Page 164 of Murder on Charity Lane

“I don’t want to make the birthday all about me,” she said, after Hamilton stopped talking about how the word should actually be reredundant, “but I need to thank you all again.”

“I wouldn’t worry about the birthday,” Nicholas murmured.

“I can’t even express how grateful I am,” CJ continued. “I’m just so … grateful. Uh, maybe you’ll understand how I feel if I say the word ‘grateful’ another ten times.”

I laughed. “We’re just happy you’re back.”

“Well, about that. That’s the other thing.” She glanced at Ocean and then away. “I, um, hate how much trouble I’ve been. To you all. How needy, I guess. So I’m leaving Santa Barbara for a while. I need a fresh start.”

“I adore fresh starts!” Mrs. B told her. “They’re my second-favorite kind of start. But I hope you’re not leaving because you’re afraid we’ll learn your secret.”

CJ blinked at her. “My secret?”

“Oh, yes. We know all about that.” Mrs. B peered across the table. “Lily-Ann?”

Lily-Ann set her napkin aside. “Frank DeYoung wanted to die. That is established. He told you that, he told you everything—except that he’d hired Pax. Which he didn’t mention because he didn’t want to make you an accessory.”

“Is that why he didn’t tell me?” CJ asked faintly. “That’s so Frank.”

“He loved you like a daughter, and you loved him. You couldn’t stand seeing him in pain.”

“He was so unhappy.” She twisted her napkin in her hands. “He kept telling me that he was one lucky slip in the shower from painlessness and peace.”

“You wanted to help him end things quickly. However, unlike Frank, you had no plan. You simply saw him standing on the landing after the party—and you pushed him.”

“I pushed him?” CJ’s teary gaze flickered to Ocean, then back to Lily-Ann. “But you convinced that cop that he fell.”

“Enible is cannier than he looks, CJ,” Ocean said, her voice brusque but her eyes gentle. “I don’t know if we convinced him so much as gave him an acceptable alternative.”

“Still,” I said, “you did push him.”

CJ wiped tears from her face. “When I heard that liquor bottle shatter, it was like a starting gun. It startled me into action. He wanted to die, but Karina wouldn’t let him so…” She took a hiccupping breath. “So he suffered instead. I couldn’t take it anymore. I didn’t know he’d hired Pax. I didn’t know anything.”

“You knew what he wanted,” Nicholas told her.

She didn’t seem to hear him. “All I know is that I deserve what Pax did to me. For what I did. I don’t deserve happiness and freedom and—and friendship. Not after what I did. I deserve worse than I got, worse than what Pax—”

“No,” I said. “You absolutely do not.”

“Can you explain the supposed suicide note?” Lily-Ann asked, which was interesting because she hadn’t told anyone else about the note until after Pax died.

CJ shuddered. “Pax called me. He said we needed to meet about Frank. About what Frank would’ve wanted. He brought me to the music studio and gave me a drink and … I guess he’d gone through my journal when he was feeding the birds and tore out a section that looked bad.”

“And the search on the laptop?” Lily-Ann asked.

“That was me. I forgot I’d done that. I only—I wasn’t serious, not at first. Oh, god.” Her shuddering grew more pronounced. “I never meant this to happen, I only ever wanted what Frank wanted.”

Mrs. B chirped, “Well, I’m thrilled we proved your innocence!”

“I’m not sure that’s what we proved,” Hamilton told her.

She waved his words away. “Oh, pish! She was just trying to help. She did help! That poor man. At least, I know Ocean will carry me the last few steps, when the time comes.”

“When the time comes?” Ocean said. “I’m ready right now.”

Mrs. B cackled. “I’m not ready yet, you horrible child! I only wish we’d stopped Pax before he hurt Sunny Wheeler.”

“I mean, Wheeler did illegally buy plasma from college kids,” Nicholas said.