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My mouth falls open at the thought. “I’m sorry to hear it. Did you talk to Brad about this?”
“And did he have any answers?” Ransom tags on the question.
“He had explanations.” Reed laughs as he says it, but it’s mournful and he’s frowning despite the fact. “He said he borrowed money from Elvie’s beauty brand when he needed a personal loan, not our venture. I didn’t know what to believe.” He shakes his head. “We were in serious debt, and at that point my trust was shot.”
“So who do you think was stealing from the real estate venture?” I press gently.
Reed shrugs. “Obviously, Brad was lying. I mean, the guy tried to get away with murder at every turn.” Reed drums his fingers against his leather-clad thigh and Sassy all but convulses with pleasure at the sight. “His lifestyle was expensive, to say the least. The guy had champagne taste on a podcast budget. Neither the podcast nor the haunted houses could keep up with his spending.”
“Did you know about his affair?” The question slips out before I can stop it.
Reed gives a few quick blinks as if I caught him off guard.
“Yes, I did.” He gives a wistful tick of his head. “It was pretty hard to miss.” His expression darkens. “Brad wasn’t exactly subtle about it. In fact, I would say he was flaunting the fact around me. Although who he was having it with, I couldn’t tell you. Not that it matters now.”
Ransom turns his head slightly, his eyes still very much focused on Reed. “Did Elvie know about this?”
“She sure did.” He nods emphatically. “She found out almost a year ago. That’s when she came to me with the news.” His voice softens. “She decided not to confront him, but she needed someone to talk to. I became her inadvertent comforter, I guess you could say.”
Ayearago? I inch back at the thought.
But Becky Lee said Elvie had only discovered the affair a few weeks ago. I guess she didn’t realize exactly how long Elvie had been in the know.
Someone lets out a sharp whistle and the three of us look in that direction to find Elvie waving from the murder merch table.
“Reed,” she calls out. “Would you mind coming to look at something?”
He ticks his head to the side and chuckles. “Duty calls,” he says with an apologetic smile.
“And so do those leather pants,” Sassy purrs, zipping after him like a lusty missile in vintage polka-dots.
Ransom and I exchange a look.
“Someone is lying about something,” Ransom says. “And in my experience, people don’t lie unless they’re hiding something far worse than infidelity.”
“I agree.”
A commotion erupts by the refreshment table before I can say another word.
Nettie and Bess appear to be arm wrestling over what looks like the last maple-glazed donut.
Wes steps in to mediate, just as Tinsley charges forward brandishing her name badge like a shield. Wes grabs ahold of Nettie and tries to gently pull her back and Tinsley does the same to Bess. And within seconds, we’ve got a tug-of-war of the ages breaking out.
Shouting ensues, gasps circle the room, and a few light screams enter the equation. And then in a spectacular display of cosmic karma, they all go down like human dominoes, sending a shower of glazed fried treats sailing through the air.
“It’s raining donuts,” someone screams as the entire room runs for cover.
More screams light up the room and it sounds as if a sugar-sweet massacre just took place. And judging by the crimson stains those jelly-filled powdered beauties left in their wake, itlooksas if a massacre took place, too.
Great.
Nothing says murder quite like death by donut. Although I have to admit, there are worse ways to go.
Like getting stabbed in the back by a friend—or perhaps your wife.
CHAPTER31
While Trixie’s Away, the Ship Will Play—The Elodie Edition