“Gag me,” Olivia said, rolling her eyes.
“So into yourself,” Felice agreed.
“Hey,” Garrett said, his tone sharpening as he pointed at Felice. “You keep saying you weren’t at the afterparty, and that you were here. But how do we know that’s true? For all we know, you could have been creeping around out in those woods, while the three of us were back here, sleeping it off.”
“Come on, Garrett,” Livvy said.
“Actually, someone did see me here last night. The DoorDash driver who delivered my order of potstickers and pad Thai at about ten thirty.” Felice held up her phone to show the open DoorDash app.
“But you could have gone out after,” Garrett insisted.
Olivia punched his shoulder. “What iswrongwith you? Felice didn’t kill Parrish. None of us did.”
“Then who did? And why?” KJ asked.
“Obviously, it had to be someone who was at the party last night. I saw her talking to that guy with the crazy dreads from the steel drum band, and she took a hit off his joint, but then later, I saw him leaving with some girl I didn’t recognize,” Olivia said.
Felice bristled. “Oh. Now you gonna say the Black dude must’ve been the one who murdered Parrish? You know, because he’s Black and probably a stone-cold killer?”
“No! I’m not saying that at all. I just said I saw them together. That’s all,” Livvy protested. “I swear, I’m not a racist.”
“Okay, calm down, Felice,” KJ said. “I saw Parrish with that dude too. Doesn’t make us racists. They didn’t really talk that long, butthen it looked like she got mad at something, and she went stomping away.”
“Okay,” Felice grumbled. “Maybe I was jumping to conclusions.”
“Maybe?” Garrett rolled his eyes. “Look. Maybe it wasn’t anybody who was at the afterparty who did it. Last night, this place was crawling with people.”
“We had reservations for four hundred and fifty people,” Felice said.
“And the hotel was packed to the gills with overnight folks. Parrish told me we were sold out weeks ago and a lot of members were bitching that they couldn’t get a room because of all the ‘tourists,’” Livvy added.
“Maybe one of those pissed-off guests took out their frustrations on her,” Garrett said.
“More likely, it would have been Parrish taking out one of them,” Felice said. “Like that old cracker McBee.”
Livvy shook her head vigorously. “You’re thinking about this all wrong.”
“And you know a lot about investigating murder?” Garrett asked.
“I kinda do. I’ve probably listened to more true-crime podcasts and read more true-crime books than anyone else in this whole state.”
“So that makes you a detective?” he asked.
Livvy started to say something, but Garrett cut her off. “Stay out of it,” he advised. “Keep your head down, do your job, and let the cops do theirs.”
CHAPTER 32
Traci sat alone at her desk. Her office door was closed, but she could hear guests talking outside in the lobby, discussing the day’s shocking events in hushed tones.
Mostly the noise was a gray buzz as she scrolled through the pictures of her niece on her phone’s camera roll.
The most recent photo had been taken just the day before—Traci and Parrish posing, dressed in their matching floral Hawaiian sarongs. Parrish looked so fresh-faced, happy, even glamorous, with a hibiscus tucked behind one ear as she laughingly vogued for one of the reception desk clerks who obligingly snapped photos for them. There were other photos too, of the Saint staffers, standing in the lobby, all dressed in their Beach Bash outfits. Parrish and Livvy and Felice, Garrett and KJ stood arm in arm, smiling widely.
These photos, Traci realized with a jolt, were the last she would have of her niece.
Before that, there was a picture of Parrish on her first day of work, standing behind the guest relations desk dressed in her pink Saint polo shirt, with her name badge pinned on her chest. She looked so grown-up and efficient, with her hair pulled back in a severe bun.
Farther back than that on Traci’s phone, there were photos of Parrish at birthday parties, Christmases, on the beach, at the pool,gathered arm in arm with her college friends. The photo that took Traci’s breath away was the one taken during Parrish’s senior year of high school. That year, she and Hoke had treated their niece to a last-minute ski trip to Aspen.
