She didn’t turn, which was weird, because she was definitely in earshot.
“Julie!” I tried with a little more oomph.
Nothing.
I almost said her name again, but she suddenly jerked around. “What?”
She looked flustered. Almost guilty. Kind of like she had earlier when Ronnie had to call her name a few times to get her attention. My brow furrowed again. Soon I’d need to ask Ronnie about Baby Botox. “Do you really think this is the best time for filming?” I whispered harshly. “Especially, given the”—I gestured to the afghan—“you know.”
“Sorry, but this is good stuff.” She shook her head. “Dirty job.”
“Okay then,” Ronnie said, snatching all of our attention back. “You want to go off and live your white-picket life? Be my guest, baby girl.”
Ashley kept her eyes on her mother, waiting for the rest. We all knew there was more coming. I couldn’t help but feel sorry for her again. She was sitting there still as a statue. Well, except for her chin, which was quivering.
“But have you thought about how you’re going to pay for this”—Ronnie looked around the table as though she might find the word she was looking for there—“insignificant existence of yours?”
Ashley’s face fell as two little spots of color rose on her cheeks.
“Oh my God. You haven’t even thought about it, have you?” Ronnie chuckled unpleasantly. “After all I’ve done … I guess, you thought the money just fell out of the sky.” She twirled her manicured fingers in the air. “Well, don’t expect me to pay for this happy ever after with Prince Paranoia over there.”
We all looked over to the prince in question. The way he was darting from window to window, like a jumpy dog, well, you’d think he was playing for Team Ronnie.
“It’s only been a few weeks. He’s getting better.” Ashley shot another look over to Brody, maybe for support, but he was beyond hearing us again. “And we don’t need your money.”
“Oh, really,” Ronnie said, pouting out her lips. “Aren’t you forgetting that Rayner cut him off?”
Ashley froze a moment, but then leaned back in her chair into a surprisingly confident pose before meeting her mother’s glare. “He cut off his allowance,” she said, twisting one of her braids around her finger. “But he didn’t cut him out of the will.”
Ronnie stepped back from the table. You could tell by her face that she had forgotten about the will.
Chuck hadn’t though.
The lawyer had been strikingly quiet this entire time, sitting still as a mouse in his chair by the fire. But he’d jolted at the mention of the will, and I wasn’t the only one who noticed it.
“No … no, no,” Ronnie said, looking down at Chuck. He rolled his eyes up to hers, nibbling on his lip. “Is that true? I thought Rayner cut him out completely. Tough love and all that.”
Tiny beads of sweat winked on the lawyer’s forehead in the firelight.
“Chuck?”
He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bouncing up and down. “I don’t think I should really say anything at this point in time.”
My stomach dropped. This could not be good. Where was that Scrabble? “Okay. Everyone? Now’s really not the time to be reading any w—”
“Chuck,” Ronnie said again in a scary, scary voice. “Answer the question.”
He wiped a handkerchief over his gleaming face. “I … I don’t want to.”
“Why not?” Ronnie planted a hand on the back of a chair and leaned toward him. “Do you think Brody’s going to hurt you? Because—”
Chuck’s eyes widened, and he shook his head. “It’s not really Brody that I’m worried about.”
“Then who?”
His shook his head again.
Uh-oh.
Ronnie’s face hardened into something almost unrecognizable.
“Monopoly!” I blurted out. “Who wants to play Monopoly?”
“Nobody wants to play any games!” Ronnie shouted at me before whipping back around. “Spill it, Chuck. Everything.”
“You don’t have to,” I tried, my voice sounding almost like a plea. “You really don’t.”
“Oh, but he does,” Ronnie said, her voice dropping into something even more terrifying. Eerie almost. “Remember, Hillbilly Girl? You’re the one who said you’re only as sick as your secrets. Doesn’t he look sick?”
I peeked one eye over to the pale, sweaty man who looked like he might throw up at any minute. “You look great, Chuck,” I said with a weak smile. “Really … awesome.”
