by Annie Adams
“What?” seemed to be the common outburst from everyone.
Pam glanced over her shoulder at Chad, who appeared to be trying very hard to shrink into the wallpaper. “Our catering help has taken off in our last boat. There are steaks marinating in the refrigerator, but they haven’t been cooked.”
Alex stepped forward, rubbing his palms together. “I think I can help with that. I saw those beautiful grills out next to the pool, and I was actually wishing I could try them out. If I can get them started, I’ll get our dinner cooked in no time. Chad, you want to help me out?”
“Sure,” his posture improved at this chance of redemption.
“If you ladies want to hang out here, we’ll fire those babies up, then come and get you when they’re ready.”
“Wahoo,” K.C. said.
“Play us something on the piano, K.C.” someone said.
She seemed happy to oblige and sat in front of the keys.
I decided to help out in the kitchen and see if there was anything else we could eat with the steaks.
On the way to the kitchen, finally alone with my thoughts, I came to the realization that the winner of this game wasn’t going to be the last one standing. It was going to be the one who figured out who was the murderer among us.
Chapter Seventeen
Yes. That had to be it. The murderer was one of us. It made me queasy to think one of my fellow bridesmaids—or my fiancé—was a murderer. And yes, I knew that it was only a game. Even so, I’d had more than enough experience with actual murderers to be comfortable in the same room or even the same bed with someone holding that nefarious title.
So, I would think of the person we were searching for as the culprit. Besides my unease at having a culprit among us, there was something else bothering me about this weekend. Actually, there were many, many things bothering me about the stay at the Harmony Lodge, one of them being the prize of ten thousand dollars. Not that I’d mind keeping such a large sum just for winning a game. That much money could be put to a lot of good uses, especially paying for a wedding. A policeman and a florist’s incomes combined didn’t allow for much extra after the basic expenses were covered.
But—this mystery game seemed disjointed and not all that mysterious. And everything that had happened so far had been very dark. Too dark for a little game.
Perhaps I was just feeling over-sensitive. After all, it was just a game. And games are meant to be fun, aren’t they? Maybe something big was about to happen, to really make us earn that prize money and feel like there was a true mystery to be solved.
Alex and Chad were taking the steaks out of the stainless steel, industrial-sized refrigerators when I reached the kitchen.
“Hey, babe,” Alex called out when he saw me. He’d become a lot more chipper than when he’d left the parlor only a few minutes before.
“Man, there’s a lot of meat on these trays,” Chad said. “Enough to feed like, twenty more people.”
“I think they’d planned on more people still being here at this point,” I said.
Alex lifted the plastic wrap covering one of the trays of steaks. “I wonder if they put any seasoning on these. I hope not.”
Chad looked surprised. “How come?”
Alex suddenly stood like he was posing for a camera on his own cooking show. “Because, I have the world’s best, most top-secret, rub recipe ever concocted.”
“Top-secret, huh?” Chad replied. It was obvious he liked Alex. He didn’t have the same reactive, teenagery, defensiveness to his voice that he’d used with K.C. and some of the others.
“Well, if I can find some of the ingredients in these cupboards, maybe I’ll let you see what I use. But no one else. Not even you, babe. Sorry.”
I gave him a little laugh. “No problem. I’m happy to let you make more of your top secret recipes at home. It means I’ll do less cooking.” Actually, Alex often cooked when we were together. I think mainly because he didn’t want mac and cheese for every meal, which is what he would get if it were always up to me to do the cooking. I walked over and stood next to him. “Do you think there was anything else prepared to go with these?”
“Yeah,” Chad said. “There’s like, potato salad and some kind of green salad and pasta in there.”
“Great. I guess the only one who has to work tonight then, is the chef here.” I patted Alex on the chest as I grinned up at him. He quickly reached around me with one arm, drew me in and kissed me like a sailor about to go out to sea. I was so surprised, my mouth froze and didn’t quite take his lead. He finished the kiss, tipped his head back up, and smiled at me. All I could do was stare at him, stunned. I loved kissing Alex, but he’d never kissed me like that in front of anyone before.
