Page 27 of The Accidental Detectives

But Brenda shook her head vehemently, her words fierce. “No! No, no, no. I never loved Jeremiah.Never!He was a terrible husband, especially after we discovered we’d never have children. He certainly wasn’t the love of my life. The love of my life was and always will be Winston. No matter how long my infernal life lasts.”

Marty lifted her chin, eyeing Brenda. “Surely it occurred to you that Owen looked a lot like Winston when you accepted his friend request and started messaging him?”

“Of course it did! I told you he reminded me of someone. But he’s so painful to talk about—even after all these years. I didn’t want to dig it all back up again. Comparing him to Owen, it’s obvious I have a type.” She shrugged with a sorrow that reached me in my bones from across my desk. “I never had a picture of Winston. I don’t know where that came from. I know I must have said ‘I don’t know’ a hundred times since we’ve met, but I truly don’t know how it got under my mantel. I promise you.”

My anger had long since cooled and my throat tightened, even though I’m pretty sure that can’t happen anymore. While Brenda reminisced about Winston, I typed his name into Google. “So what happened to this Winston? If he was the love of your life, why didn’t you marry him?”

She groaned, tugging at the collar of her red silk shirt, her sudden anger making her eyes flash hot. “Because my brother, Edmund, wouldn’t allow it. Winston didn’t have any money, and he was from a poor family. In those days, making a good match was the only thing anyone thought of, and a good match meant money--prestige. And, let’s not forget, I was older than most of a marriageable age. Much older, if you consider the fact that my father, as my brother called it, indulged me and didn’t force meto marry young. Edmund wanted to be rid of me after my father died. He saw me as a burden.”

I popped my lips. “He sounds like a real tool.”

Brenda nodded. “Tool is a good word. Anyway, seeing as my brother was the head of the family after my father’s death, he got to choose, and Jeremiah had everything he needed to add to his good name—he also didn’t mind that in those days, I was considered a spinster. Feelings didn’t come into play back then. Especially not a female’s.”

Marty flicked the top of her pen, her eyes watery after hearing about Winston. “So Winston…he wasn’t acceptable marriage material. What did he do for a living back then?”

Brenda’s laugh was bitter. “Money really is the root of all evil. That and societal status and he had neither. He was a stable boy—inconsequential to everyone but me. I loved him so much, it almost took my breath away. But we were young, and in those days, our stations in life… We were considered as far apart as the sun and the moon.”

The romantic in Marty reared its head. She clasped her hands together at her chest. “Oh, Brenda. I’m so sorry…”

Brenda let her eyes fall to her feet, her tone grim. “We were going to run away together but he never showed up. In fact, I never heard from him again, and then I was pawned off to Jeremiah, so my brother could be rid of me. End of the story. We were married for a torturous thirty-five years before he died of the fever, and my brother put me back on the auction block again at that ball I told Marty and Wanda about. Only this time, Edmund’s greed and stupidity got the best of him, and everyone ended up dead.”

We all sat silent for a moment, I don’t think any of us knew what to say. Her story was tragic, for sure. But I couldn’t find much about a Winston Blackheart, likely because the dude didn’t have any cash or much importance to historians.

When Brenda spoke again, it was soft and filled with clear regret. “In those days, we women didn’t have much of a choice about our futures, but if I could change one thing, it would be that I hadn’t lived during that madness…or rather, that I wasn’t turned into… This. This is a lonely life, and I kept to myself for a very long time because of what I am—a monster to some, I suppose.

“When I met Owen, and he reminded me so much of Winston, he brought back so many wonderful feelings. I just wanted tofeelthat again. I know it was stupid to believe he was interested in me, but I got swept up in the romance of it all. I hate that the real Owen left behind a wife and children, and that I might be the cause of that.”

The softer side of me—and believe me, there isn’t a lot of me that’s soft—kinda felt like shit for Brenda. “You’re not a fucking monster. That would mean we’re monster’s, too.”

“Correction!” Marty said with a teasing tone, rising from her chair to hobble over to Brenda and give her a small hug. “Nina’s definitely a monster, but we’re not, and neither are you. I think when this is all over, we need to introduce you to some of Arch’s friends. He has tons of them, some of them are even from your era, but one thing I know, I’m sure he’d be willing to share them.”

Her smile was small but hopeful as she gave Marty a pat on the back. “I wish I’d known how many of us there are. I’ve isolated myself for so long due to fear, too afraid to step out of my comfort zone. Maybe, if I don’t end up eradicated by the clan or in jail, it’s time to start being a part of something.”

I nodded my head, pulling Doug from me to set him under my lamp so I could think. “That sounds like a start, but in the meantime, we need to know who the fuck wants you framed for murder, if it has anything to do with this picture of Winston, and why that picture of Winston sparkled and turned to dust.”

Her eyes looked worried. “I wish I had answers for you. I simply don’t, but with all this evidence piling up around me, the video of someone that looked like me entering Owen’s apartment, the fingernail, the extension cord, I’m beginning to think it’s time I handed myself over to the clan. I can’t let you women, who’ve been so gracious and kind to me, get into trouble. I’ve had some time to think, and to talk with Archibald and Tottington. You’re good people—good people who don’t deserve me and whatever’s happening darkening your doorstep.”

I don’t know what it is about this lady, maybe it’s her loneliness I can feel to my bones, but pinning her for Owen’s murder felt all wrong. For sure, I’ve battled with her innocence, but fuck all, every time I’m almost sure she’s guilty, she says something that changes my mind.

Brenda’s sadness felt like a living entity. If I still had tastebuds, I’d probably be able to taste it—it was palpable.

I don’t like people a whole lot, but I don’t wanna see ’em suffer either. All this time she’s been hiding away, living in solitude, and the one time in a zillion years she reaches out, she gets her hand slapped.

Her words made me make what might be considered a rash decision, and I don’t make those often, but it wasn’t just Owen’s kids that deserved justice, Brenda did, too. “Nope. You’re staying put. We’re gonna figure this out, come hell or high water.”

I know that surprised Marty and Wanda because it wasn’t like me, but I meant it.

There were pieces to this puzzle we still needed, and I was determined to find them.

For Owen Jr. and Lacy.

And yeah, for Brenda, too.

“Vampire?”

I leaned against the arched window frame in the murder basement, watching the snow fall. Marty and Wanda had them added so it wouldn’t be so gloomy down here, and now, I was glad they did because I was definitely feeling gloomy.

“Halfsie?”

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