Ginger Fox

“Did you come from the back of the house?” I lift my gaze, facing the short man with a calm voice. His expression is serene as he examines me. I now understand why Baby gets so angry with the judgmental way he looks at her. Dexter Tyler is the kind of person who makes you uncomfortable with just a stare.
“No, you know I didn’t enter from the back. I’ve told you five times that I came in through the front door when I found Bob lying on the floor.” My fingers move to my face, rubbing my brow in anguish. I still see Bob lying on that cold floor.
“Yes, I think I remember. You arrived with Mr. Roy, didn’t you?” I turn my gaze back to him, placing my hand back on my lap along with the other.
He’s testing me again, I see it in his green eyes that shine with each blink. He adjusts himself on the sofa while settling into his tight jeans. I push away from the window, breathing with discomfort, shaking my head at his question.
“Mr. Roy arrived a few seconds after I did.”
“So that means you were together when you arrived. Or not?” My shoulders slump as I cross my arms beneath my breasts, trying to hide my wrists from his hawk-like gaze.
“No, we weren’t together.” I tap my feet slowly on the floor and squeeze my shoulders, trying to dispel some of the discomfort his gaze causes me.
“I see.” Dexter stands slowly, sliding his hands into the pockets of his brown leather jacket.
He moves around the library, his gaze sweeping the room, nodding his head with each step he takes. He removes one hand from his pocket, scratches his beard as if deep in thought, and returns his fingers to his jacket pocket. I am startled when he turns quickly, closing the distance between us and making me back up until my back is against the bookshelf.
“Tell me, Miss Fox, did Bob say anything before losing consciousness?” I pull back my hand, rubbing my forehead and shaking my head.
“No, he couldn’t speak.”
“Preci...”
The sound of the young man choking on his own blood haunts me every day. What did you need, Bob? What did you have to tell me? I take a deep breath and slowly release it. I am taken by surprise by the detective who approaches silently and stands a palm’s width away from me. His eyes are fixed on the mark on my wrist. He breaks eye contact when he lifts his face, giving me a look of someone who knows I’m hiding something.
“Just one more question, Miss. Just a curiosity that came to me now.” Dexter takes a hand out of his pocket and gestures nonchalantly. “What makes a young woman with a degree in Business Administration leave Columbia to come take care of a boy on a God-forsaken island in Australia?”
“Well, I...” I shift my weight back and forth, unable to tell him I was fleeing from the pathetic life I had there. It was supposed to be an adventure, a single moment alone before my marriage, and now my escapade has turned into a series of misadventures, bringing strange and dangerous events. I’m so entangled in this mess up to my neck that I have no idea how to get out.
“Actually, Mr. Tyler...” My voice silences not because I don’t know what to say, but because the library door opens.
I recognize her the moment her body passes through the doorway. High heels so thin they seem like needles, a tight black dress that makes her golden hair shine like gold against her porcelain-white skin. It’s the woman from the kiosk, the one who was intimately conversing, caressing Jonathan’s hand. She glances at me once, as if my presence is insignificant, before focusing her brown eyes on the detective with pure scorn.
“You may leave now, darling. I believe it’s time for the adults to talk.” Her voice is velvet, but as cold as the silver watch on her wrist.
“Miss Fox.” My face turns to Roy, who is standing behind her with his hands in his suit pockets, confronting Dexter with his intense blue eyes. His tone is commanding. It’s not Mr. Roy calling me; it’s the Master giving an order.
“I think our moment is over, Miss Fox.” Dexter pulls his hand from his pocket, smiling at me.
The heavy breathing I hear as I reach out to say goodbye to the detective is neither mine nor the porcelain doll’s. I can feel the intensity with which Jonathan is holding back his anger.

“Take care, Miss!” Dexter reaches out, meeting my fingers with his own. His eyes remain serene, fixed on mine. Unnoticed by the observers, he slips a card between our hands. “Thank you for your time. If you need to talk…”
“Fox!” The single word snaps from Roy’s lips, like a whip cracking in the air to signal that his patience has worn thin.
I pull my hand back, squeezing the card tightly, and cross my arms once more. I only nod at Dexter, avoiding eye contact with the cold woman and the icy gaze that meets mine. I refuse to leave with my head bowed, staring at the ground. I lock eyes with Roy, letting him know that while I may bend in his presence, I remain defiant in my own way. As I pass by Jonathan, his sapphire eyes follow me, the sound of his heavy breathing like the drums of war.



***



“Who is she?” I whisper to Baby, who is watching the same scene I am from her bedroom window.
Outside the mansion, near the garden, I see Jonathan opening the door of the red car, with the porcelain doll standing beside him. They only spent five minutes with Dexter in the library before the man left like a shot, but she didn’t leave. Her eyes burned with intensity as she left the library, locking onto mine before Jonathan called her over. They walked to his office, where they have been behind a locked door for over thirty minutes.
“Freire Miller, Jonathan’s lawyer,” Baby says with a disapproving huff, watching the woman. “Aunt Charlote says she was a little bitch who chased my father around when she was a teenager. She’s still a bitch, just more experienced now.”
“How old do you think she is?” She’s stunning, with no features that seem particularly aged.
“She’s practically a mummy! Just preserved with plastic surgeries. She’s definitely over fifty—probably has silicone injected everywhere to hide her age,” Baby whispers maliciously, squinting at the woman.
The lawyer’s small hand, adorned with shiny gold rings, stretches out to smooth Jonathan’s arm. He tilts his head, looking at the touch, but doesn’t make any move to break the contact. I step back from the window and rub my neck, still uncomfortable with how she seems to hover around Jonathan like a territorial predator, a scavenging hyena ready to sink her claws into her prey.
“She seems cold…” I hiss softly, trying to mask the unfriendly feelings I have toward this woman.
“Cold? Freire is a tyrannical bitch! I was supposed to meet her in Sodom, but it turned out she had to be here instead.” Baby steps away from the window, turning to face me with a tired breath.
“She’s from Sodom?”
“Every last inch of that hag is sadistic! Freire was supposed to get my father’s seat on the council, alongside the others, but Roy surprised everyone and the bitch lost her chance and her rise in Sodom. She swallowed the decision and had to accept that Roy became a Master councilor twice as young as she is.” Baby’s mocking smile widens as she glances over her shoulder toward the window. “She choked on the fact that Roy, a Master councilor half her age, outpaced her.”
Baby keeps her smile, shaking her hair and looking at me with affection.