“Okay, let’s do this.” Freddie yanked down his cummerbund and strode down the hall with startling purpose.
“Do what exactly?” I called after him. Low heels or not, these were not speed-walking shoes. I’d be hobbled by the end of the night. “And where are you going? The conservatory is back this way.” I jerked my thumb behind me, but Freddie was paying zero attention.
“I think our first step is pretty obvious, don’t you?”
I screwed my lips to one side. “First step? I only agreed to one step and that was to look for poison samples that don’t exist.”
“Just come on.”
Freddie resumed his stride, and I chased after him once again. He was cutting through the crowd like a hot knife through soft butter … until a woman sidestepped into his path.
Tyler’s mom.
And she looked upset.
This could take a while.
You see, Nancy was a bit of a helicopter parent. She was always worried about everything, like Tyler using sunscreen, or staying hydrated, or having an undetected peanut allergy that he didn’t actually have—seriously, the kid loved peanut butter. And ever since Freddie agreed not to press charges, Nancy had been bringing all of these worries to Freddie for some reason. It was kind of like that belief where if you save someone’s life, you’re responsible for them. That or maybe she had just worn out all of her family members. Either way, she was driving Freddie nuts.
“Freddie, thank God I found you. You’re not going to believe what’s happened.” She darted a look over his shoulder. “Where’s Tyler? Have you seen him?” Her short hair was shellacked tight to her skull in little curls, and she had a black feather boa wrapped around her neck. Both the hair and the boa really set off the crazy in her eyes.
Freddie frowned. “I sent him to bring in some supplies from outside. Is this about the peanut allergy again because—”
“No. No. This isn’t about the nuts. It’s about your suit.”
Freddie froze. “What happened to my tux? Tell me nothing happened to my tux. I don’t think I can take much more.”
She held up her palms. “No. No. The tux is fine. It’s just…”
Freddie raised an eyebrow.
She clutched her hands together at her chest. “The whole thing’s backfired.”
“Backfired? How could it possibly backfire?”
“Well, I don’t think Tyler wants you to know, and I tried to talk to his father about it, but you know how fathers can be—”
“Cut to the chase, woman!”
“Well,” she said, face twitching. “I just knew something was wrong with him, so I texted some of his friends and…”
“And?”
She pinched her lips together before saying, “Apparently, Chloe laughed and asked who he was trying to be dressing up in that cheap tux.”
I froze. It was the only thing to do because for just a second it felt like a crack had split open in the earth’s crust right underneath Hemlock Estate.
Cheap.
I had heard Freddie called many things over the years. I, myself, had called Freddie many things over the years. But I had never once heard anyone use the word cheap. I mean, sure, Freddie might complain about being pigeonholed as the rich kid in town—a title he had stolen from Matthew who had been sent off to prep school during his teenage years—but just because he didn’t necessarily want that title foisted upon him, from what I could gather, he didn’t exactly want it taken away either.
“That little—”
“Freddie!” I snapped.
“I knew you’d understand,” Tyler’s mom said. “We can’t let her get away with this, right?”
“Of course not. Why would you even think of going to his father with this first? He’s a pastor! He can’t help us.”
“I know,” she said, nodding too big. “He thinks I’m crazy, but this … this cannot stand.”
I didn’t know Tyler’s dad, but it was good to hear that there were some levelheaded types in town. “Okay,” I said, putting my hands up in whoa position. “Let’s just calm—”
“You know what else I heard she said?” Nancy went on, ignoring me completely.
“What?”
She stepped in and clutched Freddie’s forearm. “That Chloe thinks she is out of Tyler’s league.”
His eyes flashed madly around the room. “Where is she? No. Better yet. Where is her mother?”
All right, that was my cue. I grabbed Freddie by the elbow and yanked him back. He held up a finger to Tyler’s mom to wait then said, “Erica, what do you want? We’re kind of busy here.”
“Um, okay,” I said, scratching at my hairline. “Weren’t you the one telling me earlier that Tyler’s mom was a … helicopter mom?”
“Yeah, so?”
“Well, whuppa whuppa.”
Freddie cocked his head. “Whuppa whuppa? What the hell is that?”
“A helicopter sound.”
He angry-squinted at me.
“Fine! I’m not good at sounds, but the point is you were the one telling me not too long ago that Tyler needed to handle this stuff on his own. That with Nancy interfering all the time it was stopping Tyler from becoming a man.” At least I was pretty sure that had been what he’d said. Sometimes I tuned out Freddie when he was ranting. “Well?”
No response. Just fire. Deadly fire in the eyes.
