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Sassy materializes beside me. “Sure, the mysteries kept him up—right along with all those late-night visits to see that bimbo he was sleeping with. And I bet they didn’t do a whole lot of sleeping. The only mystery here is who she was.”
I give her a covert nod in agreement.
Elvie waves a hand at the audience. “And before we go on, I have to say that The Midnight Murder Mingle is still a go. Tomorrow night in the formal dining room, you know the time. For those who are unaware, it’s theWhispers of the Wickedbig hoorah that Brad had meticulously mapped out just to show his appreciation to you. Dress to impress. It will be a murderously good time.” She makes a face. “Pun intended, I think.”
A light applause breaks out because of the news and Becky Lee turns around and offers us a surprised smile.
I guess I know where I’ll be tomorrow at midnight.
Reed and Elvie settle into what I’m guessing is a familiar podcast rhythm, the same dynamic that’s earned Brad and Elvie millions of downloads.
Reed plays the part of the skeptical investigator while Elvie provides the emotional heart of each story. Today’s case involves a real estate mogul murdered in his own haunted house attraction. Although Reed made it a point to let us know that it wasn’t one ofhishaunted houses.
The audience hangs on every word with notebooks open and pens scratching away. I spot at least three people recording the event on their phones, probably for their own true crime podcasts. There’s nothing like podcasters podcasting about podcasters. Somehow that feels perfectly on-brand for this crowd.
“The victim’s business partner had the perfect alibi,” Reed continues as he paces the stage. “He was at a charity event across town. But here’s where it gets interesting—security footage showed someone wearing the partner’s distinctive watch entering the haunted house just minutes before the murder.”
Elvie leans forward. “The partner swore he had lost that watch months ago. He mentioned that someone must have stolen it to frame him.”
“And was it lost?” someone calls out.
“That’s the mystery.” Reed grins. “The partner swore the watch was never found—and neither was the killer.”
An icy breeze whizzes in and I turn to see the lounge doors opening quietly as both Ransom and Wes slip in. For some reason, this makes me feel infinitely safer, although their presence has never stopped a killer from doing the deadly deed before.
They take up position near the back wall and I give a little wave and they wave back.
“The partner was eventually cleared,” Elvie picks up smoothly. “But the real killer was never discovered. Some say the haunted house claimed another victim, adding a real ghost to its manufactured horrors.”
“Speaking of ghosts.” Sassy sighs in Reed’s direction. “This ghost misses having a corporeal form to wrap around all that leather. You try being dead when a man like that walks by in pants that tight. The body might be temporary, but lust lasts forever. Being dead can be such a downer at times like these.”
I’d have a hard time with death, too, if I saw Ransom trotting around on the planet clad in leather. I’ve always had a hankering for a bad boy, and Ransom can be bad to the bone when he wants to. Thankfully for me, he wants to again and again every single night. And trust me, he is bad to the bone.
The audience pitches theories about the haunted house murder, but I’m more interested in the undercurrents crackling through the room. Ransom catches my eye, giving me that subtle nod, but that frown on his face lets me know he’s reading the room as well. It makes me wonder if he’s dug up something new—something I’m not yet privy to.Yetbeing the operative word.
Wes, however, is eyeing the donuts, much like Nettie.
“Now”—Reed clasps his hands together—“let’s talk about what really makes a perfect murder. Theoretically speaking, of course.”
The temperature in the room seems to drop ten degrees and I cast a quick glance back to Ransom once more. He raises a brow my way before reverting his attention to the front.
I do the same and note Elvie’s fingers as they tighten around the glass in her hand.
“Does anybody know?” Reed asks the crowd and dead silence takes over.
Ironic that in a room full of crime junkies that not one of them can think of a way to commit the perfect murder. I can think of a few, like using an icicle for the murder weapon. There’s nothing like evidence that melts away when you need it the most. Or how about utilizing insulin in a nefarious manner? Or giving someone a brisk shove in the eternal direction by way of a “fall” down the stairs?
I could go on and on. I’m not quite sure what that says about me either.
Probably not good things.
Reed sighs. “In that case, does anyone have a question that I might be able to answer?”
Tinsley’s hand shoots up, as do several others, ready to grill Reed about forensic details, but I’m more interested in the fact he’s teasing the room with the idea he seemingly knows how to commit the perfect murder.
Has he done it before?
More to the point, does he think he’s accomplished this feat on theEmerald Queen? Right under my nose and Ransom’s no less?