I waited for Jack to finish locking the cell and then walked some distance. I needed to be out of earshot of the butler and the manservant.
"What are you going to do?" Jack's voice pulled me out of my thoughts as I walked with slow steps.
"Let them go."
Jack shook his head.
"These are the only suspects we have. I need them so we have something to tell the reporters."
"Thirty years. And I have served Mr. Robert for thirty years. I gave him my youth, I gave him my life. Knowing that there was nothing for me outside the estate, do you think I would harm him?" The butler lamented.
Before we left the cell earlier, I didn't have an answer for the butler. But I remembered I had asked another question.
"Will you go to prison if you were the only one? If we don't find the truth. Will you stand there?"
At first, the butler looked confused. Slowly, his wrinkled face hardened into resolve.
"If there's no other choice, then yes. If it would bring peace to Mr. Robert's family, then yes."
I shook his head at the butler's answer. Blind loyalty, I thought, was both remarkable and unimportant. I looked at the manservant.
"I have one more question for you." I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees. "Did anyone else step out of the car?"
The manservant took a long time thinking, whispering until he finally answered, "Yes. It was the driver."
"Answer me," Jack said, pulling me out of my thoughts with a hand on my shoulder.
"Don't just keep a man in prison simply because you need a scapegoat to tell the world about. What if the killer decided to make do with them?
Either way, we have to look into the town cars that drove to the estate. Since you're practically here, I'm sure you'll be able to work according to your will." I patted the colonel on the shoulder before I left him in the hallway.
Bernard was still waiting for me at the main police station, a little sag in his shoulders showing exhaustion.
"What now, sir?" There was a sudden vibration in my pocket that interrupted my answer.
It was the familiar number of my sister, Patricia.
"I haven't even been gone a day yet, and here you are calling me," I said as I answered the call.
"I believe this is the first time. But there's a first time for everything." I sighed at my sister.
"The lawyer is here. I don't know how else to reach you, but even if you don't want anything from Father's inheritance, you have to be here."
"I'll be there in almost an hour," I declared and hung up the phone.
"For now, I need a little mental break," I said as I looked back to Bernard, who was still looking at me with hope in his brown eyes.
"We're going to my family's estate. We might be there for the night."
It was yet another slightly long drive to the outskirts of the main city where the largest estate of my father was situated. I climbed up the stairs and into what was the family dining room.
There I found the lawyer, who was an old friend of mind.
"I see you have taken over your father's business," I remarked as I shook the lawyer's hand. Henry was just as Frank was to me. We had all attended the same school when we were growing up, all the way to secondary school.
"And I see that you did not take over your father's business," Henry snickered back as he guided me to a seat.
My other sister, Paris, was also at the table. The youngest of the household was a spoiled brat who didn't even spare me a second glance.
"Are we all set for the reading of the will?" Henry cleared his throat before he spoke. Once he received the approval, he began to read the will.
The will was very simple. All of the family estate, as well as the business, had been handed over to me in simple language.
"Did you threaten Papa? That's the only explanation for all of this rubbish. How exactly am I supposed to survive?" Paris slammed her hand on the table, calling attention to herself as she always did.
"There's really no need for you to react, Paris. If you want to survive, you'll beg your brother for a stipend. Hopefully, he'll be kind enough to let you have the same allowance that Father did when he was alive," Patricia said in a level tone.
The two women looked at me at the same time, who was frankly simply happy to observe.
"I've told you this before. I am not interested in the inheritance." I looked at my sisters and then back to Henry.
"Surely there has to be a provision that if I'm not interested, it will go to charities or something."
Henry's response was a gentle shake of his head. "Your father made it such that the only way to dispose of his properties is by handing them over to you. If you want to dispose of them, you'll have to write your own will."
"And how long is that going to take me?" I was feeling a bit of hope bloom in my mind. Hopefully, if I simply wrote the will, I would hand everything over to my sisters, who were more capable, especially Patricia, in overseeing the family business.
"The entire process would take roughly about a year and a half. You'll need to get the necessary probate. Once the estate has been administered…"
I closed my eyes slowly. Just when I was thinking it would only be a short process, I would be stuck with the responsibility of overseeing the property for over a year.
"Fine. Forget about my will. At least for now. Patricia, you oversee the business. Paris… how much did Father give you?" She looked as if she was about to have a field day. Her blue eyes sparkled suddenly, and her face was lit up in a smile.
"That's the kind of question I like! Five hundred thousand."
