Chapter 13: To Catch Two Thieves

Sunday, Shortly Past Midnight, October 30th

“You want me to do what?” Percy shouted through the phone. Still dressed as Austin Powers, he motioned to his accessories, the two sophomores playing Fembots, to quiet the people around them for a moment.

The Fembots failed.

“We need everyone to stop a woman dressed as Daphne and a security guard with short black hair and a black goatee,” Graham repeated for the third time.

“You do know what Daphne from Scooby-Doo looks like, right?” Reese yelled, teasing her classmate.

“Fuck yeah! Daphne’s the smoking hot one,” Percy shot back. “So, you want us to stop the party and grab her?”

“And the guard! Pass it along to all your friends,” the bookworm reminded.

“As if that’s enough!” Mercedes snarled, grabbing Spencer’s phone out of Graham’s hand. Before she could scream at the obnoxious flirt, the redhead heard him making an announcement out by the pool.

“Yo, listen up, our bitchy hostess has a request…Alright, more like a screamed demand. We’re to stop some guard. It’s about Queen Bee’s missing jewelry.”

“It’s not missing; it was stolen!” Mercedes screeched, catching Percy’s attention.

“Sorry, BMW, I don’t think they believe me. How are we supposed to grab your guards?”

“I’m not in the mood for the stupid, cheesy grade-school nickname, Pascoe! Tell them to catch and hold, Daphne. She’s Holland Bishop, my dad’s PA,” Mercedes screamed, not noticing the shift in sound. “That guard stole my jewelry. Tackle him, if you have to!”

“Tackle him?” Percy questioned, his voice sounding fainter.

“Yes, tackle my guard when you see him, and hold him! I’m offering a reward, too!”

Mercedes only realized that Percy had switched to speakerphone when a cheer/roar responded to her offer of a reward. Serious questions, along with dirty jokes about the reward, caused the furious heiress to end the call.

“You just had to call him,” the redhead hissed at the bookworm.

“You did want the word to get out, didn’t you?” Reese replied, defending Graham after initially moaning about his decision.

“She is right, Cede. Percy will spread the word,” Kayla agreed.

“Everyone heard me offer a reward.”

“And that’s a bad thing?” Spencer challenged, then realized how some of her classmates might react. “Okay, it could be.”

Before anyone else could comment, Spencer’s phone buzzed. Throwing up her hands in frustration, Mercedes handed it back to Graham, who answered.

“Hello? Yes, this is Higbee,” the bespectacled amateur sleuth responded. “You do? The garage over on the west end? The underground one. Okay, I’ll let her know. Somebody will be over shortly. Oh, Nellie, keep an eye out for the security guard named Mullen. We think he robbed Mercedes. Right.”

“What did Lampley want?”

“She said she found the suspect breaking into a car, but another couple startled her. So the woman is currently trapped inside the corner of your underground garage,” Graham relayed.

“She found Holland Bishop?”

Graham shrugged while Spencer began to raise her finger to add a point. However, the impatient heiress waved it off. Instead, she started barking out orders.

Elliot would accompany her to the garage, while Graham and Spencer were given directions to the correct path leading to the gate and the cemetery. Bash and Reese were dispatched to check the west walkway. As the most frequent visitors, Kayla and Brielle would check on the party around the pool before heading to the guest house. Additionally, Mercedes forced Bree to hand over her phone so each pair had one.

“Once we confirm that the little gossip found Holland, I’m calling my dad. I just have to be there for the moment he confronts his shitty hire. Maybe he’ll finally learn to stop hiring thieving sluts as his top assistants,” the redhead grumbled while she stormed along the front of the mansion with Elliot.

"I don't think she's an actual slut. If anything, Holland's like a cat burglar who's also a master of disguise. Or at least she claimed to be. I bet she had excellent forgeries that your dad and his people fell for," Elliot suggested.

“Oh. My. Gawd! You’re fucking smitten with the thief, aren’t you?”

