Impotent Death: A Paranormal Mystery

Chapter Fifteen

     My dreams were so peaceful; I slept in until 11:00am, which meant I'd had a full twelve hours of sleep! It was amazing.
     I got up and made myself some scrambled eggs (with extra cheese, of course) and continued watching my favorite show where I'd left off last night. It was very relaxing, to say the least.
     Once noon rolled around, I decided I wanted to go on a walk. I changed into a pair of jeans and a blue t-shirt.
I peeked out the window (the one that was newly repaired from a rock being thrown through it) hoping it would be nice and sunny outside; and, surprisingly, it was! I reached for the door handle, but right as I did so there was a knock on the other side of the door.
     I pulled it open to find someone very familiar. I'd seen her before, but I couldn't remember under what circumstances.
"Um, hello?" I said awkwardly. "I know I've seen you before..."
"It's Amanda Blackwood," she reminded me in her honey-sweet voice. She had pitch black frizzy hair and pretty brown eyes that glowed with life.
I suddenly remembered. "Oh, yeah! Didn't you drop off cookies that one day? I think it was my first day of school, actually."
"Yes, that was me! I hope the cookies were good, I forgot to add salt to that batch," Amanda said with a laugh.
"Oh, I can't really remember, that was a while ago. So... do you need something?" I asked, feeling annoyed she'd chosen this exact time to stop by. That nice weather wasn't going to last forever.
She hitched the black purse she was wearing higher up her shoulder and said, "Yes, actually. I was wondering if I could borrow some cooking utensils. I'm having a family get together tonight, so we're making lots of food. But, unfortunately, I only have so many bowls. You wouldn't happen to have any extras?" She peered into the kitchen hopefully.
I shrugged. "Oh, sure. That should be no problem." I couldn't see anything wrong with lending a neighbor some dishes.
"Perfect! I can come in and help you carry them out," exclaimed Amanda. She strode through the front door right into the kitchen.
"Um, okay... just... let me know which ones you'll need..."
While we gathered a few different dishes, Amanda started making some casual conversation.
"So, I heard you're doing a little investigation," Amanda said, giving me a smirk.
"Oh, um... yeah. How come everyone knows about that?" I asked, a little annoyed.
"Word gets around fast in a small neighborhood like this. Especially if it has anything to do with the Robyn Weller Murder."
"I guess that makes sense," I said. Then I suddenly had a chill run up my spine. What if Amanda was...? "This is kind of a random question, but are you related to Benjamin Weller? Or do you know anyone who is?"
Amanda froze for a second and then smiled. "No, I'm not related to him. I'm sure someone around here is though."
I let out a mental sigh of relief. Whew! Good to know I wasn't talking to the descendant of a killer. "That's good to kn—I mean... okay, cool. Um..."
"Why do you want to know? Do you suspect Benjamin Weller of killing Robyn Weller? His own cousin?" Amanda asked curiously as she gathered more utensils to put in her bag.
I shrugged, pretending like I wasn't sure. "I think it might be him... he had a motive to frame Kevin Lee Raymond, that's for sure. And there might be some evidence to convict him, actually—"
"Like what?" Amanda wondered, giving me her full attention all of a sudden.
"Oh, just some... some stuff I found. It's kind of interesting where it was left behind... but what I don't understand is why Benjamin would've had to kill Robyn. Did she have something he needed? I can't figure out a solid reason... I mean, maybe there wasn't one..."
Amanda laughed. "Oh, there was a reason all right. It was because Robyn inherited The Papillon Hotel in their grandfather's will. She was going to sell it to get more money for retirement, but Benjamin didn't want such a big opportunity to go to waste. Robyn was throwing away the chance to own a magnificent hotel for retirement money. It was ridiculous, if you ask me."
I stared at Amanda, not sure what to think. How did she know all that? It was impressive... and a little scary.
"Did you know Benjamin's grandfather built The Papillon Hotel? Benjamin, his father, and his grandfather were all very involved in architecture—especially abnormal architecture," Amanda explained, taking a step closer to me than I would've liked. "Benjamin helped build this house, you know. He knew it like the back of his hand."
Panic started to rise in my body, and I tried unsuccessfully to stay calm. Amanda just happened to know a lot about Benjamin's family, right? That was it. She couldn't be one of them. I couldn't picture her throwing a rock through the window behind us. Her last name was "Blackwood", not "Weller". But wait a minute: she was married.
My heart started beating twice as fast as normal. I turned away from Amanda as I nervously asked her, "Um, hey—what's your maiden name? Just curious."
"Makayla, don't you remember when I mentioned to you my grandfather built this house? I'm a Weller."
The second the words escaped her lips I screamed and tried to make a run for it—up the stairs, into my room to get my phone—but it was too late. Something heavy crashed painfully against the back of my head, and everything went dark.