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?”
“Woooooooooooooooooo, 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 shouldnotmention that there’s supposedly a pool with an electric cover that will slide off somewhere in the garden?”
“Seriously?”
“Yes?”
“Why did you sayyeslike 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.
