Hello everyone. I started a writing course (BBC Maestro Agatha Christie writing course) and I opened this website to post my progress. Keep in mind this is a draft. You can follow along with the real-time writing itself on my youtube channel, where I also reflect on the writing process itself as a tool for myself mainly. Murder mystery novels isn't a genre I'm used to so I started this project to challenge myself. Please find all chapters below. You'll notice some editing in transcribing the handwritten manuscript to the below posts too. Comments are possible on the related youtube channels or you can contact me via my landing page directly too. Thank you to anyone and everyone for helping the project along by sharing your thoughts!
If you were to ask me to introduce myself, I would start first of all with my name, which is Karel Benjamin De Walters. My clients call me mister De Walters. My friends and family call me Benjamin. My close friends and loved ones, however, they call me simply Ben.I will extend that privilege to you, my dear reader-friend. If you were wondering why I sound the way I sound, or if you were wondering why I had mentioned earlier that my clients call me mister De Walters, the answer to both questions is that I am a "Notaris", a notary from Brussels, just like my father was before me and his father before him. We have a certain way of speaking, a peculiar mix of the two languages in our little capital, in addition to words from our local dialect as well. Add to that the jargon of our vocation, and you end up sounding like... well, me.Talking of my father, how can any man introduce himself without speaking of their father because as far as I believe all men owe at least one basic feature of their being to their fathers, like it or not, be it their hair color, their eyes, their jaw, and in having that jaw, their voice perhaps as well, or the manner of enunciating words that are particular to them. Or for example they could have their father's broad shoulders, a certain posture that might seem identical from father to son, or not anything at all. In any case the reason I bring this up at all is of course that I was offered and I accepted the chance to follow in his exact footsteps.This happened at a certain point in my adolescence, when my father had sat me down for a very serious talk. He handed me a weathered old card. "Le Chariot" it read on the bottom. I didn't know what it was or what it meant. I could only tell that it had been held by many hands and had been gazed upon many, many times. "Remember this card well", my father said, "It says that all the world's a stage, see, and we've all a role to play." He explained that for him and his father, that role had been to play the notary. "It's not a show, it isn't acting, but it's still a performance, sincere in its service. Most of all, as you can see here," he pointed at the illustration, "most of all, it's a vehicle.""A vehicle?""Indeed, son. It's a vehicle that can take you through all stages of life. Of course, you have the choice to carve your own whole path, you are free to tread the path on your own, on foot in stead of taking the vehicle I'm offering you, my son. But you may after many years come to the conclusion that you should have taken the opportunity when you had the chance and the support to do so. Many men do realize this, but admittedly, only by going through the hardship of their foolish meanderings could they ever have realized what the offer was worth in the first place. As a father, I want to avoid putting my son through all that."We both stared a while at the card in silence. I felt paralysed. It seemed like this choice would determine the entire rest of my life and as a young lad, I had never thought about the rest of my life before."Having said all this, my son, even when you choose to follow in my footsteps and become a notary too, the vehicle doesn't drive itself, and there are no guarantees, even in this profession. But love and support go a long way. I can see you don't want to think about spending your entire life in this house, but as you grow, you'll learn that you can take this vehicle and still drive wherever you want, drive your own way. De sure to always maintain balance and remain modest, because, to be sure, not everyone gets this opportunity, so be grateful, and have respect for the profession. Take it from me: balance everything you do for the self with service to others, and vice versa."There hasn't been another talk with my father in my entire life that has stuck with me as this one has. I remember it almost word for word. Needless to say, I took it. And his wisdom hasn't failed me throughout my career. Today, I'm older than when he was when he had sat me down for that talk and I still have the very same card on my desk.You might be thinking: why should I interest myself in this boring notary doing boring work in the most boring of places? My answer is: you might be surprised. Some of my cases turn out to be extraordinarily emotional, even outrageously so. Especially the ones concerning the reading of the last testament and will of my clients.The case I'll present to you in the following pages, is one such reading of the last will and testament, of my - I'm sorry to say- former good friend: billionaire Johan Paepe. This wasn't just any standard reading of the will. True to Johan's character, it managed to turn the lives of the beneficiaries completely upside down. I will try to explain simply and as technically as possible, professional and discrete as my profession dictates. However, even the most factual recounting of this case will prove to be scandalous, disturbing and even bloody.
Any reading of the will is of course preceeded by the death of one of my clients. But this particular last will and testament belonged to, as said, one of my most peculiar and particular clients: Johan Paepe. His inheritance was a tricky one to handle, and to manage it I had to consult the accountant of his estate, the young, bright and succesful Ariadne 'Tjollyn. Why? Let me explain the particulars.Johan Paepe was an enormously wealthy man, but only became wealthy later in life. He had no children of his own and had been living as a recluse before and after amassing his fortune. His estate was based on the success of his series of fantasy novels that had been optioned and turned into a major worldwide franchise of films, television series and merchandise. The bewildering part of the inheritance of his estate is that he had bequeathed the amount of €1 to his next of kin, and nothing else.This was of course, to me, knowing him personally, not unexpected or anything out of the ordinary. The strange part of the whole case is not the €1 inheritance, but that he had changed it to something else entirely and shortly thereafter had died. The €1 inheritance seemed very much like him, the new addendum, as mrs. 'Tjollyn had come to present and explain, was completely out of character for Johan. What had happened? Of course, as the notary, that was not for me to investigate.To do so, the investigation had been started by the police department of Brussels, who had put a thirty something young Rechercheur on the case named Van Der Smet. And this was due to the circumstance of Johan's death. He was found in an armchair in his house, having shot himself through the head, bloodstain patterns and directions all studied by the forensic team seeming to corroborate the suicide. However, the confounding part was that the gun had been found on the coffee table across from him. It seemed there was another person there at the time, and this person could well have shot Johan, put the gun to his head and shot him, right after the change in the will. For this reason, the investigation team had reached out to me. We would be working together. This was a first in my vocation, to work together with the police department in finding a possible murderer among my own client's beneficiaries, but that was what had to be done. And so there I was, welcoming in the beneficiaries into my office, not yet realizing what was about to transpire later, and in my own home, previously my father's house.Looking back, I mustn't be so surprised about how things escalated from there, considering Johan himself. He was not living by the rule of temperance my father had urged my to live by. He was incredibly greedy about all the wealth he had gained as an author, refusing to share any of it to anyone he knew, even as he accumulated as much wealth - thanks to Ariadne 'Tjollyn's management of his estate - as he or even his entire extendeed family could ever spend in their entire lifetimes.As the beneficiaries sat down in my office, I felt for the first time in many years some nervousness, but then I remembered Rechercheur Van Der Smet promised to make quick work of the case. How? Well, here was the interesting part. Rechercheur Van Der Smet was using the latest in AI technologies, specifically facial pattern recognition "far surpassing any lie detector test", or so he said and I of course believed him, rather attracted to the idea of being rid of this entire case as soon as possible. There was one thing about the whole premise of using his AI tools I wasn't feeling completely comfortable with: he had said that he could quickly find the culprit 'if' there was a culprit to be found.Six beneficiaries there were in total, including spouses, 10 people took a seat in my office. After welcoming them and having my personal housekeeper Brigitte offer them either a cup of coffee, fruit juice or a glass of water, I proceeded with the reading of the last will and testament - both the original and then the addendum as was presented to me by Ariadne 'Tjollyn. At the request of Rechercheur Van Der Smet, I read both of them, so that the AI could pick up on the facial cues given by the beneficiaries - hinting to whether they could be the potential culprit in the case of Johan's death.At first, most of them gasped at the news that only €1 would be inherited amongst them all. To other, who knew Johan well, it didn't come as a surprise at all. But then when I went over to the second part, the addendum, there was a collective shift in their countenances.Here was the entire addendum I read to them:"My dearest next of kin, my nieces and nephews, children of my beloved brothers and sister who have passed into that great unkown before myself, some of you know each other well and keep in touch, others don't, much a reflection of how me and your parents related to one another. I regret my former will and testament amounting to €1 to split amongst you. It was cruel. I have had a change of heart and I will not bore you with details as to why. But I do want to apologize and make amends and do the right thing. My estate's net worth amounts to just over €1 billion. It would only be right to split the estate's worth evenly amongst the six of you."I looked up for a moment and scanned their faces. They were all hardly breathing, listening to Johan's words from beyond the grave."I know that all of you had reached out to me over the years, asking for financial help, and I had refused. I don't know what I was thinking, however, today things are very clear to me and I must explain the original €1 inheritance, before I can explain how to split up my estate. The reason my inheritance comes down to only €1, is that I have already bequeathed all of the rest of my wealth to someone anonymously. That someone is in the room with you now."Again, they all gasped and this time it was all of them."All of my estate had been given to them under the condition they would remain anonymous. It had all been settled, today, nearly a decade ago.""A decade ago?!" was the collective cry from the beneficiaries."After my passing" I continued, "This person was to become the sole holder of my wealth. This decision, I do regret. So with this addendum, I add to my last will and testament that the joint account be split amongst the six of you if you all unanimously decide to do so.""But that would include the person who had inherited the €1 billion all to himself for the past ten years!" one of Johan's next of kin pointed out."Otherwise, you can all unanimously agree to let the previous arrangement stand as is. My friend mr. De Walters will provide time and space today to come to a decision together and with this I feel my conscience is clear and a weight has been lifted off my shoulders. Farewell.""Oh, the weight has been lifted off of his shoulders and put squarely on ours! Good going, Uncle." said the eldest of his beneficiaries, his cousin, Pieter Paepe.A storm erupted amongst them, and I couldn't make out any word of it as they were all talking over each other, outraged about what they had just found out. Then, Rechercheur Van Der Smet finally entered the room. He informed them this was a potential murder case and that they were all under investigation, since not a one in the room was clear of a motive for killing Johan, as he had explicitly stated in his testament."Do you mean the part that each of us at one point had come to him, asking for some financial aid?" said Jochen, Pieter's brother."Not only that", added Van Der Smet, "It's that the suicide of your uncle was questionable due to the state he was found in, of which I will inform you later. At this stage I want to let you know that I have installed cameras equipped with AI facial recognition to help determine who is most likely to have committed the murder.""Excuse me?" said Layla, Johan's niece through his sister, "Can you even do this?""We can and we are. This is an official investigation and you are all part of it. The reason is that the person most likely to have committed the murder is the person who had inherited the estate and Johan's billion euros, and would want to keep it that way. It is extremely likely they have murdered Johan as soon as they found out about the addendum.""How would they have found out-" mumbled Kenny, the youngest of the three brothers."All of this to say, for my part, that all proceedings in this house today will be recorded for this purpose. Anyone who is not agreed to this can leave, but must also forfeit their share of the estate, since the decision was to be unanimous, leading the previous arrangement to stand as is.""So if any one of us walks out of here, the person who had been a billionaire all along, for nearly ten years, would keep the money all to himself, and we're all left with nothing.""That's right", said Van Der Smet.All of them proceeded to declare they could never have committed a murder, let alone the murder of their recluse of an uncle, to which Van Der Smet replied after glancing at his laptop screen: "The AI determined that was a lie."