“No, Ronnie’s right,” he said, nodding and looking down at his hands. “You’re all going to find out anyway.”
“Find out what?”
“I’m so sorry, Ronnie,” the lawyer said, once again rolling his pathetic eyes up to hers. “But Rayner changed his will. And he didn’t just cut Brody out. He cut you out too.”
Chapter Sixteen
“What did you just say?”
Chuck collapsed back into the chair. “Oh God, I feel so much better, especially seeing as I’m the executor and get paid either way.” He wiped his brow one more time with his handkerchief. “I mean, the sitting here, knowing, while you had no idea…”
“You’re lying,” Ronnie snapped.
“I’m not. I have a copy here.” The lawyer said looking at his stack. “Rayner was planning to use it…” He shot a look over to Julie. “For the show.”
All eyes swiveled over to the producer.
She licked her lips, then shrugged. “We might have discussed something.”
“I don’t believe this,” Ronnie said, still in her scary, quiet voice.
Julie shook her head violently side to side. “It wasn’t supposed to stick, Ronnie. He was just going to use it to make you all talk. He really thought that one of you was trying to—”
Suddenly, laughter burbled up into the room. Ashley. “See, mom?” She threw her hands into the air, then let them flop onto the table. “This is where all of your hard work has gotten you.”
“Boom,” Kenny whispered.
Ronnie teetered on her heels. Stunned.
My eyes shot over to Brody to see how he was taking the news. But he wasn’t. He was still looking out the window. Kyle, the youngest of the group, looked frozen in shock.
I leaned toward Julie and whispered, “I don’t get it. It’s not like she’s destitute, right? She’s got the show.”
Julie looked back at me like she had just realized that I too was a terrible person. “It doesn’t work like that. Judging rich people is fun. Judging poor people just makes you a jerk.”
“Oh. Right.” I tore my eyes away from her back to Ronnie.
“No. No,” she said. “I don’t accept this. Chuck there’s got to be some way to fix it.”
And just like that the lawyer looked sick again. He really hadn’t thought this all the way through.
“Chuck?”
He shrugged and mumbled something under his breath.
“I can’t hear you,” Ronnie said, pushing up the sleeves of her catsuit. The muscles in her forearms rippled. Man, she must work out in that way rich women without jobs work out. And nobody works out like that. “Could you repeat that? A little louder this time?”
A tense, tense moment passed before Chuck finally said, “I don’t think so.”
“No. No,” Ronnie said again, but in a faraway voice this time. “I was faithful. Rayner knew that. I mean, we had our problems, but he wouldn’t do this to me.”
The room fell silent as the once-fierce MILF fell back into her chair. I felt for her. I really did. I mean, it wasn’t like I respected gold-digging as a profession per se, but … well, a deal was a deal.
“When? When did all this happen?”
“Just like a week ago,” Chuck said.
“But why?” she asked. “This doesn’t make any sense.” She suddenly jolted up in her seat. “Who did he leave it to?”
“I can’t tell you that,” Chuck said, picking his pap
ers up and folding them against his chest. “I’m sorry, but you don’t have the right to that information anymore.”
“You did not just say that to me,” Ronnie said getting up again and taking a step toward him. Chuck shrank back even more in the armchair. “I don’t understand what’s going on right now. There’s something you’re not telling us.”
He shook his head quickly, making the loose skin at his cheeks shudder.
“Why did Rayner do this?”
He shuddered again.
“Chuck…”
“He already told you,” the lawyer said, gesturing at the head of the table where Rayner had been sitting. “You were here. You already know why.”
Ronnie’s brow almost contracted into a look of concentration. “That nonsense about one of us trying to kill him?”
He nodded quickly.
A confused look fell over her as she shook her head. “But that’s crazy.”
“I know!” Chuck said, putting his hand to his chest. “I told him the same thing. I said, ‘Uncle Rayner, that’s totally crazy.’ Except now, he’s—”
We all looked over to the afghan.
“—dead.”
