disappear from time to time without telling anybody in advance. She’s had a passion for the outdoors her entire life. I imagine she took the opportunity to join my son on his camping trip.”
“So you don’t know where she is?”
“I’m sorry, I don’t.”
“What about the gold?”
Missus Fabel narrowed her eyes. “Is that what this is about? There is no gold, and there never was. Honestly, children nowadays will believe anything they hear on television.”
Ronnie groaned before darting out the store and pedaling home as fast as she could. There must be something in her notes that could fix this! Something in one of her books that she forgot! She kept the folder clutched tightly to her chest with one hand, but it took all her willpower not to throw it into the trash can with a loud scream.
She was fuming as she walked up the steps to her house, only looking up to grab the door handle.
There was a large manila envelope duct taped to the door with “For the Detective” written on it.
Ronnie’s heart doubled its pace. Her ears rang. Sweat ran down her forehead. She spun around and scanned the neighborhood. A sprinkler chugged along, a neighbor was mowing his lawn, and a pinwheel spun lazily in the breeze. No other movement.
With shaking hands, Ronnie peeled the envelope off and stepped inside, locking the front door behind her and closing all the blinds in the house before sitting down at the dining room table. Her mouth was dry. Like peeling off a Band-Aid, she knew what she should do but found herself opening it at an agonizingly slow pace.
There were printed photos of security footage inside: Nolan buying the parts of his disguise from the shop on Second Street. Ronnie’s vision started swimming. There was a note inside as well, which read, “We all have secrets that we don’t want to get out.”
Nolan locked himself in his room and sat on the bed, pulling strands of hair out of his wig. His notes told him that Adam Monroe owned that entire block of buildings–he would have access to the security footage–but confronting him would mean exposure for sure! Nolan would be the laughingstock of his school, if he was even allowed back at all. His parents would be ashamed of him. They might have to move towns, or he’d be sent to military school as punishment.
Tears ran down his cheeks when he blinked, and his throat tightened up. It was so unfair that Nolan wasn’t allowed to just be a girl for real. If he’d been born a girl, there wouldn’t be anything stopping him from solving the mystery! He wanted Ronnie to be real more than anything else.
But it wasn’t safe anymore. Nolan would have to give up on being Ronnie and give up on the case for his own good. He changed out of his disguise before curling up into bed and burying his face in the pillow, sobbing until he fell asleep. After all this effort, he’d failed to live up to his hero.
Nolan drifted through life for the next couple of days. He didn’t see any point in reading anymore, nor could he focus on whatever was playing on TV. His mom and dad asked him what was wrong but couldn’t get more than a mumble out of him in reply. It was hard to get out of bed in the mornings. The birthday he’d been looking forward to all year came without a party or friends, and Nolan couldn’t bear to read the books his parents had gifted him.
On Thursday, Nolan woke up needing to use the restroom and thought he might as well ask his mom for breakfast before she left for work. He sat down at the table with a bowl of cereal while the News droned on in the background. His mother said goodbye and gave him a kiss on the forehead that he barely responded to, and then he was alone again.
Nolan stared down at the cereal until it was all soggy, occasionally splashing it with his spoon and splattering milk across the table.
A familiar name caused him to perk up and pay attention to the TV.
“Local investment realtor Adam Monroe has made a statement to the police implicating several prominent local figures, including alderwoman Michelle McKinney and attorney George Fabel, as members of some kind of conspiracy. He claims that Fabel has ‘abducted’ the alderwoman despite her family’s insistence that she is on a long spa retreat for stress relief.”
Nolan stared slack-jawed at the TV. Fabel. George Fabel. Elizabeth Fabel.