Chad cleared his throat. “Um, want me to get the dishes and stuff out?”
“Sure, that’d be great,” Alex said to him.
“What the heck?” I whispered.
His mouth hitched up in a sly curl. “What?” he said in a too-cute voice. “Can’t I kiss my fiancé?”
I squinted and then rubbed my eyes.
“What’s wrong?”
“Who are you? And what have you done with Alex?”
He rolled his eyes at me.
Chad pushed a cart laden with dishes and utensils into the hallway.
“You’re usually not into PDAs,” I said.
“I was just providing a good example.”
“Of what?”
He cringed guiltily. “Maybe I was a bit over-zealous. I thought about it too much. I should’ve just let it happen naturally.”
“You thought about what too much?”
He looked toward the door to make sure we were alone. “Chad has kind of opened up to me. And I don’t think he knows much about how to treat women. I wanted to show him that relationships can still be hot—Chad’s word, not mine—even when you’re only with one person. So, I tried to show him…”
I couldn’t help but smile. He’d obviously had good intentions; it was just the execution of them that needed a lot of work. He still held me against him and I squeezed him in a hug. He leaned back and seductively trailed a finger down my cheek and then my neck while he gazed into my eyes. Then he yanked it back abruptly. “But, if you’re feeling like there’s too much physical affection in our relationship…”
“Ha, ha.” I pulled him into me this time and gave him a kiss to remember. Only, without the audience.
“Now, that’s what I want to see,” K.C. said.
Or so I thought.
I looked over and saw her standing in the doorway with a smile on her face.
Alex gasped and stepped away from me. “I’m so embarrassed! Quincy, I didn’t know you were such an exhibitionist.”
“Very funny, Mr. Prude.”
“What’s up, K.C.?” Alex said as he walked behind me toward a bank of upper cabinets. I managed a gentle swat to his behind as he passed.
“I just thought I’d offer my services in the kitchen. But, I don’t want to interrupt anything.”
“You came just in time,” Alex said. “Quincy was trying to take advantage of me.”
“Well it’s a good thing she got to you first. What kind of services do you think I was offering?” Her deep laugh echoed off of the high ceilings and appliances, and the beads on her skirt tinkled with their own laughter-like sounds.
Alex managed to gather most of the ingredients for his “super-secret” recipe. I think the only reason the recipe was secret was because it didn’t really exist as a proper recipe. It was probably different every time he made it, depending upon what happened to be in the cupboard on any given day. K.C. and I helped distribute the rub on the meat and then he took it out to the grill. We stayed behind to take the salads out of the fridge and get them ready to serve.
“What’s the word out there with the other bridesmaids?” I asked.
“Regarding?”
“I don’t know,” I shrugged. “What did you guys talk about when we left?”
&n
bsp; “It started with people wondering where Sydnee went once Chad saw her. And wanting to know how she knew it was her turn to go.”
“I’ve been wondering that myself,” I said.
“The girls started questioning each other, figuring that someone amongst us has to be telling the next victim it’s their turn. Then they started arguing. And then they moved on to other things not really related, like Megan’s pretty nail color and how they’ll hate going back to work and things like that.”
I went to the doorway and took a look down either side of the hall. I closed the door and returned to the counter. “They started off on the right track, when they questioned each other, I think.” She paused and looked off pensively. “You know, I decided something on my walk over to this kitchen…”
“The murderer is one of us,” we both said simultaneously, then looked at each other and laughed.
“It has to be,” K.C. said.
“Did anyone talk about the poem?”
“Someone asked who wrote it, and of course, each person denied it was them. It was signed by U.N. Owen.”
“The monogram on all of Mike and Christie’s wedding stuff. So, we know it’s part of the game.” I looked through the lower cupboards in search of trashcan liners. “You know what’s interesting?”