“And let’s not forget that you are supposed to be a respected business leader in this town. How’s it going to look if you and Tyler’s mom go off seeking revenge on a sixteen-year-old girl because she can’t appreciate fine tailoring?”
A tense moment passed. Freddie wasn’t one to let perceived slights pass—and this seemed like a maybe real, secondhand, gossipy-type slight. That being said, he was very concerned about his role as a business leader in this town even though our business had yet to actually make any money.
Finally Freddie took a slow breath and turned back to Tyler’s mom. “All right, I know this is upsetting, but I need to give this some more thought before we do anything about it. I have a lot on the go at the moment.”
“What did you say to him?” she yelled, looking at me over Freddie’s shoulder.
I half ducked.
She looked back at Freddie. “Whose side are you on?”
He swivelled some pleading eyes back in my direction.
I shook my head firmly no.
“Just promise me you won’t do anything yet,” he said, patting her hand. Hard. He had gone back to looking like he wanted to fight the entire room—me definitely included. “One way or another. We’ll make this right.” He leaned in toward her, and I could have sworn he added in a whisper, “Once I get rid of Erica.”
“Freddie!”
He leaned back. “Just don’t do anything.”
Nancy stomped away.
Freddie stomped off too, but in the opposite direction. I scampered after him as best I could. These heels were getting more wobbly by the second.
“Out of his league,” I heard Freddie mumble. “Out of his league!”
Uh-oh.
“I’ll tell you one thing,” he snapped, suddenly whipping around to point at me. “She may be out of his league, but she is nowhere near being in the league of my tuxedo.”
I nodded quickly. It seemed the safest course of action. I was actually a little surprised, and more than a little grateful, that I had been able to pull Freddie away from this fight in the first place. I could be agreeable.
He whipped back around and resumed his march headed straight for … Rhonda? She was busy talking to a group of people, with her back to us. Freddie tapped her on the shoulder.
She whirled around. “Hey!” She looked super happy to see us … then suddenly super sad. “How’s your dog?”
“Stanley is in dire straits, Rhonda.”
I let my chin fall into my chest.
“Oh no, that’s awful,” she said, dropping a heavy arm around Freddie’s neck and pulling him in for a hug. Freddie kept his body ramrod straight, but I could see him puffing her red frizzy hair from his mouth kind of like I had earlier with my mom. “Is there anything I can do?”
“Yes,” Freddie choked out. “There is.”
I think Freddie was having trouble breathing what with the death grip she had on his neck. Someone had obviously been into the champagne.
“Rhonda,” Freddie said, voice muffled through her hair. “Rhonda!” But she just kept on hugging. He whacked her on the arm. “We need your help.”
Rhonda finally let Freddie go, face dropping into her most authoritative ex-cop expression. “What do you need, boss?”
“I have a job for you.”
“Got it.”
“Right.” Freddie leaned in closer to Rhonda, but not before darting his eyes side to side again. I don’t know why. No one was listening. “I need you to find Candace and make sure she doesn’t eat or drink anything for the rest of the night.”
Rhonda nearly jumped to attention. “Done.” I was a little surprised she didn’t salute.
Freddie turned back to me. “I love the way that woman takes orders.”
I pressed a finger into the spot between my eyebrows and closed my eyes. “Rhonda?”
“What’s up, Erica?”
“We’ve talked about this.”
Since the three of us had started our business together, we’d had some trouble working out the power dynamics. I considered us all equals. Freddie considered himself boss. Rhonda, having been used to being Grady’s deputy, was having a little trouble not showing belly when Freddie barked. I had been trying to explain to her the importance of asking questions when Freddie ordered her to do something, because if she wasn’t careful she’d be pumicing the calluses off his feet and making him martinis before anyone could put a stop to it.
“Oh right,” Rhonda said with a slow nod. She then squinted at Freddie suspiciously. “Why do I have to stop Candace from eating or drinking anything?”
“Because someone is trying to kill her. With poison.”
“Right. Got it.”
She had just spun on her heel to leave when I again said, “Rhonda.”
“Wait,” she said, slowly turning back around. “Someone is trying to kill Candace?”
“We don’t know that,” I said.
“Yes we do.” Freddie turned back to face me, yanking his cummerbund down. “Stop playing God,” he hissed. “Rhonda doesn’t want free will. You’re just confusing her.” I thought he was going to end it there, but at the last second he tagged on, “It’s cruel,” before turning back around. He then filled Rhonda in on everything that had happened so far.
“Should we call the police?” Rhonda asked me over Freddie’s head. She was quite a bit taller than him in her nautical-looking heels. “Grady’s here somewhere. He’d want to know.”
