Racquel, bless her, has served dessert and seems to be relishing her one line of dialogue, “But I saw him slip something into Mademoiselle Allen’s wine!”
Giselle, who is supposedlydead,is enjoying thetarte tatin. “This is so good! My compliments to Chef.”
Calypso and I are paired, which, frankly, is tiresome, as is she.
“This is silly,” she mutters.
“It’s just fun, Cali.” I keep my voice neutral despite feeling a burn inside me.
She shoots me a look. “Is this how you spend your Christmases?”
There is an accusation in her tone, which I ignore.
I watch Ember across the room. She’s interrogating Jean, accusing him of sabotaging her alibi with tremendous Ariadne Oliver-esque flair.
Everyone is glowing. The couples are all in it together.
Freja is cackling as she plants “evidence” in the piano bench. Jonathan is flirting with her as he’s also trying to detect if she’s the killer.
Everyone is having fun.
Except….
I turn back to Calypso. She looks bored.Uncomfortable. And suddenly, very far from me, though she’s sitting right beside me.
I turn to Aksel to ask him some questions based on the information I have. He straightens his cravat—yes, he’s actually wearing one—and replies in a ridiculousDownton Abbeyaccent, “My dear Dr. Blackwood, I do believe you’re insinuating something most unbecoming. I was in the conservatory with the inspector and a very respectable bottle of brandy.”
Freja, who is walking by, groans. “You sound like a butler who’s been hit on the head.”
“Possibly,” Aksel replies, unfazed. “But the question is, am I a butler with a motive?”
Calypso snorts. I turn to look at her. “You look tired, Cali. Maybe you should head to bed?”
Enough is fucking enough.
She straightens and gives me a tight smile.
“I’m fine.” She rises and goes to the bar to pour herself some port, and stands there, watching everyone run around asking questions and finding clues with disdain.
I haven’t yet had a chance to speak with her about her telling Margot we were nearly engaged…like in what fucking universe? But I wanted to wait until after Christmas to have that showdown. It seemed rude to have a huge fight before, which may (probably would) require her to leave the chalet.
Besides the fact that I can feel how Calypso and Iare simplynotcompatible, not even as companions, I am alsoveryaware that who I truly want is overtherein a ridiculous hat, accusing Tanya of having arsenic in her purse.
This game might be fake. But my feelings, I know, are not.
CHAPTER 15
Ember
The game ends with a bang—well, more of a dramatic gasp and an overacted faint.
I think I know who the murderer is, but Luc has told us that there is one more clue to find.
The conversation is lively as everyone eats their dessert.
The only person not participating is Calypso, standing away by the bar.
Whatever!
