Chapter 79

"So, how was your soirée tonight?" asked Monroe as we drove to the trailer.

"It was more of a snore-ée," I chuckled as I told him about Adalind's party. "But at least Miss Lawyer knows her wine. She had a nice bottle of pinot noir."

I didn't mention the Hexenbiest. Chloe was already chomping at the bit, but Monroe definitely didn't need to know. After threatening to kill the Daemonfeuer, what if he tried to hunt her down, since they were such a threat to me? Would he do that? I didn't want to find out.

"Good wine got me through those art things of yours," he chuckled. "But getting out of the house for a while was a good thing, right?"

"I suppose." I nodded. "Chloe and I had a nice time exploring Portland earlier, so my day was still good."

"What did Pete do while you girls were out on the town?

"He was with Rosalee. She buried Freddy today."

"That was today?" Monroe smacked his steering wheel. "Oh man. I didn't send flowers."

"I sent flowers… from both of us."

He turned, seemingly surprised. "You did?"

"Yeah. I hope that's okay?"

He bobbed his head slowly. "Good, uh, yeah."

I studied his face as he pressed his lips together. Crap, did I step over a line? Maybe that was too much.

"How well did you know Freddy Calvert anyway?" I asked, changing the subject.

"We talked a handful of times. I mean, we weren't compadres or anything, but I knew him. I met Freddy when I was helping Nick with a case once. Cost me three-hundred bucks to buy…" Monroe cleared his throat. "Well, let's just say Freddy's inventory wasn't always teas and spices." He grimaced a bit. "Anyway, I stopped in a few times after that for, you know, regular stuff and we talked off and on. He was a nice guy."

Three-hundred dollars? Must have been what he'd meant in his journal. Oh, I didn't want to think about that damn journal. But then again… Gallenblase. Oh my! My German wasn't great, but that word was pretty obvious. Nick had mentioned vaguely about Geiers selling human organs on the black market. He hadn't said who was doing the selling. Well, it seemed like I had my answer. Oh, Freddy. Jacene and human organs? Maybe he wasn't as genuine as I'd originally pegged him. I cleared my thoughts. I had more questions for Monroe.

"Did Freddy ever mention going out of the country?"

Monroe seemed to think about it. "Nah, can't say as I remember a conversation like that." He turned toward me. "What's this interest in his traveling all of a sudden?"

I told him about what Pete and Rosalee had found at the spice shop.

"What was he, a spy or something?"

"That's what I thought, too. We don't know. Rosalee didn't even know about it. I just thought I'd ask you since you said you knew him too."

"Well, he never mentioned any kind of espionage or foreign powers, if that's what you mean."

"But who needs three passports? Could what he have sold required him to go out of the country under a false name?" I stopped there before I said any more. Monroe didn't need to know my epiphany.

"I dunno, man. Only he could tell you that, and now that he's, umm, dead, I don't think he'll be sharing much of anything now."

"One more mystery to add to the vault," I replied with a sigh.

"So, umm, what are your plans tomorrow?"

"Chloe wants to do more shopping after I get off work. Crap… work," I scowled. "That reminds me, I still have my presentation to finish, but I'll make it up tonight somehow."

"Speaking of making things up," replied Monroe, "you'll be happy to know I got in a full hour of Pilates."

"That's good, but your routine is all messed up."

He took my hand in his at the red light. "Eh, I'll get it straightened out. I promise."

I squeezed his hand. "You will, I know."

"I've got a meeting tomorrow, so that'll help."

"Oh. I was hoping we could all do something tomorrow."

"Tomorrow is going to be tight. I've got three clocks to finish, two to deliver, and then my meeting."

"Maybe things will get back to normal next week," I replied, leaning against his arm as he turned on Northwest Thurman Street.

Monroe chuckled. "There's that word again. I don't think that one will ever be in our vocabulary, you know?"

"One can dream," I gently replied.

I scrolled through my phone, until I found Jason Mraz's 'A Beautiful Mess.' The guitar played sweetly in the VW.

"You've got the best of both worlds.
You're the kind of girl who can take down a man
And lift him back up again.

You are strong but you're needy, humble but you're greedy.
Based on your body language, your shoddy cursive I've been reading.
Your style is quite selective, but your mind is rather reckless.
Well, I guess it just suggests that this is just what happiness is.

Hey, what a beautiful mess this is.
It's like picking up trash in dresses…"

"A beautiful mess, huh?" Monroe asked. "Are you quoting me now?"

"You said it best. It's our normal, but at least it's beautiful."

Monroe took my hand and kissed it. "I concur."

(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)

Monroe parked the VW close to the trailer. I took in a breath. I'd have to read my dad's words again. No amount of shopping, shooting, or soirées could undo the knowledge of that letter. But it was important to let Nick know. He needed to be safe, too.

