RoseBlood

The Leads

"So, when I was out, I did manage to speak to Clarissa. She seems... well, very worried about you, Holly."

I frown in interest as we sit down at the table, Emerson setting bowls of hot pasta in front of us. I glance down at it for a moment, then up at him, nodding in acknowledgement as a sort of thank you. He nods back, then turns his attention to his sister.

"How do you mean?" I ask her, twirling strands of pasta on my fork, Elias practically shovelling the food down his mouth, Emerson delicately eating his in the same way I am. I put my fork down at the similarity, annoyed again.

"Well, she seems timid by nature," Edith confirms, "but she looked pretty scared when I spoke to her. She'd just been to the corner shop for something and was about to go back into her home when I caught her. I told her about the attack in the garden and your relocation plainly, just to see how she'd react. She looked horrified. I actually felt kind of bad."

"Could all be a front," Elias suggests between a mouthful, and Edith shrugs.

"Maybe. Clarissa does seem pretty anxious naturally, though. I gave her our business number in case she wanted to speak to Holly or thinks of anything. She was definitely keeping something back, maybe something she can't be certain of but relates to the whole thing."

"She said she spoke to some other woman in the Co-op, which is the corner shop you said she'd come from, right?" I ask, and Edith nods.

"Clarissa might have been hoping to see her again," Emerson says thoughtfully, "Did she mention what day?"

"No. She said 'earlier this week,' so I can't be sure."

"She seem suspicious to you?" Elias asks Edith. "Anything to do with poetry, that music and all?"

"Not really, no," Edith replies. "But I know a website I can look up whatever phrases you read on the back of the note and see what matches I can find for any sonnets and stuff."

"Clarissa's the best suspect we have," Emerson tells us. "She might not have had the physical strength or mindset to kill your parents herself, but the person she was talking to in the Co-op could have. Who was it?"

"She said she didn't remember what she looked like," I recall, "but she could have been protecting her, I suppose. Clarissa also said that she hadn't met her before and didn't know her name, so it could be nothing."

"Yes, it could be. But it's a lead for now," Emerson says. "I'll email Brunsley for any updates."

"You can email him about the funeral, too," I find myself saying, the overwhelming thought coming into my head yet again. "I don't know what's happening with that, but Lizzie had said something about helping with it. Then there's my parents' money, and the house..."

I suddenly feel sick from the pasta, an overwhelming sense of pressure and responsibility coming over me.

"Please don't stress about that," Edith urges me with a smile, taking the empty bowls in and getting up to put them in the dishwasher. "I promise you're not alone with all that. You'll get help, if you want it, to deal with it all."

There's a lot to deal with, though. Mum and Dad have probably left everything to me, and if they have, that includes the cars, the house...

But do you want to keep the house?

I'm still in college, too. Will I have to live off my parents' money for a while? Not that it should be a problem. They made more than enough from their jobs.

Will you cry when you have to sort through all their things?

"I'll include that in the email," Emerson agrees, and I get up, backing away from the table.

"I'm... gonna go upstairs."

"Okay," Edith responds with a concerned but warm smile. "Oh, and if you call or text anyone, make sure your location can't be seen. We have to keep you safe here."

I nod, heading upstairs and back to the room that's apparently mine for now. The casebook is painfully out of date with information, and a sense of comfort of the routine drowns out the pressure for the moment, as I write all that's happened down. The Tyrels, the attack, the relocation, everything. Then I read through all the pages, right from the beginning, The Case of Paranoia, right to the end of The RoseBlood Killer, until the blues of the sky outside start fading into darker shades.

My phone's alive with messages as soon as I turn it on, all from Mia and Lizzie. Mia's is about her arrival at Oxford, along with multiple photos of her new room there and the massive Bodleian Library, which easily puts the Tyrels' to shame.

- Holly, hru doing?? I'm always here if u want to talk to something, also let me know when the funeral is so I can come xx -

- Haven't properly started uni yet, obviously, but will in September. The girl that I'm dorming with seems a bit loud but okay. Wish u were here :( xx-

The others are from Lizzie, who's probably worried sick. I close the door to the room properly before deciding to just call her after reading the first couple of concerned texts.

She picks up after the first ring, and a pang of homesickness brings me the closest I've come to tears yet as I hear her voice.

"Holly! Oh my goodness, Holly, is that you?! I've been so worried- I'm so sorry, love, I should have been awake for that horrible attack, and I can't-"

"I'm fine, really, Lizzie," I interrupt her in reassurance, staring out the window as I speak as softly as I can. "And don't say that, you know it wasn't your fault."

"Well, I still take responsibility for not paying attention. I could have done something, you know? Oh, you poor girl, how are you feeling?"

"I'm fine," I repeat. "I'm at the Tyrels' house."

"You're where?"

"I can't say exactly," I answer. "It's the safest place for me to be, apparently. And I am safe here, I swear. I'm going to find who's done all this."

"Well... oh, please be careful."

"Always am. I've been thinking about the funeral though, along with the will. What do you think will happen?"

"That detective, Brunsley, suggested we have it soon," Lizzie says. "Maybe this week? I'll have to call him up again. I've been worried sick, Holly. I can't believe this is happening to you... don't you go fretting over the funeral, because they covered it before they died."

"Did they?"

"Mm. They always were practical, people, in their own way, though I know they weren't expecting to die. Brunsley looked into it, and they'd done it ages ago, not anytime near their murders or anything. And I'm sure you'll inherit everything you need to support yourself until you get a job after you finish college. Okay?"

"Yep. Okay. I'm gonna go now, Lizzie, but I'll see you at the funeral, right?"

"Absolutely," Lizzie agrees. "It's just such a relief to hear your voice again, it really is. You get a good rest tonight, love, and I'll see you soon."