K.C. held up a platter of something unidentifiable—probably vegetables. “You mean besides these?”
I took a closer look at whatever was on the tray, then recoiled. “What is that?”
“Beats me. Probably some fancy new super food you can only find in the forests of Asia—or snooty restaurants in L.A. But back to what you were saying. What isn’t interesting around here?”
“There are way too many interesting things about this case, for sure. I mean game, not case. This is just a game.”
“Right,” K.C. agreed.
“The poster with the poem on it was in the parlor. Not in the main ballroom, or the garden room, which are places we usually eat. You suggested everyone meet in the parlor earlier on.”
“So…”
“So we know that the mur—” I had to stop saying that word. “The culprit is one of us for sure. We would have seen the poem in the ballroom when you went to return the charm. That is, if they had set it up ahead of time as part of the whole plot, because that’s where we were scheduled to eat dinner.”
“Hmm. Maybe the other boy that we talked to set it up after we left.” She snapped her fingers. “Johnny, that’s his name. Maybe there’s one in every room.”
“A Johnny in every room?” I paused to think about that until I caught her meaning. “Ohh, a poster. Could be. We should go take a look once we drop off the food. Speaking of food, we should probably get this out there.” I pulled a rolling cart from the back of the room, next to a door with a sign on it saying it was connected to an alarm.
“Hey, what about the other charms you gals pulled from that cake?”
“What do you mean?”
“I need to take another look at that poem. The charms and the poem are linked, I’m sure of it.” She placed bowls of salad on the cart. “Here’s something else—the poem only mentioned the bridesmaids. Does that mean that all along, you all were the intended victims?”
“You mean—”
“I mean, Boss, the men on the hike, Chad and what’s-his-name, the twins who left, and moi—we’re not mentioned in the poem. None of us got little charms.”
“Alex,” I said.
“What about him, dear?”
“You left out Alex.”
“Oh, right you are. Of course, he was supposed to go with the other men on that hike, wasn’t he?”
“Yes,” I affirmed. “He decided to stay and spend time with me.”
K.C. clasped her hands together and looked at the ceiling. “So romantic, that boy is. If I didn’t have my Freddie, I might just be a little jealous. You’re one lucky girl, you know that?”
I did know.
“Boss?”
“Huh?” I’d just floated into the memory of the kiss Alex and I had just shared. Embarrassing as it was to do it in front of someone, it had still felt pretty great.
“Thinking about the canoodling you two were up to when I came in the kitchen, are you? Don’t deny it. Your face just glowed like Rudolph’s nose. And, I don’t blame you. But, back to the point I was making earlier. A mystery game with a prize of ten thousand big ones shouldn’t exclude half of the guests involved. Doesn’t it seem strange that they would get rid of the men like that? Who is really in charge of this game? That’s what I’d like to know.”
“Oh there you are!”
The familiar voice sent a disturbing, fingernails-on-chalkboard type of chill through my body.
“Hiya, Pam,” K.C. said flatly.
“I’ve been sent to see if you’re bringing the food to the pool deck. We were getting kind of worried. Usually wherever Alex is, Quincy is right there with him,” she said, as if I was some kind of parasite he’d picked up from drinking lake water. Then she laughed in a way that said, “Please, punch me in the face.” At least, that’s how I interpreted it.
K.C. took a step to her left, partially blocking the path between me and Pam. “Oh, Pam. You’ve got such a…way about you. A real, je ne sais quoi.”
Pam paused for a moment. “Was that French? I always wished I had learned it. I’ll take it as a compliment.”
“Oh, as it was meant, my dear. It means there’s just no-one-way to describe you. You’re a multi-faceted personality.”
“Wow, thanks.” Pam seemed genuinely touched by K.C.’s words. But then, her expression changed as if a switch had been turned off. “Wh…at made you say that? I mean, about my personalities.”
“What was that, dear?”
