Jeannie watched our every move as she sat in her chair. Sliding the silver circlet adorned with holly from around the napkin, she whipped the napkin in the air before bringing it down onto her lap. Callum and Martha cast furtive glances towards us, as if they expected something on the table to detonate any second.
Jeannie cleared her throat. ‘Let’s not let the food go cold,’ she said with an air of forced gaiety.
‘This is insane,’ Miles muttered into my ear.
Jeannie refilled her wine glass. ‘Eat!’ she insisted once more.
I speared a cube of potato on my fork and raised it to my mouth, wondering whether it would have been safer to eat a live grenade.
‘This is nice,’ Martha said, the lie sticking in her throat.
‘Very,’ Callum added.
Jeannie looked wistfully towards Mrs Harlow’s empty seat. ‘Is the food good? I’ve never cooked a Christmas meal all by myself before.’
Call me crazy, but the way she said it, I almost felt sorry for her in that moment. I cut a slice of turkey and added potato and roasted shallot. ‘It’s great. Mrs Harlow would have been proud.’
Miles furrowed his brows at me as if I was traitorous for being nice to her.
‘Eugene, George, Tristan, Toots, Aunt Clem, Mimi, Ceecee, Beebee, Quentin, Fergus and Mrs Harlow…’ she murmured as she picked at her food. ‘The ghost of Christmas present has certainly sent me one big fat F.U.’ She looked pointedly in my direction.
Miles swallowed a mouthful. ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ He gave an awkward laugh that didn’t even convince himself. ‘Why would the ghost of Christmas present wish to teach you a lesson?’
Jeannie put down her fork and addressed him directly. ‘Let’s cut to the chase. The detective is using you, Miles,’ she said, her voice cold. ‘Randolf has you believing it’s me. He’s sending you on a wild-goose chase.’
‘Oh?’ I cut across them. ‘Who do you think the killer is, then?’
She looked at us all one by one, the reflection of the fire dancing in her eyes, before going back to her food.
‘Well, it’s certainly not Martha…’ she said, chewing thoughtfully. ‘She’s nowhere near astute enough for that. Got her mind elsewhere… probably too busy fantasising about muff-diving.’
Callum sprayed a mouthful of water all over his food as Martha’s mouth opened in shock, and I readied myself to launch at Jeannie. But Miles gripped my arm, holding me back.
Jeannie cackled under her breath, the firelight catching her wine like a goblet of blood. ‘Oh, come on, I’m only saying what everyone else has already thought. I always did love my murder-mystery parties… And now I suppose I’ve got a real-life one. But I digress… Where was I? Oh yes, muff-diving. I don’t believe the killer could be Callum, either,’ Jeannie surveyed him with mild disdain and I slapped him on the back as he coughed up his water. ‘He’s a half-baked, layabout stoner who can’t even drag himself out of bed on a good day.’
‘Mother,’ Miles growled, ‘That’s enough?—’
Jeannie switched her focus towards her son. ‘For a time, I thought perhaps it could be you, Miles. I thought you’d finally gone stark raving mad, being married to that nymphomaniac, penniless wife of yours. But then Mrs Harlow died… and I knew you wouldnever,couldneverdo that to the only person who mollycoddled you and spoiled you when she thought we weren’t looking. I always said to George that her babying you would turn you soft, and it turns out I was right.’
I glared at her. Jeannie was a cold-hearted bitch, but this was a new level of brutality.
Her eyes locked onto mine.
‘And so… when Madge died, I knew it could only be one person.’
‘Me?’ I said with a little laugh. ‘You think I’m the killer? Is that your big revelation?’
‘Isn’t it obvious?’ Jeannie said, raising her glass. ‘It can only be you. And now, you’ve trapped us all in one place so Randolf can swoop in and make his triumphant arrest? It won’t work, Olivia.’ She took a long drink, her eyes never leaving mine.
‘And why’s that? Because you’re innocent?’ Miles asked.
‘Yes. And because I’m not the only one with secrets, and the truth will out. The rest of you were so busy looking towards each other, you didn’t see what was right in front of you.’
Our old friend the grandfather clock punctuated the silence as if we were sitting on a bomb, waiting to see if it would explode or just fizzle out.
‘I don’t have any secrets,’ Callum said defensively.
Martha shifted uncomfortably. ‘Nor me.’
