 Mystery of the Brightville Vanishing:Part Seven by josephinefarine
--------
"Who on Neopia, orders a pizza at 6:30 in the morning?” Iskeen sat in her chair, rigid with indignation. Perhaps it was the sleep deprivation, or the fact that she was dining at a restaurant in her doughnutfruit-print pajamas, but the ixi had had enough. Orlitz, too, appeared stunned. Learning of Reba’s evident involvement in Erin’s disappearance was the most significant lead the reporter had uncovered since the acara had vanished. “In any case, Reba did a botched job at planting that pizza for me to find,” said Orlitz, “I think she wanted me to believe that Erin was kept in the lost and found since yesterday morning, but the pizza was still warm when I found it. I bet Erin was kept in the lost and found for no more than what, an hour? “Do you know if Reba was the one who also ordered the pizza, or did she only pick it up?” she asked Lou. “I couldn’t say, we only keep a record of who comes to pay for the pizzas when they pick them up…” replied the draik. His eyes kept wandering towards the cash register at the front of the restaurant, where a line of hungry patrons was growing at an alarming rate. “I really should get back to my post…” he said halfheartedly, inching away. But Orlitz stopped him: “Lou, before your go. A Brightvale guard mentioned your background in leading less-than pacifist protests. What kind of drastic measures have you gotten in trouble for in the past?” Lou straightened, blinking in surprise. “I-I’m not sure what you’re talking about,” he stuttered before hurrying back to his post. The cybunny shrugged and opened her menu, remarking that she’d interview members of Lou’s protest troup to find her answer. But right now, Reba Watt was at the forefront of her mind. Meanwhile, Iskeen remained absolutely outraged. “Imagine waking up that early in the morning, just to order a pizza, to use as false evidence…” she huffed, “it just wastes everyone’s time." The girls ultimately settled on a cheese pizza to share (for, combined, they did not have enough loose neopoints to afford any additional toppings—much to everyone’s chagrin). They finished their meal, feeling newly invigorated to return to the investigation. Orlitz wanted to follow up on Lou’s evasion, but the nervous draik had since finished his shift. “Wait for me a second, I need to wash my hands,” said the cybunny and Iskeen went outside to wait. She leaned against the brick fence bordering the restaurant, letting the sun warm her face. The sky above Brightvale was almost entirely cloudless: aside from a few sparse puddles sitting in the cobblestone ridges of the streets, there was hardly a trace that it had rained earlier. Iskeen was delighted by the sunlight, but knew it wouldn’t last. She could already see a cloudfront above specks of ocean peaking through the trees inching towards the coast. Brightvale was not as humid as Mystery Island, granted, but it was every bit as rainy. When Orlitz joined her again, she looked especially preoccupied. She smiled at the ixi, but her grin held no warmth. It unsettled Iskeen. “What’s the matter?” she asked hesitantly. “I have a hunch, but I don’t want to be right.” Iskeen pressed her for more information, but the cybunny retained the details, simply stating that she needed to look into her suspicions first. She quickly changed the subject. “The evidence is really stacked up against Reba now. The pizza receipt is incriminating proof that she is at least partially behind Erin’s disappearance,” she said. “Which begs the question: who is her accomplice?” “Who is her accomplice?” echoed Iskeen, “if the kidnapping could only have been accomplished by two people, someone else must be calling the shots. Or do you think that Reba is at the head of this whole operation?” Orlitz looked troubled by this suggestion, and chewed her lip absently. “I get the feeling that we’re going to find Erin tonight,” she finally said. Before Iskeen could respond, the cybunny set off at a brisk pace away from Pizzaria Solaris. The ixi could only follow. The pair weaved through pedestrians and skittered around corners. Iskeen had trouble keeping up, but Orlitz had a set destination in mind. Indeed, she deduced that Orlitz was headed back to Roberta’s Plaza when the cybunny nearly collided with the fountain. “Can I ask what we’re doing back here—” the ixi attempted to query, but Orlitz spun on her heels. She looked awful, with dark circles under her eyes and disheveled hair. “Isn’t it odd that Reba was the first one to offer help when Erin first disappeared?” she said rigidly “the one who practically led me directly to the tunnels? Yet I haven’t been able to question her once.” Her eyes were ablaze. Iskeen considered replying, but Orlitz