Miles quietly continued chugging down another coffee. The nutty flavor cooled down the darkening headache that would have collapsed his temples. Some drops of coffee missed his lips and slid down the napkin he had tied around his shirt for this purpose. Another surge of energy thrummed in his veins, stifling the exhaustion that smothered him not long ago. He licked his lips in satisfaction before turning to face Alice who was seated opposite him on the table.
Alice read the card silently while tapping the small box that he was finally able to unlock. It had been a ring, a very jeweled one at that.
"Touching. Where did you find this?"
Miles dropped the mug down, exhaling slowly.
"In the pocke-t of a su-it that I foun-d in his wardrobe."
"Do you have any idea who this was addressed to?"
"I'm as clueless as you are."
"Of course, one-faced idiot."
Miles barely flinched at the muttered jab. He tapped his mug, getting impatient as he waited for her to read through the poem. His mind continued to roll through the WDG. He hadn't given her the tag yet. He tapped his pockets, feeling for its presence. If Andrew really were a waiter there, did that mean they would be able to get information relating to his death from there?
"-are you deaf?"
Miles looked up to her narrowed glaring eyes. Another stroke of annoyance slapped him but he patted it down.
"Wha-t did yo-u say?"
"I said are you dea-"
"I was askin-g wha-t you said before that."
"Oh." The earlier venom in her voice dimmed and she just huffed. Miles almost felt like slapping his hand across his face, how childish could she be?
"Well, I said earlier that this poem reminds me of a song. Have you heard of Heartbeat echoes by Lina Carry?"
Miles sat up now, intrigued.
"No. Never hear-d of that." .
Miles could almost feel the paste of blood as a piano played in the background, smooth and dashing compared to the horrific jar of his scream upstairs. He shuddered, deepening his breathing to prevent himself from straying too deep.
"-not a surprise. Anyway, leaving that aside, I said I was comparing the song to the poem. Funny how I was listening to it earlier, they both have very similar ways of writing. Like, look at this,"
Alice pushed the card to his side before walking over.
"They both use echo and a heartbeat as some sort of metaphor for a connection between lover. Then don't get me started on the fact that some lines from both sides are kind of similar. Here, check it."
Alice pushed her phone into his hands and the lyrics of the song was the only thing that filled the screen. His eyes skimmed through and he could see the obvious similarities but even then..... Then his eyes zoned on the last part.
So stay with me in this endless song,
In this heartbeat, where we both belong.
You're the sound in the silence, forever known,
My heartbeat echo, my only home.
"They also-"
"-have the same final line." Miles finished with her as he searched both papers, a round of energy flooring him at this new found discovery.
My heartbeat echo, my only home.
Then another thing unfurled in his mind, hitting him at lightning speed. Andrew's uncle, Dylan, said something about him seeing Andrew writing poems that were also addressed to someone,
My heartbeat.
"What d-id you say the title of the so-ng was again?"
"My heartbeat echo."
Miles scratched his chin, pushing forward from his chair as he tried to reason whether or not this could be just a coincidence. But, at the same time, it could lead to something more if they could just follow the trail. Miles looked up to see Alice staring at him with an impatient look twisting her features.
"- there's obviously something on your mind, spit it out."
"I met wit-h a man wh-o I later found out to be his u-ncle. And he said that while Andrew was still alive, he found him writing letters one day. Well, not necessarily letters but poems and all of them were addressed with my heartbeat."
"So that means he must be seeing someone. Does that mean the song could help us?"
Miles pondered on it, not entirely sure whether or not that was true.
"An-d yes, his un-cle also gave m-e this." Miles handed the tag to her finally and her eyes widened slightly as soon as she read it.
"The WDG?! How did he get this?"
"He sai-d it fell out of his poc-ket the time that Andrew w-as coming ho-me one ni-ght."
"So that means he must have been working there then?"
Miles nodded slowly then Alice began to play with the tag between her fingers. Miles merely ran through the scenarios that were already cooking up in his brain. So considering the song and the poem were connected or at least the poem was gotten from the song, how then did it relate to the murder? And who exactly was the lover and what part did they have in this?
" have to get those letters, they could have clues as to who this mystery lover is. Make the uncle get it."
Miles winced. "That's the thin-g, he sa-id he has no idea where they are since he was kick-ed out immediate-ly he saw it."
Alice brows rose. "Kicked him out huh? Just because he discovered his love letters? He really pulled all the stops to reduce the chances of his lover's identity being discovered
...."
"What day of the week do they hold the WDG?"
"Wednesday."
"And he d-ied on Friday. So th-at means he had most likely attended the W-DG for this past week. Wo-uld it be poss-ible for us to go there and investi-gate?"
