“Well, this is all very weird.”
“You’re telling me.”
“Okay, listen to me,” she said. “Let’s take a breath.” I had to pull the phone from my ear to protect it from the sound rushing through the other end. A moment later, she said, “We’re getting carried away. I mean people don’t just go around murdering each other all the time. Well, they do around you, but—”
“Rhonda,” I warned again through my teeth.
“Right. As I was saying, here’s what you’re going to do. Stay calm. Keep everybody in the same room. And wait for help.”
“Okay,” I said nodding to myself. “I can do that.”
“And I mean it, Erica. Don’t let anyone out of your sight. Because in that movie I watched last week, the minute the group split up, that’s when somebody would get their throat slit. One by one. They all—”
“Rhonda!”
“Sorry. Sorry,” she said. “I’ll get someone out there to you as soon as I can.”
“Okay. Good,” I said chewing on the side of my thumbnail. “Anything else I should do?”
“Don’t touch the body.”
I chuckled unpleasantly. “Yeah, I wasn’t planning on it, but…”
“What now?”
“One of the other guests kind of kicked the deceased out of his chair,” I said, peeking out again into the threshold. “So it might be a little late for that.”
“What the hell is going on over there?”
“I don’t know, okay?” I near shouted, hurrying to stand back by the fridge. “This whole night has been really strange! And these people are not normal people!”
“Okay, okay, stay calm.”
“Do you think I should tell them about the generator?”
“Are you crazy? No! The people on these shows are always excitable, dramatic types. Your job is to keep them calm.”
“Right.”
“Besides, on the off chance there is a murderer, you don’t want to let them know you’re on to them, or you’ll be the first to get it. Play dumb. That’s how you live.”
“Play dumb. Right. Got it. Thanks. That’s great advice,” I said, staring absently at my mother’s broken cuckoo clock. “Really.”
“I am a professional.”
I took a heavy breath.
“It’s going to be fine. Just … distract them. Keep them happy. These kinds of situations, especially with the storm, they can play with people’s heads.”
“Okay.” I heard voices rising again in the other room. I probably needed to get back out there.
“And listen, you keep your phone on, and call me if anything goes sideways. If you don’t get an answer, text me. I won’t be able to hear you if I’m outside.”
“Got it.” I was just about to end the call when I surprised myself by saying, “Rhonda, one other thing.”
“Yeah?”
“You haven’t seen my mother, have you? Around town?”
“She’s not at the retreat?
“No. Her boat’s not either. She was planning to go to Arizona.” I suddenly looked around the kitchen floor, realizing that I still hadn’t seen Caesar. He normally liked being out with the guests. But maybe these people were even too much for him. “But I don’t think she would have left the guests.”
“Huh. I’ll make some calls. I’m sure she just got delayed somehow with the storm.”
“You’re probably right,” I said. “And thanks, Rhonda. I’m sure this will all be fine. I’m just…”
“Erica Doom.”
“Would you stop saying that?”
“Sorry,” she said quickly. “Just trying to lighten the mood. You’ve really got me freaked out.”
I ended the call and slid my phone back into my pocket, taking a breath. This would all be fine. I just needed to keep everyone in the same room, keep the fire going, maybe find us all something to eat, and stay calm.
I walked back into the main room. All the guests were standing, dressed, ready to go.
“What did the police say?” Julie asked, zipping up her jacket.
I was about to answer when I remembered that the security guard had gone out to get the boat started. “One sec,” I said, rushing for the door. “There’s been a small delay.” I knew that I would have to tell the group eventually that we were stuck on the island for the near future, but we needed some time between crises.
As soon as I stepped outside, I knew Rhonda was right. Nobody was going anywhere. The wind whipped my hair back from my face. I could barely see. I clicked on my flashlight and eased my way down the slippery steps of the porch.
It was slow going making my way down to the lake. Big chunks of wet snow pelted my face as I squinted after the small beam my flashlight was casting. I was actually kind of surprised the security guard had made it to the boat—I mean, I was having trouble getting to the dock, and I lived here. Correction, used to live here.
But he had made it to the boat.
He had made it to the boat, and he had left.
“Son of…” I muttered, peering out toward the dark lake. I couldn’t see a thing. I shook my head. Maybe he had a lot of boating experience, but given that he was willing to risk the storm in the first place, I was betting that wasn’t the case.
I trudged my way back up the steps to the lodge. Once I was on the porch, I took out my phone again. I texted Rhonda a quick message about the security guard being out on the water. She needed to let Lake Patrol know. I waited outside for the reply. The frigid air was helping once again to clear my head.
A moment later, my phone buzzed.
Ack!
I screwed up my face and typed.
Huh?
It only took a second before I got a message back.
Ack-nowledged Doom.
“Oh,” I whispered to no one, sliding my phone back in my pocket when it buzzed again.
Is anyone now currently being murdered?
I shook my head.
No. Nobody is currently being murdered.
Good. Keep everyone calm.
“Yeah, easier said than done,” I muttered, pushing the door to the retreat open. Unfortunately, just at that moment, a gust of wind barreled into it, sending it smashing against the wall with a Bang!
A few of the guests screamed.