“Wha? No! I don’t have a thing for her. I mean, sure, we had sex…and it was incredible, but I’m just saying that Holland’s a professional–”

“Yeah, a professional whore!” Mercedes corrected. “For fuck sake, Keever, you better catch these thieves. You clearly need my reward of lining up sex to get over your precious Miss Bishop.”

“Me? You’re the one who could learn some manners,” Elliot shot back, not noticing the guards at the front gate watching their bickering. “At least Holland offered me a bit of praise while sounding a lot like you with her evaluations.”

“Oh, hell no! She critiqued your fucking? Bwahahahaha!”

“Laugh it up, Audi.”

“Don’t call me that!”

“I don’t have to. Your dad already said that Graham and I had better be getting paid. If not, then he’s going to force you,” Elliot revealed.

“He did not! Did he?”

Elliot gave a slight shrug and stayed quiet as they walked around the house toward a ground-level side entrance to the garage under the tennis courts. The school detective finally spoke when Mercedes started punching in a key code, reminding her that Nellie had merely observed the suspect. So, they should enter quietly.

Nodding in annoyance, the heiress entered her garage stealthily while scanning for her school’s gossipmonger. A shepherd’s crook rose from behind her sports car, leading them to Nellie. Only when they reached Little Bo Peep did a rhythmic slapping sound catch their attention.

“The hell?” Mercedes questioned, rising a few inches before Elliot pulled her back down. Holding a finger to her angry lips, he glanced over at Nellie for a rundown.

"The suspect is in the very far corner behind that Italian luxury sedan. She had broken into the trunk and was going through the files when the other couple entered the garage. The suspect must have recognized the couple, as she immediately shut the trunk gently before sliding behind that tall cabinet. Unfortunately for her, the couple climbed into the back seat through both doors before the woman demanded that the man take her from behind. So, she's on all fours, facing the direction that the suspect needs to go past because the man is standing outside the car on his end," Nellie explained. "Luckily, the lighting is dim in that area, or they'd notice her bright costume."

“That purple or lavender does stand out,” Mercedes commented, slowly moving toward the front of her car.

“Purple? She’s wearing white,” Nellie corrected.

“White?” Elliot repeated, a sinking feeling forming in his stomach.

“What do you mean? I thought you found my father’s personal assistant dressed as Daphne from that cartoon!” Mercedes hissed.

“I messaged in long ago that I was following the slutty Angel,” the gossiper pointed out.

“We weren’t there for that,” the redhead responded, then cursed Graham for not realizing the difference.

“But the group did mention something along those lines. The Angel is, uh, Mr. Eike’s girlfriend, I mean, his assistant,” Elliot said, stammering to get the correct role.

“She’s his fucking mistress. That’s what they all are. What a waste of time,” the impatient heiress complained.

Elliot quickly informed Nellie of what she had missed. Then he asked about the car's owner. After the gossip girl said it appeared to belong to the man, Elliot followed up by asking about his costume.

“A pirate. A very flamboyant pirate,” Nellie described.

Elliot’s stomach dropped again. Next, his eyes widened while Nellie continued.

“He’s screwing some French Maid.”

“A French Maid? Son of a bitch!” Mercedes yelled, standing up.

Mother of a bitch might be more appropriate, or at least more precise, Elliot thought. Any other internal musings vanished once he noticed Mercedes stomping over to the corner of the garage.

“Oh, shit!”

“Is she going over there?” Nellie asked before muttering, “Of course, she is. Miss Queen Bee has no manners.”

“You have got to be fucking kidding me!” Mercedes roared. “Aunt Franny’s necklace is stolen, and you can’t keep your legs crossed for an hour or two longer? Seriously, Mother, we might need to send you to a sex therapist.”

“Wha…Whoa, this isn’t what it looks–”

“Spare me the act, Mr. Galasso. You’ve been chasing my mother hard for the past few days. I know what my eyes show me. Okay, not bad. I can see a second reason that you seduce so many women,” Mercedes admitted, watching as the watchmaker’s sizeable cock slid out to say hello to the world.

