Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 71701 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71701 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Lois is back then. She’s holding a tray loaded with so much food I don’t actually know how she carried it. It’s clearly all of Mercedes’s favorites.
“Here we are. I brought a little of everything, so you just choose what you like.”
“My pills?” Mercedes asks, looking over the tray.
“I’ll bring them to you after you eat something.”
Lois hands her a cup of tea with honey. Mercedes takes it and sips.
“I’ll come back after my shower,” I say, and walk to the door when Mercedes doesn’t ask me to stay. I’m almost in the hallway when she calls out my name. I stop, turn and wait.
“Where is he?” she finally asks after a long minute.
“Gone.”
I don’t say that I’m not sure where because when I went back to that wretched room after making sure Mercedes was going to be alright, Theron was gone. All that was left was the bloody spot where his head had been. His car was gone, too. I can’t say what he took as far as clothes or money because I hadn’t been inside the South Cottage since I gave it to him, and I have no idea how he drove himself or if he did, but he hasn’t been seen or heard from and Ezra Moore, the investigator I hired to find him, has found nothing.
“You never have to see him again, Mercedes.”
She nods, turns her attention to the steaming cup in her hands.
4
Judge
I spend most of the day with Ezra Moore, a man I trust, who is now digging deeper into Theron’s finances. Ezra has worked with me multiple times over the years. He handles all sorts of personal business I need handled outside of IVI. I have frozen Theron’s accounts but was surprised at how little money he had left considering I just paid him a sizeable allowance when he moved into the South Cottage and swore to stay away from Mercedes.
At first, I’d assumed he’d withdrawn all he could when he ran but it doesn’t look like that’s the case. And now, as we dig deeper into the accounts he held when my grandfather was paying him, I’m wondering exactly what is going on.
Because a lot of money is gone. And the way he looked the night he hurt Mercedes wasn’t right. I’m beginning to suspect there’s something more complex and darker in my brother’s life than I thought.
My mother, of course, claims to know nothing. Claims he couldn’t have done what he did and that it must have been sexual play that got out of hand. Then she accused Mercedes of being to blame, using Theron to make me jealous, and claiming Theron was only confused as to what she wanted. I almost killed her then and there. Paolo was with me when I questioned her. If he hadn’t been I’m not sure what I would have done.
She’s been smart enough to keep to herself in her cottage in the weeks since and I’ll be monitoring her comings and goings because I know one thing for sure. She’ll cover for Theron. And it’s just a matter of time until he needs money and he’s in touch.
Late in the afternoon I make my way down to Royal Street where King George III flower shop is located.
King George III. I’m not sure how much more pretentious he can be. George Beaumont, or Georgie as Mercedes calls him, is the third George in his family but the play on the name for his shop irritates me.
I reel it in, though. I’m doing this for Mercedes. I need to give her this.
King George III is hard to miss. Its exterior is candy pink, the door standing open, about a thousand multi-colored roses serve as a canopy over the entrance of the trendy shop and even before I enter, I’m overwhelmed by the sheer amount of color and sweet scent pouring out of the place.
From inside, a man laughs, and it grates on my nerves. I’m sure that’s Georgie.
I try not to scowl as two customers walk out, a middle-aged woman and her daughter I’d guess. They’re holding a bouquet and from the bits and pieces of conversation I hear, he’s providing the flowers at the younger woman’s wedding.
Once they’re gone, I enter the shop, which is not big but so overfull it would be too much anywhere else. The way Georgie has it laid out, though, I admit, it’s well done if a little much. Like a vomiting of color all around and above me with the drying flowers hanging upside down in various shades. When I reach the front of the shop, I find Georgie himself standing behind the counter studying me.
“Welcome to King George III,” he says with not quite the warmth he showed the two women who just left.
“Thank you,” I say, studying him, too. He looks different in person than he does in his photos. I guess I’d made up a personality based on his text exchanges with Mercedes but he’s more serious here. Or maybe he’s just more serious now that I’m in the shop and he senses something.