"Hey may have been rich, but he's incredibly stupid. I one of us really did receive his €1 billion, they would just walk out of here right now without ever admitting to anything and just keep... being a billionaire!", said Pieter."That's ridiculous", said Kenny, "None of us are rich! Who in their right mind would walk out of 1/6th of a billion euros?!""You're wrong, Kenny", said Céline, Jochen's wife, "Five of us aren't rich. One of us has been a billionaire for ten years and didn't tell any of us about it!""I think what Pieter is saying," Jochen interjected, "Is that if the billionaire amongst us would walk out now, they would betray themselves. Whoever it is, they are forced to stay.""I don't know if I meant that", said Pieter to his little brother, "I can speak for myself you know."Layla and her husband Jean-Baptiste had been talking to each other in hushed voices, but she added to this conversation that "Yes, that would be very suspucious if someone walked out now, considering they would be the prime suspect of the murder of our uncle if they do. People have killed for less.I noticed that Céline at this point glared at her with a look of total suspicion, as if saying with her eyes: how would you know? Meanwhile, this whole conversation was not sitting well with Pieter."I don't think we should be so quick to shout murder, just because there's money involved. We all heard the addendum, is it so unlikely the man actually felt bad and killed himself? He clearly wasn't well.""But what was his change of heart? Sounds to me like someone forced him to write it", said Kenny. At his side sat his girlfriend Joyabel, with whom he had opened a restaurant a few years ago."Just the opposite", cried Céline, "The addendum to split the €1 billion amongst us was most likely sincere, probably driving the murderer to kill him so as to keep the €1 billion for themselves as soon as they found out.""But how could they have found out?" repeated Kenny.Everyone was looking puzzled as the atmosphere in the room turned colder and colder. Each of them was looking at the others with ever increasing suspicion, changing their posture, their voices, their expressions. Van Der Smet's cameras all the while recorded every little part of this. His plan to register all the reactions to the reading of the will to add to the AI's calculations of who the culprit might be, seemed to be working smoothly. At that point, I was still pretty confident the matter could be settled relatively quickly."I don't know and I don't care", cried Pieter now, raising his voice, "As for me. I'm not taking part in this. If they didn't care to tell me before, I'm not interested in hearing it now. I say leave the arrangement as is. I'm leaving this whole stinking case."Everyone stared at Pieter in shock as he got up from the table. Standing up and looking at everyone's expression, he suddenly froze into place."Guys, why are you looking at me like that."For a moment it seemed like no one would speak, but then Layla finally broke the silence."After what we just discussed, you would just up and walk out, leaving us all with nothing? Not to mention the one person who has had the billion all along would...""Would what?""Well, get away with it!""Get away with what?""Like, deceiving us all, right? Pretending not to be a billionaire whilst being amongst the richest people alive?""That's hardly a crime, now is it?""But the murder is", said Rechercheur Van Der Smet."Rechercheur, this is all just speculation. Even if the secret billionaire has the highest likelihood of being the murderer, doesn't make them a murderer. MURDER is what makes them a murderer.""That's why it's called in investigation, Pieter," said Rechercheur Van Der Smet, "And you're not making your score any better, right now.""I don't care about your ridiculous score!" said Pieter, throwing on his jacket, ready to step out."You can't really mean it, brother," cried Jochen, "You would just walk out of here, destroying all our chances to get 1/6th of a billion euros?""Is it so hard for you to imagine someone being satisfied with their lives without being rich?" replied Pieter, "Im a seasonal worker - I like it. I live according to the seasons and go where the harvest is. Makes me feel connected to... the earth -""Connected to earth?! Oh, I forgot, he considers himself an artist," mumbled Céline sarcastically, "I suppose this is worth more to you than a few million euros.""You're a shallow woman, Céline!" shouted Pieter, "And yes I am. Just because I haven't made any money off of it-""You consider picking up dead birds from the forest, dipping them in paint and then throwing them into a canvas is art?! It's morbid! A red flag if I ever saw one.""That's it. You guys enjoy the rest of the investigation. I'm out.""Sometimes it isn't just about you", Jochen rebutted, now standing up from his chair too, "This time you can actually really do some good for us, just by staying...""Finally?" repeated Pieter, "so I've never done you any good, brother?"Céline caught this immediately and stood up at her husband's defence, saying:"Honestly Pieter, riddle me this. How is it that you always seem to get by, but you never seem to have any real job?"Jochen turned to her and said: "Céline, you're not helping.""I don't need to riddle you anything. Just what is it you're saying", said Pieter now, fuming."Can you blame me? Guys, we're all under investigation here. The sooner we dig into things, the sooner we can all call it a day."No one disagreed with Céline and just sat by silently."See? So, yes. It is very suspicious, Pieter. And now, on top of that, you would just walk out of potentially millions and millions of euros? Come on! You're the secret billionaire, aren't you?"Now Pieter had become completely red in the face. He pointed his finger at Céline in return and shouted: "You think I have 1 billion euros?!"At this point I realized this was going to take much longer than expected and started to think about refreshments. If the entire investigation was going to be as intense as it had been so far, I would need some more snacks and drinks. I called for Brigitte."Well, you do seem very eager to walk away from it. It doesn't make any sense!""I agree", said Layla."Céline", shouted Pieter, "You have waited years for a reason to throw me under the bus. Now you have it! But I'm sorry to disappoint! I haven't a billion euros. And I'm not interested in procuring millions for any of you either, if you keep insulting me like this!""Guys, calm down", yelled Kenny.But the shouting match between Jochen, Céline and Pieter continued. Brigitte had come in and I had asked her to provide some lemonade or cola and some sweets since they were tiring themselves out a great deal. She came back with the bottles of lemonade and cola, some water, sweets and pralines. I asked the group if anyone needed some refreshments but since there was no reply, as if I wasn't even present in the room, I had Brigitte set it on a chair in the middle where all could reach.The only one who answered me, whilst the shouting continued in the background, was Nele Paepe, who had come in with her sister Brenda Paepe who unfortunately had been catatonic in a waking coma for decades. Nele and her mother had tended to her most of their lives, until her mother eventually died and left the care of Brenda completely in her hands. With a voice as soft as a flower petal, she asked if she could have some fruit. I immediately had Brigitte bring over our breakfast fruits and provided a little plate and a knife, so she could cut up a banana in bitesize pieces to feed her sister. Nele was totally unaffected by the whole shouting match, calmly cutting the fruit."It IS art and I'm not going to discuss any of this any longer with you, Céline", Pieter went on, still as red as a tomato.At this point, Jochen had been sidelined in the discussion, as he was only trying to get Céline to calm down."You're despicable!" she shouted, "Even if you don't want anything to do with the money, sit yourself back down for our sakes! Some of us really need it! You know we had to... sell... because of..."At this point her shouting had turned into sobbing and she leaned into Jochen's shoulder, who was glaring at Pieter now."Sit down", he growled at him."Brother, you know I'm sorry about what happened to..." muttered Pieter."Sit down, Pieter!" Jochen said, raising his voice."I loved him too, as much as I do...""Sit down, Pieter!" shouted Jochen.Pieter sat back down, then a throbbing silence. Even Nele had stopped cutting her banana.After blowing her nose and the two of them had sat back down, Jochen handed her a 'citroen'-lemonade. Then, she said, shaken: "You're just as heartless as our uncle."Pieter sat down, defeated, breathing heavily and took a cola himself. Kenny had already downed three pralines."To be fair", said Layla, "Whoever it turns out inherited the estate 10 years ago would use their lives as we all know it as a cover of sorts to remain anonymous. It could be... anyone of us."Still blowing her nose and wiping away her tears, Céline mumbled: "It's unconscionable.""It's hard to imagine any one of us doing that", said Jochen, "We all know each other."Another silence no one dare break fell upon the room. The only sound was the light sobbing of Céline into her handkerchief, until finally Kenny turned to Rechercheur Van Der Smet and asked: "Please, Rechercheur, tell us what you know. How did our uncle die?"
Of course Rechercheur Van Der Smet and I had completely anticipated all of this, especially since prior to them all coming to the reading of the last will and testament we had gone over all possible scenarios together. Though I admit, I had faith in Van Der Smet's promise it would all be over in a matter of hours. The worst case scenario was that they would need to stay the night, or even longer, until the AI had provided enought of a conclusion for the police department to further the case. Until then, Rechercheur Van Der Smet could keep all of the beneficiaries here, in my house. The thought of it had been disturbing enough, but now seeing it play out in real life, it was starting to feel chilling. My father's words kept sounding in my head - temperance. Temperance. How was I supposed to do that in this situation? Leave it to my old friend Johan Paepe to really put my principles to the test.Rechercheur Van Der Smet proceeded to tell them, in dry detail, about the suicide of their uncle sitting in his armchair in his study room, about the blood spatters, the directions and patterns, about the gun being found on the coffee table across from him, about this all happening within hours of the addendum to his last will and testament made final. Never in my life had I heard a silence getting more silent until after Van Der Smet was done relating this all to them."Then it's obvious it's murder", said Jochen, "Since the gun was found at an impossible angle to the shot to the head.""Correct", Van Der Smet confirmed, "I could never have just fallen on top of the coffee table in the position we had found it in. However, the blood spatterings confirmed that he had truly shot himself at the temple, the impressions found on his right hand confirmed his triggering of the gun.""Well I can't make any sense of it", said Céline."How can it be", said Layla, "That we end up being suspects in all of this, when he probably had a house full of servants, who could all have shot him or even if they didn't shoot it, moved the gun. Were there no finger prints?""Only his own, Mrs. Nourtaki", said Van Der Smet, "And he hadn't any servants. The man was so fond of his privacy, as we all know he was a recluse, that he kept only a concierge on his grounds at Hoog-Linden. The concierge lived outside Johan's mansion, in the concierge house. And it was from the same house he had heard the gunshot at 21:00 hours.""Does he claim so, or do we know so", asked Jochen."Actually, we know so for certain, since the concierge had been live-streaming himself working on a miniature panoramic battle scene for his youtube channel and his merchandise store featuring photographs of his dioramas.""That's oddly specific", said Céline."Well, it's the only footage we have pinpointing the exact moment he shot himself. Johan didn't have any cameras anywhere on his property. He was very weary of them.""Ironic", mumbled Pieter, arms crossed."Not ironic", said Van Der Smet, "Lucky. Without it, we wouldn't have known the exact time and location of his death.""He loathed modern technology and distanced himself from it as much as humanly possible", I added, knowing him well, "Not as a way of shutting out the outside world per se, but it made him a recluse even more so. Even the addendum had been sent by mail.""So the man undertook the upkeep of the entire house by himself? I don't believe it for a second", said Layla."You musn't have visited your uncle in Hoog-Linden for years, Layla", said Rechercheur Van Der Smet, "Because the state we found the house is was almost as shocking as finding his dead body. It was nearly coming apart. Only the rooms he frequented were in somewhat of an acceptable state. The rest was a shambles. He seemed to be very sick of life itself, making the likelihood of suicide more plausible.""There we have it. Suicide." ejected Pieter, "Can I go home now?""It doesn't explain the gun!" said Kenny."It was his concierge, most likely, running up to check and see what the sound was and he probably moved the gun whilst trying to revive him or something and then called to police. What else could it be?""There were no other prints on there, Pieter!" said Céline."I don't understand how you can be so sure to rule him out entirely", said Pieter, "Since he was the only person there.""There's every reason to", said Rechercheur Van Der Smet, "since we have video footage proving he had heard the shot from the grounds."Which could have been staged", said Pieter."And from the fact that he wasn't mentioned in the will and testament", added Van Der Smet, "He wouldn't gain anything by it.""Maybe he just really hated him and wanted to kill him", grumbled Pieter."Ok Pieter, calm down", said Jochen, "Now you're not making any sense anymore. Let's all just try to get this thing sorted as soon as possible. Don't we need to get back home as soon as possible, some of us have kids to look after?""Seems to me you're grasping at straws, Van Der Smet," said Pieter, "If just the mention of us in the will is the only thing to go off of. Hardly enough to suspect us in a murder case. The whole thing is ridiculous.""That, and that the AI had determined that you are were likely to be, of course" replied Van Der Smet."The AI? And that enough to make us all go through this?" cried Pieter."Right!" Jochen agreed, "What will it take for the AI to rule is out?""Let me explain," said Van Der Smet, "The AI is not going off of the files of Johan Paepe's case only. It's also been fed all of your files too. All of your details, all that was available of course under jurisdiction of the police investigation.""And may we see these files?""I was afraid you would never ask," said Van Der Smet, a bit too sadistically for my taste. He proceeded to hand out the files of all six of them."This is preposterous", said Jochen, "Without any of our consent, you can be feeding all of our private information to a murder suspect machine. Of course it's going to rank us from least likely to most likely, never ruling any one of us out!""How can you even be sure all the information is true?" added Layla."I assure you it's very official," said Van Der Smet."That doesn't make it necessarily true", cried Pieter, throwing the files away, not even looking at them."This is grotesque", said Jochen, "How can you summarize the most desparate moments of our entire lives in just a few paragraphs just to add them to a score of making us more likely to be murderers or not.""It's dry fact. I'm sorry if that disturbs you," said Van Der Smet" But I assure you it's all very much true and complete. Every single one of you had contacted Johan Paepe to help them with a desparate situation, to which money could have been the solution. Layla and her husband Jean-Baptiste had been denied funding for their consultancy firm in Paris from going bust. Pieter Paepe had asked him to help relocate and start life anew abroad so as to escape the drug maffia he had been doing business with during the slower months when he couldn't make money off seasonal work - and he owes them a great deal-""Pieter..." whispered Jochen disappointed."Kenny Paepe and his wife Joyabel had invested too much of their restaurant's resources into a crypto scam and lost everything. Them too Johan Paepe had refused to help save from bankruptcy. Jochen and Céline had to sell their newly built house to pay for the medical bills of their son, who had passed away even after experimental treatments that cost a lot of money for leukemia three years ago. Even in this instance, Johan Paepe had refused to help. Jochen and Céline had to move to rental apartment with what was left after selling the house.""Heartless man!" cried Céline, shaking."Nele had also reached out to him a few years ago on account of her sister and had asked him to put Brenda in professional care at a home, since state support was making life for the both of them nearly impossible to support."It was at this point that Nele for the first time that day spoke up and said: "Yes. I did. And I'm not ashamed of it. We all came to him in our most desparate moment. And what he said to me I'm sure he said to all of you: that during our most trying moments, like him, we get the opportunity to create our magnum opus and overcome it by ourselves. And he wouldn't take the opportunity away from us by bailing us out."There was a stunned silence. Everyone's most desparate moment had just been laid bare to each other and they were looking visibly tired. But Van Der Smet was anything but."At the end of each file you will find the AI's assessment of you - but I must inform you there will be no final percentage of the likelihood of whether or not you murdered your uncle. That's because the AI is constantly taking into consideration every moment we spend in here discussing the inheritance and the case of your uncle's death. Every action and reaction, verbally or non-verbally counts towards your percentage. It's continuously reassessing your score in real-time.""This is absurd!" cried everyone in unison."It is not absurd", said Van Der Smet, "I assure you it's quite technical and state-of-the-art, so don't worry.""Don't worry?" cried Céline, "We are worrying!""Hold on, if you've programmed the AI to spot a murderer amongst the six of us, isn't it going to be biased? I mean won't it always point to someone, even in the case no one had done it?""No", said Van Der Smet confidently."Why do you say that," asked Kenny."It had ruled out the concierge."
