Chapter 25

The station was in chaos. Jolene Knowles had committed suicide in the women’s bathroom. But before she breathed her last, she had written three words on the tiled walls of the bathroom.

 “SMOKE and MIRRORS”

 It was cryptic, a riddle upon riddles. John had no idea what she meant, save for the fact that she had been seemingly fine about wasting away in prison for the rest of her life until she received a bouquet of white roses.

 The officers in charge had inspected the flowers and found nothing suspicious, the strange thing was, no one knew who sent them. Except for Jolene, but she was dead now.

 John stood in the women’s bathroom staring at the bloodstained wall. There had been no female officer on duty that afternoon so beardy officer Banks had waited outside while Jolene answered nature’s call. The poor guy would probably be blacklisted for the rest of his career. He had walked into the bathroom when Jolene failed to come out after 10 minutes. She was smart and had chosen to stab herself in the neck where the jugular vein was and by the time officer Banks found her, she was already gone.

 “A little boy brought the flowers to the station; we’re still looking for him. The sender must have wanted to remain anonymous,” Sam walked right up to John, shaking his head in disgust.

 John was appalled by the lack of security at their workplace.

 “Obviously. Anything on the flowers?” John asked, not taking his eyes off the words.

 “No… but it must have some meaning for Knowles. She wouldn’t have taken her own life otherwise.”

 “Check and see if she’s ever received flowers from William Silverman.”

 Sam’s eyes narrowed, “You’re really pinning on that guy aren’t you?” Around them, the cleaners began cleaning up the wall. John turned to look at Sam, they were both unshaven and haggard.

 He shrugged, “You know me, my sixth sense can be quite acute.”

 Sam nudged at John, not believing his friend and superior, “You’re sure it’s not because Rebecca’s going out with him?”

 At this John cocked his head, his voice gruff, “What do you mean?”

 Sam blew a whistle, “Jean said they went to some gala together last night. It’s on the papers, and boy, did Rebecca look hot….”

 Sam never did manage to finish his sentence. John was out of the bathroom looking for the newsstand in their office. He grabbed the Washington Post and flipped through it before stopping at the entertainment section.

 There on the first page was a half-page picture of Rebecca looking magnificently radiant standing next to William Silverman. For a moment, the image of Rebecca took John’s breath away, he had never seen her dressed up like that before, she was beautiful. But it was not joy that John was feeling as he stared at the photo. Instead, a scorching pain tore through his heart, the pain was so great it overshadowed the throbbing sensation from his migraine.

 He clenched his jaw as his fists tightened around the paper, crumpling its sides.

 “You gotta let her know how you feel John,” Sam said quietly.

 John shook his head and forced a smile, “Let’s settle the mess in front of us first. Get me the leads for the housekeeper as well. I’ve got a hunch these two deaths are connected.”

 ***

 Rebecca was working on another article, but her mind was far from where it should be. Instead of focusing on her work, her thoughts kept going back to John.

 What did he want to say about William? Is he a suspect?

 Strangely, the image of William’s lookalike flashed through her mind, the icy smile was enough to make her eye her apartment door, making sure that the door was truly locked. There was something creepy about the man. Surely she had been imagining things, but how could one explain that face?

Rebecca tapped into the search engine and started to dig up more about the Silverman family history. By the time she had finished reading all the relevant articles online, it was already nearing midnight.

There was nothing much, save for the fact that a now-defunct printing press had once covered an interview with Mrs. Silverman, William’s mother. According to the article, Mrs. Silverman had been carrying twins, but one of them never made it through toddlerhood. William was the only one who was born healthy.

Strange… I’ve never seen this article before.

She copied down the printing press’ name and made a mental note to find out more. She had watched enough soap operas to make her imagination run wild. What if the twin had survived? This would be like the ‘Man Behind The Iron Mask’ story!

 Seriously? she smacked herself on the head and laughed a little. She had to stop watching those shows.

 I’ll need to talk to William tomorrow.

 She yawned and stretched her arms wide, glancing at her clock. It was 1145 pm.

 Time for some beauty sleep.

 But just as she started to crawl onto her bed, the doorbell rang, making her jump. The “ding dong” sounded only once before becoming silent. No one ever rang her bell at this hour. Not even the kids who pranked her.

 Her mind went back to the staples from the other day, causing the hair at the back of her neck to rise. She immediately went to grab her phone and baseball bat, clutching them tightly to her chest, then Rebecca waited with bated breath, not daring to move anymore.

The doorbell did not ring again.

 Maybe the buzzer’s broken, she told herself. Curiosity finally got the best of her and she tiptoed to the door and took a peek through the peephole only to find the hallway eerily empty.

 She was feeling brazen now and began to unlock the door, slowly opening it with the baseball bat still in her hand. The door squeaked ever so slightly before it fully swung open. She looked around but found no one.

 Strange….she scratched her head and just as she was about to close the door, her eye caught sight of something on the floor.

 At her front door laid a single white rose.