Nick opened the trailer door after a few knocks. His blue shirt hugged him tightly under his dark blue hoodie jacket. He had a nice frame, but I guess he'd have to since he was a…

"Are you going to stand out there, or are you coming inside?" asked Nick with a shake of his head.

"Sorry." I blinked a few times. "I was… distracted."

Once inside, Monroe and I both sat on the trailer bed.

Nick scooted his wooden chair closer. "What did you want to tell me?"

His eyes seemed brighter tonight. Even the green stood out a bit more than usual.

"Renée?" Nick narrowed his eyes, halting my awkward stare.

"Sorry. Right." I pulled out the letter so Nick could read it. Monroe filled in the blanks about the Verrat.

Nick shook his head as he crossed his arms. "We're back to Royal families and now there's Verrat?" His brow furrowed. "How deep does all this go?"

"My dad mentioned the Seven Houses just like Lydia Swift."

"Your grandma said her daughter went to Austria in search of one of the houses too," Nick reminded me.

"One of the seven. And my grandmother wasn't sure that's where they were located," I replied. "The song Lydia quoted were lyrics from Prince… Maybe she was trying to alert me about the Royals, too."

"So, if your adoptive dad knew all about you, then what was he?"

"I don't know." I shrugged. "Whatever he was, he did a good job covering it up."

"Was he Wesen?"

Monroe leaned forward. "He might've been a human hired by the Royals," he chipped in. "I mean, just because he was involved in the Wesen world doesn't necessarily mean he was one."

Nick nodded slowly. "Well, we know your dad was working for two of the Royals, and it sounds like they were on opposite sides with how he described them."

"But opposite sides of what exactly?" I asked.

"Good question." Nick rested his chin on his hand as he stared down. He had a cleft in his chin. I'd never noticed that before. He glanced up at me. "Could be the opposite side of another house?"

"Man, it could be anything at this point," said Monroe.

Nick looked over the letter again. "So, then the other question we need to answer is, do these Royals live here?"

"It's possible at least one of them could be." I shook my head. "And if Lydia was afraid of someone here, then it could very well be a Royal in Portland."

"Too bad your artful dodger escaped," said Monroe. "Sounds like she knew more than she was telling."

"What about the other Waschbars?" I asked. "None of them knew about the houses?"

Nick crossed his arms. "If they did, then they weren't talking. Even Johnna Smallwood acted oblivious, and she had no problem telling me the location of the warehouse where we found that painting."

I leaned back slightly. "Even if the Royals aren't living here, they must have power here, for sure. Those Blue's Clues Lydia left made it sound like they're working for the law."

Monroe scratched his beard. "So maybe the sheriff and the captain are the two royals?"

"You're jumping to conclusions." Nick shook his head firmly. "There's no evidence to support that either of them had anything to do with this."

"Then why go to all that trouble?" I asked. "We need to look at this from all angles. Someone wants me in Portland. If that same someone works in law enforcement, then maybe it wasn't a coincidence that you came to Portland, too."

Nick seemed to think that over, but then scowled. "I came here on my own."

"Yeah, I thought I did, too," I scoffed. "Imagine my surprise."

"We're making too many assumptions without anything to back it up," Nick replied. "Ambiguous clues from criminals don't give us hard facts."

"Well, there are two Royals that want me for something, and they've gone to great lengths to get me here for some plan. My dad made that clear."

"But what he failed to make clear was who they are. Why did your dad call them 'this Royal' and 'that Royal'?" Nick held up the letter with a firm shake of his head. "Why didn't he just give us a name?"

"It doesn't seem like he could really blow the whistle without risking his family and possibly, Renée, too," Monroe reasoned. "Even with a name, what would you do anyway? I mean, you can't just arrest someone for being part of the Royal family. I mean, that's, like, arresting the Queen of England because of her bloodline or, Stephen King because he's creepy. Have you guys ever read Pet Cemetery? Man, that book gave me nightmares for weeks."

"Well, at least with a name I'd know who's behind this, for one thing."

"And what if knowing that information put you two at risk, I mean, even more than you are now? Man, you don't understand what these Royal guys are capable of. There's a reason they were in power back in the day… And well, I guess now, too."

Nick shook his head at Monroe. "Not knowing isn't safe either."

I looked at them both. "Either way, we know there's something going on. My dad wouldn't have risked this much if he didn't feel it was important I know at least part of it." I reached for the letter again, scanning the pages. My eyes rested on the line about bird hunting again. "There's more here. This part about February. My dad and I have never gone hunting for birds."

Monroe perked up. "You think it's a code for something?"

"I don't know. But maybe?"

My dad loved puzzles. He and I read mysteries together, solving the crime before we'd get to the end. Monroe's talk of Easter reminded me of my dad's Easter games. While other kids searched for Easter eggs, he would put clues in plastic eggs on how to find the next one. It was always a riddle or a puzzle with him. That was our bond.

