"I think we should all watch it together. You tell me if you see what I see."
That sounded both intriguing and terrifying.
“I'm in,” I said. “I’m guessing those mint juleps were strong, but not that strong.”
“Too soon, Harper,” Taylor said. “Too soon.”
Five
“I don’t want to watch that poor woman collapse again,” Allison protested. “That’s very macabre, Vivienne.”
Seeing that wouldn’t thrill me either.
But I couldn’t help it. I was very intrigued about the mysterious hand reaching across the table. I had to watch the footage.
Especially considering how when I replayed that back in my head I realized it was probably totally innocent. If I say that it was nothing, I could let it go. Presumably.
“I think we should watch it once,” Taylor said. “The whole shebang. See if anything feels out of the ordinary. Then you should delete it.”
Vivienne nodded, but gave no verbal confirmation. It felt a little like a loophole to me, but I was paranoid.
Everyone unbuckled and piled out of the van. Taylor nearly face-planted on the driveway curb but recovered himself and waved off Reginald’s offer of assistance. He then gallantly offered a hand to Vivienne and Allison as they stepped down.
"Let’s go in the parlor," I said, herding everyone up the porch steps. "I'll get us something to drink that isn't a mint julep. And snacks if anyone is hungry.”
"Please, God, no juleps," Allison murmured.
When I immediately went to let Teddy out of the laundry room, he was waiting at the door, clearly affronted that we'd been gone so long, and even more affronted when nobody scooped him up immediately upon his entry into the parlor. He settled for winding around everyone's ankles instead, a tripping hazard in a room full of people. I was forced to bend down and pick him up.
He was a sly skunk, that’s for sure.
I flipped on the parlor lamps, poured five glasses of the good sweet tea and sat down across from Vivienne, who had already settled into the wingback chair with her camera balanced on her knee.
"Okay," she said. "Everyone ready?"
"No," Taylor said, and drank his tea like it was bourbon.
Which it was, partially. I saw he was tipping a flask over the glass.
I was reminded of the last time I’d had a group of guests in the parlor attempting to figure out what the hell was going on. The bachelor/bachelorette party last December had been a total disaster, with the bride faking her disappearance and the groom an actual murderer.
I really hoped no one in the parlor for this gala weeknight was a murderer.
It wouldn’t be great advertising to be the B&B where killers let their hair down.
Also, Taylor’s excessive drinking was similar to what I’d seen at the bachelorette weekend from Coco, the bride’s cousin. She had loaded the entire time and it turned out it was because it was nerves. Fear.
Was Taylor afraid of something? Being sued? Blackmail? Getting caught in a crime?
"Play the damn thing," Reginald said, snapping me out of my reverie.
Vivienne turned the little screen so it faced the room, angling it so we could all crowd around. On the tiny display, the magnolia tree swayed gently in what had been, an hour ago, an entirely different kind of evening. The candlelit terrace glowed. The crowd murmured. Evelyn Carrington's voice, tinny and small through the camera's speaker, drifted out into my parlor like the ghost of gala’s past.
Friends. Supporters. Benefactors.
I held Teddy tightly, his little nose twitching at the screen like he, too, sensed something was off.
The camera held steady on the wide shot. Evelyn was at the little table, the silver cup gleaming in the candlelight, the crowd in front of her from Vivienne’s perspective about twenty feet back. And then, just at the edge of the frame, a hand entered from the right.