Chapter Seventeen
“Okay, that’s it,” I said, getting to my feet. “This has gone far enough. I think that until the police get here—”
“Why do you keep talking?” Ronnie asked, turning on me again. “This has nothing to do with you.” Suddenly she froze. “Unless … were you sleeping with Rayner?”
“Wait, what?”
“Plot twist,” Kenny whispered, swinging the camera in my direction.
“Why else would he pick this God-forsaken place?” She gasped loudly and pointed at me. “And he called you squirrel! And you liked it!”
I closed my eyes. Why? Why was this happening? “Okay, this is really getting out of hand. This is my mother’s retreat, and I came for a visit. That’s all. I promise. None of you were supposed to be here.”
She continued to study me.
I looked to Julie for support, but she was busy texting. Probably her boss. Probably to see how this could be turned into a Survivor-type scenario. “And as for all this murder talk. Well, it’s just ridiculous. You were all here. And I’m assuming that no one saw him murdered, right?”
They all looked a little unsure at that.
“Wouldn’t you know if he was murdered right in front of you?”
Chuck groaned. “Well…”
We all looked at him.
“Obviously I’ve had a little more time to think about it, and…” He pointed at the half-filled glass of Scotch still sitting on the far end of the table.
“What? No way,” I scoffed, planting my hands on my hips. “I mean, I’ve looked into some poisons lately, and—”
Suddenly I had everyone’s attention.
“No,” I said with a hurried chuckle. I even waved my hands in the air for extra innocence’s sake. “It was for another murder—”
Rapt attention.
I dropped my hands. They weren’t helping. “What I’m trying to say is that there are not a lot of poisons that can kill instantly.”
Chuck let out a noise that sounded a little like a whine and tilted his head from side to side. “Cyanide can.”
I stared at him for a moment then looked at the rest of the family. The mention of cyanide had obviously meant something to them. I dropped back into my seat and threw my hands into the air. “Okay, so which one of you just happens to have cyanide lying around?”
“Gramps did,” Brody said out of nowhere.
Whoa, it was weird hearing his voice when it wasn’t all shouty and filled with hysteria.
He turned from the window, still wearing his resting spooked face. “Around his neck.”
I dragged a hand over my eyes before shaking my head in disbelief. “I’m sorry, what?”
“I can’t believe I didn’t think of it sooner,” Ronnie said, suddenly looking a little spooked herself. “He always wore that fricking thing. Even during … you know.” She pointed her finger down at the table and gave it a little swirl. I had no idea exactly what move that was supposed to represent, but I didn’t want to either. “He thought it made the act more exciting.”
A gust of wind rattled the windows.
“Why? Why would he do that? I mean aside from the … you know?” My finger almost made the same swirly motion, but I caught it just in time. “Who wears a cyanide necklace? Was he suicidal?” My face suddenly felt a little tingly. Oh right, I needed to remember to breathe.
“Ha!” Ronnie shouted. “Suicidal? That’s rich.” Saying the word looked like it had hurt her. “It was an artifact from the Second World War.”
“He brought it out when he thought people were being sissies,” Brody went on in a near normal tone of voice, which kind of made it even creepier coming from him. Especially given that his eyes were still way wide and still looking at things the rest of us couldn’t see. “I was seven the first time he offered it to me. I was afraid of the tooth fairy.”
“Well, that’s just charming,” I said, scratching my temple. “And you don’t think he would maybe take it off given that he believed someone was trying to kill him?”
“I doubt it,” Ronnie said. “It wouldn’t have even occurred to him.”
“Okay,” I said, looking over to the body covered in the afghan against my will. “Well, have any of you checked to see if he’s wearing it?”
Nobody said a word.
I looked at Julie. She held out a be my guest hand.
“Yeah, no way,” I said quickly. “I was specifically told not to touch the body, and, frankly, I have already touched enough of that one.”
“Told ya she’s a freak,” Kenny whispered to Julie.
I shot him a look.