Monroe took the letter from my hands. "February 10th. What else happened that day?"

I thought back to last February. Nothing pertinent came to mind. I was still doing general trainings in the Louisville office. Jack and I were fine-ish. February was a boring month.

I shook my head. "I don't know…"

"Well, February is a two. So two-ten? Maybe a time?" Of course Monroe would go to time first.

"A time for what?" Nick replied as his lips curved into a sardonic grin.

"Man, I dunno. I'm just trying to help here. Maybe something happens, or happened at two-ten. Or… If you add the numbers you get 3. The holy trinity!" Monroe brightened, holding up three fingers. "Or maybe not that." He held his arms. "They say death comes in threes…" Monroe grimaced. "Umm, forget I said that one. Or maybe…?"

"Or maybe her dad just forgot?" Nick cut in.

I shook my head. "My dad wouldn't forget that. And he wouldn't write a specific day if it didn't mean something."

But what was that something? I had no clue. My brain wasn't coming up with anything obvious. Monroe handed me back my letter, and I tucked it into its envelope.

Nick leaned back in his chair. "Well, at least we know there are forces plotting … something." He waved his hand. "Maybe we'll learn more." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "It's getting late, and it's been a long day. I have to go gun shopping tomorrow morning for Juliette. After practice today, she's ready for her own gun."

"Doesn't it take time to get a permit?" I asked.

"I have connections, remember," he replied with another smirk. "So are you going to get one now that you've shot off a few lucky rounds?"

Monroe jerked his head toward Nick, but then looked back at me. "Shot off rounds?"

Crap! I'd forgotten to ask Nick to keep that between us. Chloe knew not to mention the gun range to Monroe, but the one person who needed to keep quiet about it was the one who actually taught me to shoot the gun in the first place.

Nick looked at me, too. "Wait, so you didn't tell him you went shooting with us?"

Monroe turned quickly back to Nick. "Of course I didn't know," he squawked and dug his hands into his hair. "Do you think she would've gone had I known?

"You knowing wouldn't have changed that," I piped up.

He responded with a domineering glare as the red flashed in his eyes.

"Monroe, I'm not getting a gun right now," I assured him, "but I just wanted to know if I still could hit a target."

"Well, good. Now you know," he snapped back and gestured his arms out wide. "So I'm glad you got it out of your system."

"Actually she did really well," Nick said.

"Thanks," I replied and smiled at him. He had my back. I liked that.

"It doesn't matter. She doesn't need to be shooting guns," Monroe huffed as he stood, pacing the trailer floor a bit. "What if you'd gotten hurt, or hit someone or…?"

"Monroe, it was fine. I was supervising," Nick replied quickly. "She was safe."

I nodded in agreement. "It was a shooting range, and Nick taught Juliette and me what to do. I was in good hands." I smiled again at Nick. He did a great job. Maybe I was too hard on Nick. He was actually a nice guy. Why were his eyes so bright tonight?

Monroe squeezed my shoulder, startling me out of my thoughts. "I don't know why you keep things like this from me. Why couldn't you have just called and said, 'Hey, going to shoot with Nick.'? I mean, how hard is that, huh?"

"Because you would've freaked out like you're doing right now and talked me out of going," I shot back. "Monroe I'm an adult. If I want to go shooting, I think I can handle it." I pointed over at Nick. "And I had a wonderful, trained professional who's on the police force guiding me through the steps."

Nick replied with a toothy grin as he crossed his arms. It was quite charming, that grin of his.

"Trained or not, it's not something you just need to go do. I mean, what's next? Are you going to start wielding the morning star over your head? Or how about…?"

Nick stood and pushed in his wooden chair. "Okay, if you guys want to continue your argument outside, I really need to go. I have to pick up a gun and then get on the road tomorrow."

"Get on the road?" I asked.

Nick nodded and then smiled. "Juliette and I have a getaway planned this weekend. Whispering Pines."

"Like a vacation kinda thing?" asked Monroe.

"More than that," Nick grinned again, showing more of his teeth. "I'm going to ask Juliette to marry me."

A pit formed in my stomach. "Really?"

Nick nodded. "I told you I had plans for that ring."

"Are you sure it's not too soon?" I asked quickly. "She doesn't know everything yet, and maybe you should wait until…"

"I've waited too long already," Nick cut in. "She may never know about all this." He swept his hand from left to right. "But I know I love her and that's what matters. When it's in your heart, you gotta show that love, Renée." He gave me a smirk, and the heat crept up my cheeks. He'd remembered that part of our drunken night. Crap.

"Well, good for you, man." Monroe smiled back. "She seems like a great person. Well, from that one time I met her after rescuing her from the Daemonfeuer…" His smile faded as he stuffed his hands in his pockets. "And have never met again since then, I might add. Not that I take that personally or anything, but you'd think…"

"Monroe, are we going to do this again?"

