It wasn't just Jack; Beckett rarely saw anyone get slapped in the face with a few words.
"No matter what, I always think of that special conversation we had back then. I bet you liked Gretel very much, didn't you? She looks like she's from a wealthy family, doesn't she?" Cassel attempted a desperate counterattack.
Sheila Bryan's expression changed, a vibrant cacophony of black and shimmering white interweaving. Ultimately, it was an indisputable fact that Cassel was now a successful man.
Even in a capitalist society, the upper class looked down upon the nouveau riche. While making money was a talent in itself, they never looked down on successful artists.
A bestselling author was also a type of artist. Cassel, with his talent, had made his way into the upper class, gaining fans from all walks of life, from the doorman to the mayor. He could chat and laugh with them.
Jack bets that Sheila Blaine, who almost became Rick Cassel's mother-in-law, must have secretly regretted it. After all, with the recent explosion of the "Nikki Hitt" series, someone has returned to the ranks of New York's ten most sought-after bachelors.
But she didn't lose face. Sheila Blaine took a deep breath, keeping her composure straight. "Richard, this was never about money, it was about character. If you had realized that earlier, Kayla wouldn't have left you."
With that, she held her head high and walked away proudly like a hen.
Roar, roar, a decisive blow. The two watching from the sidelines couldn't bear to look at Cassel's expression.
"Wow, imagine if you had actually been with Kayla, you'd have to spend Thanksgiving with this person every year." Beckett's words made Cassel, still a little frustrated at losing the argument, shudder.
Jack smacked his lips with regret, feeling somewhat unsatisfied. "I was expecting a scene where they tearfully lamented the separation of lovers, hinting at a reunion between Cassel and his daughter."
"Huh?" Beckett said with a look of disdain and contempt. "Have you been reading too many of those cheesy novels that are trending these days? I don't know why those creepy, third-rate novels keep hitting the bestseller lists."
"Oh, you mean '9/11: How I Saved the Twin Towers' or 'The End of the Empire: A Florida Homeless Man Saves America'? Or maybe 'The Soldier King Returns to Find His Wife and Daughter Living in the Slums, and In a Furious Rage, He Leads 100,000 Special Forces Soldiers for Revenge'?"
Cassel raised an eyebrow. "Even though the novels are cheesy, the shorts turned out surprisingly well."
"You mean the heroine is pretty? She's always in swimsuits, right?" Beckett glanced at him with disdain and answered the phone.
Jack remained silent throughout the conversation, fearing the instigator's presence would be discovered.
"Let's go! Hotel security has found the missing best man, Mike." Beckett waved her phone and led the way down the hallway.
When the three of them arrived at a storage room, Mike Weitz, disheveled and sweating, had just been helped out, seemingly dazed.
"Mr. Weitz?"
"Mr. Weitz?"
Beckett called out repeatedly, but nothing brought him back to his senses. She raised her voice slightly, "Mike!"
Mike Weitz shuddered, then turned to look at her with a ferocious expression. "Where's that bitch Sophie? I'm going to kill her!"
"Then you don't stand a chance," Cassel said heartlessly.
Beckett asked sternly, "What happened?"
"That bitch drugged me and left me in here." Mike Weitz was panting, still recovering from the effects of the drug.
Looking at his disheveled appearance, an adult could guess what had happened.
Beckett summoned two police officers to help the best man back to the room. Jack examined him and said he wasn't seriously ill; he just needed to drink a few glasses of water to help his body metabolize the remaining drug.
After a short wait, seeing that he had recovered somewhat, Beckett continued his questioning. "Tell me what happened between you and Sophie last night?"
Mike Weitz had just heard the news of the bridesmaid's death, and his initially agitated emotions had calmed. His expression was less sad than shocked.
"She seduced me, flirting with me coquettishly. She led me to that storage room and then gave me a drink."
"That drugged wine?" Cassel tried hard to control his expression.
"Yeah, that's crazy, isn't it? Who would drug a man? Can't a girl just ask?" Mike Weitz said, gulping down a large glass of water.
"Besides, I saw the complete set of bras and stockings she was wearing. Who would say no in that atmosphere?"
"Uh-huh." The two men standing across from him nodded simultaneously.
Beckett shook his head slightly, somewhat speechless. "Did you have any history with them?"
"No." Mike Weitz paused, as if worried about being linked to the bridesmaid's death, and quickly explained in detail.
"I mean, we met once last year at Gret and Kayla's engagement ceremony. Honestly, she was the kind of girl you couldn't take your eyes off, but we haven't had any contact since then."
"So do you know why she drugged you?" Jack handed him another glass of water.
Mike Weitz took the glass and drank it in one gulp. "Thank you. Uh, I have no idea what's going on."
"Do you remember if she showed any unusual emotions at the time? Fear, terror, anger, nervousness, or something like that?" Beckett pressed.
The unlucky best man tilted his head and tried to recall. "It felt like she had made up her mind. Damn it, I should have known there's no such thing as a free lunch. How could a pretty girl like her suddenly fall for me?"
"Okay, get some rest. If you remember anything later, please let us know." Beckett shook his head speechlessly and handed him a business card.
The three of them turned and left the room, returning to the bar where guests were still gathered. Beckett suddenly stopped and looked at Cassel. "What on earth was Sophie doing last night?"
Cassel said with a serious analytical look. "She ran out to get some medicine, which means it must have been premeditated."
"And then knocked Mike out and locked him in the storage room? What kind of premeditated thing is that?" Jack said, "I'll listen to you."
"Perhaps," Cassel said, his expression suddenly bright with realization, making one eager to see what other wild theories this renowned author might come up with.
"Sorry, I can't think of anything."
"Tsk." Beckett ignored the man's antics and looked around. She saw the groom, Gret Murphy, eating alone in a corner. Then she remembered they had been planning to question the bride and groom.
However, the moment she turned around, Cassel was gone. "Where was he?"
Jack shrugged. "I guess he went to see the bride."
Gret Murphy was quite polite to Beckett and Jack, clearly a well-mannered man. However, when they asked him about the deceased, his answers were little more than a blank slate.
"So, when was your last contact with Sophie last night?" Beckett asked.
"It should be the same as everyone else. After the rehearsal dinner, everyone was in the bar. My uncle Teddy kept asking me to drink. At about one o'clock, I sneaked back to my room, but I'm not sure if Sophie was still in the bar at that time."
Jack keenly felt that he seemed to be hiding something, because his eyes flickered a little when he said this, but there was no sense of guilt, which seemed a little strange.
"So, you and the bride didn't sleep in the same room last night?" He felt that he had discovered a blind spot.
"Of course, according to tradition, seeing the bride before the wedding will bring bad luck." The groom Gret frowned after saying this, "Well, now it seems that this is all completely unnecessary superstition."
"Uh." Jack shut up in time. He really didn't know there was such a tradition.
(End of chapter)