"Oh sure, why not go around and ask everyone who can't stand us and don't want anything to do with us to write a profile and stick it into your AI algorithm? I'm sure it will come up with an accurate profile on all of us", snarled Pieter, "Just tell us right now who the AI thinks the murderer is.""Sure", said Van Der Smet calmly, "It's Céline.""Pardon?!" exploded Céline, jumping up from her chair."Yes, you have the highest likelihood of having killed Johan Paepe, on acount of losing your son to leukemia and Johan declining to help, with either the bills for the experimental medical treatments, causing you and Jochen to sell the house.""But? How? I?", she stammered, "And what about Jochen, then? Jens was his son too.""Very good point Céline", said Van Der Smet, expressionless, "Indeed. Jochen is second place."Céline started shaking in her chair and rummaging through her purse all the while whisperingly talking to herself."Come on, calm down Céline", pleaded Jochen."Calm down? Imagine losing a child to leukemia and then going through all that just to end up accused of being a criminal! A murderer!""No one is accusing you, Céline. It's just this stupid AI thing, making wrong calculations or whatever."Céline looked up from her purse and scanned the faces in the room. Everyone was taken aback from her meltdown, even though everyone could understand perfectly why. But it was clear she took it differently. As if everyone had thought the AI was right. That she was a murdered. Her face changed."Don't look at me like that, all of you. Think about it. If I were the secret billionaire... the one who killed uncle Johan for his money... would I not have used that money to save my own child? Would I not have saved my own son?!""No one is saying", tried Layla."Are you guys absolutely insane?" she shrieked, loudly, stunning everyone in the room.For a moment, everyone, even the stoic Rechercheur Van Der Smet refrained from breaking the silence, realizing pushing Céline to the brink wouldn't help. But then, unexpectedly, Céline said something that would not sit right with anyone for the remainder of the case. In a calm voice, she said:"I didn't kill Johan. But I can tell you right now, if I had the chance to kill him today, I would.""Céline", tried Jochen again, realizing she was digging herself into a hole she couldn't get out of, "Come on. Take a breath. Calm down. Breathe."She took a breath. Then Jochen again, amidst the stunned silence of the room:"That's it. Deep breaths", he whispered, "You're not helping the algorithm determine the real killer here if you have an outburst on camera."She opened her eyes again and stared at him, eyeballs bulging out of their sockets as if she was trying to give birth to them:"Oh, so that's how I'm supposed to go through life now? Try to get an algorithm to "get in my favour" that had rated a berieved hard-working mother to be more likely to be a killer than a literal DRUG DEALER?!""Oh, here we go", sighed Pieter, "Why do you have to drag me into this again?"He buried his face into his hands."Yes, I do and I will", shouted Céline.Pieter tried to hug her again, just as when they were just now doing the breathing exercises together. But she threw his arms off."Potverdikkeme, Jochen", she shrieked again, "Oftewel laat je me nu spreken oftewel ga'k'ik niet te genieten zijn. Jij mag kiezen!"Even though we didn't all understand what she just told him, we could all tell from Jochen backing down what it had meant."A low-life, lying, drug-dealing, failure and loser of a man, and the AI ranks hjim below us?! And I'm not supposed to be angry about that?""Since it's only going to make the AI rank you higher, yes!" tried Jochen."Could you please stop? Why are you always pointing fingers at me?! It's obsessive! Ma gij zijt een obsédée!" shouted Pieter."Oh, so no I'm not only a murdering psychopath, I'm also obsessed with my brother in law. My profile is getting more and more incriminating by the second!""It is!" shouted Pieter! "Stop! Let's just all calm down and talk. Frankly, let's just get this over with!"Meanwhile, Kenny had been translating the conversation to Joyabel, who had been watching the shouting match like a game of tennis. Looking at her, I couldn't tell what she thought the score was in her mind. But there was that slight twinkle in Joyabel's eye, as if she was enjoying a part of this, the drama of it all. As if she was enjoying a stageplay as part of the audience, and not part of the actor troupe. It gave her this sense of being the observer, much like Rechercheur Van Der Smet and Nele. But whilst Van Der Smet was relying en AI to solve the case and regarding all the goings-on as data, and Nele would sometimes add her two cents, I recognised as a public servant who was entirely outside of the conversation, a fellow outsider in her. However, that twinkle, that slight twinkle in her eye made me wonder."There are about 10 people around this table and always you manage to endlessly point the finger at me like a crazy woman!" shouted Pieter. The second round of the shouting match between Céline and Pieter had continued without me even noticing, as I had turned my attention to Kenny and Joyabel for a moment. Though it wasn't very hard to pick back up. Layla and her husband exchanged looks every now and then, and he squeezed her hand as they sighed patiently, waiting for this all to be over."Crazy woman?!" erupted Céline."Yes, crazy woman! To me, the AI hot it right. You did it. No doubvt about it. You're the murderer!""Pieter, stop throwing oil on the fire!" said Jochen."I didn't start the fire!" shouted Pieter, "It is you guys who keep dragging me into it. If it were up to me I would have been out of here an hour ago!""How dare you!" said Céline, not listening to a single word Pieter said, "Haven't I suffered enough to now also be accused of something like this? After losing my child and my home and...""Sanity", sighed Pieter, looking sideways to Kenny, who had to stifle a laugh."Family!" cried Céline.As if trying to make up for Pieter making him laugh at a cruel little jab at Céline, Kenny spoke up: "You haven't lost your family. We're all still here for you."But again, Céline didn't listen."All the while this disgrave of a man skates through life doing whatever he likes, no commitments or responsibilities, waiting to be bailed out by anyone and everyone!""Oh, my God, Céline" shouted Pieter, "What's it to you how I live my life?"Céline started spewing syllables like a bottle of soda where the bubbles pop out. "What's? What's it? What it is? To me? Jochen. What's? It? What it is to me? He is really asking me that?""Yes!" said Layla, calmly yet forcefully, clearly having had enough of the bickering, "What is it to you?""I...""Absolutely nothing", said Pieter, "Except that you just simply have always hated my guts, using every chance you get to badmouth me and slander me but Jochen you should draw the line at the death of Jens. She can't use his passing to justify being cruel to anyone and everyone and then hide behind it without consequence when people stand up for themselves.""Pieter", tried Jochen, but his mediation skills had been used up. It sounded like just a little whisper to himself."You're a hypocrite, Céline, and everyone knows it."Céline burst out in tears as she let herself fall into Jochen's arms again, even before he realized she was pushing herself into his chest whilst still processing what Pieter had said. After a second's hesitation, he put his arms around her, saying:"OK, don't talk about my wife that way. Stop Pieter, we heard you.""But you will let her talk about your brother that way. I see how it is", said Pieter and took a sip from his drink, looking at Jean-Baptiste and Layla, as if they had been part of the conversation all along. They stared at him, puzzled, but at the same time nodded slightly."Brother", said Jochen, "It's you who chose to get involved with that nast drug business. That's on you!"It was at this point that finally after what seemed like hours, however not uncommon in my profession at a reading of the last will and testament, yet admittedly this case was exceptional due to the added layer of Rechercheur Van Der Smet's investigative techniques, that Céline turned to me and admitted me back into the conversation, still shaking and sounding more and more hoarse."Mr. De Walters", said she, "I've had enough. Let's just end it right here and right now. You told us that if we unanimously agreed to split the inheritance amongst the 6 of us, we can call it a day. We're all unanimous, right? We all want our piece so go ahead and deposit it to our bank accounts, I'm sure it will be more than enough even after taxes than we had expected coming in, and it surely it will be more than some of us here deserve."Oh, give it a rest", said Pieter.Layla and Jean-Baptiste looked at each other again for a brief moment, suppressing a knowing smile and added: "You know, Céline. It's not going to be €1 billion on a bank account that Uncle Johan left us. It's going to be assets that altogether amount to €1 billion."Oh, that's funny", sneered Céline at her, "Now you decide to pipe up, Layla! Glad to have you with us.""I've been here the whole time", Layla replied coldly."And what would you know about having millions and billions in assets?"Layla didn't reply. She just leaned back, pursing her lips slightly and exchanged another look with Jean-Baptiste."Oh, that's right", said Céline, "now having her eyes locked on Layla. "Nothing suspicious at all about how all of a sudden you just magically retired at 35, moved to a home - I mean a mansion! - in Waterloo, from Paris, as I recall, 10 years ago, when your firm allegedly when bust? Right? Nothing suspicious about that. And then when you moved back to Belgium, you declined every invitation I sent you to join us at our family functions. Right? Nothing suspicious about that. At all."This time, Jean-Baptiste spoke up: "I know it isn't my place to get incolved in family matters but if you start insulting my wife comme ça, I will have to say something. So Céline, you better be careful with yoiur words. Why in your mind can't Layla be a succesful woman of her own merit? She is brilliant! That is why I love her! She didn't need to inherit anything to get where she is now. Do you thinki you didn't work hard for what she got? Put in the effort?""Well, marrying rich always helps", Céline said, looking down at her glass on the table."Allez, Céline. Kom." said Jochen."But Jochen, doesn't it seem extremely convenient that about 10 years ago she struck gold in Paris with her firm, but then suddenly decides to come back here for some reason completely out of the blue? And go live in a mansion in Waterloo, retired? Before the age of forty?""Waterloo is where I'm from", said Jean-Baptise, "Anything suspicious about that too? And would you not buy a house in your favourite neighbourhood if you had the chance?""Of course I would", said Céline, "Of course! I wish everyone could go live in a mansion!""It's not ten years ago that we moved here, Céline, but five", said Layla, "But I can admit that I have been neglectful and I'm sorry that I haven't accepted any of your invitations to your home. That I haven't kept in touch with you personally. I'm sorry. I could have."Céline didn't look at her whilst she apologised. But her posture relaxed just a tiny bit."But everything I have is what I have made myself, even with losses along the way, many even.""How was I supposed to know about that if you never came to talk to me. To us?""You're right! I'm sorry again. But, Céline, I didn't inherit Uncle's billion euros. Everything we have, Jean-Baptiste and I, it's what we have built ourselves."For a moment, Céline seemed softened, but one look from Rechercheur Van Der Smet, scanning her face for her reaction seemed to have reminded her that once Layla was off the suspect list, she remained even more of a top contender in the AI ranking of Johan's murder. Her eyes went back to fighting mode."Seems to me nonetheless you have a lot in common with Johan though. Knowing about assets and finances and all that.""It literally was my job", said Layla softly to her husband."It doesn't seem unlikely to me that Johan had chosen you to handle the estate. It doesn't seem unlikely at all. And to keep the secret, you distanced yourself from us. Yes. Not unlikely at all."It all sounded a bit desparate at this point, and Céline's voice sounded tired, as if she had no fuel left to fire any more accusations around the room. Then, as a surprise to everyone again, Nele spoke up."At least Layla got an invitation to your... family functions, Céline"Céline, lost for words, stared at Nele and Brenda."I... I... I..." she stammered."Yes?" said Pieter in a loud deep voice, startling her and visibly enjoying this."I... I had wanted to, Nele. I meant to, but... I know it's hard for you with... you know... with Brenda and... You did come to Pieter's ... we talked there...""That was my invitation, not yours", said Pieter, smugly.In her calm and soothing voice, acquired after a lifetime of longsuffering, Nele replied: "No need to explain. I get it. Can we just all agree and get this over with now. Brenda needs to go to the toilet. And I need to help her do it."Jochen stood up. "Yes, please. Can we all now just agree on this? We'll split up the assets evenly amongst us. The six of us. Fairly. Even if one of us inherited the estate 10 years ago, they're not speaking up. So that means they are agreed too."Everyone looked about the room. Everyone seemed in agreement. Except Pieter."I haven't agreed to anything.""What did you say", said Kenny. Joyabel didn't need a translation for that part, as she stared at Pieter in horror."You can't be serious, brother. You know we really need to money!"Pieter, with chin raised and eyes stern, repeated: "I don't agree. Uncle Johan had chosen someone to give his riches to ten years ago. Let them have it. I say let them come forward and share the estate of their own accord, not anonymously like this.""Come on!" pleaded Kenny again. "That could take forever!"
It was at this point that I had informed everyone that Johan Paepe had arranged for, if needed, a tour of the assets to be split amongst the six of them. This would take several days and take them from the art and automotive depositories in Geneva to Michelin-star restaurants in Paris, London and New York; and everything in between.Kenny and Joyabel especially, and then Pieter to a lesser extent seemed to be excited about taking this tour, but the couples Layla and Jean-Baptiste, and Jochen and Céline were eager to go home and take a good look at their calendar to see what time would suit them best."I am not going anywhere", said Céline, "I took one day off work already. I can't take any more just because some dead guy wants us all to spend more time together and play his cruel games."Come on", said Kenny, "Would it hurt to take one day off work when it literally could mean that you'll never have to work another day in your life?!""Don't try to reason with the unreasonable", said Pieter to his little brother."You're just as unreasonable, brother. I think it would be good to go on this tour. Me and Joyabel are eager to see Uncle Johan's Michelin star restaurants.""I bet", said Pieter, "But I didn't hear Joyabel say anything, did you read her mind or do you just speak for her now.""Careful, brother", said Jochen, "Can you blame Jochen and Joyabel from wanting to see the Johan's restaurants after going bankrupt with theirs?"All the while Céline was talking to herself, whispering, almost whimpering even: "I want to work. I need to work. But they wouldn't understand. Why can't this be over with today?""Pieter", said Kenny, "Please, if you don't agree, why would you deprive us of Johan's wish to finally help out, even after he died? We could all walk out here today with millions. Hundreds of millions in assets, each."Pieter nodded for a moment, seemingly agreeing and taking Kenny's plea into account. However to myself and Rechercheur Vanb Der Smet, it was clear he was just buying time to find the right words, to him, that would again explain his point of view without repeating himself - even though he repeated himself once again."First you all drag my name through the mud without hesitation, ostracize me and ridicule me at every turn and now I'm supposed to agree with you all? Out of kindness? But where was this kindness when it came to me? It's pretty insane if you ask me."Everyone at the table was baffled at the level of pettiness coming from a grown man such as Pieter."An eye for an eye leaves the world blind", said Jean-Baptiste."Well, get ready to buy a walking stick because I'm not giving in for your sakes", said Pieter.Céline, mustering a smile for the first time after her outburst, looked up and laughed."It's him! He's the secret billionaire! It couldn't be more obvious! Rechercheur Van Der Smet, just arrest him already!""I don't think it's Pieter," said Jochen."You only say that because you're sentimental about him. You always have been. But you're the younger brother? It's inexplicable!" Said Céline, her face changing back to a stern pout."More than an eye for an eye, this whole thing seems to me to be more of a case of the one-eyed leading the blind, since one of us is in fact already a billionaire in secret and would lose hundreds of millions of euros to us if we agree."Rechercheur Van Der Smet stepped in, even as him and I were reluxctant to get in the middle of this - for very different reasons, but regardless, wez remained mostly silent up to now because, as Jochen had mentioned and rightly stated, the one who had inherited the one billion euro estate 10 years ago wasn't going to give it up."This is entirely in line with what the AI had determined", said Rechercheur Van Der Smet."My friends", said I, "feeling like this was the perfect time for a pause and some more refreshments, "I invite you before making any more decisions to please take some snacks and drinks in my living rooms, anything you might like until afterwards we can proceed to dining in my dining room of course as soon as we receive the delivery from the traiteur, who has prepared a simple three course meal I hope you will all enjoy."Whilst everyone left the meeting room with a great sense of relief to be out of that space and relax for a moment, I asked Brigitte to go and find Nele and Brenda, who hand't returned from their visit to the toilet and ionform them we were moving to the private wing of the house now.Following me to the living rooms, I heard Pieter ask Rechercheur Van Der Smet: "We're allowed to roam around here? Doesn't your AI need to keep their "eye" on us at all times? For the algorithm?""You needn't worry about that, Pieter. All rooms throughout the house have been outfitted with advanced security camera systems and mr. De Walters has so graciously given permission to our investigative team to link our AI with access to his camera network.""Very gracious", sighed Pieter, sarcastically."Rest assured we will be able to perfectly follow along all proceedings, even outside the meeting room.""I'm most definitely assured", Pieter repeated, "It's all stil a test."They all moved to my living rooms and enjoyed some aperitives and "amusekes" that Brigitte had prepared, whilst waiting for the delivery from Traiteur Lanckriet.As I presented the local beers, wine, cheeses, fruits, soft-drinks and the rest, I noticed that one of my guests hadn't taken any refreshment and moved into one of my other private rooms. It was Céline.When I was sure everyone had been served to satisfaction, I went into the library and found Céline sitting silently, almost motionless in one of my armchairs. I approached her and offered her some whiskey from the cabinet nearby. I thought she might have wanted some as she was staring in that direction, and perhaps had been to shy to ask. But she declined. She wasn't staring at the whiskey at all, she was looking through the cabinet into the nothingness. In her hands she held my father's precious deck of cards, flipping through them, only looking down once or twice."I'm sorry", she said, "I needed to get away for a moment. Some peace and quiet. After all of that commotion.""I fully understand", said I and poured a whiskey for myself.She shuffled the cards pensively, and then asked: "Have you ever lost a loved one?""I have", I answered."You're never really the same afterwards, are you?"It wasn't a question so much as a statement."No", I sighed, "You're not. You can't be."I started staring into the same direction as her."Who was it?" she asked."My wife", I replied."I'm sorry", she turned to look at me for a brief moment for the first time since I sat down by her."Don't be", I said, "It's been seven years."We sat in silence for a while."Sometimes I remember her", said Céline."Who?" I asked."That Céline. The Céline when I first met Jochen. At uni. I remember her well. We were so in love, right from the beginning.""You were? That's lovely.""It was. I knew at the time he was the love of my life, at 22, and I was right. Even though everyone around me kept saying you could never know for sure at 22. I had never been in any other serious relationship before. But I did. I knew."I was her shuffling the cards again."Pull one", I said."Pull one?" she asked with a faint laugh of amusement."She split the deck and pulled a card off the top."Ah", I said, "The hanged man.""Very fitting", she said, "Very fitting indeed, godverdomme.""It means you're in some kind of inescapable situation or stuck in some kind of circumstance where the only way out is through.""That's for sure", she interjected."But with the greatest clarity of mind and highest perception and awareness because of it."She didn't say anything for a brief moment as if she realized something, staring at the card and the image of the hanged man. Then her face changed back and she put the deck aside nonchalantly, as if she just discarded a used handkerchief."You know, people deal with grief differently, right?" she said."Absolutely so.""Jochen and I both were having affairs... before..."She couldn't bring herself to mention the loss of their son."After it had happened, when Jens finally passed, I was so stricken with grief I just couldn't continue seeing my lover... but Jochen. He is'nt like that. He... needed more of it. That his way of dealing with it. More and more. I wonder when it will ever be enough."I couldn't bring myself to say anything."I know it won't ever be enough. I just... wonder when it will occur to him. To his credit, he never stopped making love to me, and it never stopped feeling lovely and lovingly and he even showed me more love the past years than ever before. It was never like he replaced me with someone else who could meet his needs better and just kept me around for show, no. I pity the woman who has to go through that but that's not Jochen and that's not me either. If that were the case... I would've..; I would've..."I noticed she was pulling the sleeves of her sweaters so tightly that I expected them to tear. Then, her hands relaxed again."But no, he never neglected me in that way. For me, the affair did nothing to take away that dark cloud around my heart, that hole that Jens left behind, my son, my love. Nothing can replace that. I felt like going through the motions with my lover, it felt mechanical, joyless, dull. I broke it off."She glanced over again at the card of the hanged man."But for him. It's the anger. It's the rage. When we make love, we make love. But when he meets his lover, I think it's ... about his rage. Maybe, it's always been... even before Jens passed... maybe it's always been about... the rage?"I was just about to ask her what she could mean when suddenly we both heard:"Blood! Blood! Help!"We were both so startled due to the sheer volume of the shrieking that we both humped up from our chairs and followed the voice down to the dining room where indeed we came upon a dark red pool of blood.
