The Midnight Crime

And if baby I could have one last wish,

It would be another eternity with you,

In the blink of an eye,

Put those arms around my neck and hold me close,

The musician's smoky voice floated over the guests and the light tinkling of the glasses, settling down as a dreamy hue over the gathering. The laughter and cheerful giggling echoed through the pavilion, the gems on the guests' fingers catching the lights and twinkling brightly. The scent of tulips in the air was intoxicating, about a million of them set in tall bouquets, hung around the canopy in garlands and perched elegantly in vases on the tables.

A maid hurried among the tables, avoiding each piece of furniture narrowly and almost tripping every time.

She was dressed in a maid's uniform, a black dress with a white apron over it, like a skirt around her waist. Her short brown hair was pulled into a bun at her nape, a few naughty curls having escaped the pins and hanging loose around her head. She did not care to pin them back, but kept throwing them away with a quick jerk of her head after every few seconds. There was a badge on her chest, spelling 'Autumn' in small fancy letters. It didn't matter if this really was her name. She had adopted it for this mission and it would be that for now. Her short heels made no noise on the grass as she weaved her way through the garden, carrying a tray of champagne glasses with an elegance and standoffishness that set her apart from the rest of the maids.

A man in a suit beckoned her with a curt motion of his head. She covered the distance swiftly, and he placed his empty glass on the tray. The maid dipped her head and carried the now full tray towards the back of the garden, where a side door led into the kitchen, bustling with staff preparing for the party. She placed the tray on the counter, and glanced at the other worker. Everybody seemed to be busy, working manically, some refilling glasses while the head chef gave around orders with a snappish tone of command. The maid swept a look at the busy workers from under her lashes , and finding no attention on her, spun on her heels and doubled through the door leading to the inside of the house.

She tried to look small and discreet as she emerged into a hallway, barely furnished, and grabbed a stack of clean towels lying on a rack and picked up her pace. The hallway was dimly lit, various doors leading off to the sides towards more chambers which seemed impossible for the house to hold. The hallway ended into a set of steps leading upwards, bare and narrow, a single light bulb hanging miserably from the concrete ceiling. She ducked to avoid the low hanging bulb and took the steps two at a time, arranging her expressions to look as serious as possible. It seemed like a difficult task, and she was sure her nerves were showing on her face, the butterflies inside her stomach fluttering loudly and her heart thumping at a manic pace.

She remembered the structure of the house by heart, the location of every room and corner imposed in her mind from studying the map for weeks to make her job as quick and clean as possible. Slipping in as a maid had been easier than she'd thought, the occasion perfect to blend in with the other maids. She laughed at the security, it was silly how tight and strict it was on the outside, but barely there on the inside.

She'd emerged into a large foyer, a majestic staircase leading upstairs on both sides of the hall towards a balcony. The house was the definition of grand, every minor detail flawless that it was almost absurd. She crossed the foyer as quickly as she could without making too much noise and flew up the stairs.

A very diligent camera crew was setting up equipment all across the house, upstairs and downstairs and even from the chandelier to record every second of the day. A broad man pointed the cameramen to their positions on the first floor, who bounced around excitedly, their cameras swinging from their necks. She cursed the length of the hallway, luxuriously carpeted with hundreds of rooms, doors opening and closing as family members bustled about.

She kept her determined pace as she made for the room farthest down the left corridor. She kept her eyes on the doorknob, as if to magically cause it to spin and open up to the room. Grinning inwardly at her absurd thoughts, she spun the knob. To her immense surprise it opened up easily, a smooth glide to the inside which left her gleeful. She let out her breath in a euphoric gasp, cast a quick look down into the foyer and stepped inside.

The room was bright, sunlight streaming into it in pools of shine and gathering on the floor, the beams melting into each other and creating halos of light. The high glass walls gave her a full view over the ceremony, the shining glasses and sprayed tulips. The amount of flowers in the garden could have embarrassed spring itself.

Everything about the room was meticulous, the bed neatly made, the desk uncluttered, all the stationary organized and the surface clean as slate. The computer was on, the home screen a smiling family photo of the Yarrows. She had the sudden urge to smack her head at the recklessness of the owner, the open door and computer the very proof of his laxity. It was silly really, how the man seemed to be so relaxed when it came to security. But then again, he wasn't really aware that imposters would try to break in. She took off her shoes at the door and left them at the mat, padding her way towards the table in her socks. The abnormally clean room told her that the man would see even a tiny bit of garden mud on his pristine floor and she sure as hell didn't want him to know someone had been inside his room.

There were several secret pockets inside her sleeves, containing tiny listening devices. Knowing she had very little time, she extracted the bugs and stuck one underneath the desk, where it blended in with the dark wood. She crossed the room and placed two inside the closet, an army of dark suits hiding the bugs very well. The bathroom door was ajar, saving her from the trouble of a creak, and she stuck one underneath the sinks and behind the toilet. She wasn't wild of the idea of hearing Cyan Yarrow flush his toilet, but the chances of him having a phone call inside the bathroom were very high.

There was a tiny camera left inside her sleeve and she pulled it out, careful not to let her pores touch the sensitive screen. Unsure as to where she could place the device, she glanced at the corners, searching for a place where it wouldn't be spotted. Her heart sped up when she spied the frame on the wall, an idea forming in her mind as she hurried towards it. There wasn't much space between the frame and the wall, and positive it wouldn't be spotted, she attached it at an angle where it offered a clear view of the bed and the computer table. Unfortunately, the other side of the room wouldn't be visible to her, but this will have to do. She just needed to do one more thing now. She hurried to the computer and opened mail, scanning the messages with a swift glance.

The mails were all ordinary, from businesses, many of whom she recognized. She had almost got up when she saw the address in the newest mail, nothing out of ordinary about it except the website. She was pretty sure no server with the name b-mail existed.

She had almost clicked on the email, when she heard footsteps, loud, demanding footsteps which were making their way towards the room. From the sound of them, there were more than one pair of them, the thumping of shoes like hammering in her brain. She snapped the window shut, and grabbed the discarded pile of towels from the floor, when the door was pushed in and Cyan Yarrow came through.

The maid briefly registered the bodyguard behind him when she realized the wallpaper on the computer home screen had been a screen saver which had now changed to another family picture of the Yarrows at the beach. Her blood ran cold as sweat broke out on her forehead, beading its way down the loose strands of hair. As subtly as she could, she sneaked a peek at Cyan Yarrow's face, who looked distracted as he sat down at the table. He didn't seem to notice as he hit mail and started typing, eyebrows furrowed with concentration. She breathed a quick sigh of relief. Sticking her feet in her shoes, she grabbed for the knob and was about to leave when Cyan spoke a single word. 'Strange.'

The maid stopped. She pretended to adjust her heels as she waited with bated breath for Cyan to say something more. None of them had spared her a glance before, but they would if she stayed there much longer.

'I have never seen this address before.' Cyan said, his voice a ghost of suspicion at the said email.

She could feel a pair of eyes boring into her back, the weight of which was making the hair on her neck prickle. Since Cyan was staring at his screen, she guessed it was the other man, someone whom she didn't remember seeing in the staff photos.

Realizing she had been caught, the maid stepped outside the room and closed the door, leaning against the closed surface as she caught her breath. Her heart was racing like it did after training, the thumping so loud she was sure the men at the other side of the door could hear it too. One thing was certain, this man wasn't who he was pretending to be. And Cyan knew it too. With her ability to read people like the alphabet, she was sure of her doubts.. She wondered why Cyan had a crook by his side, when he had played with right all his life, even in business.