Well, that was a great start.
I took a long, deep breath.
“So,” I said pushing the door shut behind me. “Who here likes steak?”
Chapter Fourteen
Turned out everybody liked the idea of steak. A lot.
It also turned out that Freddie had bought about fifteen steaks and put them in my mother’s freezer. I guess he really was tired of me begging for meat at his door.
I was surprised by how well the group took the news of the bodyguard’s desertion. Apparently, they were used to losing help. In fact, they seemed to be taking everything that had happened in stride. In mere moments, Julie had Ronnie crying—in that delicate way women do when they are wearing lots of mascara—in a chair by the fire, recapping all that had happened. How we were trapped … trapped! with her beloved deceased husband in a superstorm with people who, you know, maybe had cousins for parents. I was assuming she was referring to me on that last bit. I bet Julie was already planning the banjo music to play in the background. I quickly excused myself to the kitchen, before I truly went hillbilly on anybody’s ass. Again, some things were really not worth going to jail over.
Thankfully, my mom had a lot of supplies on hand, even though it was low season. I pulled out some potatoes to go with the steaks and grabbed a batch of twelve-vegetable soup from the freezer. After everything that had happened, it felt good to be busy and productive—almost mundane. This day needed more mundane. Well, as mundane as it could be with a corpse in the living room. And as an added bonus, it also meant I didn’t have to make small talk with the Boatright family.
After some peeling and chopping, everything did feel a lot less crazy. What had happened to Rayner? H
im dying like that? Well, it had been shocking and sad—although nobody seemed that sad, at least not when the cameras weren’t on them—but these things did happen. I mean, I’d heard that every established hotel has had at least one person die in a room, so it wasn’t all that surprising that it had happened at the retreat. In fact, we were probably due. And the whole generator thing? Who was I kidding? I wouldn’t know what a deliberate cut in tubing looked like. As far as I knew, this kind of thing happened all the time. Or it could have been a defect. Really, wherever my overwrought, food-starved mind was going with all that, well, it was just silly. Jake couldn’t hang a flag in the rear window of his truck, so I really doubted he had plans to blow me up with my mother’s generator. Yeah, it had just been one, long crazy day, and the storm was messing with my head. All I needed to do was keep everyone calm for the next couple of hours—these storms were never as bad as they made them out to be—and help would arrive.
I opened the cupboard to pull out some spices when I spotted the round tins of cat food. Okay, where the heck was Caesar? I rubbed at the tension in my neck and shoulders. It was possible my mother took him to stay with somebody in town before she changed plans. It wouldn’t be the first time. But I had offered to take care of him despite the fact that his favorite place to yak up a fur ball was on my bedroom pillow. I should probably go peek under some beds or someth—
“Can we help?” Julie asked, popping her head into the kitchen. Kenny peeked in behind her.
“You’re all through with the confessionals?”
“Yup. Ronnie’s spent,” she said, waving a dismissive hand. “And she wants to change outfits. She’s got a black catsuit that she thought might be more suitable for mourning.”
“Okay, well, I guess.” I couldn’t hide from the group forever, and maybe I could use this opportunity to find out more about the people I had been marooned with.
I got Kenny started on peeling more potatoes—because starchy foods are pretty much essential in a crisis, and I got Julie defrosting steaks under the tap. Once I had everyone settled, I said, “So, given everything that’s happened, I gotta ask, the Boatright family, all the drama, how much of all this is…”
“Real?” Julie asked, shooting me a knowing smile.
“Yup, that’s the word I’m looking for. I mean, you’re probably used to all this … whatever this is,” I said swirling my knife in the air. “But from an outsider’s perspective…”
She laughed. “It’s crazy.”
Just then I heard what sounded like a splash and then an outraged scream come from the living room.
I jerked my head around as Julie said, “Don’t worry. Ronnie and Ashley are just practicing their beverage throwing.”
I made a noncommittal noise and turned back to the steak I was preparing.
“To be honest,” Julie said. “I feel I should apologize. I can see how walking in on all of this drama could be a little much. And I was playing it up earlier. I couldn’t help myself. This was supposed to be a big night for me. And you’re our target demographic. Female. Youngish. Binge watching TV shows is the closest thing you have to a relationship?”
I blinked at her.
“I just got carried away. This wasn’t exactly how I planned the taping to go. As for the family, well, even Ronnie hasn’t quite found her groove with the camera yet. They’re performing. Amplifying. I see it all the time. Well, maybe not Brody,” she said leaning back to look out to the living room. “That’s not an act.”
“What’s his deal?” I asked trimming a bit of fat off a steak. “You said something earlier about it being a long story? Is it drugs?”
Kenny let out a loud, “Ha!”
“Nope, not drugs,” Julie said. “Well, at least not entirely. I mean, I doubt he’d pass a drug test.”
“Then…?”
“Hmm, where to begin?” She pushed her glasses up her nose. “Let me start off by saying, that not unlike a lot of rich kids, Brody has always wanted to be famous. For a while, he tried to be a rapper. Even got Rayner to hire a team of people to help him cut a demo and make a video, but it flopped.”
“Okay,” I said wondering where this all could be headed.