“Well, I don’t know about that,” Freddie said with an unpleasant snicker. “He and Candace were having quite the brouhaha in the conservatory. You missed it.”
I whacked him. “It wasn’t a brouhaha. It was just one of those conversations couples have when they’re experiencing issues.” And maybe breaking up.
Rhonda eyed me suspiciously. At one time, Rhonda had been Grady’s and my biggest supporter, but she had taken his side when things started to go downhill and I couldn’t make a decision whether or not to move home. We had gotten beyond everything, but the subject was still a little touchy. “And you just happened to stumble across this discussion of issues, huh?”
“We were looking for Stanley! And he was ambling his way down the hall and—you know what?” I felt my cheeks go red. “It’s a long story. And I’ve moved on. Mostly.” I waved my hands out. “We’re all missing the point h—”
“The point is there’s no need to tell Grady,” Freddie said, jumping in.
“So nobody is trying to kill Candace after all?” Rhonda asked.
“No, someone definitely is,” Freddie said at the very same time I said, “Exactly.”
Rhonda looked down at the teacup of champagne in her hand. “Does everyone have a headache, or is it just me?”
“Listen,” Freddie said with quite the dramatic hard-done-by sigh. “We could tell Grady, but you know he won’t believe us.”
“I don’t know if I believe us!” I said, slapping my chest. This was all happening so fast. “And you said—”
“Besides,” Freddie said, ignoring me. “He’ll probably just end up arresting us again.”
“Oh please,” I drawled. “On what charges?”
“I don’t know,” Freddie snapped back, barely controlling the volume on his voice. “For being awesome in the face of the law? Does it matter?”
“But say on the off, off chance you are right,” Rhonda said with a slow nod, “and we don’t tell him”—she threw on a point—“then he’ll arrest us for sure.”
Freddie opened his mouth to argue, but quickly closed it again. “You may be right.”
“That’s my job,” Rhonda said, trying to hook her free thumb into her gun belt. A momentary look of confusion crossed her face as she realized she wasn’t wearing one. She really missed being a cop.
“Okay, so new plan. We need to split up. I doubt Grady and Candace are hanging out together after their brouhaha”—he threw me a pointed look—“so Rhonda, you find Candace and don’t let her die.”
“Why am I on babysitting duty?”
“Because you haven’t ever accused her of murder. We have.”
It was a long time ago, but still.
“True. True,” Rhonda answered.
“Erica and I will look for Grady and find out what has become of the glass Candace was drinking from earlier. There might be poison residue or something on it. If not, there has to be damp cloth or paper towel.”
“Good plan,” Rhonda said. “I know a retired medical examiner who does lab tests for a fee in his basement. I can hook you up.”
I frowned. “That sounds wrong on all sorts of levels.”
She smiled. “I know, right?”
“Okay,” Freddie said, clapping his hands together. “We should get moving. Candace could already be dead.”
“No, she’s not,” I said, looking over Rhonda’s shoulder. “She’s standing right over there with her sister in line at that minibar.”
“What the—” I swear if Freddie was wearing a hat, he would have taken it off and swatted me with it.
“Rhonda! Go! Go! Go!”
“Right,” she said, before quickly adding, “What reason am I supposed to give her for not letting her eat or drink?”
“Tell her the truth,” I said. “Freddie is crazy.”
“No, not the truth! We can’t tell her that someone really is trying to kill her on New Year’s,” Freddie said. “That’s so mean. What’s wrong with you?”
I frowned. “But aren’t we trying to save her life? Isn’t that why we’re doing this?” I was really having trouble remembering why we were doing this. I think Freddie was losing sight too. It wouldn’t be the first time we had gotten carried away, and we usually had more to go on.
“It is too early in the investigation to make any conclusions.”
“So did we decide what I’m going to say to Candace?” Rhonda asked.
“I don’t know!” Freddie said. “I can’t do everything. Just go. You’ll think of something.”
Freddie and I watched Rhonda hurry off in her sailor’s uniform. She reached Candace just as she was accepting a drink from the bartender. Rhonda slapped it out of her hand, sending it crashing to the floor.
“Okay, well, I guess that will work,” I said.
“Now, where’s Grady?” Freddie asked. “Use your Gray-dar.”
I rolled my eyes. “I don’t have any Gray-dar. It’s not like I just instinctually know at any given moment where—Oh! There he is!” I said, pointing over at the other side of the ballroom. “By the grand piano.”
“Okay, let’s go.”
“Erica,” a voice called out from behind me.
What now?
Oh.
“Freddie, you go on ahead. I’ll be right there.”
“What?”
I pushed him on. “I’ll catch up. This is important.”