Death to Honor

Chapter Two - An Unexplained Intrusion

I sighed.

It had been hours since Rendell was escorted into the guarded room.

I glanced toward the two men standing watch. They stood stone still, in the same position they'd been for hours. Now that's what I call endurance.

The guests had thinned out a great deal, with only a few couples still swaying on the dance floor, while others gathered around the edge of the room in groups, chatting.

I stood alone near a window.

Thinking.

And longing for the time when I could relax in my blessedly quiet apartment. Maybe I could've read a novel or two before morning came, but at this rate, I would be here when morning came.

Just then, a disheveled man stumbled to the middle of the room, disrupting several dancing couples, and causing not a few to stare.

"Excuuussse me, everyone," the man called, his speech slurred from too much of that night's punch. "Ladies, gentlemen, esteemed agents and operatives of Annora! It has come to my attention that . . ." he paused to sip the drink he had in his hand, "things aren't being handled quite the way they should be."

A woman pushed to the front of the gathering crowd. The fringe on her light green dress swayed from the sudden movement.

"Last night," the man continued, "I witnessed a man die at the hands of Annora. But wait," he swayed unsteadily and held up a finger, "this man was innocent! Innocent I tell you!"

I perked up and joined the crowd, weaving my way through.

The woman rushed up to the man and tried to pull him from the center of the room. "Come on, Jeffrey," she murmured.

The man pulled from her grip. "Hang on just a moment, Rhonda! Let me finish my story," he said loudly.

Finally, the guards broke their stock-still stance and pushed through the astonished crowd. They flanked the fellow, firmly gripping his arms. He stared at them, looking slightly confused in his stupor, then his eyes widened in terror.

I thought the guards would simply throw him out the front door, and the crowd readily parted the way.

But the guards turned 'round, towards the chambers they'd been guarding.

"No," the green dress woman mumbled, eyebrows furrowing, "No no no no no." But her hand fell off his sleeve as he was led away, and she didn't take more than a half step after them.

When he and the guards disappeared into the mysterious chamber–which was steadily piquing my curiosity–the woman glanced around at the faces surrounding her. And when no one moved, some even looking away, her face crumpled, and she turned and rushed out of the mansion.

After a moment's hesitation, I followed her, my movements causing more than a few suspicious glances.

I hurried through the door, into the crisp night air, and down the steps.

"Hey!" I called after the woman.

She was yards ahead of me, hurrying along the crisp gravel toward the line of parked automobiles.

I picked up the hem of my skirt and ran towards her. "Hey! Rhonda, wait!"

She stopped suddenly when she heard her name and whirled around, uncertainty written over her features.

Only dim lampposts lit the impeccable drive.

"What?" Rhonda asked sharply.

"What was going on in there?" I asked.

Rhonda huffed. "Oh. Nothing."

Her sudden standoffish attitude threw me off. Hadn't she been about to cry when she ran out?

"That wasn't nothing," I said, "That man, what are they going to do with him?"

Her face hardened, lips pressing into a thin line. "That man is my husband. And he just got himself killed." Her voice tilted at the last word, and she turned away.

But I needed to know more. There was something strange going on. I grabbed her shoulder and spun her around.

"How? Why?" I demanded, more forcefully than I intended. "Who was the man he was talking about?"

Rhonda's chin quivered. "I cannot say."

"You can tell me," I stared her in the eyes. "I mean to do good."

She searched my face. "You're very young, aren't you?" She sighed. "I couldn't tell you even if I wanted to. Not because it's top secret, but because I do not know. Jeffrey wouldn't tell me anything." She then clamped her mouth shut as footsteps approached.

Through the haze, a figure steadily approached, from the roadway direction. They came closer. It was a guard, clad in a black suit, the sharp edge of a gun clear through the fabric.

I held my breath, my hand snaking into the pocket of my skirt. Past the layers, my fingers encircled the small revolver strapped to my thigh. My thumb poised over the leather fastening as the guard passed.

He didn't even give us a second glance.

Rhonda's hand had gone up to the neckline of her dress, where I now perceived a weapon was hidden.

I clenched my jaw.

Gravel crunched beneath his shoes.

Soon he was out of earshot.

My hand eased off my revolver and left it where it was.

Rhonda's arm didn't relax. Her eyes darted to me.

"I don't have anyone else to talk to," she said quickly. She drew out a small card from her pocket with the opposite hand and pressed it into my palm. "Tomorrow. Ten o clock."

Then she turned heel and hurried towards her automobile. The engine puttered to a start, and she soon disappeared into the fog.