Page 51 of One Last Smile

I hear a click and feel the bobby pin slide in deeper. Have I defeated part of the lock?

I jiggle it some more. There’s another click, and the pin goes in even deeper. After a third click, it slides in all the way, and I’m able to move it easily.

That should be it, right? Why is the door not opening? I move the letter opener and find it stuck solid. Damn it, I’m so close! What am I missing?

In frustration, I try to turn the knob. It opens easily, and I squeak in surprise when the letter opener falls to the ground. I quickly pick it up, then look around to make sure no one’s noticed. I don’t see anyone staring at me. I’ll have to hope that’s a good sign.

I enter, red-faced. In my head, I was much more capable at this. I really am not cut out to be a detective.

Well, I’m inside the building anyway. Now, I can begin to accomplish my plan.

I take a deep breath, close the door, and walk to Dr. Chalmers’s office.

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

My heart pounds as I dig through the files in Dr. Chalmers’s desk. If that file isn’t there, then my task becomes far more difficult.

When I find it exactly where I left it the last time, I release an audible sigh of relief. Luck is finally on my side.

But I’m not done here. I need Dr. Chalmers’s personal cell phone number, and I can’t get it from a member of the family. The success of my plan depends on everyone being unaware of every aspect of it.

I look through the office, but of course, Dr. Chalmers doesn’t need to be reminded of his own cell phone number. The medical reports list his business number under his information and no cell number is given.

I try to think who might have it written down. Eliza wouldn’t because it would be in her own cell phone.

I walk into the lobby and look for any sign of it. It has to be somewhere. It’s a small office, but even a small office would have a nurse, wouldn’t it?

A nurse who would almost certainly have the number in her phone as well.

My earlier sense of triumph fades. I fear I didn’t think this through.

Perhaps I can find it listed somewhere at the estate. It’s not as though Dr. Chalmers is persona non grata at the estate. His number’s bound to be listed somewhere in case of emergencies that don’t require a nine-nine-nine call.

I’ll finish checking the office first, and if I don’t find it, I’ll check the estate.

I look everywhere, but Chalmers’s phone number isn’t listed anywhere I can see. I calm my irritation and tell myself I can find the number at the estate.

I’m about to leave when something under his desk catches my eye. I walk closer, and when I see the glimmer again peeking out from underneath his desk, I bend low and retrieve the object. When I see what it is, I gasp.

This is it. This is the proof I need. Now, all that remains is to create a circumstance that will allow me to use this proof.

The walk back takes only forty minutes due to my nervous energy. My emotions swing on a pendulum between excitement and anxiety. It’s not the end of the world if I have to wait to call him on Tuesday, but… well, it might be. The more time Eliza has to warn him, the more time he has to prepare an alibi or a defense, and the less likely my plan is to succeed.

And the more time they have to simply remove me as a threat as well. No, it has to be tonight. This is the best chance I have of catching the two of them before they manage to elude justice once more.

I reach the estate and head straight to Sebastian and Veronica’s room. I’m sure Veronica has his number saved, but maybe Sebastian will have it written somewhere, or perhaps I’ll find some sort of correspondence with the number included.

I realize I’m grasping at straws, but I’m so close! I can practically see the finish line. Justice for Minnie is within my reach. I can’t stop now.

The more I search and don’t find what I need, the more my heart pounds. Despair begins to creep into the edges of my psyche, and I have to fight to keep from exclaiming in frustration.

Damn it, it has to be here somewhere! Do people not write down numbers anymore? Am I the only old-fashioned person remaining who finds it useful to jot important information down?

“What are you doing?”

I stand up straight and come face to face with Hazel. She stares at me in shock, a duster in her hand. She wears a slightly soiled apron, and I realize that she’s taking advantage of the family’s absence to get some cleaning done. Damn it, the woman is a ghost!

No, it’s my fault for forgetting about her. I was so focused on what I was doing that I didn’t think about her.

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