“Ah, gross,” Elliot groaned, looking the other way.

“Gossip my ass. This confirms…Hell, I should be a reporter at this rate,” Nellie grumbled. Yet, her innocence didn’t match her costume as she leaned over to peer past Mercedes to check out the older man’s dick.

“Mercedes! This is none of…Where is your father? You…Get back to your party. You’re acting as an impolite hostess,” Petra rambled, scrambling out of the backseat of the car, opposite Carlo’s side.

“And fucking one of dad’s guests is how a proper hostess throws a party? Yeah, that sounds about right for you…and dad. Oh, no, take your time, Carlo. Based on Lampley’s breathing, she’s getting a kick out of this view,” Mercedes remarked, checking on her father’s business partner while he struggled to pull up his costume tights.

“Don’t give us any of your snarky attitude!” Petra scolded, hiding behind the top of the sedan.

“I’m leaving anyway. Don’t feel bad, Carlo. If we had to choose, you’d win. Mom’s always had half a foot out the door.”

“Your father isn’t a saint, you know!”

"Yet, you're not the one with a family business whose husband is fucking the owner of a company that's done business with ours for almost seventy-five years," Mercedes clarified. "Also, you need to work on controlling your lust. If you'd done that, you'd have known you'd been watched from the beginning. Not that it matters to an exhibitionist."

“Mercedes! Apologize to Mr. Galasso at once!”

“Jesus, Mom, I was talking about you,” the younger redhead said, shaking her hair in a combination of amusement and disgust. “Besides Lampley here, you also didn’t notice Yanis’s latest mistress in the corner behind you from the start.”

“Eeeieee!” Petra screeched, startled to find a dark-haired woman in white behind her.

“Not a ghost, Mom,” Mercedes sighed, watching her mother race away from the sedan.

Dressed as a slutty French Maid, Petra’s costume had never covered much. However, due to her illicit activities, the tight top, which had provided tantalizing cleavage, now rested under her large breasts. Working like a push-up bra, it helped keep her breasts high while they bounced in the air as she ran away from the woman who had startled her.

Already facing that direction to avoid looking at Carlo’s cock, Elliot’s eyes bugged out. Mesmerized by the dark cherry-haired seductress’s MILF D-cups, his head followed them as Petra raced toward the house door. Having already gotten laid once tonight, Elliot wondered if that impressive body would be how Mercedes would look in the future.

“Stop staring at my mom’s tits, Keever!” the younger redhead ordered before turning back to her father’s friend. “Lampley over there witnessed Yanis’s Angel break into your trunk and riffle through papers. Probably a briefcase or whatever you have. Oops, there she goes too.”

Elliot managed to finally pull his eyes away from Mrs. Raddatz’s ass in time to see Xelina dart out the side door. Looking over at his quasi-client, Elliot gestured.

“Don’t bother. She can’t get out. Besides, Yanis having a mistress who’s really a corporate spy isn’t anything new. He attracts them like a moth to a flame. It’s not a big deal,” Mercedes revealed, shrugging. “Talk to you later, Carlo. We have a thief to catch.”

---

“Who was that?” Graham inquired, nearly tripping on the dark path.

“Nellie. Turns out that she had still been watching that Angel, not Miss Bishop,” Spencer relayed. “Call me shocked.”

“I thought it was obvious.”

“I tried to raise that point, but the person currently pissed at you shut me down.”

“When isn’t she mad at someone?” Graham sighed.

“Also, Reese sent a message. It seems that Quirke is still hanging from the tree. Bash feels bad that we left him up there for so long, so he went to find a knife,” Spencer reported. “They also have good news and bad news.”

“That commotion we heard when going behind the pool house?” the bookworm inquired. They’d briefly paused to scope it out, but it seemed like several of their classmates were piling on each other in a fight.

“No. He saw a woman dressed as Daphne go under him,” Spencer divulged, chuckling.

