Double Trouble 42: After Midnight...
by Cariad
 
 
 

Double Trouble
~Forty Two~
Holly nearly ran into Julia in the hallway outside an open door. “Someone’s got to go get Chief Bennett,” Julia muttered. “Johnny…” Julia’s voice broke. Jonathan stepped past Julia into the room and stopped.

“Good God!” he groaned.

Curious, Holly also pushed around her sister. She stopped dead at the sight. Rebecca Hotchkiss lay on the bed, completely naked, her surgically enhanced body exposed to the world in a spread-eagle position. Her sightless eyes bulged and stared up at the ceiling, wisps of red hair falling onto the pillow, mingling with clotted blood. Her throat had been slit. Beneath her bare breasts, on her flaccid stomach a single word had been carved into her flesh. “Slut” stared out the world in bloody letters. Holly gagged in her throat. Below the disfiguring letters, the corpse had been violated with a long knife, still inserted into the apex of her thighs. Holly could tell from the door where she had seen the knife before.

In her haze of misery, Holly did not notice what her grandfather gave her brother or what he gave Rebecca. Her eyes could not miss, however, the greed glittering in her brother’s gaze as he looked upon the knife given their father. Indeed, the blade was a thing of beauty, the polished steel rising out of the golden hilt, set with rubies and the Crane Crest. The dagger measured about the length from her elbow to her fingertips, including the stylized hilt. The wide blade tapered to a deadly point.

Julian’s hand clutched the knife and his dark gaze fell upon his oblivious mistress.

Holly gasped and leaned on the doorframe. Her father was not a murderer. He told her so! He was not a murderer!
 

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Collecting herself at the top of the stairs, Julia put on a false smile and descended regally, her eyes darting around the room for sign of the Chief. Few of the guests had left, and the orchestra played on and the champagne still flowed. Julia’s eyes fell on Auntie Juniper, holding a one-sided animated conversation with some old gentleman already half-asleep.
“Auntie Juniper,” Julia asked. “Could find Chief Bennett for me please?”

“Pardon me,” Auntie Juniper said to the gentleman. The gentleman did not reply. Auntie Juniper looked about the room, into a swirl of bodies taller than she stood. Her lips twisted in concentration. “Five O’Clock dear,” Auntie Juniper said finally. “That way.”

Julia set off in that direction, finding (rather unsurprisingly considering Auntie Juniper’s taste for Bennetts) the chief moving towards the cloakroom. Julia intercepted him before he presented the tickets for his coat and Ivy’s coat. “Chief Bennett,” Julia said, tugging on his sleeve. “Please come upstairs for a moment.”

Sam turned, his cheeks slightly flushed with alcohol. “What for?” he asked.

“Please, I don’t want to explain here and alarm the guests, but you need to come upstairs with me.”

Sighing, Sam tucked his receipt tickets back in his pocket and followed Julia back to the stairs. “Why don’t you explain?” he asked.

“When there’s less people,” Julia answered in a whisper.

“Just tell me what’s going on.”

Julia remained silent, and when they were out of sight, she started a half-run.

“Wait up!” Sam called. “Where are you bringing me?”

Julia paused, and let her polite mask slip. “Someone’s been murdered,” she whispered.

“WHAT?” Sam roared.

“Not so loud!” Julia hissed. “There are still several people here.”

“If it is a murder, then everyone here is a suspect,” Sam countered.

“I don’t think she’d do this to herself,” Julia said bitterly.

“When did you find it?” Sam asked, sobering.

“Gwen did, just after midnight.”

“How do you know?”

“We… Hollis, Johnny and I were in a room nearby, and we heard the scream, right after the countdown.”

“I’ll get your statement later,” Sam muttered as Julia showed him the room.
 