was already talking. “I think Reba wanted to lead me to evidence she and her partner planted, but then she realized I was getting more suspicious, so she’s been avoiding me ever since. She hasn’t been very inconspicuous with her trail of ‘clues’ though,” Orlitz laughed. “I have half a mind to believe that, if we were to head back into Brightville right now, we would find new evidence that wasn’t there before.” A commotion across the plaza distracted Orlitz from her own rampage for a moment. Indeed, near the fountain was a growing mass of neopians holding some sort of assembly. Upon closer inspection, Iskeen and Orlitz realized concurrently that they were in the midst of a gathering of protestors. They all wore uniform green shirts, on which “SAVE THE PARK” had been scrawled. Many held sleek-looking picket signs, and some individuals had even brought handmade posters. All echoed the same message: “Treasure Brightville, Brightvale’s Treasure.” At this very moment, the gathering sang a chant, and who should be standing on the fountain’s ledge, conducting the protesters, but Lou Elder: “Let Brightville Shine! Let Brightville Shine!” he cried into the rabble, to which a chorus of energetic voices cried back, “Destruction is a Crime!” He was rousing them with great skill and the crowd hummed with excitement. “Oh no, I completely forgot…” groaned Orlitz, “Lou mentioned they’d be holding a protest march and picketing Tuesday night. They must be getting ready.” A smiling Red krawk with a clipboard approached them. “Hi, are you here to join the March for Brightville?” she asked cheerfully, intent on giving each a green shirt. “Sorry, not today. But I’m a reporter, and I’d love to ask you some questions if you have time.” To this, the krawk rested her clipboard at her side and nodded. “Why are you holding a protest for the preservation of Brightville on the eve of its demolition?” “Brightville’s owners and patrons are holding a closing banquet and celebration, so we picked tonight for our protest since we think it will have the most impact. It’s the only night Brightvale’s most influential citizens will all be gathered in one place.” Realization dawned on Orlitz, and she closed her eyes in exasperation. Lou had indeed mentioned a “closing celebration” taking place on Tuesday night. Why hadn’t Sophia told her? But this thought quickly passed, and fright took its place: what if the kidnappers also used tonight as an opportunity to make a drastic statement? But the krawk was now staring at her expectantly, so Orlitz blinked and stored her worries in the back of her mind with the rest of her thoughts, to deal with later. “I’ve learned from sources that your leader—Lou Elder—has a bit of a reputation when it comes to drastic measures to achieve his goals. Any comments?” the cybunny queried after a moment. “Oh, Lou has gotten in trouble a few times. He’s let some protests get out of hands, which resulted in some vandalism. That’s all. Not that our group does that anymore,” the krawk very quickly added, “we received some warnings a few years back, and we’re really careful now.” The krawk emphasised this last comment. Orlitz thanked her before she joined the fray once more. Troubling thoughts raced through her mind, headed by the knowledge that a celebration was taking place tonight. This would be the perfect opportunity for the cybunny to question suspects and find viable evidence—that is, if she could infiltrate the affair. Given Sophia’s annoyance, it was highly doubtful that Orlitz would be permitted to meddle again. She turned to Iskeen: “Thanks for your help today Iskeen. You should go home and get some rest.” The ixi began to protest, so Orlitz quickly added, “I just need to follow up on some suspicions in the park, it might be better if I go alone. Then I’ll come home.” She mustered the sincerest smile she could until Iskeen relaxed. After her friend had left, Orlitz stepped away from the crowd of protesters, careful not to draw unwanted attention. She would have to sneak into Brightville once more (something which Orlitz was growing very tired of). Earlier, she had threatened Sophia not to meddle with her own investigation, but the cybunny doubted she would have an easier time using the park’s front gate. Her threats were empty anyway, Sophia must have known this. And besides, using the tunnel entrance would be far more convenient. It is decidedly more difficult to appear inconspicuous in broad daylight, particularly when one triggers a bench to open into a forgotten tunnel. Luckily, the entrance was hidden by the trees and vegetation lining the plaza, and the cybunny managed to slink into the underpass undetected. Nothing had changed in these passageways since her initial trek through them this morning, and