I knew that Johan's will would cause some sort of discord, but I never would have thought it would result in someone sitting in a pool of blood in my very own dining room, whilst someone screaming from the top of their lungs. It was layla, shaking and burying herself in her husband's Jean-baptiste's embrace."What's this?" I cried, "What happpened?!"I called for Brigitte. Then I remembered that I had sent her out to go get the dinner from traiteur Lanckriet by bike as she always does, after she brought Nele and Brenda to the toilet earlier. She wouldn't be back for another 15-20 minutes.Brigitte had obviously left my house, since there was no answer. And she had done as I had asked, to bring Nele and Brenda to the toilet during the last shouting match between Céline and Pieter. But now, to our astonishment, we found that she had left Brenda at the dinner table, alone in her wheelchair. And under it, there was a pool of blood. Brenda's head was hanging sideways and the sight of it nearly made Céline faint."Brenda?!" she cried. She lept towards her, grabbing her and looking for the source of the bleeding, getting blood all over her own clothes. Meanwhile, Layla was crying into Jean-Baptise's chest, who had been stunned into place, as was I."Jochen!", shouted Céline, "Jochen! Kom hier! Nu!"Surprisingly, none of the three brothers had come until now. Wouldn't the scream that reached the library where I and Céline had sat down for a conversation surely have reached the adjacent living room, which was much closer than my library room?When they stumbled in, all was clear and apparent. They had been drinking with Rechercheur Van Der Smet. It seems they had found the one common thing between them that bonded them together like they had just come across each other in a day-to-day setting, like a bar. Why? Because they, all four of them, walked in, bottles of beer in hand. And it was clear the bottles they were holding weren't the first ones they had had in the meantime between exiting my office and entering the private wing of my house. As if they hadn't noticed the blood coming from Brenda, they were giggling and belly-laughing amongst each other, as if just standing there was enough and they needn't even enquire as to why they were even called there. What surprised me most was that Rechercheur Van Der Smet had been just as inebriated as the three brothers."Rechercheur!" I cried, "For goodness sake, take a look at this."Rechercheur Van Der Smet looked over at me with a slight drunk delay and then let his eyes fall upon the horrific scene at the dinner table, where Brenda was bleeding, sat in her wheelchair next to the fully decked table, awaiting dinner.Suddenly and most visibly, a jolt of adrenaline seemed to shock him back from drunkennes to complete soberness."Van Der Smet! What happened here? How can you be so careless? I thought you were keeping an eye on all things all the time here?"He stumbled over to me, keeping balance by putting his hand on my shoulder."Of course I am. I mean, yes. The AI is. The AI is keeping an eye on things. I just monitor the AI. Who is monitering everything."Having less and less confidence in anything he had promised so far about the wonders of artifical intelligence helping in policing matters, I asked: "Well then, what kind of use is this policing AI for when it doesn't even alert or notify you when something like this happens?""I'll find out", he stuttered, "I'll take my... I'll find... I need my...""Laptop?" I said, agitated. I wasn't at all too pleased that my house now had become some sort of crime scene, "Van Der Smet, this is going far beyond what I had agreed to as to what I was prepared to do in cooperating with the solving of this case. I can't help but wonder if the police does not have all of their own space and means to conduct their research and investigations on their own premises. Why was it so imperative that I use my own home for this?""Exactly!" cried Pieter, giggling still. Him, Kenny and Jochen hadn't even noticed Brenda yet. And if they didn, they hadn't noticed she was bleeding as Céline and Layla had."It's her wrists!" cried Céline meanwhile."Mon dieu!" cried Jean-Baptise."That's it. We're out of here. This is gone too far", said Layla, "We're now in danger ourselves trying to find this murderer. Why do we have to risk all of our lives to find a murderer? What kind of police investigation requires a group of innocent people to expose themselves to a murderer amongst them, just to find one person?""Agreed!" agreed Jochen, still holding a beer in hand, standing at the furthest point with his brothers removed from the dinner table, most probably not even having seen what Layla was referring to."The reason", said Rechercheur Van Der Smet, "Is that for this experimental AI program to work is that it is done with genuine reactions. It has had to be involved from the very beginning of informing you of the will, and your countenances, your facial expressions, your movements and words, so that the AI can compare that to when it progresses further into questionings etc. This is top notch stuff, state-of-the-art so you don't need to understand, just to comply. We'll find the murderer among you.""You don't need to understand, just comply?" said Pieter, "I think that says it all. I agree with Layla. Let's all just go."Then Céline erupted, again. "Could you guys stop bickering and take and listen to me? THIS is what's most pressing now, right? Brenda's wrists! She's bleeding out! Look!"As if the three brothers just noticed Brenda had been bleeding, and not just sitting by the table in comfort and having a quiet old good time by herself, they ran closer to Céline."Don't just stand there!" said Céline, "Help me stop the bleeding!"She was holding both her wrists with her bare hands, trying to stop the beelding, but it was oozing through her fingers.Jochen straight away started to call an ambulance, as Layla ripped the silk scarf she was wearing in half and tied it around Brenda's wrists, whilst Jean-Baptise took all the paper serviettes I was grabbing from all over the dinner table and covered the pool of blood under the wheels with it."I'm", said Layla, "I'm going to faint...""The ambulance is on its way", said Jochen."This is absolutely insane", said Pieter, looking at the commotion around Brenda, "This really has gone too far. This is not just some questioning with new tools. You have effectively locked us all up with a killer, and they're not afraid to strike! What does your little laptop say about that, my dear Rechercheur?""I..." stammered the flustered man, "I... I'm going through the data.""The data..." said Jochen mockingly, "The data. How the "data" on your end Céline. Is the data better?""The bleeding isn't as bad anymore, but she needs to go. She needs to go to a hospital. Right away."She finally took a moment to stand back up and look around. Her clothes were blood-stained and the sight of her was now pretty unsettling. As her eyes fell on Pieter and Kenny, who were standing side by side, observing in clear disapproval of the situation, she lashed out at them: "Can you at least put down your beers?!""Put down our beers?" said Pieter, "Céline. No can do. It's a Westvleteren! That would be a sin."The both of them started to giggle slightly."How can you laugh at a moment as this?""The ambulance is coming", said Pieter now, coming to his brothers' aid, "Brenda will be fine.""How can you say that? Brenda will be fine? Look at her? She's nearly dead!""Give her something to drink", said Pieter, making another inappropriate joke."You're crossing a line here, Pieter. Let's see how you would like it when people would talk about having beers when you would be in mortal danger?""I would love it", said Pieter. This time Jochen also couldn't keep it in. Céline of course was fuming."There's always trouble when the three of you get together!" she said, stomping her feet."And you" she said as she turned to Layla and Jean-Baptise, "You haven't been of any use at all. Again!""Pardon?!" cried Jean-Baptiste, "I am keeping my wife from fainting! She's hyperventilating!""Hyperventilating. Of course she is.""What is it you are saying", said Jean-Baptise, his eyes getting a dangerously angry look."You're the ones who found her.""Yes. So?""You found her and yet, only when we came around did anyone start to help.""What are you saying?!""Why would you start screaming and screaming getting everyone's attention to Brenda? Whilst doing nothing at all to help?""You can't blame us for tending to each other at the sight of this 'catastrophe'?"Jochen this time listened to his wife intently, whereas everyone had expected him to step in as he had done before in my practice."How convenient. Now, you have a horrid scene, created by who knows who, and you have your reason to leave the house, leaving us all with nothing.""I say again. What is it you are trying to tell us?" said Jean-Baptiste, his voice now also shaking with anger."It's all too convenient. Run out now. And you keep your billion dollar estate. And you have your excuse.""Mais n'importe quoi!" cried Layla."Je peux plus avec elle et sa famille de merde. Je vais la tuer. Maintenant", said Jean-Baptise, and the nearly fainted Layla struggled to keep him from assailing Céline."Guys, guys", said Pieter, Westvleteren bottle still in hand and a smug look on his face, "Come on. You seem to be forgetting the state-of-the-art technology right here, coming to our rescue in this type of thing, right? It's all right here on Van Der Smet itty, bitty, little laptop."He tapped the laptop quite hard, prompting Van Der Smet to move it away from him, as he continued to type and click and move around windows feverishly."It can clearly show what happened in this room.""How?" said Layla."Just before moving out of the offices of Benjamin, I had asked Rechercheur Van Der Smet about if the AI program was still running the investigation on us, investigation here is of course saying the same as using the algorithm on us, right. And, indeed, he confirmed, it was. It is plugged in, you guys, to the WHOLE HOUSE."Everyone fell into a silence."Yes. The whole house, right? Van Der Smet?""Yes", he replied under his breath."So, what's the hold-up. Just tell us what happened.""Just give me a second", he said."One", counted Kenny, giggling still."Very funny", grumbled Van Der Smet.At that very moment, Joyabel walked in. She looked puzzled as to why everyone was standing around in this one room, with a decked out dining table awaiting a gorgeous dinner but everyone nevertheless not taking a seat at it. She put away her cigarettes and took a breath mint when suddenly she spotted Céline with blood all over her clothes."Céline" she cried, "What happened? What -"Then she caught sight of Brenda, covered in even more blood, not to mention the wheelchair itself and the pool underneath that had saturated the floor carpet. Kenny put down his bottle of beer and embraced her."Brenda's been attacked. We found her here, bleeding from the wrists. We don't know what happened, but Rechercheur Van Der Smet is finding out.""He can?""Yes", said Kenny, "He can. The AI is using camera's all over the house. It was not just Benjamin's office."Just as she looked at Brenda in horror, she now looked about the dining room and especially the ceiling in the same amount of shock, as she clocked the cameras in several corners and glancing backwards, now also seeing several of them in the living rooms as well.At this point, I noticed everyone awaiting Van Der Smet's results whilst the sounds of his furious typing filled the room."I hope he isn't too drunk to make the right calculations", said Pieter, "Don't make a typo, vriendschap, it might change the whole mind map of the AI meant to judge us.""Pieter, don't even try to comprehend how this program works, alright? Even in my most drunk state, I'll still understand this programming better than you in your most sober state, so don't even try to question me. And as for what I'm putting in and not putting in, rest assured, even this little remark is already going in. It's automated, my friend.""Fine, I can accept that. But don't call me friend.""Fine by me, now let me work."Unexpectedly, Brenda moved a little in her wheelchair. Everyone except Van Der Smet turned around towards her."She moved!" cried Céline, and then to Brenda: "Brenda. Brenda. Can you hear me? It's all going to be OK! It's all going to be OK. The ambulance is coming.""No", she answered.Everyone bounced back, astonished."No", she said again, her voice sounding both like a soft whisper and a soar throat."What did you say?" said Céline."She said 'no'", sneered Layla to Céline."Please", said Brenda."What is it?" said Céline."No..." Brenda repeated."No what?" asked Jochen, squatting down next to her wheelchair so as to come face to face with her."No..." she said, clearly using all her energy to speak this one syllable."No... Ambulance...""What is going on here!" said Kenny, "No ambulance? Why?"It was at that moment that Nele stepped into the room."She doesn't want an ambulance. She never does. She hates the hospital", said she."And where have you been all this time!" said Pieter."I was on the toilet", said Nele."On the toilet?" said Layla and met Céline's eyes."On the very bowl", said Nele.Again, everyone was too stunned to speak, when Brenda spoke again."Sorry..." she whispered."But how can this be? She's... she's been in a waking coma for decades? Catatonic!" said Jochen."She has and she hasn't. But I don't expect any of you to believe me", said Nele, "I have been trying to tell you. But no one of you ever listened.""Either she's catatonic, or she's not", said Pieter, "Which one is it.""See, this is why I never tell you. And you call yourself family. Just for pictures. And preferably ones without a wheelchair, am I right?""Nele," said Céline,"Come on. We're not that cruel.""But you have been cruel to me. But can you see now? She's catatonic, until she isn't.""What do you mean?" asked Layla."I have cared for her for decades, thirty years almost. The first ten with my mother. The last twenty just me by myself. She does this. She has done it before. Now you see for yourselves.""See what?" everyone asked in unison."That she tries to cut her wrists every now and again.""That can't be true!""There we have it. Just like always", she sighed, taking one of the chairs and sitting down, "This is why I could never talk toi any one of you. It just... can't be true. Even now, when you see it for yourself.""But when did you tell us?""I have done several times, and you didn't listen because you wouldn't want to help me with the burden of not only taking care of her, but also of the burden when worse comes to worse. She has been trying to take her own life for a while now. You can't stomach the idea, can you, even now. But I have. And I have for a while.""I can remember you bringing it up at all", said Céline."I have brought it up", said Nele, "But you've never thought it was the right time. Or maybe, maybe you thought I was just trying to get you to help take Brenda off my hands. And no one is willing to take Brenda off my hands, are you. Well, I didn't make it up. I was just telling the truth. She's not always catatonic. When she's able, she slyly takes a knife when you don't pay attention and hides it in her sleeve. I can't tell you how many time I've found a knife in there and taken it away before she could to something with it. And I have told you. But you always only invite me to parties and at the parties you only pay attention to your kids you need to take care of, but my sister of whom I have taken care for decades, you don't seem to want to talk to or about. Shame on you. See here. This is a sight I have to deal with constantly. I patch her back up. And then, I go about our day again. There's only so many times you can cry about it, and cry for help when nobody is listening."