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Holly and Julia sat in the Breakfast Nook in the Crane Mansion in the early hours of the morning. Dawn couldn’t be that far off, they figured. After Chief Bennett took charge of the situation, the orchestra was told that they were playing their last song, even though they still were hired for another hour. After being assured they would be paid for the full night’s employment, the conductor announced the last song, and the bar closed abruptly. Instead of guests, police crawled the halls. Instead of champagne and punch, coffee was served. A limousine took them all home after the guests finally cleared out.
Holly and Julia wearily clung to each other. Across the table, Jonathan had his arm around Gwen. Each of their statements had been taken, and when Julian was found, passed out near the bar, a guest-list was procured. The twins were too weary to do anything as Chief Bennett warned their father that he was the prime suspect. Julian had holed himself up in his study since they had arrived home. They could only assume he was in contact with his father and his lawyers.

Holly could not forget the look of horror in her father’s eyes as he spied the knife—now bagged and tagged and taken as evidence. Julia had wilted as the night wore on, but each time she closed her eyes, she could not forget the gruesome sight of Rebecca Hotchkiss’s mutilated body lying on the bed.

“Who could do such a thing?” Julia kept whispering.

Outside her police statement, Gwen had not said a word since her scream at midnight. Jonathan, too, was silent. Filled with a burst of energy, Holly leapt up, pacing across the dining area in bare feet—formal wear had been discarded hours ago, her slippers scuffing softly as she moved. Only Jonathan remained in his tuxedo pants, his shirt open at the neck.

“Stop pacing,” Julia snapped, her head cradled in her hands, “you’re driving me crazy.”

“It’s either pace or have a complete breakdown, and I’ve done that once tonight. I don’t have the energy for another.”

“It will be all right, Holly,” Jonathan said in a soothing tone.

Gwen’s head snapped up. “It won’t be all right!” she screamed. “It will never be all right. Mother is dead!” she sobbed. “She’s dead!”

Jonathan cradled his sister like he had cradled Holly a few hours earlier—before.

Aidan strolled into the weary group, his body relaxed and rested, carrying an aura of one who had spent a sleepless night in a very enjoyable way. His happy grin did not fade as hey passed the four weary inhabitants of the breakfast nook.

“How dare you!” Gwen snarled, her eyes alighting with unholy anger. “How dare you smile. My mother is dead! And you sit there grinning like the Cheshire Cat!” Jonathan held back his sister from rushing at Aidan.

The grin on the Crane scion’s face faded only slightly. “I’m really sorry,” he said. “That’s the first I’ve heard of it.”

“You bastard!” Gwen cried. “You could at least pretend some sympathy!”

Holly paced back to her brother. “Aidan, you’d best leave.”

Aidan grinned again, patting his eldest sister on the back. “Glad you came to your senses concerning your status. I did tell father about that local boy you were seeing,” he said blithely.

“Aidan,” Holly repeated coldly. “You’d best leave now.”

Aidan whistled and walked away. “I’ll see you all in the evening. My night was quite exhausting!”

“Go to Hell, Aidan,” Julia spat from the nook.

“I’ll be seeing you there, sister dear. We are Cranes after all!”
 

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Morning came eventually, and the kitchen staff coming in to make breakfast awoke the young Cranes and Hotchkisses. Julia, slogging out of a dreamless sleep, helped rouse the others. Jonathan asked permission to use a guest chamber, and it was given just as wearily as he asked. Rubbing their tired eyes, they moved through the front hall towards the main stairs. A wrap on the door interrupted their morning trek to bed.
Julia answered it to find the chief of police standing there, looking as tired as she felt, but in full uniform. “I’m sorry dear,” he said, “but I’ve come to arrest your father.”

Julia paled and Holly nearly fainted.

“Where is your father?” Sam asked politely.

“St-study,” Julia stammered.

“He’s not a murderer! He told me so!” Holly hissed from the stairs.

Sam shifted uncomfortably. “In any case, we have a warrant for the arrest of Julian Crane for the murder of Rebecca Hotchkiss.”

