RoseBlood

Act Like You Trust

The folder on my laptop is full to the brim with photos and documents copied from Mum and Dad's gadgets and their notes. I sigh as I stare at the screen, a small frown on my face. I turn to my casebook, open it up where I last wrote, then tick off the follow-up section. It's some kind of distraction to look through the lists and entries they wrote in their book, instead of thinking about the funeral and money and the house. I don't think I have a sentimental attachment to the house itself, and wouldn't really mind selling it to go somewhere else if I needed to, but I've been eighteen for less than a day. So that can wait, for now.

It takes at least two hours to go through everything properly and to write it all down clearly, in order. But the result is worth it, and the few leads presented give me something more exact to work with.

Evidence - Judith Cassia - iPad and laptop:

I won't write the entire list of guests invited down, but I can print off the document when Lizzie isn't looking. What I will write is that there was a total of twenty people invited, and eighteen people came. The two people who couldn't make it were Hayley Lore, who already informed me of her earlier arranged plans to visit family out of town, and a client of my father's called Clarissa Newman, who apparently claimed she was ill.

The rest were four teenagers - one being my friend Mia Williams, the others being children of clients - their parents, other workmates and clients.

I am familiar with Mia Williams and her parents, Jessica and Roland Williams, who I believe I saw present during the cutting of the cake and unwrapping of gifts. I also know Lorraine and Paul Jones, who are old clients of my parents, and Elizabeth Hutton, who was present throughout the entirety of the celebration, bringing in food and later staying in the main room with the other guests.

The rest of the information stored on Judith's devices are work timetables and ideas to simplify routines concerning her work schedule and clientele.

Evidence - Judith Cassia - Notebooks:

Judith kept three notebooks and a diary of dates that she used fairly often, all of them work-related. However, in her diary on the day of my birthday, she wrote: 'End the party in the late afternoon to be with Holly alone. The least we can do.'

I stop writing for a moment after that and think about the pointless 'what if'. Because what if they hadn't been killed that afternoon? What if we did talk properly, for the first time in years? Like some kind of family? I think... I think I might have liked that.

Tough luck. They were killed.

I shake my head as if I'm shaking the thought away, and keep on writing.

In summary, there's no relevant information in Judith Cassia's devices or notebooks, apart from the guest list. Moving on to Bobby.

Evidence - Bobby Cassia - iPad and laptop:

Judith was the one who kept the guest list, so Bobby's documents were all work-related information about financial figures, managing budgets, maintaining properties and information for landlords. Boring, irrelevant - let's move on.

Evidence - Bobby Cassia - Notebook:

Bobby only owned one notebook in which he wrote the date and summaries of what he earned and he had to take care of the next day. Everything work-related, of course, like the dullest journal ever written.

However, on Wednesday - the day he and Judith went to the party-gathering, and he mentioned his suspicions of a somewhat familiar but unrecognisable follower - he wrote: 'Attended the gathering with Judith. Thought I saw a familiar face, but can't put a name to it. Probably nothing.'

Follow up: Subtly ask the guests about seeing anyone leave the main room at the funeral, as well as any unusual interaction or behaviour. Be cautious, and trust no one. Any one of them could be the RoseBlood killer.

It's a chilling thought, that last sentence. It's true - it could be any one of them, any person who might have been friendly in the past and still is could've snuck down and murdered them, and are at home right now, with their family or other oblivious friends. Shameless.

'Act like you trust people, but do not.' You read that somewhere too.

The funeral would probably be a week or two away from now. I think Mum and Dad already arranged everything ahead of time - as they usually did - so when Lizzie knocks lightly on my bedroom door and comes in to bring it up as gently as she can, I sigh and nod.

"I think they prepaid for it all," I tell her, "so I wouldn't worry about it. And... well, if you want, you can go back home. Since there's not much to work for here anyway."

"What? Oh, don't be silly. I'll stay for as long as you want me. As I said, I have been thinking about retiring for a while, though cleaning does seem to clear my mind, somehow. I'm more than happy to come around on the weekdays and help around the house, keep you company if you want it. You poor girl... I can't imagine what you're going through, Holls."

I smile weakly, shrugging. "Thanks, Lizzie."

"Do you know when and where you want it held? The funeral, that is. Again, I'm happy to help with all that. I'm sure it's the last thing you want to take care of right now."

"Oh... you don't have to do that-"

"I know I don't, love, but it's really no bother. What else am I going to do, anyway?"

I nod slowly, a silent debate going on in my head as to whether or not to ask her about the murder.

Do it.

"It was so sudden, wasn't it?" I say, a thoughtful frown on my face. "Their deaths, I mean. I didn't see it coming at all."

Lizzie sighs deeply, shaking her head. "Neither did I? Well, who could have? Those two were just a devoted couple and hard workers. I never had a bad word for them - though their job did keep them on their feet, maybe a little more than they should have, if you don't mind my saying so. I've never seen them just take a day off, exhale, and spend some time with you."

I nod, raising my brows before dropping them again with a shrug. "Well. What can you do?"

Lizzie smiles lightly, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. "You aren't alone, Holly. I'll always be around if you want a talk or some company. Now you remember that."

I smile back. "I will. Thanks."

"That, um, detective that showed up earlier is a little inquisitive, isn't he? Of course, it's his job to be, but he seemed very neutral about it all. Do you think people who take care of nasty business like this have to keep themselves unreadable? Or maybe they've seen so much that they simply can't get too upset by it anymore? Goodness, that's a sad thought."

I shrug again, nodding. She could be right either way, but for me, I can't scream and cry about it now because... well, it's happened. I feel as if I should have all the curtains drawn and refuse to eat or talk to anyone, I can't do that. I give myself the chance to break and cry and get lost inside my head, because it will only make things worse, and I'll never be able to solve the case.

To get through this, I have to suck it up, for now. Stay focused, stay calm and observant and strong. Act like I trust, but do not. Because anyone around me could be waiting to strike again, and I need to be ready.