Testing her limits, I reach out to touch her hairband with a feather around her head, but she is quick to swat me away with her gloved hand. “Someone’s cranky tonight.”
“Cut the crap, Keats. I have no problem throwing thischampagne on you if need be and ending this temporary truce.”
I cluck my tongue once before I take a drink. “Nah, the only one wet here is you.”
Her entire face flames in one second flat before she pouts. “Bees geez, aren’t you something despicable tonight.” She throws on the theatrics. I’ll give her points for staying in character.
“Shall we both just find our seats at the opposite sides of the table?” I suggest.
“Let’s.” She pivots in one sharp move and shimmies away, and despite the dim lighting of the room, the outline of her toned legs is clear. Esme really should have thought about adding an inch or two to the hemline. Must everyone nearly see her thighs? One person’s stupidity is another person’s gain, right?
Everyone takes a few minutes to get settled in their seats. More champagne flows and appetizers are brought. General chitchat is fine, the few times I catch Esme sending me daggers is good, and Hailey hitting her glass with the side of a fork is better. We need to get this show on the road.
“Hello, everyone. This will be such a great night. We will be following our scripts that everyone will be given when we have our main course. But first…” Oh dear god, she has jazz hands. “We will be given some clues, and it will send us on a little scavenger hunt through the manor.” She pulls up a letter that looks like it was written on a typewriter. The lady is really into the little details. “It seems our detective” —–she points to Oliver and hands him the note— “comes bearing news that he shall read out.”
Oliver gently shakes his head, completely entertained, but since he is a good sport, he’s ready to go all in. “It seems that nobody may leave this residence until we find our guiltyparty. This morning the maid found Mrs. Parker dead in the garden, clearly murdered. Everyone here is a suspect and must find evidence of their innocence. Mr. Porter, the butler, and the head of staff, Ms. Dingle, must search for possible weapons. Mr. Parker would be a prime suspect except it is believed he was with his mistress, Lola Jazz. Therefore, they too will need to search for something that will prove they are innocent.”
Esme’s eyes blaze open, and internally I’m not surprised by this change to the night’s plans.
We’re now stuck together.
“Is this for real?Where can we look to speed this up?” Esme trudges along behind me down the hallway.
I stop to turn my attention to her. “Everyone at the table, all twenty of us, have been sent on a scavenger hunt. Just so happens they all get their thrills out of forcing us on this little adventure.” An adventure it is, as much as her tits perk up to test me, an hour of listening to her whine isn’t ideal either.
“Then let’s find a bedroom or something.”
My eyes pop out from her bold statement. “Wow, eager. Getting right to business. Really get into character.”
She seems to scold herself, and her nose wrinkles. “To find fucking clues. That’s what I meant. They’re probably in one of the bedrooms or maybe the study.”
Between my two fingers I hold up the only clue we’ve been given that’s written on a small card.
Forgotten spaces.
Esme throws her arms up in the air. “What the hell could that mean? Come on, let’s go to the study.”
She’s already strolling past me before I even get a chanceto answer. “My sister will lose it when I tell her about this night. Or rather her boyfriend will.”
“I’ve seen them come over once or twice. I assume you’re close,” she observes.
“We are.”
Esme opens the door to the study filled with dark wood and a leather sofa. “That’s nice. I guess you have a piece of heart to spare for some people.”
“Silly me for thinking you wanted to have a normal conversation.”
She stops, and we face one another. “I’m sorry, okay? This just feels like a little much, you know? Like do we really need an hour to wander the manor before dinner is served promptly at eight with a butler?” It takes a few seconds, but then she realizes that maybe over the top can kind of be fun and a stretched line crosses along her face.
“What’s that I see? Is… is that a smile?” I pretend shock.
“Har, har. Now come on, let’s search.”
Esme instantly heads across the room to fumble with the locked drawers of the grand oak desk, and I peruse the shelf of books, fondly reading the spines. “Quite a collection of law books here.”
“That’s the thing you notice?”
My eyes swing to her, and I notice the way her fingers softly trail along the smoothness of the desk. “Am I supposed to be noticing something else?”
