We look hot—I have eyes!—but I’m incredibly confused about where the hell we could be going. Especially when he turnsonto his parents’ street. We park outside Mr. and Dr. Bardot’s house, and I’m surprised to see several other cars already parked out front.
“Benjamin, what is happening?” I ask, hoping to get at least some information out of this man.
“Patience, Colette. You’ll find out momentarily.”
I sigh. “You know how much I love surprises.”
“I know, I know. This is a really good one, though. And if you absolutely hate it we can leave, no questions asked.” He looks at me with those stupid puppy-dog eyes, and he seems genuinely excited about whatever we’re about to walk into.
“Fine,” I agree. “But if I hate it, we are leaving. And it will still count as date three.”
“Deal. Let’s go.” He hops out of the car and then rounds the hood to my side, helping me out of my seat.
When we get to the front door, Anders answers. He is also dressed up, in a deep emerald suit with a black shirt and tie underneath. I spot a name tag stuck to his lapel that says “Vincent Castellano.”
“Welcome”—he checks his notes—“Mr. and Mrs. Luciano. Here are your name tags, please step over here to have your photo taken.”
“Anders, what the fu?—”
“Ah, ah! It’s Vincent, but you can call me Vinny. Thank you for joining our dinner party this evening.” He smirks, ushering us into the house.
His wife is right inside with a polaroid camera, ready to take our picture in front of a beaded backdrop. She leans in conspiratorially, and I catch the name “Curly” on her tag. “Isn’t this so fun?” she whispers. “We thought a mob boss theme would really?—”
“Baby Bardot! Stay in character!” Anders scolds.
She rolls her eyes and then motions for me to step in front of the backdrop. I stand there, still confused as hell, but give her a soft smile anyway.
“Gorgeous! Your turn, Mr. Luciano,” Bex says.
Ben steps up, pulling his suspenders away from his chest, giving the camera a wink.
Next, we move into the living room, which has been transformed into a 1950’s style club… if you squint your eyes and tilt your head. The furniture is grouped in little vignettes and the lights are turned down low. It’s really adorable actually. Jules, Thea, Gabe, and the two heads of the Bardot household are mingling about, dressed up just as much as we are with champagne glasses in their hands.
They each introduce themselves—well, their made up names for the evening—and then Dr. Bardot offers to pour me a drink.
She fills about half a glass before setting the bottle and glass down gently on the counter. With a flourish, she clutches her chest with one hand and covers her forehead with the other. “I—” She coughs dramatically. “I think I’ve been poisoned!” Then she sinks to the floor.
Staring at her for a moment, I look around unsure of what to do next. Thea slides up next to me, her large stomach looks about ready to pop. “It’s a murder mystery party!” She smiles. “Isn’t that the cutest thing?”
Gabe, realizing it’s his part, rushes over to “check” his mom’s pulse. He stands and places both hands on his hips. “There’s been a murder! Everyone gets three clues throughout the night to solve the case. You will have until thirty minutes after the last clue has been given to submit your guess. Good luck and trust no one…”
I turn to laugh with Thea about Gabe’s commitment to the bit, but she’s now eyeing me warily and slowly backing away.
Ben takes her place, his arm winding around my waist. “Benjamin, this is unhinged. Is your mom just going to lay there all night?”
“Dead people can’t move, Colette.” He narrows his eyes in concern. “Are they teaching you nothing in your program?”
“Yeah, I’ve learned that if there’s a murder, you shouldn’t mill about the room trying to solve it on your own,” I fire back.
“Well, this is a 1950’s mafia den soooo…” He drags out the last word as if it should be completely obvious what the second half of his sentence will be.
“So what?”
He huffs. “So pretend like we’re solving a murder. Let’s go, Red. We have to get our first clue from Bex—I mean, Curly.”
“It was Curly, in the powder room, with a poisoned bottle of perfume!” Hugo, Ben’s dad, calls an hour later after presenting all of his evidence.
“How the fuck did he figure that out?” I mutter to Ben.