"But how about the doctors? Why, they must have found this to be some kind of breakthrough, or something! Take her into special care, revalidation even?"Nele let out a big old laugh."The doctors? Do you mean the same ones who had determined her dizzy spells had been due to stress and it turned out to be meningoencephalitis? And got her into this state in the first place? Yes. Yes, the docters did take a look, the first couple of times. Yes. They found her to be catatonic "enough" to still, let's say, keep her under my care. They gave me tips on to how to bandage and call it a day. Never mind that she sometimes is able to speak. I did beg them to see this as some kind of start of revalidating her, but, they didn't see any course for revalitation of any sort. Just. Care. Keep caring for her. As I was doing. Had been doing."Again, a stunned silence, broken only by Brenda's "sorry"."Don't be sorry", said Jochen, putting her hand on Brenda's shoulder."And we're supposed to take your word for it?" said Céline."I beg your pardon?" said Nele."We find her here. Wrists cut. You're nowhere to be found.""Yes. I was on the toilet.""So you say! But Brenda is left helpless, wrists cut, to be bleeding out in the dining room where conveniently, nobody was yet to be invited to due to Brigitte still getting dinner from the traiteur. And then after we were able to patch her up somewhat after Layla found her, you show up op uw dooie gemak?""So?""Pardon me for exploring every single possibility here, since Rechercheur Van Der Smet is still trying to get his laptop to work for him, I must be the one who uses their own mind here in the matter. It's my name still on the top of the list! But why shouldn't yours be?""Why shouldn't it be?" said Nele, "Because I didn't kill Johan, I don't have one billion euros and I didn't try to kill my sister! On the contrary, I've kept her alive for years and years!""It's too convenient.""Sometimes the truth seems convenient! But that doesn't make it any less true! This has been my life. And you're trying to make it like it could only lead to me being a killer.""Join the club!" said Céline."Do you all think this?" asked Nele, but there was no response."This doesn't surprise me in the least", she sighed, "It's just like all the other times I told you, and you ran away from me as if agreeing to something I say would tether you to a horrible situation you would rather me handle all by myself. Don't even bother to deny it."I felt as if I needed to say something, but there was this strange anticipation of Van Der Smet's results and everyone's reaction to Brenda's heartbreaking lived experience."So, yes. She doesn't want an ambulance. She wants to actually no longer live life as a human vegetable. But who here can do it. Who here can fulfil that wish? Would you let her bleed out? Wouldn't you feel like a murderer?""I don't..." said Céline, "I don't know what to say.""So you still think I did it? I cut my own sister's wrists?""I..." Céline murmered pensively."I don't think so", said Jochen, "We've never heard her speak before. She speaks. She said 'no', and she said 'sorry'. What are we supposed to think about all of this now?""I'll tell you", said Rechercheur Van Der Smet finally, "I've got the results right here."
"And for your information", Rechercheur Van Der Smet added, "This is a crime scene now.""Well, what does that mean for us?" asked Layla, who was just about ready to step outside of all the madness with Jean-Baptiste."It means that we can't let any of you go home without questioning.""Without questioning?", said Pieter, "Isn't that what you've been doing this whole time already?""I haven't posed a single question, have I? Now, before any of you choses to leave, they are up for questioning.""You can't be serious", said Céline, "Some of us have children to go back home to. We can't leave them with my parents for days, they agreed only to one night.""You are missing the point, mrs. Paepe, that I am telling you this is now a crime scene you are standing in, meaning this whole house now is, and you cannot leave until we've had your statements. MY colleagues from the police department will be here shortly.""Just as shortly as the ambulance, I take it?" said Pieter, "Then we can rest easy for a while at least. Maybe a day or two even.""Are you really still cracking jokes, you moron", said Céline, as she dragged a chair from under the dining table next to Brenda and sat down, holding one of her wrists, keeping some pressure on it, as Jochen was still holding the other wrist."Shut up, all of you", said Layla, "Let him speak."Céline looked at Jochen and saw him sway slightly from side to side and whispered to him: "Darling, get a glass of water and drink it whole. This is important. I can't have you being drunk right now."Jochen nodded and got up, letting go of Brenda's wrist for a moment, recoiling ever so slightly at the feeling of her blood having stolled just a tiny bit between his hand and her wrist, making it a more sticky release than he had anticipated. He left with a shudder to take a glass of water from the living rooms where Brigitte had places all the drinks and came back with a glass of mineral water.Without waiting for him to continue, Rechercheur Van Der Smet cleared his throat as if preparing for a soliloquy. And he was."I have access to all footage, but thanks to the advances in technology, the AI had scrubbed through hours and hours of footage from all the camera's in the house, and not only that, it has made a mind map of all connected instances, illustrated by clips it has made from the raw footage itself.""So what did it say?" asked Jochen."It has compiled a video that I had asked it to provide: one that followed Brenda's journey from the offices of Mr. De Walters all the way to the moment she was discovered bleeding at this here dinner table by us. It can show us who was where and when.""Incredible," I said."Very much on the contrary, my friend. It is credibility itself. Now take a look here: We see during the shouting match at your office in your practice that Brigitte had served some fruit, water, lemonade, coffee and chocolates to everyone. At the request of Nele, Brigitte had brought a kitchen knife to help Nele cut the banana for Brenda and proceeded to feed her the little cuts of banana. We can see Brenda eating the banana bits here. Now pay attention as the AI fast forwards to the following moment of interest. It is exactly the moment, and pay close attention to this everyone, that we see here: Mr. De Walters had asked Brigitte to guide Nele and Brenda to the toilets during the second shouting match. Now let's slow the footage down. Did you catch it?""What happened? I didn't see anything," said Kenny, "Did you see anything?""Not a thing", said Jochen."I told you to pay attention," said Rechercheur Van Der Smet, "One moment the knife was on the table where Nele had left it after cutting the bits of banana. The next... it is gone."He ran the video again."Indeed", I said, "The kitchen knife is there when Nele asked me to go to the toilet, and the next when Brigitte is taking them there, the knife is gone.""I told you", said Nele, and sat back down, not needing to see any more of the video."Where did it go?" asked Jochen."Let me show you", said Rechercheur Van Der Smet with glee.He scrolled back the video and slowed it down extensively."Aaaaand... Now."In what seemed like the blink of an eye, just as Brigitte was proceeding them to show the way to the toilet and Nele was pushing her wheelchair, turning it to face the right direction towards Brigitte, Brenda had snatched the kitchen knife and stuffed into her sleeve, lightning fast."I can't believe it", said Pieter."This is incredible", said Céline, "Unconscionable.""Again, I beg to differ", said Van Der Smet, smugly driving his tired joke home a second time, "It is very much credible. And the truth. Brenda, as Nele had just said, took the kitchen knife into her sleeve and had waited for an unattended moment to slit her wrists.""But why would she do that?" said Kenny, "I can't understand it, cousin. Why?""She doesn't want to live like this.""I get it. But... you're right on the cusp of inheriting hundreds of millions of dollars. You might both of you live your lives completely different as you have before. Surely this should give her some hope?""If the doctors have no hope. What are the millions going to do for her? She's stuck in her body and she does not want to live like that. In her moments of clarity, or that's the way I want to see it because the other more realistic version is that she's always clear of mind with no way of expressing it, she tries to get out of it. She says only one of two words. "No" and "sorry".""You mean that the sorry part is that she is telling you sorry you have had to care for her?" said Layla, her voice breaking."What else could it mean", said Nele, running her fingers through her hair, then again, whispering almost: "What else could it mean."All of this didn't even make a dent in Rechercheur Van Der Smet's gleeful mood, as he kept scrolling the video back and forth."If I may direct your attention to the following as well."Everyone leaned in closer to the laptop once again."So we know that Brenda has taken the kitchen knife and stuck it in her sleeve. Now observe as Brigitte and Nele move down the hallway to the nearest toilet in Mr. De Walters practice.""What are we observing?" asked Pieter."Absolutely nothing!" exclaimed Van Der Smet."Why are you showing us this.""The reason I'm showing this part is so that we can tell later when the exact moment had occured that the bleeding at the wrists has started.""So just show us that part then", sighed Jochen."But first, mr. Paepe, this important detail. Observe as Brigitte opens the toilet door and lets in both Nele and Brenda. Then Brigitte goes back to the practice just as everyone was moving to the living rooms in the private area of the house. Here we see Mr. De Walters telling Brigitte to go get dinner from the traiteur and Brigitte asking him if it was OK to first go and check on the sisters in the bathroom first. So she returns to the toilet and through the door she enquires if everything is OK. Then she lets Nele know that if she needs to go as well, she can take Brenda down to the dining room as dinner would be served as soon as she got back from Lanckriet. Nele opens the toilet door and thanks Brigitte and would very much like to use the toilet for a moment herself. Brigitte wheels Brenda to the dining area, passing by Layla and Jean-Baptiste who are admiring the artwork in the living rooms and the hallways with a glass of champagne. Then Brigitte leaves Brenda at the dinner table. Now look closely here. Do you see it? Brenda's sleeves start to discolor ever so slightly until, yes, finally it does turn dark red. Moving from the tour of the living rooms and going to inspect the dinging room next, avoiding the three brothers and myself as we had taken to enjoy some beers together, Layla and Jean-Baptiste finally moved into the dining room and noticed this very same thing. On closer inspection, Layla noticed finally that blood had begun dripping down the wheelchair onto the carpet. This is the point when she started to scream. A few moment later we see Mr. De Walters and Mrs. Paepe walk into the dining room and discovered Brenda was bleeding in the wheelchair with Layla fainting into Jean-Baptiste's arms.""So there you have it", said Nele."There we have it?", said Céline, "What were you doing all that time on the toilet, whilst all of this was going on?""A good question, indeed", said Van Der Smet, "And not something the AI had overlooked. We only see Nele leave the toilet until after everyone had entered the room and started tending to Brenda's wounds. Look. Only now does she leave the toilet.""Nele", said Pieter, "You have to admit. This looks very shady.""Shady?" said she, "And what's shady about it?""You let your sister out of the toilet, Brigitte wheels her over to this dinner table and she starts bleeding all of a sudden from the wrists?""Not all of a sudden", she said, "I told you, and you all SAW! She took the knife. She cuts her own wrists.""But that doesn't rule out that you didn't cut her wrists, Nele!" said Céline.Nele looked up, completely baffled."I beg your pardon?!"Everyone in the room fell silent once again, a kind of silent confirmation amongst all of them that, indeed, it was not of yet ruled out that Nele had not in fact cut her sister's wrists."Do you understand the gravity of your accusation? The person who has looked after her, the ONLY person who has looked after her for years, for decades! And you dare suspect me of trying to kill her? Whatever for? What in the hell ever for?!""The money", said Rechercheur Van Der Smet, "You would receive a bigger share and -""As her legal guardian, I would already have her share! What do you not understand about me being her sole guardian and caretaker?""I am sorry to say", said Van Der Smet, "But for this separate incident, the AI has ranked you first!""Despicable!" exclaimed Nele."In the least", repeated Van Der Smet his tired old joke, yet again, "Technological.""What does your AI conclude next?" asked Pieter, "Why is this a crime scene? If she killed herself, this is solved?""But this is what we are saying now, aren't we. We cannot be sure this was a suicide by Brenda herself, since we cannot see her cut her wrists. We only see her coming out of the toilet and her wrists starting to bleed at the dinner table. The only plausible conclusion is that the cutting of the wrists had either happened in the toilet when Nele was helping Brenda relieve herself, or...""Or what? That is the only way it could have happened", said Jochen."Or, by setting her in front of the table there was a moment when Brigitte had blocked the camera out of sight of her wrists, before it had started bleeding.""Now you are indeed being preposterous, Van Der Smet, dragging my own personell into this matter. Brigitte has nothing to do with the inheritance at all", I had to interject."Yes, this is what the AI says here as the only other possibility, but the likeliness of that seems to me very, very low as she has no motive whatsoever to suddenly up and kill one of your guests.""She has only ever been the best and most generous and hospitable housekeeper anyone could ever have wished for.""All this talk", said Nele, "And for what? I tell you, she cut her own wrists. End of story."But Céline had been observing Nele's face the whole time, like a hawk. She said:"Didn't you just say..." she started."Say what?" said Nele, exasperated."Didn't you just say that even if Brenda were to inherit her part of the billion euros, it wouldn't even be able to change her predicament in any substantial way."Nele hesitated for a moment."Yes", she said, "Yes, I did.""Well then," continued Céline, "Let's say you wouldn't want to spend your brand new multimillionaire lifestyle having to drag her along with you anymore. What if something clicked in your mind, like you could finally live a life that didn't revolve around having to be that person, that caretaker, at the expense of all of your own wants and needs. The idea that you could start fresh, maybe it drove you to do something drastic?""It is not my statement", said Nele, "But yours that is concerning, Céline. How can you even think of such a thing?"Layla at this point decided to stand up and said: "It is simple. Where is the knife now?""And here we come precisely to the point of why this is now a crime scene", said Van Der Smet, "because the knife is nowhere to be found