“And?”

“Sorry. I kind of like our thief more and more. Apparently, she broke into a laughing fit when Quirke begged her to get him down. I assume begged, since it sounds like he’s at that point by now.”

“What’s the bad news?” Graham asked, not feeling all that sympathetic to one of his bullies.

“Bishop passed by a solid twenty to thirty minutes ago. Quirke dropped his phone, so he’s not sure exactly,” Spencer revealed, turning to find Graham frowning. “Um, extra bonus good news: Reese is getting plenty of pictures and videos of Quirke swinging back and forth.”

“Have Bash check the art studio completely before he frees Quirke. We need to make sure that Holland or Mullen isn’t inside,” the crime hobbyist directed. “I find it interesting that none of the security personnel have discovered Quirke by now.”

“You’re right. Wouldn’t they be focused on watching all of the grounds?”

“It’s possible that they are still concentrated on the mansion’s interior. I wonder if our thief left an item behind to create a further distraction,” Graham pondered, pulling on his lower lip while his deductions and possible outcomes consumed his mind.

After seven additional minutes of trudging down the dark path, the pair reached a clearing. With some moonlight now shining down, Spencer began to survey their surroundings. After another ninety seconds, they reached an intersection, with the other walkway running parallel to the stone wall. Following Mercedes’s directions, they switched to walking east along the path.

It only took slightly over a minute for them to spot the rear gate. Similar to the iron gate at the front of the property, Graham immediately began studying the lock, mounted camera, and keypad. While he did so, Spencer scanned the area for any sign of Miss Bishop or the crooked guard. Finding nothing, the school actress threw her hands up dramatically.

“You find anything?”

“Not particularly. However, I have theories,” the crime hobbyist announced. “Isolated. I believe this is the likely escape route that our thief took.”

“Mullen or Bishop?”

“Why the Gatecrasher, of course. Mullen is likely a thief of opportunity. He saw his moment and struck. No, our true jewel thief spent months planning for a situation like tonight. Despite the letter supposedly ruining her grand plan, the Gatecrasher shifted swiftly to ensure her months working here were not in vain,” Graham speculated, somewhat pompously. “As such, I believe she had a code to the keypad. This device allows for multiple codes. The main one the guards use likely changes often. However, I would assume that the Raddatz family has another code, possibly for their other employees, as well. In this case, the woman calling herself Holland Bishop would’ve learned her employer's personal code. It’s the one that she could be sure of working.”

“Okay, so she used Mr. Raddatz’s code. What about the camera?” Spencer asked, motioning to the device.

“If we continue the theory that the Gatecrasher is behind the radio interference, then disabling a security camera or two for a couple of minutes is not far-fetched,” Graham declared.

“What are you doing here?” a voice challenged.

“Ahhh!”

The gruff challenge made Graham scream, while Spencer’s startlement lasted barely two seconds. Looking around, she still didn’t see anyone until a guard appeared outside the gate, opposite where she had scanned. He shone a flashlight through the iron bars to study the two young guests.

“This area is off-limits. I repeat, what are you doing here?”

“Ah, excellent…Mr. Longton,” Graham said, recovering from his embarrassing reaction. Peering through the gate, he read the man’s name tag. “Yes, excellent timing, my good man. I am Graham Higbee, and this young lady is Spencer Jepson. As you've likely surmised, we are indeed guests of Mercedes Raddatz. However, I’m also one of the two amateur sleuths that Miss Raddatz hired to help investigate the Seeper. Yes, I’ve read the letter from that foul thief. Yet, I believe tonight’s theft to be the work of another culprit: the Gatecrasher.”

“Look, I don’t have time to deal with Junior Holmes and Veronica Mars. Lay off the over-the-top act and move along,” Longton ordered.

“I’m the actress. That’s how he often speaks,” Spencer explained, as Graham seemed outraged.

