Free Family Case of Murder by Vanessa Gray Bartal Page B

talking about?”
    “We weren’t,” Jason said. “But I guess that’s my cue to grab a shirt.” He headed toward his room, but Lacy plucked a t-shirt from her bag and tossed it to him. “Wear mine. It’s a little big on me.”  
    He took the shirt and pulled it over his head. “Okay?” he asked.
    It was one of Lacy’s older t-shirts she used for working out. Despite the fact that it was large on her, it was still pulled tight across his muscled chest where the word “Babycakes” was splayed in bright pink letters. “Perfect,” Lacy said.
    “Good, let’s go.” He took her hand and led her out of the room. The rest of the family was gathered in the drawing room, looking disheveled and half asleep. Hildy lay sprawled on the floor, a splash of white fabric covering her face.
    “Nobody touch the body, nobody leave this room until I’ve had a chance to interview you,” Jason said, sounding irritated and a little embarrassed over his performance.
    “Wait, who are you and where did you come from?” Lacy said.
    “Traitor. Fine, someone called the police, obviously, and I’m Chief Inspector Cantor of Scotland Yard, Hamptons Division.”
    “Should we be starting? Aunt Enid isn’t here yet,” Rita said.
    That was odd, since it was Aunt Enid’s game. Lacy thought she’d better hurry because how much longer could poor Hildy hold perfectly still on the floor? She glanced at the woman, expecting to see the andiron beside her but not only was there no andiron, it was only two in the morning, nowhere near dawn. She froze, clutching Jason’s arm.
    “Uh, Jason,” she said.
    “What?”
    “I was the murderer. It was supposed to be at dawn, and I was supposed to bash her in the head.”
    “You’re not supposed to tell us,” Chuck said, but Jason understood what she was trying to say. He let her go and knelt beside the body as he felt for a pulse.
    “Oh, geez,” he muttered. “Who has a phone on them?” He scanned the room and Riley stepped forward, offering up her stylish phone and backing away, eyes wide. Everyone listened in stunned silence as Jason dialed 911. “Yes, I’d like to report a murder,” he said and someone screamed. To everyone’s further astonishment, it was Sue who then slumped into a dead faint.
    Lacy listened as Jason gave the dispatcher all the pertinent information. He hung up and she knelt beside him. “Is there anything I can do?” she asked.
    He shook his head and looked around the room. “What I said before still applies, but for real this time. No one leaves this room.”
    “But Aunt Enid,” Rita said. “What if the killer got her, too?”
    “We’ll wait until the police get here, which should be in a few minutes,” Jason said. “No one leaves this room.” He eyed them all, but everyone seemed compliant, glad to have someone in charge who knew what he was doing.
    Hildy’s face was covered by the white material. Some strange compulsion made Lacy reach out, but Jason grabbed her hand, stopping her cold. “No, you can’t touch her.”
    “But, Jason,” she said. “She’s wearing my scarf.”
     
     
    A little over a half an hour later, Lacy sat in Jason’s lap in a cushy chair in the library. Seating was limited because the entire family was in there, along with the monkey, but that wasn’t why she was curled into a little ball, her head against his chest. And despite the fact that his arms were around her, the hood of the robe was up, and she was covered by an afghan, she couldn’t stop shaking.
    Everything had seemed unreal for a while, like it was all part of the game. Before the police showed up, it was easy to believe Hildy was playing her role by pretending to be dead. Then the first officer on the scene had pulled back the part of the scarf that shielded Hildy’s face. Lacy had been standing so close that she saw everything—Hildy’s grotesquely swollen purple face, the bulging eyes, her tongue jutting out of her mouth, the ligature marks around her