in the dining room nor the toilet.""See! It's all too suspicious. You still haven't explained, Nele, why you were in the toilet for so long!""I fell asleep!""You fell asleep?!""I fell asleep!""How can you fall asleep at a time such as this?""How can I not? This whole thing is tiring beyond measure!""We're on the cusp of being granted hundreds of millions of euros from our uncle Johan, and this does not bring a single ounce of excitement into your system? You... simply fall asleep while on the toilet bowl?" cried Céline."Yes."Everyone looked at each other. No one spoke. Everyone was clearly suspicious of Nele at this point."Rechercheur", said Pieter, "Would you be so kind to inform us of the current ranking? Taking into account all of this?""The current ranking? Of course, my pleasure", said he as he started to type furiously once more."Because", continued Pieter, "If Nele had inherited the billion euros ten years ago... the only person who could have know besides Uncle Johan would be... Brenda.""And what's it to you, someone who doesn't want to inherit a single euro of his estate? Why would you go around spewing accusations when you don't want anything to do with the thing in the first place.""I said that I don't want it as long as the secret billionaire among us stays anonymous. I do want to know who it was, even if I don't want their dirty money.""Dirty money", said Céline, "Why dirty?""As if you can't tell by now", said Pieter, "This whole case stinks. It's rotten."Before anyone could react to Pieter's thoughts further, Rechercheur Van Der Smet interrupted."The current ranking is at first place Céline, still.""After all of this? I'm still number one? How can that be?! I was in the library room with mr. De Walters when all of this happened.""You are still most likely according to the AI to be a murderer.""Oh, but you are making me feel murderous, that's for sure, Rechercheur! This whole thing is! I can even accept that I'm most likely to be a murderer amongst all of us, after what I've been through, but that doesn't change the fact that I haven't murdered anyone!""We have your statement duely noted", said Van Der Smet, "Since you've repeated it several times already."Just tell us the second and third place", said Jochen, massaging his temples."The second place goes to Nele."Nele didn't react, just stared at the cutlery, glasses and china in front of her on the dinner table."And third place goes to, Joyabel."All gasped audibly. Even I had turned around in shock to the lovely Joyabel, who had been standing near the dining room doors, behind Kenny. She looked at Kenny, asking him if she really understood what had just been said, but Kenny couldn't bring himself to translate immediately."Do you mean me?" she asked."Mrs. Joyabel Paepe, could you please empty your pockets?"She walked over to Rechercheur Van Der Smet and layed down a pack of cigarettes on the table, a little pack of tissues, her phone, mints and some chapstick."You know I mean your other pocket, Mrs. Paepe."She reached into her other pocket, reluctantly, and pulled out a bloody kitchen knife. It was at this time that Brigitte barged into the room, dragging a big chariot containing the buffet of the three course dinner, back to the room, yelling: "Dinner is served!"
My wife never diedMy wife never died. I still feel her with me, here and only here. In 'our' house. When, we bought this house, it was her idea to immediately strip if of everything inside, even the historic furniture that came with the place, and puit those in storage for a while, whilst we- and with we I mean 'she' of course - designed a purpose and a theme for each room and how the rooms would complement each other so that each room, even though they would have their own character, wouldn't feel so isolated from each other. She had envisioned a way of living in this house for us two, with space for three or more children - we ended up with having two which was more than enough to handle, especially after her passing - and we walked through the stripped house several times together whilst she was probably seeing everything come together in her mind's eye.
I was amazed by her ability to do that and walked along with her through these rooms when, they were still bare. She brought life to them, making space inside each space or rather enveloping them with her signature warmth, providing each and every room with the chance to just take a breath and enjoy the 'gezelligheid' of the house. I could never do that. I had taken care of the private practice part of our house, for which she gave me a carte blanche. However it did not deterr her in giving out suggestions every time she visited me, as to how to improve it. In the end we both delivered the house of our dreams. We did it. And that is why I say: my wife never died. I feel her in every little thing here, still, curated by her when we were still as one. Now that she has passed, we may be separate in a sense, but inside our house, I feel her with me. She is the house.
On this day however, even though the sun did shine brightly, I felt on waking a sense of strangeness having fallen over my own house, and of course the more I removed the sleep crusts from my eyes, the more I remembered the shocking goings-on from last night when rechercheur Van Der Smet had Joyabel taken into custody to the police station. Afterwards, before everyone headed to bed, he had announced that indeed everyone was to stay here, sleep here and make all and any arrangements to stay within the parameters of his AI apparatus, so that the investigation could continue into Johan Paepe's death. At this point Brenda had been taken away to the hospital and Joyabel to the police station and Layla and her husband, as well as Pieter, were adamant that they should leave. However, Van Der Smet had reminded them that in doing so, they would forfeit their claims to the inheritance and it would stay with the original secret beneficiary. Long story short: they all stayed the night in my house. Pieter had called his ex-partner to take their daughter Coco for a while longer. Céline called her parents that they were to look after their daughter Maisy a day longer.
Of course I had to ask a lot of my poor housekeeper, Brigitte, first in bringing up a tray of dinner to all the rooms, since we were not able to use the dining room anymore due to what happened to Brenda. And apart from that, to also wake up early and make breakfast for everyone, which made her start to panick slightly thinking about what we had left in our pantry that would be enough for a party of this size. She agreed and took on the task with grace as I promised her this is of course unusual, but as she walked away I did notice her whispering to herself.
As Pieter went to the upper floors, of course Brigitte had prepared the rooms in record time, he didn't whisper his thoughts to himself. He stated quite clearly he felt as in in a prison, being made to comply with lodgings, food and being under surveillance for the entire duration of this whole case, yet he said it jokingly, whereas Kenny's usually bright face had turned - not surprising after the unexpected turn of events - especially glum. He had sat at the table, his face planted firmly in the palms of his hands, elbows o the table, immoveable like pillars of a bridge. "Why didn't she interrupt" he repeated over and over, "Why didn't she interrupt then, if she had just find it on the floor on the toilet? She should have just interrupted us and showed us what she found!"
He was of course referring to her repeating over and over as she was handcuffed and taken away that she merely found the bloody knife on the floor of my toilet and noticing the commotion in the dining room upon arriving she had felt so stunned at the scene, she couldn't utter a single word. "Why didn't she interrupt, indeed..." whispered Céline, as she and Jochen went up to their room.
All of that was last night. This monring, Brigitte had prepared breakfast, and had served it in the glass covered closed terrace that me and my wife called the "serre" becauyse it did get really hot in there quickly and she uwed to grow tomatoes there, oh I remember the sweet smell of homegrown tomatoes, something between brandnetel and strawberries. I loved that smell.
Now as I entered my terrace and greeted everyone on this sunny morning, it seemed that, even for the couple Layla and Jean-Baptiste who came in after myself, that even they were looking sideways at Céline and Jochen, who were enjoying breakfast together like a couple at a hotel after a romantic evening. Pieter and his little brother Kenny, had sat together opposite, staring at them with disdain. Nele had also sat down for breakfast, in yet another corner, and seemed not to mind anyone as she was enjoying the food Brigitte had prepared, especially the ommelet and sausage, alongside some toast with butter and blackberry jam.
Before I could grab a plate and take breakfast, suddenly rechercheur Van Der Smet appeared and pulled me aside after declining an invitation to parttake.
"I am sure the guests are enjoying breakfast, but I'm still running an investigation here. In fact, unlike the guests, my team and I have been busy all night running the investigation. And there are some things I need to share with you before we proceed."
"Of course, rechercheur", I replied, "I trust that if you and your team are running the investigation day and night, even while we are resting, this case can be brought to a close sooner? Since you promised me it would have been handled within the day. I don't think my housekeeper can handle any more before collapsing. As do I!"
"Mr. De Walters, I do apologize that it's been dragging on, however I think I did mention the experimental nature of our methodology, which requires some unexpected concessions. However I do realize how much this is imposing on you and your hospitality. I realize that if we are to take this investigation much further, we need to take it down at the police station and not here in this house."
"I thank you", said I, "Now what is it I needed to know before joining my guests?"
"The first thing is that AI had picked up on some significant activity last night."
"Which is?" I tried to hurry him along.
"Well... there appears to have been some sexual activity."
I sighed and took a deep breath whilst taking in this tidbit of information.
"I'm not sure what that has to do with anything!" I said.
"Mr. De Walter, it is significant because how can any one of our suspects be having sex whilst just having witnessed an attack and arrest of a family member? Not to mention every single one of them still stand accused of possible murder by the AI."
"I trust the AI agrees this is significant?"
"Absolutely, they have pointed it out as a major sign."
"I see your point", I said but I was cut short of what I was about to say as the guests behind me had clearly come to the same conclusion.
"You two disgust me!" said Pieter to Jochen, "How can you be having sex on a night such as last night?!"
"I don't think it's any of your business", said Jochen, his face changing from a contented happy expression, to a disturbed one, with contempt for his older brother.
"It's all of our business! Everything each and everyone does here is everyone's business!" cried Pieter, almost matching the volume he had been shouting at, at yesterday's reading of Johan's last will and testament.
"This is true", added rechercheur Van Der Smet, entering the room.
"So even our intimate moments are monitored?" asked Jochen, his disapproval of the notion being quite clear.
"We have no cameras in the guest rooms themselves, but we do have them in the hallways, with microphones equipped on each and every one of them, making us able to follow along any conversation had in those rooms."
"What?!" gasped Jochen.
"What did you expect, Jochen?" said Pieter, eating another sausage meanwhile.
"I'm actually not surprised at all", said Kenny, "Since now that Joyabel happened on a bloody knife in the toilet, the spotlight has now been taken off them, hasn't it?"
Nobody replied. He continued: "Seems to me they had cause for celebration."
As expected, Céline piped up before Jochen could say anything.
"Do you know what it's like to care for childre, 24 hours a day eahc day for years on end? No, you don't! So don't blame us when we make the best of this little time we get with each other, regardless of where we are."
To everyone's astonishment Kenny jumped up from his chair: "This little time? Make the best of it?"
"Don't keep mertyring yourself for being a mom", said Pieter, "I have a child too. You don't see me celebrating my time off from my daughter? I'd rather be there than here."
Then Kenny added: "You guys are unbelievable. Brenda was just taken to the hospital and Brenda spent the night at the police just because she found a knife lying there on the floor."
"Allegedly" murmured Céline under her breath. Kenny seething with rage, gestured to her with his hands whilst facing Pieter: "Can you believe this bitch?"
"Hey, watch your mouth, Kenny!" shouted Jochen.
"He has every right to be upset, Jochen. Read the room! We all agree that last nighty was hardly the most romantic setting for a night of lovemaking. It was so loud, so long, we didn't get any good sleep, none of us. If I had known beforehand, I would haven taken my earplugs with me."
"I wouldn't have come", added Kenny.
"Oh, you would have come", sneered Céline, "Anything that involves getting more money for your restaurant, you come jumping at the chance."
"Why would you be so mean about that?" said Layla, finally entering the conversation, "You are always the first to throw around accusations as ot who the secret billionaire amongst us could be by inflating the tiniest little details of our lives, but then you go about saying stuff like that!"
"Like what, Layla?!" Céline hissed.
"Like what you just said to Kenny just now. Condescendingly. As if taking opportunities to make money is... below you."
Céline started laughing, whilst Jochen remainted silent, recognizing as no other the manic tone of it.
"You are amazing, Layla, you truly are", she said, "The first real shot you have at me and it's so farfetched it can only make me giggle. How ridiculous! Do you realize what you are saing?!"
"Excusez-moi", interrupted Jean-Baptise, "But we haven"t in the least taken any "shot". In fact it is the two of you together that form the top of the list of suspects according to the AI and up until now, we have scrutinized you the least of all of us. We have defended against the accusations coming from you both, but we hardly know anything about you. That in itself is suspicious. And making love the whole night after those shocking events... we have every right to ask questions."
Céline's face turned feral.
"And what is it you would like to know? How we battled and suffered and lost our dear Jens to leukemia, tried every little avenue we could find, any medical treatment know for that specific kind ? How we tried even those treatments we couldn't afford? And how after all that, after he died, we had our house taken away that we had built from the ground up, since we had put everything we had owned, everything, at risk to save our Jens, only to lose him? How we're still dealing with all that, even after five years? How we try to carry on, broken, every single day? Does that sound like a secret billionaire life to you?"
As Céline was recounting their heartbreaking story, Jochen had been staring down at his hands in his lap the whole time. Nobody said a word, hearing the pain in every single word coming from her lips.