they remained chilly. Orlitz shoved her hands into her sweatshirt and marched onwards. What she had told Iskeen was true: she needed to investigate the lost and found to confirm her suspicions about Reba’s motives. And another thought tickled in the back of her mind: where did Erin fit into all this? She may not have been inside Brightville during most of Orlitz’s investigation, and if that was true, then Erin was in no danger of being trapped in the park during its demolition. Her kidnappers’ threats were empty. By the time she reached a trapdoor leading into the lost and found, Orlitz was utterly perplexed. Everytime she thought the problem solved, new puzzle pieces materialized before her. When the cybunny emerged through the trapdoor, she discerned that the room had remained untouched, no one having entered the building to disturb the investigation. Everything was just as dusty, the chair where Erin had been held still in the center of the room. Orlitz’s eyes fell on a white card sitting on that chair. “Hello…” she murmured, picking up this new evidence. It was an identification card, with the words “Brightville employee” printed underneath a photo of Sophia Grigsby. Nowhere had she seen this card in her initial investigation of the building, and the cybunny was certain that, upon reviewing photographs of the room, she would not find any cards sitting on any chairs. It had been placed there after the fact. Orlitz chuckled dryly: her suspicions were confirmed. First the keyring, now this: someone—Reba, perhaps—was planting evidence to frame another park worker. “But why frame Sophia?” she wondered, running her thumb over the glossy finish of the card, “what is there to gain?” * * * * * Compared to this morning—and even the previous day—the Brightville that Orlitz stepped into upon leaving the lost and found was swarming with people. She meandered along the paths, occasionally coming across a cluster of demolition crew workers busily examining long-abandoned attractions. A few times, she even spotted one or two Brightvalian guards. Their presence alone created a feeling of ease that washed over her like a blanket. For once, she took a brief moment to inhale the fresh air. She wasn’t alone in her search anymore: Erin would be found. The entrance to Brightville was buzzing with even more activity, as park employees busily readied it for the evening’s celebration. While most attractions had been blocked off with caution tape, the main paths leading from the gate was awash in fairy lights and streamers. Orlitz could see that they lead to Hagan’s Grove, a charming cottage-like bistro partly hidden away by trees and a pond. As the cybunny approached the restaurant looking for some means by which to infiltrate the festivities this evening, she heard agitated voices coming from within. “I warned you. I told you that something bad would happen if you didn’t let me take over, and now look.” “Reba, I was never going to give you the park, and threatening me now won’t help anyone.” Orlitz dove behind a tree as Sophia Grigsby and Reba emerged from the bistro. Sophia was walking quickly, pursued by the gnorbu. The handyman was fuming. “If you’d let me take over, if you had let me run this park, it never would be closed down because of your incompetence, and you know this.” She grabbed Sophia’s wrist and roughly yanked her back. “You’ll be sorry.” The chomby twisted her hand out of her grasp. Once Reba had stormed off into another section of the park, Orlitz hurried to Sophia. The chomby was shaking. She slumped into a bistro chair, tugging at her sleeves. When she noticed the cybunny approach, her gaze turned steely. “Are you alright? What was that?” “That was Reba being her usual charming self,” said Sophia. “This is not the first time she’s… been like that.” “Because she wants to head the park? Why haven’t you just fired her?” Sophia sighed. “Reba has worked at Brightville the longest out of all of us. She feels entitled to it, and when I took over years ago, she felt betrayed. She’s still bitter, but I don’t fire her because she is an excellent crewmember.” “That’s not a good excuse,” remarked Orlitz. “Orlitz, Brightville is very old, it has many secrets. Reba knows more about the park than any of us, and I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that my park would have sunk long ago if it wasn’t for her help.” She sighed and stood up. “I’ll miss this place, but honestly, I’m glad this era is over. Brightville was… well it was difficult.” “Incidentally,” said the cybunny with practiced innocence, “what is all this decoration for?” Sophia eyed her suspiciously. “I’m holding a banquet this evening, to honor Brightville’s legacy. I’m opening up a few rides for the occasion too. And before