“You’re trying to get a man on the inside, so you know when the heat is on.” A small gasp from Mrs. A’s direction tells mesheknows what I’m talking about. Felix, on the other hand, looks like he just woke up.
“You lost me.”
“Classic murderer technique. Tamper with the evidence, plant a few false clues, set someone up to take the fall.”
“You thinkIdid it? We were sitting together when it happened.”
“Really?” I cock my head as though summoning the faintest wisp of memory. “I didn’t notice.”
Mrs. A’s torso twitches, most likely holding in a laugh.
“Fine.” Felix extends his hand to me. “May the best detective win.”
“Good luck,” I say as we shake on it, hoping he hears the silentYou’re going to need it.And I need him to be impressed with my skills in this arena, since I can’t cook or sing, and my hair is nowhere near as good as his.
“Well, well, well. What have we here?” At the sound of my grandmother’s voice, smoky and full of laughter, Felix and I spring apart. Belatedly it occurs to me that she’s talking about the body in front of us, not the hand-holding.
“These two are so cute together,” Mrs. A whispers through stained lips, propping herself up on an elbow. “Like salt and caramel.”
While I stare at the clock on the mantel, checking my time of death, Grandma Lainey presses a finger to her mouth, shushing her suddenly reanimated friend. Mrs. A resumes her corpse pose.
I’m looking anywhere but at Felix, and yet I still register his sudden stillness—almost before realizing that I heard something too. Mrs. A cracks one eye open as I stumble to my feet. Just because I didn’t recognize the noise or where it’s coming from doesn’t mean I’m not going to get there before Felix.
The billiards room, I reason, because it shares a wall with the library. Felix and I squeeze through the door at the same time, bumping each other like bowling pins. At first it appears to be a false alarm. The room is unoccupied, with none of the props that would suggest a setting for the next scene.
Beside me, Felix makes a noise like he wants to clear his throat but it’s too dry. I follow the direction of his gaze.
Two bodies in one game? That’s a twist. I hope it’s not because they think Felix and I each need a murder to solve, like we’re bickering toddlers who don’t know how to share.
There’s a tug at the back of my brain, a mounting tension that says I’m missing something crucial. Time to focus on the scene. Every detail is a potential clue.
The legs sticking out from under the pool table end in a pair of shoes I vaguely recognize from their yachting-on-dry-land aesthetic. They wouldn’t, would they? Not even Mrs. A is that forgiving.
“Did they seriously lethimplay?” I’m barely aware of speaking the words aloud until Felix responds.
“I don’t think he’s playing.”
“Because he’s not in costume?” My heart is beating weirdly fast, like a telegraph thumping out an urgent message. I keep waiting for Felix to move closer to the body, like that will un-pause the scene, but he’s frozen at my side.
It’s a strange sensation, when your body has knowledge your brain is trying desperately to ignore. My grandmother taught me to pay attention to those animal instincts, but right now I want someone to tell me I’m being ridiculous. The stillness of Bradley’s lower half isn’t unnatural. He could be really good at faking it.
“Felix?” I whisper.
His hand tightens around mine. I don’t remember which of us reached out first, but I’m grateful to be touching warm, living flesh.Thank God he’s here.It’s a thought I never expected to have, though that is far from the most shocking thing about this moment.
“Yeah,” Felix breathes, confirming what neither of us is ready to say.
We are staring at a dead body. And this one isn’t playing.
CHAPTER ELEVENTHE BODY UNDER THE BILLIARDS TABLE
The scream feels like a delayed reaction, the fire alarm going off when the building has already burned to the ground. It’s loud enough that I could almost believe the noise was coming from me if it wasn’t for the handkerchief waving at the periphery of my vision.
“What have you done?” Bernie has her head thrown back, like she’s accusing the ceiling.
“Nothing,” Felix says. “We—he was—we found him there.”
“I don’t believe you,” she wails as the other residents hurry down the hall. “This was part of your disgusting game, wasn’t it?”
