Grandfather Robert's Will
Chapter 35's

"You think it's because of something she ate?”

“Jesica has been watching her food like this dog's mom.” Suddenly Bruno thrashed and shivered and tried to relieve himself of what had attacked his stomach. Tired of trying, he returned to lying down while changing position. “Something he drank,” muttered Jenson.

Rachel fondled and spoiled Bruno, she stroked the dog gently. “Supposed a little champagne earlier did not make him sick.” The dog has started to be able to rest, Rachel became a little more relaxed. “Nyoman will not be happy to see what Bruno left on the carpet. Maybe I should..” His speech was interrupted when Jenson grabbed his arm.

“How much champagne do you drink?”

“Just a mouthful. Why..” His speech was interrupted again, glaring at Jenson. “You think there's something wrong in the champagne?”

“I think I'm an idiot for not suspecting a gift without a sender.” Jenson grabbed Rachel's chin. “Just a mouthful. You certain? How are you doing?”

Rachel's skin was indeed cold, but she was still able to answer with complete calmness. “I'm fine. Look at my glass, it's still full.” He looked at the glass himself. “You think the champagne was poisoned?”

“We'll find out.”

His reasoning worked, making Rachel shake her head. “But, Jenson, the champagne is neatly sealed. How to put poison into it?”

“In the first chapter of Logan's run, I used a ruse like this.” Jenson thought again, remembering how he tested his theory by adding food coloring to a bottle of Dom Perignon. “The killer poisoned the champagne by firing cyanide through the plug hypodermically.”

“Fiction,” cetus Rachel, while trying to fight the turbulent sizzle. “It's just fiction.”

“That bottle we will take to Lab to test.”

Shaking, Rachel gulped. “Dites in Lab?” said scowling. “Alright, I think it's the right decision for us to be sure. Do you know anyone who works at the Lab?”

“We are the owners of the Lab.” Jenson watched the sleeping puppy. “Or we'll be the owners in a few months. That's just one of many reasons why someone might send us poisoned champagne.”

“Jenson, if the champagne was indeed poisoned.” Rachel tried to imagine it and found it almost impossible. “If the champagne is poisoned,” it's reset, “This is no longer just a joke.”

Jenson thought about what might have happened if their attention had not been diverted from the champagne. “Yes, this is no longer just a joke.”

“This makes no sense.” Restless and struggling to calm herself down, Rachel got up. “Vandalism I can see, the annoying petty game I can understand, but I can't just accuse my family of all this. We may be exaggerating this problem. Bruno is too excited himself. Actually he could have contracted the disease since at the pet store.”

“I sent him to the vet for a vaccine before he was sent here yesterday.” Jenson's tone of voice was calm, but his eyes were filled with embers. “He was fine, Rachel, until he jumped into that spilled champagne.”

One look at Jenson tells Rachel that her reasoning is useless. “Good. The champagne should have been checked so we could stop speculating. We can't do anything about it until the day after tomorrow. Meanwhile, I don't want to go long talking about it.”

“Not.” He lifted up the groaning Bruno, then clutched him in his chest. “But until it's proven, I don't want to think that one of my family members tried to kill me. I'll get Bruno a hot drink, then I'll take him up. Tonight I'll look after him.”

“Good.” Against the combination of frustration and anger, Jenson stood before the fireplace.

...****************...

When Jenson could not sleep at midnight, he could not work, so he decided to see Rachel and Bruno in his room.

Rachel let the lights dimly light up in the room so that the blanket and sheets looked red. Outside, the rain was pouring down. Jenson saw Rachel curled up in a wide bed, a blanket draped her up to her chin. The fire in the fireplace almost went out. On the rug in front of the fireplace, the puppy snored. Rachel had already covered him and prepared a short bowl containing something that seemed to be warm tea. Jenson leaned over next to the dog.

“My poor friend,” murmured. As he stroked Bruno, the dog twitched, groaned, then fell silent again.

“I think he already feels better.”

Jenson turned her head, looking at the light emanating in Rachel's eyes. Her hair was tangled, her skin was pale and soft. His shoulders, which were leaned, appeared from under his blanket. Rachel looks beautiful, exciting, seductive. Jenson tells himself that he is crazy, Rachel is not included in the criteria of beautiful women on the list.

Jenson looked back at the dog. “Let Bruno sleep, you can add his firewood to keep this dog warm.” Jenson rummaged through the firewood storage box, then put a stick in the fireplace.

“Thank you. You can't sleep?”

“That's.”

“I also.” They sat silent for a while, Rachel on the big bed, Jenson on the tapestry by the fireplace. The blazing fire licked the wood that had just been added to it, blazing light and shadows all over. Rachel clenched her knees. “Jenson, I'm scared.”

It wasn't an easy confession to say by Rachel, but Jenson appreciated Rachel's confession. “We can go from this house to forget all these problems and enjoy the holiday.”

Rachel didn't say anything for a minute, but she watched Jenson closely. His face was turned towards the fire so he was forced to figure out how Jenson felt from the way he spoke. “Is that what you want to do?”

Jenson thought about Grandpa Robert, then thought about Rachel. Every muscle in his body stiffened. “Sure.” He said it so lightly. “I also have to think of myself.”

“For someone who makes a living by making up stories, you're a bad liar.” Rachel waited until Jenson turned to look at her. “You don't want to go anywhere. All you want is to round up all our family members and interrogate them one by one" Rachel said. “But the last thing you want is to give up.”

“Yes, I do want to give up.” Jenson got up and, with his hands in his pockets, walked back and forth in front of the fireplace. He could smell the smoke and the burning wood mixed with the light scent of one of the bottles stored in Rachel's closet. “How about you? From the start you didn't want to get involved in this. I'm the one who persuaded you to change your mind. I feel guilty and responsible.”