Just like that, the switch was turned back on. “I…” She shook her head rather vigorously, and then giggled. “I think I just misheard you. Thanks for the compliment.” She hugged K.C. abruptly.
As she turned to me, I braced myself for impact. I’m not exactly a “huggy” person. “Oh, I almost forgot,” she said. “Alex wanted me to ask you to get his jacket from your room.” She held out a key card. “He sent this along in case you don’t have yours.”
“Okay,” I said. “Would you mind taking this food cart outside, then?”
“Sure.” She commandeered the cart and pushed it through the doorway, then turned back to look at us. “I’ll tell them you’re coming, then?”
“We’re right behind you,” I said, warmly.
She hesitated, but then left.
“Poor, strange, little Pam,” K.C. muttered.
I blew out an exasperated breath.
“I don’t know what she overheard,” K.C. said cautiously.
“I need to be more careful. Although, I’m sure I closed the door. How did she open it so quietly?”
“I don’t know, but I need to be more careful too. That girl’s like a ninja.” She made some martial arts looking swipes with her arms and her skirt beads tinkled against each other. “She’s a sneaky one. And I’ve come to a realization. These other girls are probably just as interested in the prize money as we are, no matter what they would have us believe. They just don’t want to do the work of figuring out the murderer. I think their plan is to listen in on everyone else to do their sleuthing. From some of the stories I’ve heard, this bunch is anything but loyal to each other.
“Remember, Boss, loose lips sink ships, especially if you let ‘em loose in front of the wrong people. From now on, we have to be extra sure no one is listening. Especially not this lot. That’s the most important thing I learned in that parlor.”
Chapter Eighteen
“Something is bothering me,” I said as we walked down the hall toward the main staircase.
“You mean someone—like Pam?”
That wasn’t what I was thinking of at the moment, but now that she had mentioned it... “Not this time, I was actually—”
“That’s right, I’d forgotten. It’s Alex
and what’s her name. Getting a little too close, aren’t they?”
“Which what’s her name do you mean?” I couldn’t let my jealous nature get the better of me. “Never mind. It’s just that it feels—”
“Creepy! I know. I think the ghosts are on our side, but…”
I don’t remember the rest of what she said, I was too busy worrying about the paranormal activity we’d maybe or maybe not encountered. “Do you think the others have had the same experience with ghosts that we have?”
“I don’t know but I think they’re on our side.”
“Our side of what?”
She waved her hand in a casual gesture. “The game, of course.” She stopped walking. “I’m sorry, Boss. You started to tell me how Alex’s head injury is bothering you.”
“That’s not what I was trying to—”
“But you know, that happened before they even announced the game had started.”
“Yeah, all of that, but…” Why did she have to bring that up? It didn’t even look like Alex had a mark on him at all, despite the profuse amount of blood that seemed to be there when I first saw it. And actually, I never did really see the wound. He wouldn’t let me. I’d just assumed it was him being a stubborn man. But maybe it had never been real. Why would he make up such a thing? Especially if it wasn’t even part of the game? I couldn’t think about that right then. I had enough concerns even before K.C. made sure to lengthen my “things to be concerned with” checklist.
“What I was going to say, was how did Eva get into my room if she was leaving the maintenance room key with Alex?”
“Huh?”
“She claimed to be giving Alex a key to the maintenance room. If so, how did she get into our room if she didn’t have a room key to get in while Alex was in the shower?”
“Maybe the same way that someone got in and burned your dress?”
“We never did decide how that happened, did we?” I said.
“Well, what did Alex have to say about it?”
“Just what I told you.”
“Well, there’s one more mystery to add to the mix.” We came to the foot of the stairs in the main foyer where K.C. grasped the newel post and then rested her head on top. “Tell you what, kid. I’m already pooped, and the prospect of climbing these stairs again is as attractive to me as watching people squeeze their own pimples.” Her head snapped up and she looked at me intensely. “Did you know they have videos of such things on the Internet?” She shook her head. “Disgusting.”