“You do it,” Felix replies. “I’m pretty sure he has a soft spot for your grandmother.”
“You noticed that too?”
“Uh, yeah. If Mervyn could win your grandma a giant stuffed animal at the county fair, he totally would.”
“That’s your definition of love? A big mangy teddy bear?”
“I’m easy. You could buy my affection with a Jellycat.” He dances his brows up and down like I might want to take special note of that fact.
“Fascinating,” I reply with maximum coolness.
“I know you are, but what am I?”
I shake my head, because I am too smart to incriminate myself.
CHAPTER FIFTEENTHE BODY IN THE WEDDING
Our plan to visit Mervyn runs into an unexpected snag when our grandparents decide that we all need a rousing game of Killing Me Softly to lift our spirits.
“We’re getting back on the horse,” my grandmother declares at breakfast.
“The murder horse?”
“It’s the only horse in town.” She looks at me more closely. “I thought you’d be excited.”
“I am.” Sort of. “It just seems like maybe it’s a little soon?” This is easier than explaining that Felix and I want to talk to her lawyer in case our grandparents are ignoring a sinister threat to their entire way of life because they’re not great with details.
“You know how I feel about brooding. Unless it’s for purposes of revenge.”
I nod. It’s similar to how she feels about instant mashedpotatoes and restaurants that don’t serve bread before the meal:What’s the point?
“Who am I playing?” I ask, surrendering to my fate.
The answer is complicated. On the surface, I’m the generic ingenue in a summer stock production ofEvita, wearing a drop-waist dress with a bow at the neck and a fluttery chiffon skirt that cries out for the occasional twirl. I use words like “jeepers” and clasp my hands in front of my chest because I’m just so gosh darn excited to be in my first show!
Who would ever suspect poor little me of harboring nefarious designs on the leading lady (aka Malia) whose part I’m hoping to steal?
Felix, for one. He’s playing the disgruntled stage manager who’s wise to my tricks—like hiding her wigs and replacing her shoes with a pair two sizes too small. Too bad he won’t get a chance to confront me about my devious behavior. By the time he catches up to me in the library, I’m elegantly sprawled across a lounge chair, having been strangled with my own headband. A quick swipe with a cream blush completes the effect.
My eye sockets are starting to ache from the effort of not blinking when the director (played by my grandmother) drapes a fringed shawl over my face.
“What have you done?” she asks Malia, who is pacing like a tigress.
“I did what needed to be done. For my public. For my legacy. And for art! Never underestimate the ruthlessness of a woman backed into a corner!” She stabs a finger at the ceiling. “That’s why I’m a star! I’ll always be a star!”
I’m glad the shawl is semitransparent, so I’m not missing the grand finale. The phrase “chewing the scenery” is something I learned a long time ago at Castle Claude, but if anyone needed an illustration of the concept, Malia’s rant would do nicely.
“You can take the collagen from my body, but you will never kill my artistic soul!” she howls, before dropping to her knees. “Don’t cry for me, Schenectady! I gave you everything I had. And now the final curtain closes, but you will never forget meeeeeee!”
At that, she collapses into a heap. Her sobs sound like a wild animal’s cries—if it had a foot caught in a steel trap.
“Brava,” Felix says, doing that thing where you whistle with your fingers in your mouth before he starts clapping.
I have no idea if he’s applauding in character or as himself, but I totally get it. Although I keep that on the inside, since I’m still technically dead.
When Malia stands (with a little help from Felix and Mr. Namura) and beams at us, I decide it’s safe to sit up.
“Top-notch work everyone,” Grandma Lainey says with an extra smile for Malia, and another just for me. Maybe this wasn’t such a harebrained scheme after all. For a couple of hours there, I was completely distracted. It takes a lot of concentration to essentially play your own evil twin.
