Impotent Death: A Paranormal Mystery

Chapter Nine

"It wasn't suicide," Marcus said, shaking his head.
"But why couldn't it have been? Robyn was probably really emotional during the last times of her life—maybe she just wanted it to all be over," I said. "You never know what people are going through. Maybe she decided life wasn't worth it anymore if she stopped loving Anthony."
Why hadn't I thought of this before? What if the whole thing had just been an accident and Kevin wasn't framed?
"But why would my grandmother kill herself in someone else's house? Her ex-boyfriend's house?" Hannah brought up.
I bit my lip. "Now that I don't know... maybe she didn't want Anthony to be the one to find... well, never mind, that's not a strong enough reason. That's a good question, Hannah, I'll need to think on that."
"It wasn't suicide," Marcus repeated. "My mother had plenty to live for in life, and, just like Hannah already mentioned, why would she have done it in the Raymond Mansion? Also, why hanging? A bullet would've been much faster."
"Maybe she didn't have access to a gun," I brought up.
"This is too far-fetched," Marcus said. "Mr. Raymond being the killer is a hundred times more likely than a suicide."
"No, I promise it's not!" I assured him. "Maybe suicide isn't very likely, but I think it's still possible."
"It's getting late, Miss Moore. It was nice talking to you, but there are other things we need to do now," Marcus said as he slowly got up from his seat, clutching his back and wincing.
I was tempted to argue, but I gave a nod and said, "Well... okay. Thanks for being willing to discuss this with me. It's probably not easy talking about your parents so much and having people accuse your dad of murder..."
"Thank you for your interest in the subject," Marcus said kindly. "I know I was a little opposed to talking about it at first, but maybe it wasn't such a bad thing. Sometimes talking about hard things makes them... easier."
I smiled. "I agree."
We said goodbye, and Hannah led me to the front door.
     "Hannah, I um... thanks for letting me come over," I said sincerely.
     Hannah gave a tiny grin, which was more than I'd ever seen. "For sure, Makayla. And now do you believe me that my grandpa's innocent?"
     I pursed my lips before saying, "You want to know something, Hannah? I do believe you. Your grandfather is not a killer."

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     Walking home, I thought a lot about the conversation I'd just had; mostly how shocked I was at myself that I'd dropped Anthony Green as a suspect. At first he'd been the only person I suspected, but after talking to his family... it just didn't seem right. He may have had a temper, motive, and means, but by the way people talked about him, it sounded like he was a great person. And even if he had killed Robyn, why frame his best friend too? There was no good reason anyone could come up with.
     I wasn't quite ready to drop my idea of a suicide, but in the mean time I had to find someone whose main objective was to frame Raymond. Or who had a reason to frame Raymond and kill Robyn.
     This was all so confusing, I decided I just needed to talk to Ruth and Raymond about all of it. They were sure to be very happy when I told them I agreed Anthony was innocent.
When I got home I rushed upstairs to talk to Ruth, except she wasn't there. Someone else was home though; my dad.
"Hey, Dad," I said as I entered his office. He was typing on his computer. "Do you know where Ruth is?"
"I'm afraid not," he said to me, keeping his eyes glued to his computer screen.
"Oh, um... how's your book coming, by the way?" I decided to ask. "Have you found out anything interesting?"
"What kind of a question is that, Makayla? Everything about the murder is fascinating!"
"I meant like anything... new." I didn't know where I was going with my questions, I guess I was just curious.
"Not really. Why do you ask?" My dad actually stopped typing for a second to look at me.
"Oh, um... I don't know. I was just thinking about it, and I was wondering... what if it was a suicide? Do you think it's possible?" I said casually.
My dad couldn't hold back his laughter. "Makayla, how in the world could Mrs. Weller have committed suicide? And why would she have done it in Mr. Raymond's house? In this house?"
"Why couldn't she have done it?" I asked, folding my arms.
"How could she have tied her own hands behind her back?" he answered.
I bit my lip. "Oh. I guess you have a good point. I didn't realize she'd been tied up, I just thought she... hmm. Okay." Well, forget my whole idea with the suicide, that was stupid.
"Why are you questioning the murder, anyway? Have there been rumors going around at school or something?" my father questioned, narrowing his eyes slightly.
"Is questioning things always a bad thing?" I asked in response.
My dad gave me a strange look and muttered, "I guess not."
I was about to say something else, but I decided to leave it at that. I didn't want to give my dad a clue into what I was up to. Well, what Ruth, Raymond, and I were up to.
Apparently Ruth got home late from school because she'd been staying behind to work on a group project. When she told me that, I almost died with guilt: I still hadn't touched my own pile of homework, and most of it was due tomorrow.
I decided to tell Ruth about the stuff I'd learned while I worked on some math problems. As I'd expected, she was overflowing with joy when I told her I didn't think Anthony was guilty anymore. But it only left us with the same problem: who was guilty?
"Who at your party do you think hated you or wanted revenge on you for something?" I asked Raymond as I aimlessly walked circles around Ruth's bedroom after my failed attempts with solving quadratic equations.
"Like I said before, no one really stands out," Ruth said in place of Raymond.
"Actually, this is a better question: why would someone want to get revenge on you?" I asked, rubbing my chin. "We know the killer's main purpose in killing Robyn was to frame you. They probably chose to kill her because it would make you a more probable suspect. But who knows, they could've had their own reason for killing her."
"Robyn wasn't always the most likable person towards the end of her life, so there are many people who would have no ob—objection to killing her," Ruth repeated to me.
I looked over at Ruth's closet and said, "Wow, Raymond, that's a little rude! You said you liked Robyn a lot."
"He's over by my dresser, not the closet," Ruth told me, and I shrugged. She continued speaking for Raymond. "Just because I was fond of Robyn certainly doesn't mean everyone was. She was a hard person to get along with."
"Then let's go back to the other question. Why would someone want to frame you?"
Ruth waited in silence for a while, until she finally said, "My money. That's got to be it."
"Okay, makes sense," I said. Then I frowned. "But nobody could've stolen your savings because they didn't know where you kept your money. So that couldn't have been the whole reason, could it—"
Ruth suddenly gasped and grabbed my arm. "Makayla, oh, no. I just realized something..."
"What? What is it?" I demanded, feeling nauseous all of a sudden.
     "How do we know someone never found Kevin's savings? We didn't actually check to see if it was in there because he told us not to yet—what do you think, Kevin?"
     "Wait, Ruth. What—what are you saying? You think someone could've stolen Raymond's million dollars?"
     Ruth grimaced. "Maybe it was why someone decided to frame Kevin. One million dollars is a lot of money—"
     "No, Ruth, that's impossible! Nobody knew where he kept his money! Only he knew his way around his own house! Right, Raymond?" I said to the air.
     "He prefers to go by Kevin, don't you?" said Ruth.
     "I don't care what he wants to go by, I need him to answer! No one knows about that secret room except me, you, and him! Ask him if it's true!" I commanded angrily. "That money has to be there!"
     Ruth's eyes were wide in alarm, but she nodded. "Kevin, do you think... oh, you want us to go check? Okay. He told me where the key to the chest is. Let's go open it."
     I abandoned the stack of homework at my desk to follow Ruth into the secret passageway that led to Raymond's secret office. The key, apparently, was just hidden in one of the desk drawers. If I'd known that, I would've opened the chest a long time ago.
     My heart beat nervously as I dragged the silver-lined chest towards me, fumbled with the tiny copper key, and thrust it into the lock. I unlocked the chest and slowly opened it, holding my breathe.
     Instead of finding bunches of hundred dollar bills piled together, we found... sand. A heap of white sand.