“Then, you know those viral videos of people doing idiotic things that could potentially get them killed?”
“Like the cinnamon challenge?” I asked. “Or weren’t people lighting themselves on fire in the shower at one point? Just so they could … actually I don’t know why they were doing that.”
“For the glory!” Kenny shouted, raising a fist in the air.
“Anyway,” Julie drawled, while shooting him a smile. “Yes, those kind of videos. Well, Brody has tried all of those. Sent himself to the emergency room twice. And that somehow led him to magic.” Julie swirled her fingers in the air.
“I’m sorry?”
“You know, like those street magicians with the hour-long TV specials?” she asked.
“I guess.”
“Unfortunately for Brody, that kind of production takes real money.”
“Rayner,” I said, pointing to the living room with the knife. Then I realized I should probably be pointing up … or down … or maybe just not at all. “Cut him off?”
“Yup. After the rap-star fiasco, he decided not to back any more of Brody’s ventures. Cut off his allowance too.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“He was worried Brody was going to spend all his money on hookers and blow.”
“And wasting all the rest!” Kenny said, jumping in. He then threw a potato in the air and caught it with a level of gusto that Freddie would have appreciated.
Julie closed her eyes. “Every time he says that. Every time.” She was trying to sound annoyed, but the smile at the corner of her mouth spoke to something different. “So, anyway, to make a long story short, he was planning out a trick, and it went pretty wrong.”
I waited.
“Well, he was scouting out locations for some great Houdini escape and—”
“He got trapped somewhere?” I guessed.
She nodded. “A port-a-potty. At some park.”
“What? He locked himself in a port-a-potty!”
“No. No,” she said with a chuckle. “He dropped his phone in the port-a-potty when he was taking a break,” she said, shaking her head, “and when he tried to reach for it…”
“Oh my God.” I briefly flashbacked to when I had first seen Brody sitting at the table. It suddenly occurred to me that those weren’t blue highlights!
“Yeah. He was trapped in there for nearly two days.”
“Are you serious?”
“Happens more than you think.”
I shot her a look.
“Seriously, look it up.”
I thought about it, but decided it wasn’t a good idea. Knowing the Internet, there would probably be pictures.
“You should see the little bit of footage he got before his phone—”
“Wait for it,” Kenny interjected.
“—crapped out.”
They both laughed.
“See?” Kenny said. “I’m not the only one who makes bad jokes.”
I blinked at them both a few times.
“Anyway,” Julie continued. “It was very Apocalypse Now. Some people just can’t be alone.”
“Especially without food and water,” Kenny said, “and surrounded by poop.”
I suddenly felt a headache coming on. “But didn’t anyone realize he was missing?”
“You have to understand, Brody is a bit of a…” Julie frowned in question.
“A poser douche-bag?” Kenny suggested.
The producer snapped her fingers. “Yeah, that works. So no. Well, Ashley did, but that’s another story,” Julie said with an expression I couldn’t quite read. “Anyway this all just happened a couple of weeks ago. Not long enough to be officially diagnosed as PTSD, but I think that’s where it’s headed. He somehow thinks death is coming back for him to finish the job.”
�
��Wow,” I said under my breath. “But what about his parents? Where were they in all of this?”
“I don’t think Brody’s mom was ever in the picture, really, and Rayner put a lot of pressure on Brody’s dad to go into politics. He couldn’t take it, so he changed his name to Kurt and ran off to join a grunge band.”
I blinked again at her.
“Seriously. Died of a staph infection.” When she caught my expression, she laughed, then added, “I was just messing with you about that last part.” She looked away. “I think maybe he was beaten to death.”
“I … I have seen a lot of people pass through this retreat, but never a group that was so—”
“Terrible?” Kenny said jumping in. “They are terrible, terrible human beings.”
“And yet they have more stuff than any of us could ever dream of,” Julie said, waving her hands out like a game-show model. “A reality show is born.”
“Yay!” Kenny cheered, trying to juggling some more potatoes and dropping two of them.
“I wasn’t sure I was going to say terrible,” I went on. “I’m not sure what the right word is.”
“Okay, well, fine,” Julie said. “Ronnie’s not exactly terrible. She’s actually pretty funny, and she married her first rich husband really young—” She cut herself off by throwing a hand up at Kenny who had his mouth open like he was just about to say something. “So help me if you start singing ‘Lyin’ Eyes,’ I will gut you.”
Kenny snapped his mouth shut and shot her a pretty disappointed look.
She sighed. “Every time. Anyway, he divorced her and left her and Ashley with nothing. Good lawyers. And at that point in her life, Ronnie really didn’t have any life skills other than marrying rich.”
I slid another steak over to my cutting board. “Wow.” Funny, how I couldn’t stop saying that.
“She genuinely wants a better life for her daughter. Ashley’s lucky in that,” Julie said, for a second almost looking sad. “Ronnie’s just got some weird ideas of what that life might look like.”
And I thought I had it tough with my mother.
“As for Chuck … Rayner’s nephew?” she went on. “He may be a totally incompetent lawyer, but not a bad guy either.”
Snowed In with Murder Page 8
