One of Us Is Dead(80)

“Ah, yes. So, you’re at the party?”

I nod. “That’s right.”

“Did you notice anything unusual at the party?” He rubs his chin.

“Not particularly.”

“And Shannon was in attendance?”

I nod.

“Would you not deem that unusual, given the circumstances?”

“Yes and no. True, she hated Bryce with a passion, but she was warming up to Crystal.” I pull the ponytail holder from my wrist and tie up my hair.

“Did any of them ever leave the party together?”

“Not that I saw.”

“What about Karen? Did she leave the party?”

“Not that I saw.”

“Keisha?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Olivia?”

I shook my head.

“Any of them leave?”

“I told you, not that I saw.”

He lets out a huff and scribbles some notes down. He’s worn out. His eyes heavier than they were hours before. His appearance has become more and more disheveled throughout the day. Buttons undone. Loose tie. Wrinkled shirt. He is unraveling right before my eyes. Buckhead made people crazy, but rarely this quickly.

“You’re not asking the right questions,” I finally say. My patience with Detective Sanford has worn thin.

He stops for a moment and then looks up at me. It’s probably the first time since meeting him that he’s actually properly looked at me. Not just in my direction while asking questions, not just in a professional, assessing manner . . . he is looking in my eyes. Curiosity, suspicion, doubt—I’m not sure why, but I finally have his attention.

“And what, may I ask, are the right questions?” He holds his gaze tightly fixed on me, a boxer waiting for their opponent to swing.

“Ask me about Bryce.”





72

Olivia


Dean and I arrived at the party . . . late, of course. The more important you are, the later you arrive. It lets people know that your time is more valuable than theirs. I assumed the girls had arrived early. I laughed to myself as Dean helped me out of the limo. He was dressed in an orange jumpsuit as he had chosen to go as a prison inmate. He didn’t see the irony in the costume. Oh, but I did. I hadn’t told Dean about the video or my arrangement with Bryce. It was best to keep men of low intelligence in the dark. He was my husband, but he was also the one that got us into this mess in the first place. I certainly couldn’t trust him to fix it.

“You look beautiful,” Dean whispered into my ear. I was dressed in a skintight black bodysuit with skeleton bone graphics, six-inch stilettos, a red Saint Laurent bag, and perfectly blown-out hair.

I kissed him on the cheek, and he led me to the front door, where a man wearing a Phantom of the Opera mask was standing with a tray of champagne glasses. He welcomed us, and we each took a glass. We waltzed into the house. It was impeccably decorated and on theme. The house was lit with only crystal chandeliers, candles, and party lights, making it difficult to see others. There were spiderwebs and skeletons and red bead curtains throughout. All the servers were dressed liked dominatrices, clad with leather and chains. The music boomed throughout the house, and the place was crowded with most everyone who was anyone from Buckhead. Dean and I made our way to the pool area, where the decor continued.

“Bryce and Crystal went all out,” Dean said into my ear.

“With our money,” I said under my breath.

The music was turned down a couple of notches. I scanned the party and found Crystal chatting with Shannon on the far end of the pool. What were they talking about? Actually, why were they even talking to one another?

“Get us something to eat,” I said to Dean as I walked away from him. As I got closer, Karen, Keisha, and Jenny joined the gathering.

“Hello, ladies,” I said, surveying each of them. My eyes stopped on Karen. Oh, you have to be fucking kidding me. It was like looking in a goddamn mirror. She looked exactly like me, even down to the purse—the one she had given me today. Why the hell did she have two of the same red Saint Laurent purse?

“Wow, Karen, look at you. They do say that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery,” I said, sipping my champagne. “Is this the only way you can get Mark into bed?”

Karen’s eyes tightened. I thought for sure she would strangle me right then and there. I watched Keisha’s hand slide behind Karen’s back. She was rubbing it. Karen was clearly having her cake and carpet munching it too. I wondered if I could get more money out of her. It seemed she had no intention of telling Mark the truth, nor of breaking it off with him or Keisha.

“I think you both look great,” Jenny said. Always the peacekeeper, never anything else. Such a bore of a person.

“This party really is wonderful, Crystal,” Karen gushed.

“Yes. I was just going to say the same thing. It looks extravagant and expensive.” I raised an eyebrow at Crystal. “And where is the host of the evening?” I wouldn’t be able to enjoy myself until I had the money.

“He’s around.” Crystal looked away from me. “I have to check in with the caterers.”

“Do you need any help?” Shannon asked. I hadn’t even noticed her. She was nothing. Crystal nodded, and the two walked off. I didn’t like that they were getting along, but it was something I’d take care of after my arrangement with Bryce was completed. Shannon’s apology was too late. Seriously, if she would have apologized the night it happened, it would have still been too late. Her whole I’m not the same person anymore was a load of shit. People don’t change. Crystal had her ex-husband, and I had her chairwoman position. There was nothing left in Buckhead for Shannon. I took another slow sip of my champagne, scanning the party.