The CPR didn’t work. It had been too late, or CPR wasn’t enough to fix whatever had choked or poisoned Brittlyn Alexander.
Time slowed to a crawl. But after several minutes passed, the group admitted defeat and stopped. Jalen picked up an unused cloth napkin and covered Brittlyn’s face.
“Oh, God,” Shelley sobbed. Her bangles chimed as she stumbled back out of the dining room, into the conservatory.
Cici followed Shelley in shocked silence. Marlowe tugged Plum and Sofia after the other girls. The others followed them. The door to the dining room swung heavily closed behind Dude, who was the last to leave.
Brittlyn’s body was on the other side of the closed door.
Plum couldn’t believe Brittlyn was dead. That a person who had been talking and eating mere moments before was now deceased, lying on the floor.
Dude crossed to one set of French doors and threw them open onto the island night. He stood just outside the conservatory in the open air, taking deep breaths.
Shelley perched on a settee, crying. Cici moved over to comfort her while skillfully dabbing a tissue under her own dark eyelashes to prevent smudges.
Warix plopped back on the sofa he’d been sitting on earlier. Sean crossed straight to the liquor cart and poured himself another large scotch.
Jude looked mystified as he moved into the room like a frightened puppy, skirting along the edge.
Plum and her friends retreated unconsciously, from both the scene they’d just witnessed and from the others. Plum felt like she was moving underwater, or that she was somehow in slow motion. They stopped in the atrium at the bottom of the arcing staircase.
“That was horrible.” Marlowe’s voice was shaky.
Sofia clutched Marlowe’s hand and nodded wordlessly.
Through the still-open door into the conservatory, the girls saw Jalen hold his phone up to his mouth, almost like a tape recorder. He shook his head, then started talking. His voice was deeply serious.
“Listeners, I’m standing in the desiccated remains of the Mabuz Villa conservatory. There’s . . . well, there’s no gentle way to put this. There’s just been an untimely death. I suspect it might actually be murder, and I witnessed it.”
Behind his black glasses, his brown eyes were bright. He almost seemed lit from within. Even though his voice sounded dire, as he described Brittlyn’s death, it was disconcerting to watch him—his voice so at odds with his demeanor.
Surely he wasn’t happy to get to report on an untimely death. Or even a murder?
Marlowe glanced at Plum, her eyes wide with disbelief. Sofia shook her head slightly.
“We don’t know if it was a murder. I don’t suppose we could know that,” the podcaster continued. “I’m not a coroner. I’m just a true-crime podcast host.”
There was now an underlying current of amusement in his tone. Jalen frowned. “Fix that. Edit that out. Try again.” He schooled his expression into gravity. “We can’t know for certain until there’s an investigation. But it’s a murder. It has to be—who chokes on cheesecake? And there was no allergy bracelet.”
“He’s . . .” Marlowe’s voice was faint with disbelief. “He’s recording for his podcast? Now?”
“Looks that way.” Sofia was frowning in disgust.
“We came here for Pyre Festival,” Jalen reported into his phone. “We found untimely death, perhaps even murder. Ladies and gentlemen, this is a Bloody Ground.” Jalen frowned. “Grounds. Ladies and gentlemen, I find myself . . . on Bloody Grounds.” Jalen relaxed. “Use one of those,” he instructed his phone’s recorder.
In the atrium, Marlowe leaned over and whispered urgently. “Do you think Brittlyn was really poisoned?”
“I don’t know,” Plum whispered back. “It doesn’t seem possible!”
If it was poison . . . where had it been? In the cheesecake? Brittlyn hadn’t been the only one to eat it. Was it in her drink? Had anyone else eaten the flower on their cheesecake slice?
“It was poison,” Sofia murmured. “We should never have come here. It was stupid of us. Greedy. We’re paying the price now.”
Plum felt gutshot with guilt. It spread through her like a dark dye in water. She’d been the one who wanted to come. Who’d wanted to be something more.
“Sofia, that’s just your overactive guilt talking,” Marlowe whispered harshly. “Besides, you’re scaring Plum!” She pointed at Plum.
Plum wasn’t scared. Well, not really. She was more shocked. But Marlowe’s eyes were saucer-wide.
“Overactive guilt?” Sofia whispered angrily back. “You ever think you could use some? It’s guilt ’cause there’s a . . . a wrong underneath it! Like how we lied to our parents? Stole Peach’s invitation? Remember that?”
“It was supposed to be a festival!” Marlowe’s eyes shimmered. “We just wanted to have some fun!”
Sofia shook her head furiously. Whether she was disgusted at Marlowe, or Marlowe and Plum, or all of them, it didn’t matter.
It was Plum’s fault.
“Who would kill Brittlyn? If it was . . . was . . . was murder . . .” Plum stammered to her friends. “The police will figure it out. What happened. We . . . we’ll leave tomorrow.”
Marlowe nodded vigorously. She hugged herself tightly. “On the first boat!”
“If there even is a boat,” Sofia muttered darkly.
Goose bumps prickled on the back of Plum’s neck.
“Wadsworth!” Sean’s coarse shout caused Plum to jump. He was still holding his drink. “Oi! Still not talking to us?”
“Hey, guys?” Jude’s voice was weak. He had moved back to the door into the dining room.
“Maybe we should post on Pyre Signs?” Shelley suggested from her settee. “Since there’s no signal? And no other apps available? We could post on Pyre and ask for the police and stuff?”
“Be my guest,” Warix sniped. He pulled his laptop over. “I’m going to try a backdoor hack to lift the data restrictions.”
“Oi, maybe you broke Wadsworth with that hacking bollocks.” Sean pointed a finger at Warix.
“That’s not how any of this works, you wanker.” Warix didn’t even look up from his computer screen.
Sean frowned menacingly at the gamer.
“And I don’t think posting on Pyre Signs is going to help, either,” Warix continued. “I’d bet you anything both Wadsworth and Pyre Signs are disabled now.”
“What? Why?” Sofia asked.
Warix glanced up at her. His normally snarky expression softened.
“Just a bad feeling, I guess. Wadsworth stopped working right when Brittlyn was dying. It’s not a coincidence.”
Shelley hiccupped and picked up her phone. Next to her, Cici did the same.
“It’s stuck on load,” Shelley reported. She showed her screen, the fire animation playing on a loop.
“Mine too,” Cici said.
“Um, guys.” Jude’s voice was slightly more firm.
Plum looked back along the conservatory wall. Jude was holding the dining room door open slightly with one hand.
“Didn’t someone say they had a phone signal on the dock?” Jalen asked. “Maybe we could call the police from there.”
“Guys!” Jude shouted sharply.
All eyes snapped to the YouWow streamer.
Jude lifted a shaky hand. He pointed into the dining room.
The body. He had to be looking at Brittlyn’s body.
Finally, Jude turned his eyes back to the room behind him.
“You’re not going to like this.”