At last, Mr. Stones spoke up.
“I’ve already given up all I have to her… My brother’s death will change nothing, in monetary conditions anyway.”
Azura shot him a deadly look. Rhaïd’s character was not impressed.
“So, Mr. Renfield,” Mr. Winters said, “you are broke, are you not?”
“Yes,” Mr. Stones and his character were both truly ashamed. “As I said, I gave it all to her: my fortune, my favour, my chance…”
“-And in conclusion, Ms. Peterson then could not have been the murderer as she had no motive,” Daphne said, nodding complacently. Alexandra wondered if the girl was completely sure in what she was saying; after all, murder mysteries were not her favourite type of literature.
“Not exactly,” her mother snapped for a second, before regaining her light-hearted decorum. “Ms. Peterson could have committed the crime still, for other reasons, possibly.”
Daphne swiftly narrowed her eyes at Mrs. Winters, but said nothing. Cynthia too shot the woman a confused look.
Then, nervously, the daughter of the house pulled out one or two white sheets of decorated paper, which Alexandra recognised as one of the invites, things that contained all the information participants needed to establish their characters. Scanning through it, Daphne’s eyes widened…
The girl leant in to talk with her mother, quickly pointing out a line written, as her mother nodded, sighing in slight annoyance. Daphne tucked the little papers away and resumed her watching of the game.