Julian emerged from his study, immaculately dressed and looking remarkably sober. “I heard,” he said coldly. He held out his hands. “Get this over with. Harper will be meeting with me at the station. Jonathan,” he said turning to the Hotchkiss son. “Good, you’re still here. On my desk are some orders for the continued smooth running of Crane Industries. Please see them through. I can’t trust my son to do a thing right. Alistair will be in contact with you later. Holly, don’t cry. You’re a Crane. We’re made of sterner stuff than that! I’ll be back soon, no doubt of that. I did not kill Rebecca Hotchkiss. You hear that Bennett?” he said with a sneer. “I did not kill Rebecca Hotchkiss. Use that in a court of law. And make a note I am doing nothing to resist this. I am innocent.”
 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After a restless nap, Holly and Julia woke up to face the world—a world now populated by reporters eagerly waiting at the gates of Crane Mansion. Rumors had now spread that Julian Crane had been arrested for the Murder of mistress and former fiancée, Rebecca Hotchkiss the same evening their children had gotten engaged. Security patrolled the perimeter of the estate, keeping those who would trespass out. Ivy Crane rolled up in a limousine, prepared to resume some role as the wife of Julian Crane—however temporary Ivy intended the marriage to remain. She claimed she wanted to be near her daughters during the crisis. None of the Cranes were allowed to issue a public statement while Julian remained in jail.
Following Julian’s orders, Jonathan sent a limousine to Theresa’s house to bring her to the mansion as well—more to keep her out of trouble than any other reason. Crane Security accompanied the limousine to make sure Luis did not give them any trouble. Julian’s orders had warned about Luis.

As soon as Theresa set foot inside the Mansion, Gwen had to be restrained. “You bitch!” Gwen screamed. “This is your fault!”

“I-I’m really sorry Gwen,” Theresa stammered, her face contorting. “I know how you feel!”

“No,” Gwen snapped. “You don’t know how I feel. Your mother is still alive!”

“I-I grew up without a father,” Theresa declared, sticking her chin out.

“But you never knew him, did you?” Gwen snarled.

“Gwen,” Jonathan warned. “We’re in this together until it’s solved. At least try to be civil.”

Gwen whirled on her brother. “And now you’re taking her side?” she asked with deadly quiet. “First she ruins my life by stealing my fiancé the night before my wedding? Then she ruins my mother’s life because she steals HER fiancé? How am I supposed to be civil? Excuse me,” she said with sarcastic politeness, “but I’m not feeling up to civil at the moment. You see, my mother was brutally murdered last night after being raped with a small sword!”

Theresa blanched in the face of Gwen’s words. “I-is it true?” she asked the stunned hall.

“It was a long dagger,” Julia said, “Not a small sword. I would advise staying away from Gwen.”

Jonathan looked at the small dark girl responsible for so much trouble in his sister’s life. “I’ll be keeping an eye on you, Theresa,” he said severely. “Any misstep will be met with punishment.”

At that moment, Aidan swept in. “I will sacrifice myself,” he said with a flourish, “to keep Ms. Lopez-Fitzgerald in line.” He gave her a toothy smile. Theresa smiled back, and began a little titter. “Perhaps you are hungry,” Aidan asked smoothly, whisking Theresa away from the danger. “You were quite perfect at the Ball last night?”

“You think so?” Theresa asked in a small hopeful voice.

“I know so,” Aidan countered and whispered something in her ear to make her laugh and squeal in delight.

Julia looked at her mother and sister, absolute wonder showing on their faces.

“What was Julian thinking when he married that twit?” Ivy asked, settling herself on the couch. “Do we have anything to drink here?”

“I could use one too,” Gwen said, falling beside Ivy.

Jonathan looked at the twins. “Does she have this effect on everyone?” he asked.

“She’s like a whirlwind,” Julia said.

“Like banging you head against a brick wall,” Holly added.

“God forbid that thing ever get her paws on the Crane money,” Ivy sighed, taking a glass of brandy from Jonathan and draining it in a gulp.

Jonathan nearly dropped her refill as the phone rang. “Somebody answer that,” Ivy ordered. “That’s the private line from Alistair.”

“How can you tell?” Jonathan asked.

“It rings differently,” Ivy replied. “When you’ve lived in this house for over a quarter-century, you get used to these things.”

Holly pushed the speaker. “Cranes,” she said.

“Greetings family and friends,” Alistair’s cold voice drawled over the speaker. “I have a few things to discuss with you.” His tone sent chills down the spines of all who heard his voice.