No one spoke…we all just sat there, frozen to the spot, wondering if Miriam had actually said anything or if we'd imagined it. Her voice was so soft it was practically nonexistent.
"Did she say something?" Betty asked.
Ned scowled and in a deep, gruff voice, shouted, "LUNCH!"
We all stood up immediately. For a moment, I thought the girls might be intimidated, but then I remembered who I was talking about and put that concern aside.
The dining room was just across the hallway. The house was a huge white Victorian with a wraparound porch, complete with swinging wicker benches. The inside was another matter. Laid out like a square, there were nine rooms around the perimeter, with the staircase in the middle.
Once inside the front door, on your left was the lounge in the corner, with the kitchen at the other end and the dining room in between the two. On the other side of the kitchen was the ballroom, and on the other side of that was the conservatory, also in the corner. The billiard room was next, and then there was the library, and the other corner had a study, which was to the right of the front door. There was a grand hall between that and the lounge that had the main entrance in it.
The layout seemed strangely familiar to me, but I couldn't place it. It reminded me of my elementary school—long since closed down. That building was also a square with the gym in the middle. That must be why it was familiar.
We filed out of the lounge and walked into the dining room. There were seats for twelve, and Miriam had set up a kids' table in the corner. The girls sat without complaint, which made me wonder if they knew something I didn't. They were picky eaters who preferred to eat nothing but PB&J sandwiches and ice cream novelties. Even at camp. Which made a refrigerator a necessity at most campsites.
It occurred to me that I hadn't seen the menu for the weekend. Had I given Stacey suggestions? I couldn't remember. If I had, we'd probably be eating a lot of junk this weekend—something these high-end donors wouldn't appreciate.
Still, Audrey Deivers had spoken highly of Miriam's cooking, so whatever it was should be pretty good. No one said a word as Miriam and Ned brought out plates, which they set before us. We seemed to be having some sort of fish, hopefully not caught in Dead Otter Lake. The filet was blackened and accompanied by a small salad.
This was disappointing. I wasn't a big seafood (or in this case, lakefood) fan. The salad only added insult to injury. Looking around the table, I realized that the guests weren't terribly impressed. That wasn't a good sign. We had a great mystery planned for them, but you couldn't investigate on an empty stomach, even if it was only pretend.
Once we were all served and our water glasses were filled, Miriam brought out a covered tray and set it in the middle of the kiddie table. The girls were grinning ear to ear, as if they knew what to expect. She lifted the lid, and I started drooling.
"Grilled cheese!" Ava cried out as she grabbed a gooey sandwich and started munching.
I raised my hand to ask if I could have a grilled cheese sandwich, but Miriam had disappeared into the kitchen. Would the girls notice if I snagged one? My stomach rumbled at the thought of toasted bread and melted cheese.
"Can I have your attention?" Stacey hit her water glass with a spoon.
As the guests turned to her, I reached out to the kids' table to snatch a sandwich, only to be met by an empty plate. I withdrew my hand and picked up a fork to play with my salad.
"I'm so glad you're all here," the blonde continued. "Each one of you has been very generous in joining us for this adventure. Girl Scouts is an amazing organization where girls find empowerment and fun!"
"Where are the sandwiches?" I whispered to the girls. They shrugged as they chewed.
"Hopefully"—Stacey smiled—"you've each received your envelope with your information for the party. Please don't share what you have with anyone else. That way we can all have fun finding our killer!"
There was some vague enthusiasm from the men, but the women leaned in eagerly. I picked at my salad, hoping it would fill me up a little. If desperate, I would attempt the fish…but that was only as a last resort.
"When do we start?" Taylor asked. She cast a look at the girls. "When I was a Girl Scout, we had to make our own lunches over an open fire. Doesn't that sound like fun?" Somehow she'd made this sound like an insult.
Four little girls looked at her curiously. We were on dangerous territory because my kids were expert fire starters. Maybe I should check the house for matches. Hiding them would be tricky since my girls were bloodhounds when they wanted something sniffed out. I have never been able to keep cake in my house.
Juliette attempted a smile that looked more like a trembling snarl. "Right now. We began the minute we sat down to lunch. And we will conclude in two days, at lunch on Sunday."
"I read my file," Wren tittered. "This is going to be so much fun!"
Violet agreed. "This is a wonderful story line. And thank you for keeping our characters close to real life. We don't have to memorize any names!"
Dennis sighed heavily. "When does the victim die?"
"Stick to your script," Dr. Caroline snapped. "And don't give anything away. I don't like spoilers!"
Dennis rolled his eyes. I had a feeling that would be his number one reaction from here on out.