“Listen here, Longton. My partner and I were personally admitted to these grounds earlier this evening by Malachi Raddatz himself. Also, the same partner is currently searching with Mercedes for two suspects in two different crimes. Have you seen Holland Bishop or your compatriot named Mullen?”

“Huh? What are you babbling about?”

"He means that our friend and his detective partner, Elliot Keever, personally witnessed Holland Bishop in possession of the Frost Diamond Necklace. Also, your coworker, Mullen, is believed to have robbed Mercedes of several pieces of jewelry," Spencer explained.

“I haven’t heard anything about this stuff,” Longton replied, scoffing at the nonsense.

“Of course! The radio interference has left you uninformed as Miss Bishop intended,” Graham stated.

“Wait, how do you know about that?” Longton inquired in suspicion.

“Think, man, think! I’ve already informed you of my client’s identity,” Graham declared hurriedly. Seeking to keep the guard off-balance, he launched into a string of questions. “Have you seen Holland Bishop recently? Say, in the last thirty minutes? The same for Mullen. If not, have you been stationed at this gate the entire time, or have you been patrolling? Have you heard the gate open or close? Has the camera appeared to flicker off and on? My man, are you listening to me? Have you heard anything in the past twenty to thirty minutes?”

Staring dumbfounded at Graham, Longton eventually shook his head to clear his confusion. He mulled over the string of questions, then nodded.

“You know, I did hear something. About fifteen minutes ago, a dog started barking nearby,” Longton revealed, glancing around. “I know I wasn’t supposed to leave my post, but I worried that one of the neighbor’s pets got loose. So I went to look for the poor thing.”

“Outstanding!” Graham exclaimed before clarifying. “Not about a lost dog. It’s that I’m going to assume you never even saw a dog, right?”

“I didn’t, and it sounded really close at one point,” Longton agreed, surprised by Graham’s guess.

“And would I be wrong to assume that your fondness for dogs is well-known among your coworkers?”

“I guess so. Say, how did you–”

“What you heard was likely a recording. Miss Bishop probably planted a device either today or on Friday. She used it to lure you far enough away from the gate for her to slip outside,” Graham speculated. “However, we’re going to need you to either unlock this gate for us to investigate, or you’ll need to do so with that wonderful flashlight.”

Despite Graham impressing the guard, Longton wasn’t about to let two people outside. However, he did agree to search the area, with the crime hobbyist suggesting he start with the cemetery, which conveniently sat on the opposite side from where the fake dog barked.

“The cemetery is a perfect location for a thief to leave a go-pack. Who’s going to go out to an old family cemetery during a Halloween party? Okay, maybe this Aunt Opal, from how it sounds, but Mercedes and her parents are certainly not conducting a seance out there,” Graham explained, while they waited for Longton to return.

“Okay, if the drama club does any type of mystery play this year, you’re trying out, Higbee,” Spencer announced, confusing the shy bookworm. “Face it, you’ve got the self-assured, pompous Sherlock Holmes type of character down pat.”

“I’m not acting,” Graham insisted, nearly whining.

A few minutes later, the two high school students heard a shout. By the time Longton reappeared, Graham looked like a kid struggling to wait to open his Christmas presents. One look at the object in the guard’s hand delighted and disappointed the crime hobbyist.

“My theory is correct. The Gatecrasher escaped through his route.”

Spencer shook her head in disappointment at the green scarf that Longton held.

---

“I don’t believe…What’s happening?” Kayla questioned, wondering whether she might still be drunk.

“I can. Leave it to Percy to fuck up a request,” Brielle said.

They'd been delayed in reaching the backyard when the group of Disney Princesses had stopped to ask questions about the theft and Elliot's whereabouts. After finding her neighbor and family friend naked due to the seduction of a woman around the same age, Kayla came off as short in response to these women and their drunk and horny questions. At odds with her friend's usual attitude, Brielle had questioned Kayla's level of drunkenness after they finally got free.