But then, Kenny, looking Céline blankly in the face, mimicking her words about Joyabel earlier: "Allegedly."
Céline turned white as a sheet and seemed like she would explode, however, Jochen did not interfere this time.
"But you're unconscionable", she shouted at him, "Unconscionable!"
After a moment of silence, Jean-Baptiste, in his soothing and perpetually calm tone, said: "Look, Céline, we have all told our stories. And when we did, you had no sympathy for any of our words. But what is more strikingly clear, to me franchement, is that you just... told us the exact same story as before. Almost word for word. Je m'excuse, mais..." He blinked his eyes and shrugged his shoulders whilst leaning deeper into his chair as a way to end this sentence.
"And what is it you would want to know about us? You need more details on our suffering? Do you get off on that?" Céline spewed, making sure she exerted all effort she had not to shout the words, but speaking them clearly.
"Come on Céline," cried Pieter, shaking his head with disappointment;
"Well, par example", said Jean-Baptise, "We still don't know what Jochen does for work. I mean, since we're trying to find the secret billionaire here, it seems appropriate to at least know that."
"Oh, God", sighed Pieter.
"The reason we don't ask is because we all know... Oh boy do we know!" said Kenny.
Pieter turned to Jean-Baptiste: "Once you get him going, he won't stop talking about it."
"Mais c'est quoi alors, son boulot", said Céline, proudly.
Jochen, meanwhile still hadn't spoken and it was starting to stand out.
"I want to hear it from him", said Layla, "We are you so quiet, Jochen?"
"I'm not quiet", said Jochen.
"Yes, you are", said Kenny.
"OK. OK! I'm a journalist", said Jochen.
"Happy?" asked Céline, turning her face away from Layla before waiting for an answer.
"OK. Fine", said Layla, "Thank you. Good to know. And for what paper?"
"I work for several papers and magazines."
"He's being modest. He's done all of them."
"All of them?" asked Layla, "So then, what are you working on now?"
"I..." stammered Jochen. It was quite unusual to see his eloquent self hesitate like that. Rechercheur Van Der Smet had noticed the exact same thing.
"So?", asked Layla, but seeing as there wasn't a response she rephrased the question: "When did you last publish?"
At this moment, Jochen's face turned into a sort of didactic mode.
"Well, I always work on the most pressing and current societal issues. I love writing about how the fabric of our lives -"
"Fabric of our lives" mocked Kenny.
"- And interaction change sometimes gradually, sometimes unnoticed and I then suggest some causal relations between them, that might help readers contextualize what they may or may not realize that they are going through."
Layla and Jean-Baptiste stared at him, knodding slowly. Everyone in the room seemed puzzled as to what Jochen had just tried to explain.
"Vague, right", said Pieter to Jean-Baptiste.
"It's always vague", said Kenny", looking down at his plate of food, as if noticing it for the first time and filling his mouth with as much food as he was able to heap on his spoon.
"It's not!" cried Céline, "It's all very thoughtful and as a matter of fact he's been working hard for years now on... -"
"Years?" said Layla to Jean-Baptise, who raised his brow.
"Yes, years. It's a big investigation, very hush-hush."
Jochen turned to Céline, whispering to her to stop talking about that, but of course the cat was already out of the bag.
"Tell us more about this", said Layla to Jochen.
"Yes... Well..." Jochen hesitated, "Of course things have slowed down after Jens had passed. I actually took a little break from this particular... piece."
"Piece..." mocked Kenny.
"So it's been years since you published any work?" said Layla.
As she said this, a pang of pain was visible over Jochen's face.
"Yes", he said, "looking down again, almost in shame.
"Jochen", said Céline, "Come on, why are you shinking like that? You told me it would likely be published soon in a series of articles.. -"
"That was a while ago", Jochen interrupted her with a nervous laugh.
"So a publishing house is paying you to do this investigation?" asked Layla.
"Yes, both the magazine, a paper and a publishing house had taken an interest in my investigation and had been supporting my research."
"Had been", said Jean-Baptise.
"What was it about?" Asked Layla.
Not used to being the interviewee rather than the interviewer, Jochen turned red and was starting to sweat.
"I... I..." he stammered.
"Maybe best not let him start on a huge lecture", said Kenny.
"I don't think he looks like he's going to start a huge lecture, on the contrary", said Layla.
Jochen finally looked up and locked eyes with rechercheur Van Der Smet, realizing that even though it was his family asking, this was all still part of the investation into a possible murder.
"I... well, to be completely honest..."
Céline, surprised at the change of tone, turned to face him.
"What's this?" she said.
"Yes?" Layla encouraged Jochen to speak.
"To be completely honest", Jochen continued, "I haven't worked on that project since Jens died. The project... is... over."
Céline's face turned pale again.
"How... What can you mean? You... you told me your book was as good as done!"
"It was... but..."
"But what?"
Jochen sighed.
"The project is over! After Jens died. I... It's just over. OK?"
Nobody dare come between the two, who had just been sharing food like two lovebirds minutes before.
"So you lied?" said Céline.
"I... I didn't want to concern you."
"You did! You lied to me!" said Céline, "But then..."
Both brothers stared at Jochen in disbelief.
"What was this book about? This cancelled project? What were you researching?"
Jochen looked around the serre and seeing that all eyes were fixed on him, he replied: "The one percent of the one percent. It was called the one percent of the one percent."
"All this time you worked on this project and you couldn't tell me about it and just now you can reveal it to everyone? And what have you been doing for work if you haven't published since Jens?"
"I'm working... I'm working as a accounting assistant at an investment firm now."
"Why wouldn't you tell..." but the words got stuck in Céline's throat.
"What was the title again?" asked Pieter.
Jochen took another deep breath, as if the title of the book was hard to say out loud.
"It was the one percent of the one percent. An investigation into a very specific group amongst the richest people on our planet and their beliefs."
A stunned silence.
"Hold on a minute", said Layla, "You were effectively writing about..."
"Billionaires", said Kenny bitterly.
"OK, let's get out of here. The case is solved, right? It's Jochen." said Layla.
"The AI was right all along", remarked Kenny.
"I can't believe it", said Céline, almost inaudibly.
"Guys, come on. Just because I wrote a book about a specific one percent amongst the one percent. Which is by the way just a title that sounds good."
"I couldn't care less", said Kenny, "It's the fact that you wrote about billionaires."
"So what? Yes, I was writing about them, but it wasn't... I mean it cost me everything! It's the opposite!"
"How do you mean it cost you everything?"
"I submitted my book to my editor, who was super excited at first but then after a while they wouldn't get back to me and then... I was informed that they wouldn't take the book. They wouldn't publish it."
"Why?"
"They never said."
"So, what was it about? What was your book about?"
"I was investigating tech bros at first, but then I got even deeper than that, I got sidetracked into this crazy, like, extremist little faction within the 1% wealthiest people on the planet and my publisher was all about it at first, they wanted me to investigate, right? But then, when I finally finished it, they didn't like what I found."
"What did you find, Jochen?" said Céline, sternly, "What did you find that you had to lie to me for, all this time."
"I... Well... There's this extremist Christian faction, and it's not per se the wealthiest one percent of the one percent, that's just a nice title to put it that way it's lika a random one percent within the one percent that actually believes, like actually really believes they are meant to be the richest on the planet, to prepare for the second coming of Christ."
The serre fell silent for a moment as this was starting to sound too absurd to follow.
"What?" said Céline.
"Yes. They do. And that... how could I not investigate that? I mean, how could I not? So the thing is that they believe there's a passage, right in the apocalypse or somewhere in the bible about there being 144.000 elect who are going to be saved. The chosen ones. And... they believe, right, stay with me guys, they believe that their riches are - who would contradict it - a blessing from God. Their billions are a blessing from God himself, which means, personally blessed, chosen... Elect, right? But then what that also implies is this: if they are chosen and elect and blessed by their billions, then, those that aren't blessed are... well, not blessed, basically cursed by God. If you're not blessed, you're cursed. But it goes even further with these extremists, and all of this is entirely just like a consensus amongst them, like entirely based on Christian teaching at all, just all part of trying to make sense of being amongst the richest people human history has ever seen and, frankly, trying to justify it basically, right? So, then, the rich are rich because their virtue, their spirit was just innately so good, so pleasing to God that they were blessed with immeasurable wealth, and I'm not talking uncle Johan's mere 1 billion, we're talking tens, even hundreds of billions here guys, can you even imagine this number? I mean it makes uncle Johan look like a pauper, and then all of this whilst the poor, they just aren't at all bothered, like at all, since coming to this second coming of Christ explanation of their wealth, like, they are absolutely not concerned about society, except their separate little society, because, here's the kicker, God basically just... hates them. He cursed them with poverty, with a hard life, a struggle for money, even for scraps and that's simply because they're innately not good, just not blessed by God, not elect, not chosen."
"Why?" cried Céline, "Why would you want to write about this crazy conspiracy? For goodness sake, Jochen, you have a family to take care of. Why would you go and piss off these clearly disturbed people?"
"Because, Céline, I... I have to! It's part of my duty as a journalist because, they have such a big impact on our world right now. We're more and more being funneled into using increasingly controlled tools that marginally make our lives easier, but squeeze more and more and more of everyone in society that is trying to just make an honest living. Every big new venture is about how to squeeze more from people by forcing them to use some new tool that was designed only to funnel more from people already in debt! I... So... How could I not write about that, it's exactly in line with everything I had written before."
"Why are they doing that, then", asked Pieter, "Why are they squeezing more and more out of us when they're already so immensely wealthy?"
"Here's the thing, it's not so much them anymore, it's everyone else trying to get to the 144.000. Everyone's running, frantically trying to find a way to get to the top of the list, getting into the 144.000 at any cost - basically at the cost of... society. Right? And they absolutely don't care it gets people of limited means into more financial trouble, they absolutely don't care because if you're in financial trouble, well, gosh, God musn't really like you and you should repent and take a look at your sinful spirit. But if you're incredibly rich, and you're part of these elect 144.000, well, you can be as sinful as you like, it doesn't matter, there must be something innately good about you, else why would God heap so much reward on you? Right? If God himself can look past their sins as being minor, and still keep blessing them with more billions coming in each year, well, who are they to question, right? In their minds, it all makes sense."
"You wrote a book on this."
"Yes."
"You realize this is basically a conspiracy theory book you wrote."
"Not at all! It's all investigative journalism. It's a book about people who believe, really believe this is all real. If it were about some derelict sect or a cult in a developing country, publishers and media outlets would have been: "Oh great! Yes! Great idea! Investigate! Let's get to the bottom of this absurdity, let's wonder why and how and dive into their psyche. But for some reason, it doesn't apply for them... within the 1%. They exist outside of scrutiny. Which is why. I had to. I had to."
Céline sighed heavily and then said: "You know you put your family at risk by getting into something like that."
"I love you Céline", said Jochen, "You know I do, but.... You also know who you married. I've always been an investigative journalist. This is what I do."
"You had been, yes, but then, you also became a father."
"Of course -"
"And with that comes that you have to consider more than just yourself."
"I know..." replied Jochen, voice cracking, "I realized that after the publisher had rejected the book they had paid me to write. And then every publisher after that."
"Why did you start working as an accounting admin, then? I mean, couldn't you just write another book?" asked Kenny.
"I couldn't. I mean I could, and I did. I started writing short form articles, long form too, but no one wanted to buy my stories anymore."
"Not a single magazine, paper, no one?"
"No one. Nowhere. I was done. I realized that after months and months of trying, but I couldn't get as much as a call with people I used to have great working relationships with. Nothing. No response."
At that point, Nele stood up to get some more sausages, saying: "Well, if you rattle the cage, don't be surprised the beast comes for you when it breaks out."
"This is hardly the most controversial thing ever written", said Jochen, "It's honest five years worth of hard journalistic work-"
"Yeah, yeah, we get it now, Jochen. Get to the point." said Kenny
"The point is: it cost me everything. I wrote the book on why and how common people are forced to sustain society with less and less means, whilst the wealthiest are betting on its collapse. And making even more money doing so. I'm not the secret billionaire, on the contrary. I lost my entire vocation due to my work."
It was at this point that rechercheur Van Der Smet suddenly spoke up and said: "The AI determined that was the truth." to everyone's surprise.
"He's off the list of suspected murderers."
"Off the list", said Pieter, "I didn't know you could get off the list?!"
"You can", answered Van Der Smet dryly.
I tried to lift the mood after all this and took this opportunity to introduce the elegant and beautiful young lady that had joined me and Van Der Smet: "Everyone, please meet Ariadne 'Tjollyn. She's president of the board at the Paepe Estate, and she would like to give a presentation concerning the estate, if I'm not mistaken, how it would or could, or even should be divided amongst you, if you so chose. The good news is, this can all be resolved by the end of the day!"
"And what's the bad news?"
"Well", said Rechercheur Van Der Smet, "By then we'll hopefully know which one of you murdered your own uncle."
"Don't get too comfortable, just because Van Der Smet's AI thing took you off the list, because you're not off of mine!" shouted Pieter from one end of the private jet to the other.
Ariadne 'Tjollyn, the consummmate professional that she is, managed to get all of the beneficiaries onto a private plane to New York. How? Well, it's a testament to the method I've seen work countless times, but why change a efficient tool when it does the job. She started off in my cinema room, as promised, with some presentations about the history of the Paepe estate, including - which I did think was unnecessary - an introduction to the man Johan Paepe himself. After that, another video presenting the companies that were active under the estate, and then another video, and then another video. And all of that was before she even started to discuss her numbers and her charts about all of the progress and all of the potential and growth and not to mention the countless strides in innovation that have been reached in the past and proved to be the basis to further many branches of the estate into even faster creation of value to... well... the estate. So when the lot were nearly lulled into sleep by throwing around enough jargon and numbers and graphs too disconnected from any context for my guests to understand, she finally presented her proposal.
"And what is your proposal?" Layla had asked, basically the only person in the room who had absolutely understood everything that Ariadne had presented. This did not go unnoticed by Ariadne, and she could tell she would need to be more careful about the information she was sharing, in the sense that she would need to know every answer to any question that might come from Layla and her husband.
"My proposal, as president of the board at the Paepe estate, is not to break up the estate. My proposal is to all of you here, the six beneficiaries -"
"You're forgetting that one of the beneficiaries is in the hospital right now for trying to kill herself with a kitchen knife yesterday evening in the dining room", added Kenny bitterly.