“In a public statement, Adam Monroe claims, ‘George has had a totalitarian grip over the families of Larson for well over a decade now, using his personal status and wealth to silence opposition to his personal and financial goals. He is incapable of taking criticism, and it’s only a matter of time before he hurts someone to get his way. Though it opens me up to a lot of scrutiny and potential repercussions, I needed to say something. We’ve spent too long covering up the truth about the mess we’ve inherited.’ The details are vague, but Monroe does indeed seem to be implicating some of the oldest families in Larson of a crime possibly generations old. We will continue to monitor the situation–”
Nolan shut off the TV so he could hear himself think for a second. It felt like he was standing on a tightrope over the Grand Canyon. On his left was the knowledge that Adam Monroe had already confessed everything to the police, who were going to investigate and likely fall flat on their face; Amaranth Jones frequently featured the bumbling Detective Derry who never had “enough evidence” to act on any of Amaranth’s leads. On Nolan’s right was the simple fact that if he put on the disguise again, there was a very good chance he’d be exposed and made a total embarrassment. Either way, the perpetrators stood a good chance of getting away scot free.
But right down the middle was the tightrope. If Nolan acted fast enough and played his cards right, he might be able to do what the police couldn’t and bring the truth (whatever it was) to light. That wouldn’t stop them from exposing him to the rest of the town, but people would understand that it was for the case, right? They would know that he wasn’t some kind of freak. Maybe the villain–George Fabel–would realize the jig was up and keep Nolan’s secret out of respect for him as a detective.
His palms were sweaty.
What would Amaranth Jones do? She would spring up from her chair and boldly declare that no sacrifice was too great! Truth and justice deserved to win out over everything else in the end!
And she’d be right.
Nolan ran to the bathroom and jumped in the shower. He washed and dressed himself as fast as he could, but it still felt like it took forever to get back into character as Ronnie. Finally, though, she was standing in front of the mirror with her hands on her hips and a “come at me” smirk that would cow any bad guy into submission.
Adam Monroe lived in a nice house with a big yard and a front gate outside of town. It took over half an hour to get there by bike, and Ronnie worked up a sweat climbing up and over the fence. No time for niceties. She hammered on the front door until she heard shouting inside, and when it swung open, a scruffy Adam Monroe–nothing like the collected and bitter man she had seen before–stood before her.
“What do you want?”
“I’m here for the truth, blackmail or no blackmail.”
He furrowed his brow. “What are you going on about?”
“I know all about the painter that y’all are so determined to erase from history.”
“Ah.” Mister Monroe stepped outside and closed the door. “I remember you, now. You’re the reason Michelle and George have been so panicked lately. Can you imagine the grief that your little reporter-act has caused all of us? Don’t answer; I don’t care. I already gave my statement to the police and might have to move to a new state when this mess is settled, so I don’t really have the patience to deal with little girls who think they’re Sherlock Holmes.”
“Little…? Hang on! Didn’t you send the security footage?”
Suddenly looking somehow even more tired, Adam Monroe rubbed his face with his hands and said, “I don’t know what George did with it, but he’s forced me to give him total access to security footage for that block for years now. He’s afraid that his mother might reveal something implicating. The man isn’t just paranoid, he’s delusional. Just because his grandfather was Kristian Larson, he thinks we owe him something. If he threatened you, do your family a favor and–”
“Wait, wait, wait!” Ronnie shook her head. “How can his grandfather be Kristian Larson?”
Mister Monroe sighed and leaned back against the door. “Elizabeth is Kristian Larson’s daughter, but obviously she changed her name when she got married. Neither her brothers nor George have told her anything. Most of us don’t know much except that the painter did something to make everyone angry. The only person George has been able to bully into a frenzy about this is Michelle.”
“Where did he take her?”
“If I knew that, I would have told the police.” He placed his hand on the doorknob. “That’s really all I know. Don’t talk to me again, or I’ll tell the police how you’ve been harassing me, too. Trespassing is a crime even for children. My guess is that your family doesn’t want to learn what you’ve been doing from an officer showing up at their door.”
He stepped inside and closed the door, which locked with a thunk.
Fascinating story. Please do continue posting new chapters. Thank you for sharing your craft.
:) she's back!