He didn't say that he had a feeling that whatever information they needed, especially about the lover's case, could be found there. And the last major known place he had been would be crucial to knowing Andrew more and whatever reason that someone would want to kill him.
Alice shook her head immediately. "It's not possible, they have a strict guest list. We won't even get in without being registered guards of whichever celebrity it is."
"Hold up, wo-uld any celeb-rity be allo-wed to enter?"
"Depends. They usually adhere strictly to the guest list but if the person is relatively well known and someone that has no criminal record, there could be exceptions."
Miles couldn't believe he was thinking in this line of thought. He couldn't believe he was treading down this path but he knew they had to follow down this trail they had managed to open up, however thin. His breathing deepened as the request dampened his features for just a moment.
"I think I know who can help us get in."
***
Miles sighed and let his hand fall to his lap. He gazed at the large notice board on the wall with numerous pins, clipping the pictures, news clippings, some evidence and other relevant clues along with tiny strips of his notes. One part of the pictures was his father, the other for Wesley while a new one stood for Andrew.
Miles looked at the picture of the man above the scribbled name. The man was tanned with dark hair with a tinge of light brown coloring the tips of his waves. In the picture his eyes were a bit dull, drab green eyes, lips drawn tightly together as if he didn't want to have the picture taken.
One thing I knew about him was that he didn't like social gatherings of any sort. Was never out, it was either he was at work or at home.
Miles knew that having to support him and his uncle was tasking given the meagre salary a waiter earned, so did he take the job because he needed extra cash?
He was never involved with anyone. I mean, you'd think someone with his looks would be some sort of play boy but it's like he didn't like the thought of dating or marriage because he was never seeing anyone and he ignored the advances of every single girl around him.
Who was the woman that he was referring to in his letters? Or could it be that, it was just some sort of secret code? But Miles knew that with the ring and card, it wasn't hard to put two and two together that he had wanted to propose to someone, but who? And was it the rejection that had made him want to kill himself?
What had happened between the WDG and his murder?
With each question, Miles burned for the truth, the cogs whirring faster in his brain with each passing second. Miles realized that he wasn't sure he would be able to get more information concerning this unless they were to get someone who was at the dinner, that was willing to give them information because all other possible sources had been exhausted.
The thought of what was coming next sickened him to the core. The thought of going to his sister for help wasn't something he could even fathom. It was one thing to say but it was another thing to actually do it. He knew though that there was no other way they would be able to gain access to such an exclusive dinner. Then again there were some people that it was easier to get information out of them from a casual chat rather than an all out questioning.
His lips curled down, a bitter taste filling his mouth as he mulled over what he would even say to even try and win her help in the first place. What would he have to offer her? A memory bristled his mind walls as it released itself from its shackles.
Miles sat, gazing at the wall, his hand rubbing his knee. His music paper sat right on his lap as red as the self hate that burned within him.
Stupid.
Idiot.
Fool.
His heart drummed louder with every foul name that left the fanged fiend that lurked inside of his mind.
Even though this very subject made his skin crawl, he still needed to do his best. Because if he wasn't the best then what use was he? His fists clenched. He felt the sofa dip beside him and he didn't look up for fear that any one would see the tears that swam dangerously near the point of gushing out.
"That's new."
His father's voice sang from above him as he picked up his test script.
"How did you fail? This is so unlike you."
Many words bubbled at the tip of his tongue, using the anger that snapped through his system as momentum. Despite himself, he blocked the words out, making sure his tongue didn't move an inch in his mouth. So instead of answering his father, as always, he remained quiet.
He heard his father sigh beside him.
"Look at me, son."
Miles turned to meet his eyes, though grudgingly and not before blinking as fast as possible to get rid of whatever tears that fought to break free. Concern was etched plainly onto his features.
"I know you must be angry but it's okay to fail, that's why we need help sometimes. No man is an island."
He laid a hand on his shoulder to which Miles visibly stiffened.
"You know what? I don't have time but your sister can help you with this, she's very good-"
"Yeah! That I am!" She interrupted, lunging head deep into their conversation.
As soon as Miles set his eyes on her, that cloud overshadowed him, briskly soaking the thin air around him and all he could remember were the judgemental looks. His mother pushing him away and publicly embarrassing him . His parents always favoring her over him. She looked so innocent. As beautiful as ever, her eyes sparkling like her pearly white teeth.
"See, I told you'd need my help one day."
The excitement in her voice made him sick with rage. In blind vexation and jealousy, he grabbed the paper off his father's lap before spitting in her face,
"I don't nee-d your he-lp." Never will.
Miles' lips curled once again. One of the few promises he would allow himself to fail at. Because this was no longer a childish game, no matter how much he hated the thought of it, he needed her and maybe a few others too.