"What do we do now?" Arthur asked.
Stacey shrugged. "You have lunch. Chat with the other guests. The killer and victim know what happens next. We just wait and see."
There was an overbearing silence, pierced by the clatter of forks on china. I guess eating was preferable to making small talk. And why weren't there any rolls? There should be rolls. I could eat that if I had to. I started to rise from my chair, when Ned came into the dining room and set down a basket covered by cloth.
Snatching up the basket, I reached in to find hard breadsticks. They were thin and barely counted as food, but I still took five. Now if I could only score some butter…
Betty marched up to Enos. "So, Clean Yo Mouth is your app?"
McQuaid nodded, unsure how to communicate with a child.
"I still don't get it, but my dentist says it's the best invention since the cavity."
"Oh. Thanks." He gave her a halfhearted grin and turned back to his food, hoping she'd go away.
She didn't. "I have some thoughts that would improve it," Betty pushed.
The young man turned to her, his eyes bulging and mouth hanging open. "Well, I've sold it. It belongs to someone else now…"
Betty was undeterred. "I get that an alarm goes off when it's time to brush your teeth, once in the morning and once at night. And then there's a little song that plays so you know how much time to brush."
"Okay?" Enos wasn't sure how to respond.
In fact, he was looking a little green around the gills. What kind of idiot goes to an event for Girl Scouts if he's terrified of little girls?
The girl pretended to press a button on her cell. "I think you should deliver an electric shock to the person, instead of alarms. And keep shocking them, upping the voltage, until they brush their teeth."
Every head turned towards Betty now. I had to admit, the idea had merit. On sleepovers, lock-ins, and camping trips, it was nearly impossible to get the girls to brush their teeth. Mental note: buy a stun gun.
"I'm not sure that's possible?" Enos squeaked.
Betty was not confounded. "It is. If you use Taser technology. I tried it on my brother's phone. It worked pretty well until Mom confiscated it."
Soo Jin began to choke, causing Dr. Regent to run over and pound her on the back. I was surprised she didn't go for the intestines.
"That's, um, interesting?" Apparently Enos could only answer in questions. The poor guy was starting to sweat profusely.
Lauren joined them. "You could make a cell phone case with a hidden switchblade that activates if it doesn't detect the smell of mint."
Betty rolled her eyes. "That's just stabbing them. Shocking them will make a bigger impact."
She had a point.
"This is ridiculous!" Thad growled from the other end of the table.
Enos and Thad were at each end. From there it was boy-girl around the table. "Let's get a move on. Would the victim just die already?"
Betty and Lauren shrugged and went back to their table. I watched as Betty yanked her napkin off her plate, exposing a hidden grilled cheese sandwich. My stomach rumbled as I watched her devour it.
Wren's hand fluttered to her throat. "Thad," she said quickly. "There's a plan in place. I see no reason why we shouldn't—"
Taylor cut her off. "I agree. I'm here to play the game, but time is money, so I'll ask a little question. How are all of you on your life insurance?" She concluded with a wink aimed at Thad.
"What's life insurance?" Inez asked loudly.
Lauren turned to her. "When you die, your family gets a lot of money."
"And then there's double indemnity." Ava nodded. "If they're murdered, you get twice the payout."
Taylor's eyebrows went up. "That's true. Smart girl."
Betty cocked her head to one side. "Then why not murder the guy? Then you get more money."
Ava shook her head. "Not if you're the killer. If you are the killer and the beneficiary, you get nothing."
All adults were staring at the children's table, which was located in the corner near Thad. I got it. I usually found the girls' interactions amusing too. In a way, I was proud of them for their curiosity about things. Well, except for fires. And weapons. Oh, and grilled cheese sandwiches that they didn't share with their leader…
Taylor regarded Ava—the girl who wanted to break her record on being the youngest Gold Award winner in the state. I couldn't tell if she was impressed or angry. Or both.
"How do you know so much about insurance?" she asked.
Ava shrugged. "My mommy sells insurance. For your company. Sometimes I read the brochures."
"You and I"—she pointed at the kid—"should talk."
Ava was about to comment, when she frowned, focusing on something at the other end of the room. "I think the game has started."
"Why do you say that?" I asked. I knew for a fact that it wouldn't start until after lunch.
She pointed. "Because that app guy is dead."
We turned to look and saw the girl was right. Enos McQuaid was face down in his fish. My heart began to pound as Wren and Violet clapped with glee and Dennis showed interest in something for perhaps the first time in his life. Arthur and Caroline nodded as if they saw this coming all along.
There was only one problem.
Enos McQuaid wasn't supposed to be the victim.