Zelda, who had not seemed to care one iota about who killed her earlier, now fixed her fiery gaze on Lemon. “How do you like your inheritance?”
Lemon curled her hands into fists and jammed them next to her ears. “You’re kidding me, right? You screwed me, Mother, royally screwed me. You gave my inheritance to your pool boy.”
“All you would have done was sell off the house,” Zelda spat. “I thought it fitting that you don’t get it. You never cared for me or our heritage. All you’ve ever cared about was making sure that your wallet is full. Hence, why you married Traylor.”
Lemon glared at Zelda. “If you’d been a smarter businesswoman, you would have valued money more, too.”
But Zelda wasn’t listening to her. Her gaze was fixed on Traylor. “You have your own secrets, don’t you?”
Traylor suddenly looked very uncomfortable, as did Luis.
“Zelda,” Luis said in what I figured was an attempt to come to Traylor’s rescue, “what is it that you’re talking about? What do you mean?”
Zelda’s gaze snapped on Luis. “Oh, you know very well what I mean. I’ve known about it for a long time, but I never said anything.” She threw her head back and laughed bitterly. “I’m not so stupid that I don’t know what went on under my own nose. I never should have left you the house, either.”
Luis prayed his hands. “Please, I will give it to Lemon. I will do whatever you want.”
Lemon’s eyes narrowed on Traylor. “What is she talking about?”
He shook his head slightly. His face had gone very pale, and his fingers trembled on the table. “I…I don’t know. Something must have happened when she was up there, something that messed with her mind.”
“Nothing has messed with my mind,” Zelda snapped. “I’m exactly in all my right wits. Don’t even think that I’m not.” She slipped through the table and fixed herself outside of our circle, arms in an X across her chest. "What I want to know is—how long?”
Tear streamed down Luis’s face. “Zelda,” he pleaded.
“How long?” she demanded.
Roan spoke. “Zelda,” he commanded, “we’ve asked you here to find out who murdered you. Someone at this table committed a crime, and you’re the only one who can help us.”
Like, thank you, Roan! If Zelda or Luis blurted out about the affair now, we would lose the room. Everything would go topsy-turvy.
She stopped, pausing. It was like Roan speaking had turned a lightbulb on in her brain. She wanted to verbally spank Luis for his indiscretion, but at the same time Zelda appeared compelled to discuss her death.
She slowly raised a hand and cupped it to her face. “It was a strange thing. I’d done the séance tonight because I was broke. There are so many debtors that I owe, that if I didn’t get more money, I would lose everything—even the house.”
Lemon exploded. “So the money I have goes to debtors? You’ve left me in debt? Mother, how could you?”
“Because you’re a bad, bad girl who lies to people, like Blissful here, because you’re so jealous. Why, I’m surprised you didn’t ruin the séance we had tonight.”
“Zelda,” Roan gently prodded. “What happened? Who took that knife to you?”
She glanced around the room as if seeing a different scene. “I was talking to Blissful about the helmet, and then I left the room. But then”—she touched her chest—“there was suddenly a knife. I’d been so taken aback, you see, that I didn’t expect it. I hadn’t even seen them do it, but they had, they had thrust it into me, between my ribs.”
She glanced down at her chest as if she still saw it there, sticking out. But of course, she hadn’t conjured it. Nothing lay tucked into Zelda’s chest except air and space.
But even as she took her time relaying to us what had happened, sweat continued to pour from my forehead. Lucky kept flickering in and out and we had to have answers quickly, so that I could get on to the next task at hand.
“Zelda, can you tell us who it was?” I asked. “Can you say who killed you?”
Their faces were each guilty and innocent at the same time. Lemon smirked, throwing her hair over one shoulder as she glared at Luis, certain it was him.
Luis, hands folded over each other, shot flaming daggers from his eyes at Lemon.
Both of them were each so sure that it had been the other who committed the crime.
Then there was Traylor, who had as much to hide as Luis, even more. His face still looked like the color of marble, frozen with worry and fear.
And then there was Tex, who mopped up great pools of sweat from his temples and brow. He, who seemed the least likely to have committed any crime, looked just as worried as everyone else.
