Chapter 4: Innocent Until Proven Guilty
I yawn quietly, trying not to wake up the sleeping boy in my closet. Looking over all my notes, I rub my eyes and think harder. Maybe if I listen to him snore gently in the closet, then I might think of something. I stand up and go over the door and open it slowly, making sure that the light of my lamp didn't hit his eyes. After leaving the door slightly ajar again, I sit back down at my desk and stare at the screen that held no information, and then at the clock. I had promised myself that I would go asleep at 3:00 am to make sure I got my REM sleep, which is the most important time of sleep. Research shows that...wait I'm blabbing again, aren't I? Anyways, it's 4:12 already, and I can guarantee that I will be cranky tomorrow. But thankfully I have not wasted anytime researching on the crime. I gained background knowledge about the business on their website, searched up Wes Evans, and looked for any rivaling medical research facilities that would proper if the Evan's company were to fall.
All these notes, but nothing adds up. Nothing made sense. I have all the pieces, but I just can't put this puzzle together! There were so many reeling questions (three big ones) such as:
1) How could you go through all the trouble to kill someone who owns a mansion, tons of money, and many valuable things in their possession, without taking anything? I had ruled out possible robbery; there was nothing taken, and the house was kept in order. No sign of forced entry. No other fingerprints on the gun. No other evidence that I can pinpoint. It was like the real murderer was not there at all. It could mean that the real killer could be rich him/herself. It could be either gender, too.
2) Why would you just kill the parents and not the son, the heir to the throne? If he was killed along with the parents, then you would ultimately kill off where the money was going. The motive seemed off- meaning that there was an ulterior motive, but what? What could one gain by getting rid of the parents? And then there was another question.
3) Why would you need to frame someone? If it were a regular murder, then the killer would've killed, then left. But for what reason would you frame him? Unless...unless you knew you were going to get caught. Unless you were really close to the family; close enough to become a suspect. It meant that the real murderer could be hiding in plain sight. But who?
Even with all this information, I can only conclude one thing:
This crime was a personal crime; whoever did this wanted vengeance.
"Psst, Maka...sweetheart. It's time to wakey-wakey!" My eyes open slowly as I wake to the sound of my father hovering over me. I reach for my glasses, which I always place on the side of my desk. But this time they weren't there; they were on my face because instead of actually changing into my pajamas, I just collapsed on my bed without even pulling the covers over my head.
"Papa...go away, I can wake up myself." I crane my head around and observe the room, which was perfectly as I had left it. The computer was still on and my notebook was still open with the pencil next to it.
"You're gonna be late if you don't wake up now! What's wrong with you today? I usually find you reading your book even before I wake up." He's right; by 6:30 everyday I am always enjoying my book at the dinner table. "Don't worry one bit! I'll help you prepare by getting your clothes from the closet..."
The closet?! I shot up from the bed and screamed, "Wait, Papa! Don't go in the closet!" His hand was just about to turn the doorknob, but he paused and gave me a quizzical look.
"Why? What's in the closet that's so important to you?" He turns the knob anyways, in total disregard of what I said, and swung the door open. I gasp and cringe, hoping to God that my father would not get mad if he learned that I was housing a wanted criminal in my closet. "Haha! What are you talking about? Here, I'll grab you outfit for you~" He smiles.
"H-huh?" I open my eyes and stare into the empty closet. Am I still dreaming or something? There were no bed sheets on the floor and no white-haired red-eyed boy in my closet and no sign of anyone spending the night there. It was just a closet full of clothes. "Wha...huh?"
"Are you feeling well? It looks like you just saw a ghost. Oh well, I'll just leave now!" Papa left the room.
Maybe it was just a dream. A scary, vivid, and interesting dream. Just kidding, I remind myself, because it was only three hours and forty-eight minutes and fifty-two seconds ago that I checked on Soul, who was sleeping peacefully in that very room. I wonder where he could be. I check under my bed and under the desk, but he wasn't there.
Suddenly, I hear a tap on the window next to my dresser. I ran towards the window and found Soul, smirking at me through the glass out on the fire escape, his hands behind his back. I laugh softly and slide it open. "Got something for ya," he says, handing me the notebook I dropped yesterday on the street.
"Thanks." I ask, flipping though the book and skimming all my notes.
"So this is why you bothered me," he grins. "Never seemed like you were the adventurous type."
"Well, I wasn't. Until the day I met you," I admit.
"Well then, you are lucky to have met me."
"The same goes for you." Ever since I met him, it seems as if my ability to counter-act his snarky remarks have improved much. "Anyways, if you're gonna stay here, then there's food in the fridge. I'll cover for you, as long as you don't eat the entire thing. My Papa will go to work soon and returns around 3:05 to 3:20. I will definitely skip my extracurricular activities after school so I can-"
"Okay, okay, I get it. Just chill, I know what I'm doin'," he shrugs me off and squeezes his way into my room. "It's not like I'm gonna do anything bad. Did you get anything last night?"
"Not much," I said guilty. "This case might be a little harder to crack than I thought. I might need to really dig deeper." Last night I had tried to narrow down the possible suspects, but that was as easy as trying to find a 2 inch long needle in a 10 feet tall haystack. Which, by the way, is impossible. There were so many other factors, so many other variables to consider. "I have to go to school now, so don't so anything stupid."
