Call Me Rumpel

Chapter Thirty-two

Three days. Just three days.

Actually, I have less than three days. I've wasted most of today umming and ahhing over who's behind everything. Cory could be the culprit after what he implied this morning, but I can't tell William my suspicions. Cory is his best friend—he has been since kindergarten—and if I accuse him of being a thieving murderer it could damage what we've rebuilt today.

What if I'm wrong? What if Cory is simply looking out for his best friend? What if he's feeling the lack of emotional support and satisfaction only a real relationship can provide, and in maturing, is simply reacting with jealousy at what we have?

What if it's Michael? Michael, who lied about how he got home that night. Michael, who would do anything to see Vincent get his comeuppance after all the years of being relentlessly bullied for his sexuality. Michael, who has gotten a false alibi from Ari and Dae-Seong... Michael, my best friend.

And what if Sanket wasn't apologising for the fact he thinks I've lowered myself by accepting the apology of a cheat? What if he's apologising for taking his anger out on me for destroying our friendship by taking over Call Me Rumpelstiltskin? What if he finally snapped and murdered Vincent so he could live in peace? Shy, quiet, wouldn't-hurt-a-fly Sanket, who everyone underestimates? Was that why Quinn and he were arguing the other day? What if they've known all along and are covering for him?

What if, what if, what if.

At least Luis doesn't believe the latest rumours. He and Amanda were kind enough to tell me they think whoever sent that message to Rumpel was simply jealous. Of course, they reminded me they were still going strong with one too many kisses in front of me, but the point remains: Amanda doesn't think I'm out to steal her boyfriend, and Luis seems content with his choice.

I say a quick 'hello' to Nanna as I pass the living room and head upstairs, ready to have another crack at solving the mystery. I don't make it to my office, though, as I hear a strange scuffling and grunting coming from her room.

Arming myself with the umbrella I remembered to bring today in case she accidentally let a robber inside, I gently nudge the door and tip-toe inside.

The room's a mess. Nanna doesn't have many possessions, but what she owns is scattered all over the room. Socks, nighties, dresses, stockings—the contents of her nightstand and dressing table are now on the floor.

The offender isn't a burglar, though. I loosen my grip on my umbrella and step closer to the bed as Dad continues rummaging through her suitcase. Next to it, I see Nanna's jewellery box, its lock forced open.

"What are you doing?"

He huffs, slamming the lid back on the suitcase. In his hands are some of the precious jewels I've only ever heard about. The emeralds, diamonds, rubies, and sapphires may twinkle in the light, but they're dulled by his touch. My blood boils seeing him hold them, knowing Nanna is downstairs, blissfully unaware of her son's treachery.

At least he doesn't deny what he's doing. "I'm getting us out of debt," he says, pocketing the jewellery as he faces me.

My hands shake by my sides. I use the pain from the umbrella handle's metal release button digging into my palm to remind myself who I'm speaking to, yet it doesn't stop me from blurting out, "You mean your debt."

His eyes narrow as he takes a step forward. "Do you live in this house? Do you use the lights? Do you use water? The gas? The television? The food?" He takes another step forward and I inadvertently step back. "Do you pay the bills?"

"Actually, I do—"

"You need to learn that living in this house costs money. Everyone under this roof must contribute, and that includes your grandmother."