His free hand flew up. “I don’t judge your necro love.”
Julie whacked him and whispered, “Stop talking. Editing is going to hate you.”
He shrugged.
“All I’m saying is that maybe we should leave the murder accusations to the police.”
“Well, when exactly are the police going to get here?” Ashley asked, darting angry looks at her mother. “It feels like it’s been hours.”
I sighed. “As soon as they can.”
Ronnie’s eyes widened. “Oh my God! I just realized. You have no idea when they’re going to get here, do you? They probably told you that too! And you didn’t tell us!”
“I can’t be trapped,” Brody muttered, voice rising again. “No way, man. Not again.”
“It’s okay, baby.” Ashley said, getting up, her mother’s eyes narrowing with each and every step Ashley took over to the window. “Nobody’s going to hurt you.”
The look on Ronnie’s face kind of suggested otherwise.
“Nobody is going to hurt anyone,” I said in my most authoritative voice. “Look. We just had a nice calm dinner. We can’t let this guy and his conjecture get to us,” I said giving Chuck a pointed look. That’s right. I knew lawyer speak. “We need to stay calm. The storm is keeping the police pretty busy, but they will come. And until we have concrete evidence saying otherwise, I think it’s best to just assume the most likely cause of death was a heart attack.”
Truth be told, I kind of wanted to know if I had just served dinner to a murderer, but I also didn’t think it was a good idea for everybody else to know. This was a highly unpredictable lot. Too many people. Too many reactions. One small trapped space. This hypothetical murderer wouldn’t have to do a thing, and we could end up tearing each other apart. If someone did in fact murder Rayner, that was terrible—regardless of his failures as a human being—but outing that person now wouldn’t bring the old guy back. There would be time for that later, when we weren’t trapped on an island in a storm. Besides, the cyanide necklace meant the killer had planned to kill Rayner specifically, and the rest of us probably weren’t in any danger. As soon as I had the thought, a Klaxon alarm went off in my head reminding me of the bro
ken generator that we thankfully didn’t need, yet, but, well, I didn’t have a super reassuring but for that, but the police would be here soon.
“Well, if you’re so sure no one killed my husband,” Ronnie said. “There’s one way you can prove it.”
I raised an eyebrow in question.
“Bottoms up,” she said, waving a hand toward the glass still on the table.
My jaw dropped. “Well … you … you really are terrible people!”
“Told ya,” Kenny said in a soft voice.
I dragged my wary eyes from her when I saw Brody on the move. He was headed for the body. “What are you doing?”
He stopped a couple of feet away, popping up on his toes to see over the dead man’s shoulder. “I don’t see the necklace,” he said, quickly shaking his head. “I don’t see it!”
“Calm down,” I said again, wondering if perhaps calm down were the two most useless words in the English language.
“Seriously, dude!” Brody yelled. “It’s not there!”
“How can you tell?” I tried. “He could be lying on it!”
Suddenly all eyes were on me again.
“No,” I said, shaking my head vigorously. “I just told you that we are not supposed to touch the body.”
“Well you don’t have to give him a full pat down like the last time,” Ronnie said, nodding knowingly at Kenny. He nodded in return. “Just check to see if the necklace is still there.”
“Brody already kicked him off the chair,” Chuck offered. “I don’t see what difference it makes from a legal standpoint.”
“Oh really, Mr. Lawyer,” I said, shooting him a look. “Is that your expert opinion?”
He shrugged.
I rubbed my face roughly with my hands. “Is me flipping the body really what it’s going to take for you all to get ahold of yourselves? Or … or … but … you’re his wife, Ronnie!” I said flinging my hand out to her. “You should be the one to touch him.”
“I really didn’t like the thought of touching him when he was alive,” she said with a sniff. “I like it even less now.”
“I don’t believe this,” I muttered, slowing making my way around the table. “I so don’t believe this.” I turned to Kenny and said to his camera lens, “Rhonda, when you see this, know I had no choice.”
Snowed In with Murder Page 10