"No promises."
Sighing on my walk to school, I still cannot get the crime out of my head- it was the first time I have been nearly stumped from something like this in a long time. Oh well, at least it's reassuring that I'm still human in that I am able to become stumped once in a while. I stare down into my notebook full of notes that were only legible to me, but I still get nothing. Then, my eyes meet the word "Wes," along with some other notes under his name. He was supposed to be the heir to the money, not Soul. However, the parents suddenly changed their will and made Soul the new heir. Why would they do that? Shortly after, Wes moved out of the mansion and went to Chicago to go to college, then the murder occurred. Since he was away at the time, there was no suspicion that he would be a suspect.
Wes knew things about the company that Soul does not, which would make him the best person to go to if we were doing an investigation like this. Even thought everyone is innocent until proven guilty, sometimes it is best to think of them guilty until proven innocent.
I think it's time to pay Soul's brother a little visit.
I ran into my room right after I got home and barraged Soul with questions. "Do you have any idea where Wes is right now?!"
"Do I know where my brother is right now? How am I supposed to know?" He asked me. He slouched in my desk chair while I paced around my room.
"I think that if we were to get a ahold of some of the information that your brother has, then it could bring it closer to the real killer!" I said. Soul averted his eyes from mine and looked down in thought.
"My brother and I have always been very close ever since we were little," he began. "But...he wasn't there at the trial. He stopped trying to talk to me when I was at the juvenile center. It's like he didn't want to know me anymore, even though I told him I didn't do it. If I get to see him again, what would he think? I never even knew if he believed me or not."
After his eyes finally met mine, I ask, "Wouldn't you want to find out?"
"I think I'm afraid to hear the answer," he manages a faint smile. "But if it's for the case, then what can I say?" I'm worried, though. If we go on this mission, there's no other time we'll be able to go except during...school. "What's wrong?" Soul peers at my face.
"Oh, it's nothing," I lie. Truthfully, I can't remember the last time I missed school. Oh wait, yes I can. It was on the 4th of January in Kindergarten at 10 in the morning, when I came down with a horrible cold. It was the worst day of my life.
"Y'know, when we were little he used to tell me his dreams. He always wanted to go to New York City and live here. He'd say he wanted to move to the upper east side, escape from my mom and dad, start a family. I used to look up to that dream, but he told me to have my own-"
"Wait! Before you get all emotional!" My mind started to think properly again. "Where did you say he wanted to go?!"
"Okay, sheesh. It was the upper east side where most rich people live."
"That's where we have to go! Wes is probably there moving in or something."
"What are the chances of him actually being there?" He dismissed nonchalantly.
"Probably 5 out of 134, but you never gave me a chance to calculate it fully..." I say, starting to process the numbers in my new probability formula into simple fractions. Soul laughed.
"You're so weird."
"Well, you asked."
"Hope you won't be scared again," he taunted me with that smirk, which I answered back with a glare. "Don't worry, I'll hold your hand."
"Shut up."
Tomorrow morning, I will wake up and start my morning as usual. Papa will see me and then he will go to work, while I painfully pretend to go to school. As soon as I'm out the door I will kiss my near-perfect school record good-bye, and take the opposite direction towards the train station. There, Soul will be waiting for me, and we will make our way to the upper east side where we will (maybe with a slight possible chance) meet Wes.
I made my way down the subway steps with a small purse containing necessities- some spare money that I managed to talk my dad into giving me, the notebook and pencil that had all my research in, and my dad's credit card (What? This is an emergency). Soul stood at the corner near the bottom of the stairs wearing a black hoodie with the hood pulled low over his eyes and his blue jeans that I washed for him. He leaned up at the corner with his arms crossed and eyes hidden underneath the hood. "What took you so long?" He glanced up at me and uncrossed them.
"I was just preparing for the trip. And...I called the school to tell them that I wouldn't be coming today because I'm...sick," I grimace at those very words. "I'll go get our ticket to the train."
"Hey." He caught up to me as I went to get the tickets. "If there are police here, then I'm screwed. I'm already getting weird looks." I glance around and saw some people staring. Crap, this is not good. My adventure barely started and we're already having problems!
"Ugh," I exclaim. "How can we try to look less inconspicuous and at the same time get to where we need to go?" I ask myself. A hand grabs mine, and Soul tugs me toward him.
My face goes hot when I land on his chest, and I let out a little gasp. What is he doing? "Listen," he leans his mouth on my ear so close that I can feel his hot breath. "I know this will sound strange, but I have an idea on how we can look less standout-ish."
"What is it?" I turn my head around and peek at the passerby people, who are no longer paying attention to us.
"Let's pretend to be a couple." I feel his other hand slide across my back and pull me closer to his body. My body tenses for a moment, but as his warmth fills my body it begins to relax. Letting go of me, he asks, "Is that gonna be alright with you?" I pause and wait for the response to leave my mouth, but nothing comes out. I stood there, staring into his burning red gaze for about...about an amount of time...I forgot. "Okay? Hello? Are you spacing out on me?"
For the first time in my life, I had stopped counting.