" That's ridiculous. One hundred thousand. No wonder you ran the business to the ground." I stood up from my chair and walked away, my goal was a guest room despite how much Paris was yelling at me.
"Stay in the room beside me," I instructed Bernard as I opened the door to the guest room.
It was a simple place. Wooden floors covered with carpets in some areas and polished to perfection greeted his feet.
The bed was simple. The frame was unadorned and unremarkable. The bed was covered in white sheets and white pillows. The rest of the furniture was also just as simple as the bed frame and just as grey as the rest of the room.
I walked over to the bed and slumped on it with a huff of a frustrated breath. "Out of the frying pan, into the fire," I said to myself as I struggled to take off my outer jacket.
After a struggle with the rest of my clothes and the blissful shower, I sat on the bed again, started flipping through my phone.
The news coverage had already reported on Robert St John's death. It was most likely leaked by members of the household staff for a pretty wad of cash.
Still, it was all within the realm of possibility. It was after all only seven hours after Robert had been pronounced that the news leaked out. And in my opinion, the police chief had done a slightly uploadable job in keeping the reporters out for so long.
I didn't realize when I fell asleep. All I remembered was that I was rudely awoken by knocking on the door.
A quick glance at the wall clock and the room told me it was very 6:00 a.m. "Cease that infernal sound," I grumbled as he opened the door to reveal Bernard.
"The colonel called. He's on the phone now." Bernard handed me the phone.
"Yes?"
"We found the driver," I detected a hint of pride in Jack's voice.
"That was fast," I observed. "Where is he now?"
"He's getting ready to head out for the day. Come quickly."
"I'll be there as soon as I can," I said, knowing that I would most likely spend quite a long time on the road.
A little over an hour later, Bernard pulled up to a slightly shabby part of town. I climbed up the hill on his feet and found Jack flanked by three officers standing in front of a door and talking to a shorter man who had a slight hunch on his back.
"Took you long enough," Jack smacked me on the back as he bellowed.
"I was out of town briefly," I said in my defense.
"So what happened?" I took a good look at the man in front of me. He was just around my age but obviously suffered the same thing the police chief did. A beer belly, balding hair, and a heavy dose of wrinkles carefully blended in oily skin.
"Do you smoke?" I found myself asking as I pulled out a pack of cigarettes and offered the driver one of them.
"Yes, sir, thank you," the man said. After he had successfully managed to light both cigarettes, I asked the question again.
"What happened? You can start from the beginning."
"I don't mind."
"But do you remember what happened?"
The driver scoffed as he puffed out a cloud of smoke.
"Of course. Everyone knows the St. John Estate. It was my first time. I've never driven anyone there, but it has always been my dream. I even thought my passengers would tip me well, but they didn't. Shame, if you ask me. Anyway, I went to see my family at the beach."
"No, not that far in the beginning. Tell him what you told me," Jack barked at the man.
"I picked up two people."
My mind blanked out until I heard the two. "Who was waiting for you? Can you describe them?"
"That was a tall man and a thin man."
"Where did you pick them up?" By this time, I was wide-eyed with curiosity and keen interest.
"It was at the intersection of Highway 7 and Highway 6 in the suburbs. I remember because I just dropped my fami…"
"Describe what happened in detail!" I couldn't help but interrupt.
"The tall man was in a floral shirt. He's the one that did the talking. He helped his friend... his friend was older and in a suit… anyway, he helped him enter the car and paid the fare and all that. He told me where to take his silent friend to."
"I was so happy that I'd get to go to St. John's Estate… he even told me what to say to the guards at the gate."
"What? What did he tell you to say?"
"He said to tell them if they keep the guest waiting; 'He's Mr. James, a prominent member of St. John's party.' Once I said that, they let me in easily," the man laughed.
"This guest… what did he look like?"
"Oh… he looked bad. He was so pale I thought he was dead. But that was not the weird part."
"What was it?" I could feel as though I wanted to rise to my tiptoes with frustration at how the driver was taking his time to tell the story. Instead, I settled for clenching my fists.
"The man said nothing. He did nothing. I tried to talk to him, but the dead-looking guy was just still. It was creepy. When I dropped him off, he didn't move until I helped him out of the car and till we reached the front door."
"Do you remember the man that paid the fare?"
"Definitely. There's no way I could forget the funny floral shirt. I can describe him for you if you want."
"Get me an artist," I directed at one of the officers that flanked Jack.