The two cheerleaders watched as their classmates held security guards to the ground, struggled with them, or tackled those who either got free or just arrived. The party around the pool and backyard had descended into pure chaos. The peppy brunette covered her face in horror as Antonio used his plastic Daredevil billy club to slam a guard's shoulder.

A tap from Brielle led Kayla to witness Karsten use his Captain America shield to push two guards into the pool house. A quick check revealed Ryle and Diego inside, helping to restrain the guards. Finally, the petite brunette winced upon seeing Peter Pan kick a guard in the stomach. On top of the guard, struggling to hold him down on the grass, was one of her boyfriend's basketball teammates.

“Linus!” the cheerleader screamed, using the same voice level from pep rallies. However, Kayla’s scream of her boyfriend’s name sounded anything but peppy. “Linus, what in the blazes are you doing?”

“What Mercedes wants us to do. Grab every security guard we see.”

“No, Percy fucked up the order. You’re only to grab Mullen. A guard with short black hair and a matching goatee,” Brielle corrected.

“No, we heard it directly from Mercedes, when Percy put her on speaker,” Linus explained, ready to kick the guard again until his girlfriend stopped him.

“Linus, spread the word. You’re only to grab Mullen. No one else,” Kayla directed after yelling at her boyfriend’s teammate to let the guard up. A quick apology and explanation didn’t soothe the guard’s temper. “Oh, no, this is awful.”

“Yep, it is. And I’m not getting blamed. Let’s search the guest house before Cede finds us in the thick of this mess,” Brielle suggested.

Reluctantly agreeing, Kayla went to ask Linus another question, but he’d already set off to find Percy to deliver the correct order. Throwing up her arms in defeat, she followed her blonde friend toward the guest house, stopping a few times to explain the mistake to her classmates and the guards they chased.

“Okay, that was worth this extra trouble,” Brielle chuckled, watching Eckard/Wolverine get tased by a guard.

“Bree!”

“Don’t give me that. We know he deserves the pain,” the blonde replied to the admonishment.

“Even so…” Kayla trailed off, entering the guest house. “Good. Not everybody is outside brawling.”

“That’s because we found who’s high,” Bree noted, smelling the air and studying which classmates had sprawled across the living room furniture.

“Taj!”

“Oh, hey, Kay, want a puff? Whoa, what happened to it?” Taj questioned, staring at the two fingers he pinched together with nothing between them.

“No thanks. Hey, have you seen a black-haired security guard named Mullen?” Kayla inquired.

“Wha? There’s security here?”

“Let me handle this. Yo, Taj, have you seen a redhead wearing a Daphne costume from Scooby-Doo?” Brielle questioned, snapping her fingers in her drowsy classmate’s face.

“Wait, wasn’t Iron Man the guy you wanted found?” another classmate asked, bloodshot-eyed.

“Yes, have you seen him, Pidge?” Kayla asked.

“Sure, he went upstairs with Daphne,” Pidge responded, pointing to the stairs.

“Oh, shit, you’re right!” Taj cried. “Daphne is looking slutty as fuck in her little outfit.”

“That was Daphne? Wow, I need to watch more Scooby,” Pidge giggled.

“Uh…” Brielle said, ready to ask a few further questions, but she had to follow Kayla, who had already rushed over to the stairs. “I don’t know, Kay. They might not–”

“Both thieves must be working together, and they came up here to split their spoils,” the excited brunette yelled over her shoulder as she rapidly climbed the stairs.

Familiar with the guest house’s second-floor layout from numerous sleepovers, Kayla pushed against one door that wouldn’t budge. Deciding to come back later, she briefly peeked into the open bedroom before jumping to the second bedroom door. This one opened, leading to an “Aha!” from Tinker Bell.

“Stop right there! You’re under citizen arrest,” the perky cheerleader announced, turning to squeal in delight at Brielle.

“You’re definitely drunk,” Elsa said, walking past her co-BFF. “Raise the mask, Stark.”

“Huh?” Kayla responded, spinning around so fast she nearly toppled over.

