Day 4 - February 4 1998

When I wake up, I look over at my alarm clock, it’s almost 1pm. I jump out of bed as fast as I can. I quickly exit my room, begin to walk down the hallway and hear a hissing sound behind me, I turn around and see Agnes, she gestures for me to follow her and disappears through a doorway.

“What is it?” I ask.

“Shhhhh.” She turns and furrows her brow. We go up a narrow set of stairs and wind up in a small room, a single bed is to the left covered in a dainty floral bedspread, below a small window with a view of the grounds beneath. Her bedroom.

“Why are you still here?” She looks concerned.

“I need to figure some things out before I can leave.” I say.

“There are people here that are dangerous.”

“Who?”

“They will hurt you if they know you’re snooping around again.”

“Agnes, seriously. Stop being so cryptic, tell me what’s going on?”

“I can’t. I’m not sure who it is. You wouldn’t tell me.”

“What do you mean?”

Agnes leans down and sticks her arm under the bed, pulling out a shoebox. She hands it to me.

“You gave me this before you left, for safe keeping. You said you probably weren’t coming back but you needed me to look after it for you.”

I open the lid and tip the contents out on the bedspread. There’s a large folded up piece of paper. I carefully unfold it, it almost takes up the entirety of the mattress. It looks like one of those walls stalkers use to keep a track of their victims in movies. Black and white photos, red lines connecting people, scrawled writing, all held together with tape.

“What is this?” I look at Agnes.

“You were trying to solve your father’s murder.” She responds.

There are photos of everyone I know. “I thought someone I knew did it?”

“You were certain of it.”

I look at the photos again, my brother, my mother, her staff, including Agnes, my friends.

“Even you’re on here Agnes.”

“You didn’t discount anyone.” Agnes shrugs.

“I guess I figured out you didn’t do it if I gave this to you though.”

“I would never hurt your father.”

“But somebody on here did?” I look down at paper.

Is this why someone wanted me gone, was I getting close? Agnes tells me that I should go, she needs to get back to work. I thank her and grab the huge sheet of paper, refolding it and stuffing it under my arm. I walk down the stairs and back into the hallway, making my way to my room but I get stopped by my mother on the way.

“We’re having dinner again tonight with Michael and his wife, I expect you to be there.” She says.

“Sure.” I try to smile but it doesn’t feel right.

“You and your friend seem to be galavanting all across town at the moment.”

“Just been catching up with friends.”

“Yes, well,” My mother stops mid-sentence, “what’s that under your arm?”

“Uh, it’s like a family tree?”

“A family tree?”

“Yeah, you know, recently I’ve just been getting more interested in our family history. It’s like a fun project, it gives me something to do.”

“Well, I guess it’s a good idea to know where you come from.”

She turns to leave and then looks back at me. “Get dressed up for dinner this time, will you?” She turns on her heel and continues down the hallway. I roll my eyes.

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

I get to my bedroom and open the bookcase, placing the weird suspect chart on the metal table, I unfold it and flatten out the creases the best I can. I look at the suspects and read what I’ve written underneath each one. My brother didn’t seem like the kind of person who’d get his hands dirty, he’d alibied out, he was interstate at the time. My mother was unlikely, she'd been at book club that night with friends. Agnes was also unlikely and I’d obviously trusted her enough in the end to rule her out. I’d put a photo of my uncle there too, a red circle was drawn around his boney face, I’d added a line of text in red marker underneath his photo. Same killer? I guess Shelby and I were on the same wavelength.

I couldn’t come up with a reason why anyone pictured would want my dad dead. Why had I narrowed it down to just these people?Had my father known something was up when he’d created a new will? The only person who benefited from the fraudulent will was my brother. I looked at his photo, that smiling face, so similar to mine. What if he’d come back to town and not told anybody? What if he’d never actually left? I’d have to be careful around him just in case. I look at my watch and notice the time, I’ve been in here for hours.

I go back to my bedroom and get dressed for dinner. I’m worried, the more I think about it, the more it makes sense. How do you deal with a possible murderer? How do I not let him know I’m on to him? I flip through my clothes, I’m too distracted to pay attention. I grab at something black, black is a safe bet. It’s knee length, boring. Something my mother will love, I’m sure. I zip up the back and turn around, the back features a black lace pentagram, maybe she wouldn’t be so into this, good. I shrug and put on some flats. Letting my hair out to cover up my back. I look like I'm dressed for a funeral. I glance at the alarm clock on the bedside table, almost dinnertime.