"Yes, I do know, and not to sound too cold, but, Nele is the legal guardian of Brenda and is entitled to making decisions on her behalf. so everyone present is in fact representing all six of the beneficiaries of the inheritance, of the estate."
Kenny shrugged.
"But I understand what you are saying, Kenny, and I am sorry you couldn't be joined here by Joyabel at the moment -"
"Just tell us your proposal already, you've yapped on long enough", spewed Kenny.
"Kenny, watch your mouth!" cried Jochen, "There's no reason to talk to Ariadne like that."
"Watch my mouth? What are you piping up for? You already have a wife! You watch your mouth! In fact, I don't want to hear a single word out of you ever again. You're a horrible lier and a cheat and I'm ashamed to call you my brother."
"Excuse me?!" Jochen stood up from the sofa he and Céline were sitting in together. Yes, my cinema room is decked out in leather sofas that can seat two people each, with a little popcorn holder in each armrest, but I digress.
"Jochen, don't say anything", said Pieter, "Don't say anything for now. Ariadne, please go on."
"Yes... Well... Ironically, what I was about to propose would be rather difficult to achieve if there isn't a way between all of you to talk to one another. You see, what I am proposing as the president of the board of the Paepe estate is to... well, make you permanent members of the board. In stead of splitting the estate up into equal chunks to be sold off, each one of you could spend the rest of your lives sitting on the board, heading your very own part of the estate your uncle Johan has left you."
"And this would be in keeping with the addendum of his last will and testament", asked Layla.
"It absolutely is", said Ariadne, "Provided everyone agrees."
In the cinema room, it was pretty hard to look around at everyone's faces all of the sofas were facing the screen behind Ariadne, however there was a telling moment of silence.
"Of course, you don't need to make your decision now", said Ariadne, "As I can explain exactly how the estate can be divided over 6 parts of equal value, which each one of you, except of course Nele, who would as legal guardian over Brenda, preside over two parts."
"Lucky Nele", murmered Kenny.
"As you may or may not now, only 50 million euros of Johan Paepe's estate is effectively cash. In addition to that, the life insurance wrapper known as "Tak 23" or "Assurance-Vie" of about 120 million euros became available for pay-out upon Johan's death to the directly named beneficiary, or to be kept as a 120 million dollar investment portfolio it already was under the insurance. Apart from that the board manages 300 million euros in real estate, about 150 million in art and collectibles such as cars in a freeport storage facility in Geneva, we have 200 million on the markets as well as 200 million in companies and start-ups -"
"Excuse me", Layla interrupted her, with a look of great concern on her face, "Did you just mention a beneficiary to the life insurance wrapper of 120 million euros?"
Ariadne looked quite surprised at the question, but it wasn't at all clear if the surprise came from the fact that Layla had understood what it was, or that it would raise any questions whatsoever.
"Yes, the "Tak 23"? What about it?"
"It's an investment portfolio that's basically tax-free due to being wrapped in a life-insurance contract, right?"
Everyone was looking at Layla with astonishment.
"Correct", said Ariadne.
"Which would mean that the contract indeed ends when..."
"When Johan Paepe had passed away, sadly, yes."
"But as a life insurance wrapper for this investment portfolio of 120 million, there has to be a single beneficiary named, for the contract to even have been made in the first place."
"This is correct", said Ariadne again, trying not to sigh too much this time.
"Well then," said Layla, "Who is the beneficiary of this life insurance?"
"It was, as you all may have guessed by now, started up 10 years ago, with the idea to grant it all to the single beneficiary, who is to remain anonymous."
"Of course", said Kenny, "The secret billionaire."
Pieter laughed sarcastically, "Of course, it was all going to them anyways."
"And why would they stay anonymous, then", asked Layla, "How is that supposed to work when we're all going to be part of the board of the estate, in your proposal."
"Well, the 120 million could either be transferred to the 50 million on cash on the accounts, which would be unwise, or it could be transferred as part of the estate's private equity."
"Could you both please just stop", said Pieter, "It's no use to come to a consensus about it, if only two people in the room know what the hell you're talking about."
"Right", said Jochen, "Well, you go ahead and explain it to us, then, Pieter. Go on! I'm all ears."
"Well, since I've got the floor, don't mind if I do, brother! Basically it's this: we all get a spot at the table of uncle Johan's estate, right? We all get a part of this whole thing he built instead of it all being sold into little parts that we then need to figure out what to do with the money. Ariadne's proposal makes a lot of sense! We don't inherit any money. In stead we inherit a seat."
"Basically, yes", said Ariadne.
"We don't inherit any money?" asked Kenny.
"Well, technically you would inherit Johan's personal cash accounts, which would be 50 million divided by six minus inheritance tax deductions."
"A couple million each", said Céline, "Plus one sixth of all assets of the estate. And job security for life. I can't believe it."
Needless to say, they all hopped on the private jet Ariadne had prepared to take them and see all the assets for themselves, starting with some of the companies, start-ups and restaurants the estate owned in New York. Not a single one of them had protested, not even Rechercheur Van Der Smet, who was invited along, of course, as was I, all at the expense of the estate.
Before entering the plane, Rechercheur Van Der Smet had stood at the stairs and clipped a mini wireless microphone and camera to each of their collars and cuffs as they entered the plane. This was to ensure the AI would still pick up on their facial expressions and their words. As if they had forgotten all about the potential murder investigation, they happily let Van Der Smet clip it on them.
Once everyone was seated on the plane, Van Der Smet had one final thing to add, namely that Joyabel would join them to New York, as she had been questioned and the AI determined that she, too, like Jochen had spoken the truth. She had indeed found the knife on the floor.
Kenny was extatic as she boarded the plane, clips and all, they fell into each other's embrace with tears coming down their faces.
"I didn't know how long I wasn't going to be able to talk to you", said Kenny sobbing.
"I wouldn't miss going on a culinary trip to New York for the world, sweetheart, you know that", joked Joyabel, wiping away tears from her face too. They didn't let go of each other's hands as they took their seat. However, Nele got red in the face, unbuckled her seatbelt and ran to Rechercheur Van Der Smet, still standing outside the jet.
"And how about Brenda? Where is she?"
"Brenda", Van Der Smet said loud enough for everyone to hear, "Will not be joining you to New York, since she is still under investigation and questioning since the fingerprints she left on the knife match the fingerprints on the murder weapon perfectly."
"What?" shouted Jochen.
Meanwhile, Nele stood stockstill in the doorway. A flight attendant brought her away, back to her seat. She remained stunned, silent.
"Wait a minute", said Pieter, "Her fingerprints were on the gun uncle Johan shot himself with? But how-"
"And now I have to bid you adieu", said Van Der Smet, who did not enter the plane, but stayed behind as the stairs rose up and the door closed."
"I can't believe it", said Céline, "How can that be?"
"It can't", said Pieter, "The poor girl's been catatonic for decades. The only way is that... someone... pressed her numb fingers on the weapon. It's the only way."
"We don't know that", said Jochen.
"Guys, come one, the plane's departing, let's all be quiet for a moment", said Layla, and then to her husband, "If we take a seat at this board, we're going to have to deal with these people for the rest of our lives. Can you stomach it?"
"I understood that!" said Céline.
"You mean to say, Jochen, that you think it's possible Brenda, our catatonic niece, had got up from her wheelchair, took a gun, and shot our uncle, for what?"
"The very same reason we're all under scrutiny, why not? It's not impossible!"
"You mean to say you think Brenda could be the secret billionaire?"
"Well, I mean, Van Der Smet it staying behind to question her."
"She can't even talk! How is he going to do that?"
"Maybe she can! It wasn't too long ago we thought the girl couldn't even pick up a knife, let alone us it to..."
"Jochen's right", said Céline, "She could have. Maybe she was the secret billionaire."
Pieter laughed, loudly.
"You have got to be kidding me! You mean to say you think she was faking being catatonic? That she... used it to hide that she was a billionaire? Are you hearing yourself?"
"It's not impossible", said Jochen.
"Don't get too comfortable, just because Van Der Smet's AI thing took you off the list, because you're not off of mine!" shouted Pieter from one end of the private jet to the other, "I still think it's you, mister I'll write all about billionaires and end up working for my billionaire uncle's estate. You have every reason to make us even suspect everyone amongst us."
"Will you stop it? I wrote one book, okay. It didn't even get published. It's hardly the worst thing that's ever happened in our family. And far from the most scandalous, Pieter. So don't be a hypocrite and keep pointing the finger at me if you don't want it pointed back at you."
"Are you threatening me?"
"Je vois ce que tu veux dire, ma chère", whispered Jean-Baptiste meanwhile to his wife.
"I'm not threatening you, I'm just saying, my book is nothing compared to some things that have happened in our family. And you know it."
"Are you really coming for me, right now?"
"I'm not coming for anyone, I'm just saying, if Van Der Smet can leave me alone, you can too."
"And what is it you're trying to point fingers at, Jochen. What is it you think is worse than the little mishap that cost you your career?"
Jochen just sat there, as the plane was ascending, rocking all of them in their seats like babies cradled in their mangers, staring forwards.
"Are you talking about the..."
"The reason you and Mathieu got divorced, right? What else?"
There was a collective sigh.
"How dare you bring that up!" said Kenny.
"What about the divorce?" said Pieter, remarkably calm.
"What about it? What do you mean? You gave him AIDS. That's what."
Now Pieter unbuckled his seatbelt and jumped towards Jochen.
"You take that back! Right now!"
"But you did, right!" said Jochen, "How do you like it being brought up again and again?"
The flight attendant shouted and tried to get them back in their seats. At this point, all whilst the plane was inclined and still climbing, even Kenny unbuckled his seatbeld and tried to come in between his brothers and stop them from fighting.
"We weren't bringing your book up again and again", said Kenny, "Now stop fighting!"
"The AI determined I told the truth! I lost my career. I lost everything I had built! Now leave me alone!"
"Stop it!" shouted Layla, "Sit back down the lot of you! Do you want to crash the plane?"
The flight attendant was able to get Pieter and Kenny back to their seats and buckle them back up.
"I told you a million times, we didn't get divorced because of the AIDS thing", said Pieter, calm again, "It was the secret sex cult thing."
"Mon dieu", sighed Jean-Baptiste, massaging his temples.
"The secret sex cult thing", asked Layla, "What was the secret sex cult thing?!"
"If anyone should bear some guilt about me and Mathieu's divorce, it should be him, because he didn't tell me he was in a secret sex cult!"
"Of course he didn't tell you, it's a secret sex cult!" cried Jochen.
"Shut up!" shouted Pieter, and then continued explaining to Layla: "He was part of a secret sex cult even before we were married and all of a sudden he was kicked out. He got AIDS. And he blamed me."
"Yes," said Jochen, "but you're leaving things out!"
"I'm not leaving anything out, I was getting there! So we did the test together, and it turned out I had HIV too. But I didn't before! If anyone gave someone else AIDS, it was him who gave it to me! Anyways, I could live with it. But he couldn't. He was mad at me, furious, that I should have given him AIDS and get him kicked out of the secret sex cult."
"So what that he got kicked out", said Jean-Baptiste, "Isn't testing positive the worst part? Who cares about some sex club?"
"No, not to him. It wasn't just about sex, it was a sex cult, it was about connections, right. Powerful connections. Once they kick you out, you lose all connections to them and their favors. You're out not just there, but also out here. Because they give you favors in the real world and they, you know act a certain way towards each other in real life, sometimes strangely and weirdly that makes you wonder why would they... and it's all for the pay off during the secret sex cult meetings that we out here never get to see, so it never makes sense to us, but to them it does, in 'there'. It's all very bizarre and frankly, and it took me a while to come to terms with it. Even though I loved Mathieu dearly. I though he loved me too, we even adopted Coco together. Now we share custody, but... apparently he loved the secret sex cult more. I loved him so much I was prepared to forgive him the secret sex cult thing. Still now he resents me for it."
"But why was he so sure he didn't get AIDS in there?"
"Because it's all very high end. It's all very secure and they make everyone get tested before every meeting. Or so Mathieu told me. Once you test positive for anything, you're out. Forever. On your own. But I didn't give it to him. I got tested before we got together and I was negative. I never cheated, so go figure."
"Did you ever get re-tested?"
"No. Why should I? I though Mathieu and I were faithful to each other. I don't just go about my day and assume my partner is in a secret sex cult just for the fun of it."
"What kind of people are they?" asked Layla with hushed voice to her husband, "I... I don't think I can do it. I can't. Spend the rest of my life on a board... with them?"
"See, I knew it!" said Céline, "I can still hear you, Layla! And I was right all along. You can't stand us! You've never really wanted to join our family because, you hate us. You hate thaat you're part of this family. You think you're so much better than us!"
"Not at all!" tried Layla, but Céline had already launched into another tirade.
"And you being the only one understanding anything Ariadne had to say today? Seems to me like you know an awful lot about being a billionaire!"
"It's her business", cried Jean-Baptiste, "Of course she knows about it."
"Suspicious, is what it is."
"Sorry, Céline, if you're overhearing my private conversation to my husband, reacting to this whole secret sex cult thing! It's all very new to us."
"It's not very new", said Pieter under his breath, "It's been around for much longer than you think."
"For all we know", said Céline, "You could be in a secret sex cult yourself! Or two!"
"I'm not in a secret sex cult!" cried Layla.
"But that's exactly what someone who is in a secret sex cult would say!" answere Céline.
"OK, turn the plane around!" Layla said to Ariadne, who shook her head, reeling from the conversation that was taking place.
"She even wants out. She would walk away from a seat from the board of the estate, out of 150 million euros in assets and a couple of millions cash. Seems to me we've got our secret billionaire right here."
"Shut up, everyone!" shouted Kenny violently, voice breaking, "We're going to New York. And we're going to enjoy it."
All the while he was still holding his wife's hand.
"Let's all just pretend we're not investigating nothing, and just go along for the ride, please."
Everyone fell so silent, it was like they all had started holding their breath.
"I for one want to see everything, everything Ariadne wants to show us. So don't spoil it for me."
Joyabel looked lovingly at her husband and kissed his hand, his cheek, and when he turned towards her with a tender smile, they kissed.