Love in the Time of Serial Killers(18)

I hadn’t realized he’d been opening another Kit Kat while we were talking, but he held it out to me, still in its wrapper but open at one end. I took it, feeling as inert as the furniture we were talking about, and his eyes crinkled around the edges.

“Good,” he said. “Let’s hope it stays that way.”



* * *





?I FOUND CONNER and Shani in a corner, talking with a bearded guy wearing a truly eye-watering shade of orange. Conner waved me over when he saw me.

“Pheebs!” he said. “It turns out I’ve played League of Legends with this dude for three years, isn’t that wild? He’s a friend of Dan’s, who added me to his server, and then even after Dan left, I stuck around because those guys could play.” Shani cleared her throat pointedly, and Conner rushed to add, “And girls! I mean, there were no girls on that team—that I know of, obviously—but girls can game, too, and I’m not looking to spread any toxic gamergate bullshit otherwise.” Shani elbowed him, and he said, “Anyone can game, wherever they are on the gender spectrum! It doesn’t have to be a binary thing, either.”

The orange-shirt guy laughed and held out his hand. “Josue,” he said. “Do you guys know Barbara?”

“Not exactly . . .” I said. I realized that my motivation in seeking out Sam earlier had been to apologize for crashing his party, and instead I’d only rambled about his pool and dental horror stories.

“Sam is her neighbor,” Conner filled in.

“Well, kind of,” I felt the need to clarify. “It’s our dad’s house. He died, and we’re getting it ready to sell, so . . .” And yeah, I realized about three words in that there would be no reason for Josue to care about any of that.

“I’m sorry to hear about your dad,” Josue said, managing to sound sincere while also segueing immediately to a more emotionally stabilizing topic. It was so well done I wanted to applaud. “When are you thinking of putting the house on the market?”

“Hopefully soon,” I said, even while Conner said, “Within a month, if Phoebe will accept our help.”

I rolled my eyes at that—I had no issue with accepting his help, if that meant he would show up this weekend with a go-getter attitude to recycle every magazine that predated the CSI franchise. I just didn’t need him and Shani up in my space.

“Well, I’d love to take a look,” Josue said. “Hit me up in the chat when it’s ready.”

“Really?” Conner said, looking at me with a triumphant expression, as if he’d just single-handedly sold the house right then and there.

“Really?” I said. “It’s a fixer-upper, you know.”

Josue shrugged. “Sam’s a good dude, and I wouldn’t mind living next door to him. Plus, he has it sweet, living so close to the school.”

“The school?” Shani asked curiously. I’m glad she did, because I definitely would have framed the question in a way that made it seem more accusatory.

“Yeah,” Josue said, taking a pull of his beer. “Sam teaches music at the elementary school down the road. I teach fourth-graders about math, science, and some basic hygiene when I’m brave enough to try. Most of us in this room teach there—we’re all here for Barbara’s retirement.”

Okay. That explained so much, although I was still reeling a little at the idea that Sam was an elementary school teacher. I had not seen that coming. And just then, “Wouldn’t It Be Nice” came on, and I realized it had been nothing but Beach Boys songs since we got there, and another piece clicked into place.

“Let me guess,” I said. “Barbara Ann.”

“Yes!” Josue said, genuinely delighted. “She’ll love that you made that connection. Hang on, let me find her. Barb!”

Before I could protest, he was already halfway across the room, getting the attention of an older woman in a voluminous flowered muumuu that looked comfy as hell.

“Aw,” Conner said. “You’re making friends.”

“At least this one’s in her sixties,” I muttered, “which is a lot more my speed.”

“You were talking to Sam for a bit, too,” Conner pointed out. “What did you talk about?”

I regretted not grabbing a replacement drink when I was in the kitchen. Even the LaCroix was starting to look good to me. “Teeth.”

Shani’s lip curled in what appeared to be an involuntary expression of Girl, you’re a lost cause. Conner almost spit out his sparkling toilet water.

“Not Ted Bundy’s teethmark evidence,” he said. “Please for the love of Neo Cortex tell me you didn’t whip out your phone to show him the trial pictures.”

“I’m not completely feral,” I said irritably. “I know how to behave at a party. In my next life I’m coming back as an expert witness, that’s all I’m going to say. God knows I’d make more money.”

Conner rolled his eyes at that. “So, Sam’s a teacher, huh? What does that do to your serial killer theory?”

“Nothing,” I said. “Equating an occupation’s projected societal ethos with an individual’s personal morality is one reason why our police force is so fucked in this country.”