you ask, its invitation only.” Just then, a third individual emerged from the restaurant. Rey Wilde approached them, holding a microphone in one hand and a music stand in the other. “Sorry Grigsby, just askin’ where you want this equipment to go inside,” he said. Then he noticed Orlitz, and nodded, “hello again, miss.” “You can leave those center stage, thanks Rey,” said Sophia. Orlitz observed that Sophia was fully at ease with Rey; evidently, she only endured abuse from Reba. “I need to look over some other matters, I’ll leave you to it. I don’t want to catch you sneaking around my park tonight. Just… don’t.” The chomby marched away before Orlitz could mention her suspicions, or Sophia’s ID card, and she was left to follow Rey back inside the restaurant. He and a few other neopets were busily planning the layout of the restaurant: all the tables and seats had been pushed to the outer edges of the room, leaving space in the center for a piano, drums, and other instruments. She gathered that most of the banquet would take place in and around Hagan’s Grove this evening, as the space had been draped in beautiful lanterns and gold-hued curtains. Along the walls, newspaper clippings, photographs, and ticket stubs had been framed with care, creating a remarkable panorama of Brightville’s proudest accomplishments. It was a touching tribute to its historical significance. Rey glanced up from his task wrangling microphone wires apart: “So, you found any answers since we last spoke this morning?” Orlitz shrugged, “more questions than answers, sadly.” She sank into a chair, doing her best to stay out of the way. “I just saw Reba yelling at Sophia over park ownership.” The gelert chuckled and returned to his task. “Yeah, Reba has been known to do that. She’s always wanted Brightville, but she never managed to wrangle the funds to buy it.” This intrigued the cybunny greatly. “How long has she been after the park?” she asked, leaning forward in her seat. “Oh well, let’s see,” Rey took a moment to think. “I haven’t been here as long as she has, but I’m sure she’s wanted to own it ever since she started working here, if not earlier.” “Does she believe she’d be more skilled at running the park than Sophia?” “I doubt Reba would even know where to begin if it came to managing Brightville,” he chuckled again. “No, I think she feels entitled to it. She knew Emnor as a kid.” Orlitz racked her brain. Emnor? Where had she seen that name before? “Emnor? Emnor Miranelis? Reba knew Brightville’s founder?” Rey nodded. “She grew up here, when Brightville was still just an ambitious project. I suppose she always assumed Emnor would will the park to her or somethin’.” A veil had at last been lifted from her eyes. “I think I know why Reba could have a vendetta against Sophia now, and Erin plays a much bigger part than I thought...” she murmured. She shot up from her seat then, and ran to shake his hand. “Thank you so much Rey, you don’t know how helpful you’ve been!” The gelert looked at her with great bewilderment. “Don’t mention it?” he ventured, but she had already bolted out the door. * * * * * Back at Pizzaria Solaris, when Orlitz’s hands had been greasy from the cheese and she had excused herself to wash them, the cybunny had found herself walking down a dimly-lit, winding hallway towards the restaurant’s solitary, and occupied, bathroom. To her right, she could pick up the muffled sounds of the kitchen, but to her left, she noticed that dozens of photographs had been framed. It seemed that Pizzaria Solaris liked to document its famous clientele, and Orlitz had inched passed photos of celebrities sitting proudly with their favorite pizzas. She had recognized the smiling images of Princess Roberta, Illusen, and even the restaurant’s namesake, Solarin, decorating the hallway. One photograph in particular had caught her gaze. The image depicted two figures sitting at a small table, an enormous mushroom pizza in between them. The cybunny’s eyes had been drawn towards the figure on the left: a charismatic, older Red acara grinning through a mouthful of cheese. Beside him sat a laughing Pink acara. Orlitz had cocked her head—those tight brown curls cascading down the little acara’s head were awfully familiar. “Erin?” On a hunch, the cybunny gingerly removed the frame from its place on the wall and turned it over. Someone had scrawled “Brightville founder Emnor Miranelis and granddaughter,” with a pencil on the backboard. The cybunny’s eyes widened at a dawning realization, but the bathroom door swung open and she had been forced to replace the photograph. As Orlitz finished washing her hands and she stepped back into the restaurant, a single thought had raced through her mind. Erin is Emnor’s granddaughter. To be continued…
|