Page 54 of Wolfsbane Hall
“Son, you might not have a motive now, but you’d do anything for any of your siblings.” The twins’ father, Archibald, moved for the first time since standing behind his lover and staring down at the body. He drew out a chair. “You are unquestioningly loyal to a fault—especially with Everett and James.”
“Perhaps”—Dean slid his hands into his pockets— “but the question I would like to ask is, why is she holding your tie?”
“Everyone saw her accost me. She ripped my tie off during the blackout.”
“While you were stabbing her?”
“And which brother are you covering for now, Dean?” Archibald met Dean’s ire with some of his own. But it wasn’t his frustration that caught Celestine’s attention. It was the fact that Archibald was insinuating that Dean wasn’t the murderer, but one of his brothers was, and that this had happened in the past. “Admit it, Dean. You’d bury the body for either of your brothers. You’ve done it before, and you’d do it again.”
A dark smirk crept across Dean’s face. “Of course, I would.”
James cut in, trying to release the tension. “Well, at the very least, I don’t have a motive. Dean wouldn’t be helping me do anything.”
Vivian scratched her chin and scoffed. “Of course, you do.”
“And that is what?”
“Money. It’s always money with you.”
“I have more money than I could ever count.”
“Maybe now,” she said back. “But back when my character card took place, they removed your inheritance so that you wouldn’t go into business. It stands to reason that all our cards are from—”
“Fine, you caught me. It is money,” he said, with an even tone. It was nearly impossible to provoke a rise out of James—to provoke any emotion out of him.
Walter, who hadn’t entered the conversation once, stood from the table where he had been picking at food and watching his family argue. “Alright. Could we take a little break from uselessly spouting out all our secrets and do something else?”
He walked over to the group slowly and calmly. His entire demeanor was vastly different from the rest of his family. He was even-tempered and solid, like a tree trunk with incrediblydeep roots. But what was truly fascinating about his presence was that he actually did exude a calming influence over the rest of them. The Ashbrooks all sat back in their chairs, and almost as if they were a choir, they all breathed in unison and released heavy sighs.
But Babette wasn’t here to be calmed down. She was dying, so in a thick French accent, she said, “And what about your motive, Walter?”
He shrugged. “I truly care nothing for Lorraine’s state of living. Dead, alive, it matters not to me.”
When no one counteracted him, Babette turned to Jon, the only other person in the room who hadn’t spoken once. “And you, Jon, what is your motive?”
Jon flashed a dimple and tapped his fingers on the table where he was still eating. “Don’t look at me. I’m only here for the food.”
“Or,” Vivian cut in, unwilling to let him get away with saying nothing, “maybe you didn’t like her constant disapproval of your relationship with Walter.”
“Except, I do not bother caring about the thoughts of an insignificant woman.”
Ignoring the current conversation completely, Dean strolled over to Celestine’s side—who, like a wallflower, was just wishing to stay invisible and watch the drama go down from the sidelines.
“It’s all so terribly dull,” he whispered to her.
Celestine shut her eyes and tried to take in a steadying breath, but it didn’t work. Dean’s words frustrated her to no end. He could be nonchalant and uncaring, because his life wasn’t on the line. “I’m sorry you find my imminent death boring.”
“I could never find you boring.” He stepped in closer, and while he wasn’t touching her, she could feel his presence as ifhe were. A shiver ran through her core, and she focused her eyes back on the scene before her.
“That leaves Irene and Archibald,” Babette said, her intensity cutting daggers through them.
Vivian rolled her eyes once more. “Their motive is obvious.”
Irene raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”
But it was Everett who cut in with the answer. “Adultery, obviously; everyone knows the worst kept secret among the nob—among San Francisco’s social elite—is that you two”—he pointed to Irene and Archibald—“are fucking, and Vivian and James are his illegitimate children.”
Celestine pinched her eyes closed at the final confirmation of what she already understood. Theywereall brothers. This meant that Celestine’s earlier deduction was wrong. The Specter couldn’t only be one of the pairs of twins. It also could be James.