Regaining her balance, Tinker Bell immediately gawked at the naked redhead lying on the bed with her head in the groin of a nude man, who only wore an Iron Man helmet. Then she noticed the redhead had removed her mouth from a slim, short, saliva-coated dick. Stepping back in shock, Kayla slipped slightly on a garment. Looking down, she spotted the black leather jumpsuit on the floor.

“Do you fucking mind? Get out of here!” Haylee screamed at her cheermates.

“Whoa. Let’s not be hasty,” Corbin said, clasping Brielle’s hand, the same one she’d used to raise his costume’s visor. “If your friends want to—”

“Eww! No! The fuck?” Haylee screamed, sitting up to slap her crush. The position shift left his dick wide open for Kayla to see in its full glory…or minor glory.

“Wow, that’s a lot smaller than Ellie’s dick,” the brunette blurted out, tilting her head in confusion. “Like half the size.”

“What?” three voices shouted simultaneously.

---

“Any word?”

“I informed Spencer about the mix-up. They’re still headed to the rear gate. Reese said they still found Quirke hanging from the tree. Bash is going to cut him down after he checks the art studio,” Nellie reported.

“Anything from Kayla?” Elliot asked, turning to a scowling Mercedes.

“They’d have messaged if anything important happened. What the hell is this?” the red-haired Marie Antoinette cried. The trio rounded the east side of the hill, where the garage sat underneath, and got their first glimpse of the backyard.

“It looks like people are chasing your security guards,” Nellie said, shrugging as if it wasn’t a big deal.

“Oh, Pascoe is so dead,” Mercedes vowed, clenching her open fingers in front of her face.

“You don’t know that Percy…”

“Listen up, everyone! Mercedes fucked up the orders! Yeah, you heard me—our pissy princess of a hostess screwed up. We’re only supposed to grab one specific guard, not all of them,” Percy shouted, limping out from behind the pool house.

“I did not tell you to grab every guard,” Mercedes responded. She’d meant to scream back, but her voice came out hoarse.

“Frog catch your throat?” Nellie asked, putting on a pleasant expression, as Elliot struggled to keep a straight face.

If she loses her voice for a few days after all the screaming, it will be the true reward, the pressed-into-service detective thought.

“Uh, hey, where does this path lead to?” Elliot inquired, pointing toward a trail that led northeast, away from the mansion. It seemed to clear the guest house by a wide margin, which intrigued the mystery lover.

“Nowhere,” Mercedes responded, her voice dropping to a whisper.

“This path leads nowhere?” Elliot double-checked, walking to the path's edge.

“Koi pond. Once. Mom couldn’t keep them alive,” the redhead said, choosing her words carefully in a strained whisper. “Water.”

“So the pond is still there?” Elliot continued, taking several steps down the path.

“Drink. Throat,” Mercedes attempted to explain with a glare.

“I’m trying to cover all our bases. So don’t get…No way,” the amateur investigator said, turning around to find the wanted security guard strolling down the path toward him, entirely unaware that anyone had put two and two together. “It’s Mullen!”

The black-haired guard stopped abruptly. As the young man he’d tried to kick out came running toward him, Mullen finally realized his crime had been discovered. Turning around, he managed to flee fifteen feet down the path before Elliot slammed into his legs, bringing them both down on the gravel trail.

“You bastard,” Mercedes struggled to get out above a whisper, then gestured at Nellie.

“You bastard!” the gossiper screamed for her hostess.

A well-placed elbow to Elliot’s face gave Mullen a brief opening to get to his knees. But when he tried to take off, a shepherd’s crook yanked him backward by the neck. Mercedes's swift kick to the balls ended any further escape attempt.

“The others are on their way,” Nellie relayed, watching Mercedes press her shoe into Mullen’s groin while Elliot started patting his pockets.

“His pants are wet up to his knees,” Elliot explained, after patting the guard down without any luck. “So, I assume the pond is still there, Princess?”

A single finger salute replied.