Chapter 18: The Idiot

Everyone looked at Miles, who had his arms crossed and looked seriously annoyed. "Oh, please," he groaned. "Just tell us who tried to kill me."

Blanc stared at Miles with an angry look. "Nobody tried to kill you, you vainglorious buffoon."

"Duke took my glass!" Miles shouted.

Blanc shook his head. "That's what you told us he did. He must've picked it up by mistake, you told us, right after it happened. And after you said those words, that's what we all remember seeing, but think!" Blanc shouted, walking towards Duke's body and pointing at Miles. "Ignore his lies, everyone, and think clearly now! What did we all actually see?"

Claire gasped and Julia sighed, rolling her eyes at the fact that she had missed all that while trying to ransack rooms. "You handed Duke your own glass," Benoit continued. "Clear as crystal. Right in front of our eyes. All of us. And then told a bald-faced fabrication. And it worked."

"Blanc, are you telling us Miles killed Duke?" Lionel asked as he approached.

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because the night Andi sent you all the emails, when Duke got to Andi's house early on his motorcycle...he saw Miles leaving. Was almost struck by him. In fact, he told all of us. Right out in the open, he told us."

Julia's face lifted. "At the pool," Julia added and Blanc grinned and pointed at her

"That's my girl. That night, at Andi's."

"That night, Duke told us he almost got into an accident," Claire interjected. "He... pancaked?"

"Yeah, but Miles had been living in Greece the past six months," Lionel added.

"No," Blanc argued. "Whiskey. Miles saw you on your birthday in New York. Gave you that necklace," the detective pointed at her neck, "for your birthday. And you're a Taurus."

"I am," Whiskey whispered. "Two weeks ago."

"Forget the hydrofuels..."

"May 9th."

"...and the sweatshops and the consensual cuckolding for cable news assignments," he went on as Peg ran back in. Julia, in the meantime, was keeping a close eye on Miles.

"Sorry, what?" Peg asked in confusion.

"And focus on the envelope," Benoit said, looking towards the stairs as Andi made her entrance. In her hand was a red envelope.

Birdie screamed, Peg gasped Claire yelled "holy shit!" and Miles stared at Andi in disbelief.

"What is reality?" Birdie cried out.

"Andi?" Lionel asked.

Julia sighed while throwing her head back. "Relax, she's okay. It's just hot sauce," she explained. "Hurry it up, Blanc. Sooner the case is closed, the sooner I can rent out a hotel room and fuck your brains out so hard we'll wake the dead."

Blanc actually blushed at that one. "Yes dear," he chucked. "Who did the envelope threaten? Miles Bron. That night, Lionel faxed Andi's email to Miles who received it in New York. The one thing that could destroy his empire if lies, the truth in the hands of the only person unafraid to tell it. So Miles drives his Baby Blue Porsche to the scene of the crime and Andi lets him in. Of course she did. Miles' machine of lawyers and power could destroy her through sheer dumb force. But Miles himself? Oh, she was clever enough not to fear Miles. But she didn't see the real threat, the obvious threat until it was too late."

At this point, Blanc was near Miles, hands in his pockets as he stared down the accused. Julia bit her lip, taking another sip of alcohol.

"Duke alone knew you were there that night, but he didn't know Andi was dead. No, no, he didn't know that until this evening. Right here, when he got a Google alert on his phone, which has now fallen strangely silent," Blanc went on, now behind Miles. He pulled a phone out of Miles' pocket and showed it to everyone. "And which he showed to you...because you don't own a phone."

Whiskey started crying. "Duke! No!"

Helen started walking over. "Did he really think he could stop all of them from finding out about Andi's death? They all have phones."

People, including Julia, stared checking their phones. Sure enough, Cassandra Brand's "apparent suicide" was all over the news.

"He didn't need to hide the death," Benoit explained. "He just needs to hide that Duke had shown him the death moments before he was killed. Right out in the open, Duke showed him. And told him exactly what he wanted in return for his silence. So what does Miles do?"

"Does he keep a vial of poison in his tooth or something?" Helen asked. "Is that some rich person thing?"

"No, no, no,no, it's just..." Benoit said as he walked away. "It's so much stupider than that. Birdie, what are the ingredients to your Cuban Breeze?"

"Um, vodka, amaretto..." Birdie began.

"Oh God!" Whiskey said, covering her mouth.

"And...pineapple juice."

"An allergy!" Blanc said.

"He can't even have a drop!" Whiskey pointed out.

"Pineapple juice!" Benoit shouted. "He just put pineapple juice in his whiskey! It's so dumb."

Julia rolled her eyes, although she was slightly amused at the detective's disappointment. "Oh for fuck's sake," she mumbled.

"Oh, it's so dumb, it's brilliant!" Birdie said.

"No! It's just dumb!" Both Julia and Blanc shouted.

Claire and Birdie joined Lionel as he was looking at his phone. "Died of an apparent suicide. She is survived by her sister, Helen."

Lionel and Claire gaped at Helen while Birdie approached. "You told me about Helen, your sister...oh wait!" Birdie gasped, causing Julia to roll her eyes.

"How can someone be that slow?" she asked herself.

"Helen Brand, ladies and gentlemen," Benoit said. Miles was looking more worried by the minute now. "And now we come to Helen's attempted murder, which, I have to give you credit for, did have a sound foundation of thought. You realized the opportunity laid out in front of you. You have a house on a remote island, filled with desperate people, all of whom have a real-life reason to wish this woman harm. You..." Blanc suddenly looked at Miles. "Furthermore, you have a loaded gun conveniently within reach. And the lights had even been turned off. Heavens to..." Blanc rubbed his forehead and started pacing. "You dim-witted, brainless jackass! Your one murder, with any panache at all, and you stole the whole idea from me!"

Julia burst out laughing and threw her head back. "Of course he did!"

"And after all that, you...you still kept tre envelope?" Lionel asked curiously to Miles. "You didn't burn it or anything?"

Helen approached the murderer, holding up a napkin. "You recognize this?" she asked coldly. "Andi's handwriting. I got you, you son of a bitch!"

Miles smiled. "Oh, let's slow down there, sister. Okay? Because first, how could you ever prove that that's the original?" Miles asked confidently. "She might have copied mine."

"No," Helen argued. "The bar closed nine years ago and hers has one thing that yours just doesn't," she said, pointing to something on the napkin.

"Okay, but second..." Miles took out a lighter and burned the napkin to ash.

As it drifted to the floor, the glass shielding went back up on the Mona Lisa as if sealing the fate of Miles' motives and actions as if Andi's truth never even happened.