My Bratty Wife
Chapter 85 - Eighty Five

Chapter 85: Chapter Eighty Five

Ryan starts searching the room for anything that’s out of place, his gaze fell upon a peculiar candlestick on the bedside table. The candle within was an unusual shade of grey and pink, a color combination he had never seen before.

"Aren’t candles supposed to be white?" he asked Thorne, his voice filled with curiosity. " or am I missing something?"

Thorne shrugged. "No your Grace. Maybe she has a liking for the unusual," he replied, his voice laced with indifference.

"Strange," Ryan murmured, his curiosity piqued. " very strange."

Thorne, following his gaze, raised an eyebrow. "Candles come in all sorts of colors these days," he said, trying to sound indifferent. " Women normally buy lots of them to beautify their space. My mother has a lot of them in her room, they come in different varieties of colors and shapes."

Ryan nodded, his mind racing. There was something off about this candle, something that didn’t add up. He moved closer, examining it more closely. The scent of strawberries filled the air, a sweet and inviting aroma that contrasted sharply with the somber mood of the room.

"It’s a scented candle," he said, a realization dawning on him. "Strawberry scented."

Thorne raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. "So?" he asked. "Maybe she liked strawberries and the fragrance was soothing for her."

Ryan ignored him, his focus on the candle. He picked it up, examining it carefully. Touching the wick, he noticed it was still warm, indicating that it had been recently extinguished.

"Thorne," he said, his voice low, "this candle has been lit recently. It hasn’t been long since this candle was burning."

Thorne’s eyes widened. "You think someone was here recently?" he asked, his voice filled with concern.

Ryan shook his head. "No.There’s something more to it than that," he said, his voice filled with determination. "The guards said no one came in or out."

Ryan turned to Thorne. "Let’s search the room," he ordered, his voice low. "Look for anything unusual, any clues that might help us. Something disturbing irks me about this death."

Ryan began an orderly search of the room, his eyes scanning every inch of the space. He needed to find any clues that could help them piece together what had happened.

As he moved around the room, he felt a sharp pain in his thumb and pointer finger. He looked down to see a small, red welt forming on his skin. His fingers were red and inflamed.

"Thorne," he called out, his voice filled with urgency.

Thorne rushed to his side, his face filled with concern. "What happened, your Grace?" he asked.

Ryan held up his hand, showing Thorne the red welt. "I think I touched something poisonous," he said, his voice grim.

Thorne’s eyes widened in alarm. "Let me get some water," he said, rushing out of the room.

A few moments later, he returned with a bowl of water. Ryan carefully washed his hands, but the burning sensation persisted.

"I need some soap," he said, his voice barely a whisper.

Thorne quickly brought him a bar of soap. Ryan lathered his hands, scrubbing vigorously. The burning sensation began to subside, but it was clear that whatever he had touched was dangerous.

He knelt beside the bed, his gaze fixed on the victim’s body. He reached out to touch her wrist, his fingers tracing her skin. Her body was still warm indicating it hasn’t been long her death occurred. As his fingertips brushed against her wrist, he noticed a strange discoloration. Examining her hands more closely, he saw that her fingers were also stained with the same reddish color. Her fingers were red and inflamed, just like his own. It was then that he realized the significance of the burning sensation he had experienced earlier.

He picked up a piece of white paper from the bedside table and rubbed it against the wick of the candle. The paper turned grey, confirming his suspicions. The candle was laced with lead.

"She was poisoned," he said, his voice low. "She was burning lead without even realizing it."

The victim had been inhaling the toxic fumes without realizing it. The strawberry scent was merely a disguise, a way to mask the deadly poison. What a perfect disguise.

The realization hit him like a ton of bricks. The woman had been poisoned slowly, her body weakened by the insidious effects of the lead. She must have been paralyzed which was why the guards didn’t hear anything till she died. And in her final moments, she had been alone, terrified, and helpless.

He looked at the woman’s hands, and noticed something peculiar. Her palms were stained with black ink. It was as if she had been writing something. He starts forming an analysis in his head: She puts on the candle trying to pen down her confession as she could sense her impending death. Having inhaled too much of the lead, she must have felt dizzy and was probably choking. She couldn’t scream because she’s paralyzed, staggering to get away from the fumes and falling on the bed. The last memory, the flicker of the flame from the candle slowly extinguished.

Ryan turned to Thorne, his face etched with determination. "Call the guard," he ordered, his voice low.

Thorne nodded and left the room to summon the guard. A few moments later, the head guard entered, his face filled with concern.

"When did she arrive?" Ryan asked, his voice firm.

The guard hesitated before answering. "She arrived a few days ago, Your Grace," he said, his voice filled with respect. "She kept to herself, mostly staying in her room."

Ryan nodded, his mind racing. "Did she bring anything with her?" he asked.

The guard hesitated again before answering. "She brought two suitcases with her, Your Grace," he said, his voice filled with uncertainty. "We searched them upon her arrival, but there was nothing suspicious."

"Candles," Ryan said, his voice sharp. "Were there any candles in her luggage?"

The guard’s eyes widened in surprise. "Yes, Your Grace," he said, his voice filled with confusion. "There were a few candles in one of her suitcases."

Ryan felt a surge of adrenaline. The pieces were slowly coming together. The woman had been poisoned, the candle was the weapon, and the killer had anticipated their discovery. They knew she would rat them out and took precautions ahead of time. They must have swapped her candles with the poisonous ones and was slowly poisoning her till the day the poison took her life.

"She was writing something," Ryan said, turning to Thorne. "We need to find out what."

As they continued their search, their eyes scanning every corner of the room, a glimmer of hope appeared. Behind the dresser, on the floor, lay an overturned inkwell, its contents spilled out, forming a dark stain on the carpet. Beneath it was a sheet of paper, covered in ink blots.

"Look at this," Thorne said, pointing to the paper

Ryan picked up the paper, his heart pounding with anticipation. The writing was clear in some parts, but the ink blots obscured crucial details. He could make out a few words: "Viscountess Dinah," "tonight," "please," "poison," and "danger."

The message was incomplete, but it was clear that the victim had been trying to warn someone about an impending danger. Seems the murderer had already put his plan in motion for the next victim who is Viscountess Dinah. A widow whose husband died 5 years ago and left his fortune with his son. The poor lad is about to be an orphan.

"Viscountess Dinah is in danger," Ryan said, his voice filled with urgency. "She’s going to be poisoned tonight."

Thorne’s eyes widened in shock. "We have to warn her immediately," he said, his voice filled with urgency.

But as Ryan tried to make sense of the rest of the message, he encountered another obstacle. The ink blots had covered the crucial part of the message.

"He is going to kill them all, every single one of them for what happened Twenty years ago. The man behind everything is Lo..." he read aloud, frustration evident in his voice.

He slammed his fist on the dresser, the sound echoing through the room. "Blast it," he cursed. "We were so close."

Thorne placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "We’ll figure it out," he said, trying to offer reassurance. " After we save the Viscountess, we’ll look into what happened twenty years ago. Now we have a strong lead. This woman honored the deal till her death and we are very lucky to have gotten a strong lead like this. But we have to act fast."

Ryan nodded, his mind racing. He knew they had to act fast. The Viscountess was in danger, and they were running out of time.

Turning to the guard, he instructed him to secure the scene and inform the authorities. Then, without another word, he and Thorne left the room, their minds focused on one thing: saving the Viscountess.