Page 60 of The Spite Date (Small Town Sisterhood #1)

His performance is woefully lacking, exactly as he informed me it would be when he lost whatever game the three of my security agents performed to decide which one of them would have to play a role and which two would be allowed to merely observe.

“Ah. Then do bring me my phone if the towers come back up,” I reply.

He grunts and leaves the dining room.

Everyone stares at me.

Everyone except for Quincy, who gasps again. “ Ryker’s gone .”

A thump sounds in the next room.

And after a moment of staring at one another, half the guests flee toward the hallway.

“Is he murdered too?”

“Or did he do the murder?”

“He noticed Hudson’s knife was missing.”

“Where did that noise come from?”

“Stop! Stop! You’re contaminating the crime scene! Everyone has to stay here!” Wendell stomps his foot, then rushes after everyone fleeing the room as though he might stop them.

Bea remains at the table, watching half the guests go, her hand inching higher on my leg.

“Did you see what happened?” Hudson asks her.

He, too, is among those lingering behind.

She frowns at him as he stops behind her chair. “Did you have a knife at the beginning of dinner?”

“Nope.”

“Why didn’t you ask for one?”

“Bea. It was lobster rolls and a salad.”

“You didn’t want to cut your cucumber?”

He starts to chuckle.

She waves a hand. “Never mind. Of course you didn’t. Neanderthal. By the way, you have some dressing still on your shirt.”

She grabs her serviette and dabs at it, unfortunately taking her hand off my leg in the process.

He bats her hand away. “Seriously? Is this part of your role, or are you being Bea right now?”

“So this part never changes?” I ask her.

She grabs his arm tighter and attacks the balsamic stain on his white shirt with a serviette dipped in ice water. “This part never changes. I wiped gravy off of Ryker’s shirt last Thanksgiving, and he’s the oldest. With a now fully developed prefrontal cortex.”

Hudson takes the cloth from her and finishes cleaning himself. “Want to go look at the body?”

She grins at him. “Of course. Simon—Archibald—whoever you are—are you coming to look at the body too?”

“ Wooooooo oooooo ooooo , more death lurks in the corners,” Daphne intones.

But her voice—it’s coming from the walls.

Tinny.

As though—well.

That’s fascinating.

“Does this house have an old intercom system?” Bea asks.

“It does, though I confess, I had yet to figure out how to work it.”

“Hope there’s nothing else in here you haven’t figured out yet because Daph will, and you might regret the next thing.”

“So I should not mention that there’s supposedly a pool with an electric cover that will slide off somewhere in the garden?”

“Seriously?”

“Yes?”

“Why did you say yes like it’s a question?”

“Because there is, but now I suspect I should pretend there is not?”

“I disabled it,” Lana says from the floor. “You don’t even want to know the nightmares I had when I found out about it. I can only sleep at night for knowing the boys have no idea it exists.”

“I think I just had all of the same nightmares,” Bea replies. “Thank you. You can go back to being dead now.”

“Can you do me a favor and move my body into a normal sleeping position? Maybe get me a pillow too? If I have to be dead, I’m taking a nap.”

“Absolutely. I heard it’s been hell in the hospital.”

“For your sake and mine, I’m not going into details.”

“ Don’t move the body! ” Wendell shrieks. “My god, it’s bad enough it’s talking.”

Bea smiles, making those adorable dimples pop broader in her cheeks.

She’s so bloody addictive, and I sincerely hope I can convince her to stay the night.

Lana’s been banished from the hospital and needs sleep, but the way she hugged the boys when she arrived first suggested she might need them more.

“Why don’t you get some photos of the body since Quincy’s going to want to share them all over socials tomorrow anyway, and then we can make her, ah, final resting position more comfortable?” Bea says to Wendell.

He sighs heavily. “That’s why you invited us, isn’t it?” he says to me.

“I made him because Quincy was the only person in high school that Jake and Logan got away with torturing more than they tortured me, and if you’re going to war against the Camilles, you fucking go to war,” Lana says.

“Plus that other part where we’re nice to people who can see through their act just on principle. ”

Wendell growls and pulls out his phone. “Look really good and dead. I need to get all of this prop blood. The business association’s murder mystery dinner doesn’t have bodies that look as good as you do.”

Several other guests snap photos of Lana as well as I trail Bea around the table so that she may also get a better look. Some of the guests who had fled to the sunken living room return to study Lana in her role as the dead body as well.

“What’s in the living room?” Hudson asks one of them.

“Not your brother. But an old statue fell off the buffet.”

“ Wooooo ooooo oooooo ooo,” Daphne says over the intercom. “The killer left a clue on the knife. Woooo ooooooo oooooo ooooo .”

Bea squats in her dress, the fabric riding up her thighs, and I have to swallow hard.

Hudson glares at me.

He’s returning to school in a mere two weeks, so I let him have the fun of glaring.

Rather suspect I’ll miss him when he’s gone. Not that I’ll be far behind in leaving, but he’s an enjoyable chap, and I’ll return long before he does.

“Hmm,” Bea says.

“What’s hmm ?” one of the dads of some of the children downstairs says.

“It’s not Hudson’s missing dinner knife, unless he’s the only one who didn’t have a knife that matched the rest of the set.”

“Or unless a prop knife can’t look like the rest of the knives,” the dad says.

They both look at me.

I stare back in full offended glory, which makes Bea laugh, which makes me smile because I will never not smile when she laughs.

She squints at the knife attached to Lana’s abdomen again. “Do we get fingerprint kits?” she asks me.

“Surely the sheriff or the police will bring some, but we intend to solve the crime before they get here.”

She snags a serviette off the nearest chair and uses it to touch the knife.

“Ow, ow, my stab wounds,” Lana says dramatically.

“ Don’t mess with the crime scene! ” Wendell shrieks.

“Or reanimate the body,” the dad says. He squats next to Bea. “You’re Bea Best. We didn’t get to say hi earlier. I’m Torrence. Flying solo tonight. My ex?—”

My eye twitches. “Have you inspected the body to your liking, Torrence?”

Hudson coughs.

Lana snickers.

“The dead body,” I add. “The very dead body.”

Bea grins up at me. “I’m good. And I should go find my other brother.”

She rises, and I watch Torrence to make sure he doesn’t try to sneak a peek up Bea’s dress.

He quickly looks back at Lana’s body, and I realize I need to growl again to make sure he’s not checking out my ex’s breasts.

I should have only invited single mothers when I could not invite a married couple.

No single fathers.

Bea slips her hand around my elbow. “Will you show me to the parlor, Archie? I’m afraid of being alone with a killer on the loose.”

And just like that, I no longer care about Torrence.

Or dead bodies.

Or the way the lights have flickered again with another booming crack of lightning and thunder that come near-simultaneously.

Bea is touching me.

She’s here.

Having a lovely time.

Nothing else matters.