A Twisted Web - Benoit Blanc

Fourteen - The Difficult Truth

"Oh - What the shit?!" 

It was pretty nasty, watching Ransom get covered in puke that wasn't his own, but once the 'eww' wore off, Flora couldn't help but think, man, did he ever deserve that!

"That means she's lying!" cried Trooper Wagner. 

"Yeah, man, we know." Elliot looked away from the puke. 

"That's right. Fran's dead," Marta confirmed. A heavy silence fell over the room at her declaration.  Then she looked up and met Ransom's gaze, looking him right in the eye.  "And you just confessed to her murder."

Now everyone in the room exchanged a shocked glance.  Trooper Wagner held up his phone - he had been recording the whole thing, as per custom. 

Flora absorbed this, or at least tried to - Ransom had killed Fran.  Her brother was a murderer. And they had proof, a confession. They had all the evidence they needed. 

Ransom absorbed this as well. Then he gave a brief shrug.  "Well - in for a penny-"

It all happened so fast - too fast.

There was a scraping of metal as Ransom grabbed one of the knives from Harlan's knife wheel. 

"NO!" screamed Flora. 

Knife in hand, he lunged at Marta, who jumped back. Elliot jumped forward, as did Blanc, but they were too late - Ransom had already reached Marta, shoving her to the ground and plunging the knife into her chest-

But Marta didn't cry out, and there was no splatter of blood. There was just shocked silence. No one moved. They hardly dared to breathe. 

The knife was a prop.  It wasn't real. 

"Shit," was all Ransom said before the cops dragged him up and off Marta, the fake knife dropping to the ground. 

"Marta! Oh my God-" Flora dove forward and dropped to her knees beside her friend, who was clutching her chest, eyes wide in shock.

"Marta?" Blanc was there at Flora's side, peering down at Marta in concern. 

Finally, Marta blinked. A single tear traced its way down her cheek and she slowly sat up. Flora wrapped her up in a tight hug.

The rest of the family waited outside the house, and stared in shock as the police brought the handcuffed Ransom out of the house and into the car. Flora wasn't even surprised when her father started waving money at the police as a bribe for them to let Ransom go. That summed up her family pretty well. 

Flora stayed inside, watching through the hall window, hands shoved deep in her pockets.  That was when her finger brushed against something. Withdrawing it, she found the document from Alan - she had been wearing this same jacket when he had showed up, and have given her her own piece of the will.  Granddad's notebooks. 

Turning away from the window and the scene of her broken family, she raced up the stairs to Harlan's study. She hadn't been up here since his death. 

On the desk she found his latest notebook, fresh and new, only a few of the first pages covered in notes, and a quick scan of those notes told her that Harlan had been working on a new novel. 

My work notebooks I leave, in their entirety, to Florence Drysdale. 

She recalled revealing to her grandfather - and only to her grandfather (so far) - of her want to one day expand her writing from only blogging and one day perhaps write a novel inspired by her travels. By the looks of it, Harlan had set her up well for her future writing endeavors. 

"Thanks, Granddad," she whispered, taking the book and tucking it under her arm and heading back downstairs. 

She sat down in the hall, beneath the portrait of Harlan, notebook in hand. Footsteps signaled someone's approach, and moments later Blanc appeared in the doorway.

"Is he gone?"

"Yes, the police have taken him away."

"I guess you were right all along in your speculation: it was one of the family after all. Maybe who hadn't killed Granddad directly, but who was still behind it all."

"Well, I'm not glad I was right, but yes, it turned out to be correct." He sat down beside her. 

"I can't believe it." She shook her head. "I mean, Ransom's always been bitter and rude - to put it lightly - but I would never imagine he would try to frame someone and kill another. And just for money. Well, I guess the money part makes sense. My family does love their money." Oh, the Thrombeys... "I wanted to stay angry with you, at the start, but I couldn't.  You were just too charming and too good at your job." The Last of the Gentleman Sleuths. 

He chuckled a little at her words, then became serious again.  "I hope you know that I'm not glad that your family has been torn apart."

"I know.  Thank you for all that you've done for us, I really appreciate it."

"Well, it is my job.  But I'm glad I could help." He nodded to the thick, leather-bound notebook in her hand.  "What's that you've got there?"

"My piece of the will, the inheritance.  Grandad left me his unfinished notes and stories, to do with them what I please."

"Ah, continuing in his legacy."

"It's quite a legacy to live up to."

"It is, that is true, but I have a good feeling you'll do him proud."

"Thanks Detective." She glanced out the window at her family.  "So, now what? What happens now?"

"Good question, Ms. Drysdale. Good question." 

(Whew, that whole last scene is a whirlwind! This whole movie is a whirlwind!

Only a couple of chapters left! Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed! :))