Page 34 of Always Knew It Was You

“Emma.” A new voice interrupts our conversation and I turn to find Amelia, standing at the kitchen archway, blinking her bright eyes. “Oh. Hey, Carly.”“Hi, hi.” I wave. “What’s up?”

“Nothing. Kayla is asleep and so is Mrs. Peach. They fell asleep in the middle ofGolden Girls, but with the way Mrs. Peach is snoring, Kayla might not stay asleep for long.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” I say. “Once Kay’s down, she sleeps like the dead.”

A hint of relief flashes in her face. “Okay, that’s good. I really don’t want to have to watch another episode or read another bedtime story.”

I snort and finally notice what she’s holding in her hand, a folder neatly packed with stray sheets of paper. I know what’s in the folder, having had numerous conversations with Amelia about it while visiting Emma.

Lately, all the young girl wants to talk about is the disappearance of Madam T, a socialite who stayed at the Pink Hotel about fifty or so years ago.

In a way, Amelia’s obsession with Madam T is a good thing. After all, it was her intense perusal of Madam T’s diary that led the police to capturing the rainbow pearl smugglers that no one even knew about in the first place.

It’s just strange to think that Emma was given the diary years ago by her grandfather, and she only gave it to Amelia when the latter first moved here. It was supposed to be a simple welcoming gift, something to make her visit to Laketown more exciting.

But, within a few months, the little genius used the diary to solve a major crime. Insane.

The diary’s now with the police as part of their investigation, but Amelia made photocopies of every page and often carries it around in that folder she’s holding. I know that with only the mildest prompting, she’ll go into detailed explanation of every theory she has about Madam T’s disappearance and what happened with the thieves and how it all links together.

Amelia also, for whatever reason, thinks the original jewel thieves might come back for the Pink Pearl now that it’s been found, even though they haven’t been seen in fifty years already.

“How’s the investigation going?” I ask, nodding toward the folder. Emma throws me a droll look that Amelia doesn’t catch because she looks to the ceiling and sighs dramatically.

“I think I’ve hit a dead end,” she says. “I’ve read the diary cover to cover, looked into all the clues, tried to piece together any information I can find online but still nothing. I still can’t figure out where Madam T and Vincent went after they ran away from the hotel.”

“Isn’t that the magic of it?” I know a little bit about the story of the missing lovers, some of it from what Emma told me and the rest from Amelia. Madam T, the owner of the diary, was a noble socialite who just lost her father. She came to the Pink Hotel with her fiancé to distract herself from her grief. But her fiancé, the cold bastard, was just there to sign business deals and didn’t really wanna deal with her. So, he left her alone most of the time to hang out with the other gentlemen at the hotel.

Unbeknownst to either of them, there were jewel thieves in the hotel too, plotting to steal the Pink Pearl. One of them, Vincent, set his sights on Madam T and wanted to use her to get closer to the pearl. He started sending her love letters, impersonating her fiancé, and she responded to them in kind. Slowly, they fell in love for real and the thief came clean about his deception.

But then Madam T’s fiancé found out about everything and all hell broke loose. There was a gun fight, the fiancé got shot, and the three thieves and Madam T were lost to the wind.

And now, many decades later, Amelia is obsessed with finding out what happened to them.

“Maybe we’re not meant to know,” I say. “Not knowing is part of the fun, don’t you think?”

The teen doesn’t seem convinced. “Well, I don’t like not knowing things. And I won’t stop until I get to the bottom of this.” She bites her lip in thought for several seconds, and then like flipping a switch, her expression brightens up. “On the bright side, I met this kid on an online forum and he says he’ll help me with the investigation. His dad’s a cop and so he knows what to look for in a cold case. He gave me all sorts of things to think about too. Wanna hear them?”

Emma and I share a look. Ice cream and conspiracy theories doesn’t sound half bad right now.

“Alright.” I open the fridge up again to retrieve the tub. “Let’s do this.”

The next day, a Lamborghini is sitting in the Tiki Bar parking lot.

It’s such an odd and funny sight, watching the sleek red car between two rusty trucks, one of which should have been deposited in the junkyard ages ago.

I pause to stare in amazement. And I’m not the only one. A group of teenage boys are staring at the car in awe too. One of them even leans on the hood to take a selfie with it.

Only for him to jump up when the door pops open and Micah emerges.

“Sorry!” the selfie-taker scurries off red-faced as his friends laugh at him.

“No worries,” Micah waves them off good-naturedly. Then he faces me.

“Hey there, pretty lady,” Micah calls out, taking off his sunglasses in such a smooth move, that my heart skips a beat.

He looks like a movie star.

I can feel other people’s gazes on me as I approach him, and it’s an interesting sensation. Usually, when people stare at me, it’s due to either scorn or pity. But this time, it’s clear envy they emanate, as well as curiosity.

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