I leave my room and bump into Maida on the way to the stairs.

“Hey, I tried to wake you this morning but you were dead to the world.” She says.

“I can’t believe I slept in so late. I found out something important though. Did you find out anything?”

“No, I just walked around the grounds.”

“Agnes gave me something, I’ll show you later.”

We reach the bottom of the stairs and go to the dining room. We sit next to each other, my brother and Chelsea are already there, sitting on the opposite side. I stare at my brother, could he be a murderer? At this point I’m convinced it must be him, he’s the only person that makes sense. He’s smiling and laughing with his wife. I wonder if it's a facade and deep down he’s a cold blooded killer? My mother joins us, shortly followed by Agnes with our meals. If he did it how can he go through life, acting like nothing had happened?

Someone hits me in the shoulder.

“What are you doing?” My mother berates me.

“Nothing.” I answer.

“Eat something. You’re sitting there like a fool.”

I get my fork and angrily jab at some potatoes putting them in my mouth, then start staring at my brother again. I sit there, right elbow on the table, fork in hand.

“Are you alright?” Maida looks at me, worried.

“Yes.” I choke out. I lean back in my chair, trying to appear normal and spear some more potatoes.

“Where’d you get that bracelet from?” My brother asks me.

I don’t know how to answer. “I found it.” I say slowly, it sounds like I’m lying.

“Where?”

“In my room.”

“It looks really familiar.”

My mother looks over at it. “It does look familiar, let me have a look at it Elena.” She reaches over to grab it from me.

I pull away. “It’s just costume jewellery.”

“I know why it looks so familiar.” My mother gets up and walks out of the room, coming back moments later, holding a silver framed photograph. She places it in front of me on the table. I pick it up and look at it, a sepia portrait, it looks like it was taken in the twenties. The woman in the photo is smiling sweetly, staring off into the distance, the photo has a dreamlike quality, her hand is placed under her face, a bracelet around her wrist. Sure enough, it’s the same one.

“I doubt your grandmother would own costume jewellery, Elena.” My mother says. “Give it to me, it could be valuable.”

“Why? She’s my grandmother.”

“Something like this belongs with your brother.”

“What? Why would jewellery that belongs to my grandmother belong with my brother? Why does everything belong to my brother?”

“He’s much better at managing things than you are. You’ll probably lose it.”

My mother grabs at my arm and tries to pry the bracelet from my wrist.

“Stop it!” I yell at her, trying to free myself from her grip.

“Give me the damn bracelet Elena. It doesn’t belong to you.”

“He isn’t even related to her!”

My mother freezes, then drops her hands to the table. Everyone is silent, my brother drops his fork on the plate.

“What are you talking about?” My mother says through gritted teeth, I can see the anger in her eyes.

“You know what I’m talking about.” I reply, holding my wrist to protect it.

My mother slaps me hard across the face, it's an admission of guilt, I know that. The sound echoes in the quiet room.

“What are you talking about?” My brother asks. He looks at me, he’s calm but confused.

“She doesn’t know what she's talking about. She’s just trying to cause trouble again. Haven’t you done enough?” My mother growls.

I look at my brother. I don’t want to lie to him. I don’t have a game plan, I didn’t mean to blurt it out.

“Was I adopted?” He asks.

He looks too much like my mother. “No, I don’t think so.” I pause, I was hoping with time I’d come up with some way to smooth this out. I don’t want to rock the boat, it will just get in the way of my investigation.

He looks at my mother again. “If I’m not related my grandmother, then I'm not related to dad?” My mother looks away. “Oh god, it’s true.” Michael looks hurt and storms out of the room, Chelsea quickly gets up and runs after him, shouting his name desperately.

My mother gives me a look of death and strides out of the room. I sit back down and stare down at my plate.

“When did you find that out? I left you alone for one day.” Maida sits at the table, still eating her dinner, unfazed.

“I have a lot to tell you.”

"Seems like it."

I push my chair in and wander up to my room. Maida gets up and follows, asking questions that I don't answer. We walk up the stairs and split up at my door.

“I’ll tell you about everything tomorrow.” I say, opening my door.

“The suspense will kill me.”

“I hope not.” I laugh. I realise none of this is a joke. This is more dangerous than I’d thought at first. If someone tried to get rid of me once, they’ll probably try again.