Page 42 of A Dead Man's B-Side
August was practically vibrating in his spot. “... This is insane.”
Wolf cleared his throat and voiced what I’d been thinking, “Except we don’t know where these keys are, nor what they open.”
A fact they’d forgotten to consider was the significance of Susan Wilkes. There were several books and titles to choose from, and if what August said was true, there was a deeper tunnel where she was concerned.
Where I grew up, deaths labeled as overdoses when there were clear bruises around the neck weren’t uncommon. But this wasn’t where I grew up. Even I knew there was an art of subtlety and deception that these families mastered.
So why her?
Was she someone who betrayed this society?
Was her work left for us to find, a thinly veiled threat? What happens to those who forget their place?
Why me?
The question continued to repeat itself in my mind, and I couldn’t make it stop. If my place at Castle Hill was for the sole purpose of this Founder’s Society, it would complicate one too many things. I didn’t know if, after this meeting, I would return to my dorm and pack up what little of my belongings I owned before disappearing out the gates of this sprawling estate or if I would be reassured in my place here.
The memory of my flight returned to me as I weighed and laid my plans before me. The man, Evan, he said his name was, had given me an odd feeling. Like a heatless blanket coming down over me asI tried to fight my way out and search for even a sliver of light.
Upon the recent events, it was safe to say he hadn’t been there by mere coincidence. I tried recalling everything we’d spoken about, every slip of body language I’d noticed or forgotten. The threat he’d made.
Listen, kid, switch drinks or you’ll be arriving in Scotland with a broken arm.
Looking back, I was disturbingly disappointed in myself for how I handled the situation. For speaking to him.
I wanted to grip my hair and pull at the inconsistency in my story, forcing myself to remain composed.
Standing in the middle of the library, at that moment in time, I vowed to myself for the second time in my life to never allow those insignificant feelings to control me.
He’d caught me at a bad time; that was the only excuse I could muster. That I’d been on edge and jittery from the interrogation room up until the plane.
This brought me to the events before meeting Evan.
The commissioner’s words came back to me from that ringing, blindingly lit room.
A call came in at the nick of time, making me drive down all the way from Washington.
Thinking back, I began to connect the dots with flimsy strings of my memory, creating a spiderweb in my mind, unfinished yet leading somewhere I was too wary to venture.
I am being sponsored, and my place at Castle Hill is for amotivated reason. I tried making a list of what was left.
The name of my sponsor.
The mystery of Mr Browne.
The Founder’s Society.
Which brought me back to my currency predicament. The Founder’s Society. I guess my thoughts went full circle. The only way out is through, and it seems there was a bittersweet truth in those words.
“Maybe the keys are just hidden somewhere around here…” August began searching around the chair, flipping it and turning it until he found what he was searching for.
I left him to his devices and recalled the word play. That was all this was. They twisted words and meanings to fit their vision.
Rightful key.
I wasn’t stupid enough to believe it was that straightforward, but ‘rightful’ was too broad a word.
“What are you thinking?” Wolf’s voice broke through my trance as he nudged my shoulder lightly.