"No, no, I just mean it would be nice if, you know, I'd gotten a chance to know her better, but maybe I'll meet her again at the wedding." He shook his head and then mumbled, "If I'm invited to that."

"Monroe, the two of you talking isn't a good idea, what with everything."

Monroe scoffed. "But it's okay if Renée goes shooting with her?"

"I had to promise not to talk to her," I said.

"And you still did," Nick reminded me with a cold glare.

"Only when she spoke first," I replied. "I'm sorry."

Nick crossed the trailer and opened the door. "Now, like I said, I have a lot to do tomorrow so…" He pointed outside to finish his sentence.

"Yeah, yeah. We're going," Monroe replied as I followed him outside.

I turned before Nick closed the door. "Thanks for everything today. I really mean it."

Nick nodded. "I'll see ya next week or something."

The pit returned as Monroe and I got into his VW. As soon as he closed his door he jerked his head toward me. "Why are we back to secrets again?"

"What? The gun thing?"

"Yes. Of course the gun thing," he scowled.

"It wasn't a secret as much as a… delay in telling you," I replied.

"Delay? Delay like in never?"

"Not that long. I would've told you eventually." My eyes dipped slightly. In a few years, maybe.

"Yeah, right," he scoffed. "Man, I thought we just had that talk about trusting me and all that." He shook his head. "I just don't get it, man."

"I'm sorry," I said with a sigh. There was no use in repeating myself. He would've had a fit like he was now. If only I'd said something to Nick about keeping it under wraps.

Monroe reached for my hand. "What am I gonna do with you?"

I squeezed his hand and let it go. "Be there for me."

I thumbed through my phone, playing Barry White's 'What am I Gonna do With You?' while I Google'd the number two-hundred and ten.

"Baby, oh, baby.
Girl, what am I gonna do?
Baby, sweet baby, my babe.
What am I gonna do with you?"

I idly hummed along with Barry's words as I searched. What was my dad trying to tell me?

"Sharing more songs?" Monroe asked as the music played on.

"Some things are worth sharing," I replied with a small grin. He needed to trust me. It was my turn at doing a poor job at earning his trust. Still, he didn't need to know everything, right?

Monroe chuckled. "Who knew there was another dude with the same gripes as me?"

"It's not exactly the same, but close enough," I grinned.

My eyes rested back on my screen. Google had quite a bit of results. One site said there were two-hundred and ten countries. Well, that wasn't right. There were a hundred-ninety-six, if you counted Taiwan, which the US government didn't. I was getting sidetracked. I moved on.

Wikipedia said the number two-hundred and ten was a composite number, an abundant number, and the product of the first four prime numbers, and thus a primorial. It was also the sum of eight consecutive prime numbers. I sighed. There was more… It was a triangular number, a pentagonal number, a pentatope number, a pronic number, a Harshad number, and an untouchable number. It was the area code for San Antonio, Texas, a state highway number in Minnesota, and the model of a Chevrolet back in the '50s. But what did that mean to me? How did any of that give me answers to the Verrat, the Seven Houses, or the Royals?

"What are you doing?" Monroe asked once Barry finished crooning.

"Looking up the number two-hundred and ten."

"Any ideas?"

"Nope," I breathed out.

"Try February 10th. See if anything historic happened on that day," he suggested.

"Good idea." I Google'd February 10th. Many things happened, but nothing stuck out either. I sighed again.

"Nothing?"

"Nothing that makes sense."

"Anything musical? Your dad knew you liked music, right?"

I nodded as I scanned the list. "Bob Dylan released his album 'The Times they are a Changin'' in 1964."

"Well, the times are a changin' if there are Royals in Portland."

"Sounds like it." I read further. Music didn't help. Nothing was jumping out. The answer just wasn't going to be easy. "This solution is going to be a needle in a haystack." I shook my head.

Monroe rubbed my arm. "If your dad left you a clue, he knew you'd figure it out, okay? I mean, he knew you'd take that book, so you're already aware of more than before, you know?"

"Yeah," I replied weakly as I threw my phone in my bag. I crossed my arms and leaned back in the car seat. Nick might be able to figure this out. He was smart too. The pit returned. Why did he have to leave this weekend?

A/N: Sorry for the delay in chapters. I complain about the Grimm hiatus, but then I gave you guys one. Oops?

Okay, so a little debating with Nick and the letter. Monroe is smarter than any of them know with his deduction. lol Too bad that won't come to the surface for a bit. Could there be more to the letter? Secret clues, puzzles maybe? Guess we'll see how that unfolds.

Did you guys notice anything else a bit off about Renée? (;

Stay tuned. I'll try to get a few more chapters out today.