You Owe Me a Murder(27)

“Yeah.” He’d called me beautiful.

“You say you don’t like new stuff, but you do it. Like coming to England—?that was something new.”

I fiddled with my glass. “After he broke up with me, all I wanted was to crawl into bed and never come out again.”

Alex nudged me softly in the side. I could smell the beer on his breath, yeasty, like warm bread. “But you didn’t. You came. And it’s turned out okay, so far, right? I mean, we’re here. We’ve seen this great show and now we’re hanging in a pub in London having a pint. And you tried the egg—?that took some guts.”

I shifted again on the stool. He was right. “I guess.”

“See? And who knows how it might go from here.” Alex raised his glass.

The corners of my mouth turned up. I clinked glasses with him and we sat there, our legs touching.





Twelve


August 20


11 Days Remaining


We went to the Victoria and Albert Museum in the morning. Miriam was with her parents in a hotel. We’d been told they planned to leave as soon as they got clearance. The rest of us had chosen to stay for the remainder of the program. And as if by agreement, none of us mentioned Connor or Miriam. It was as though they’d never been a part of our group and things were business as usual. It helped that they had been paired up with each other, so our remaining buddy groups stayed the same.

I’d sent Miriam an email. I needed to know more before she left, but so far, I hadn’t heard a word in response. I told myself it wasn’t that she was avoiding me—?she was likely busy with her parents and wasn’t checking email. But I couldn’t tell if she had been trying to warn me or threaten me, and I had to know.

The V&A museum seemed to be the giant junk drawer of England. A several-acres-size storage room. Dozens of galleries with dishes and ceramics, from every time period and every style a person could imagine; rooms of key collections; statues tucked into stairwells as though the curators had run out of room; antique clothing on faceless mannequins; tapestries; and even a giant bed that was famous for some reason that I’d already forgotten.

It had been fascinating at first. I’d press against the glass cases, reading the small tags for the various items. Alex and I took turns pointing out random artifacts to each other, but after an hour, the displays began to blur. Jamal had found that one of his apps had a behind-the-scenes story for almost every object. There was simply too much: it was like an antique-store version of an endless Ikea. A headache built up behind my eyes, as if my brain were trying to push its way out of my skull to escape the deluge of information. My feet dragged on the slick floor. The crumpled map in my hand showed that we still had a long way to go before we’d crossed off everything Tasha wanted us to see.

Alex turned around and noticed I wasn’t right behind him. “You okay?”

“I’m not feeling very well,” I admitted.

“You look a little pale.” Sophie’s eyebrows drew together in concern.

Alex steered me to a wooden bench in the middle of the room. “You want me to get you some water?”

“No, it’s just a headache. I haven’t slept great the past couple of nights.”

That was an understatement. The nightmares I had about Connor kept jerking me wide-awake in the early dawn hours and then I wouldn’t be able to fall back to sleep. Or I’d be pacing my room, not even sure if I was awake or sleepwalking.

“I’ve got some Tylenol.” Sophie dug through her bag, handing items from it to Jamal so she could search better.

Jamal looked down at the pile of things growing in his hands. “Is there anything you don’t have with you?”

Sophie looked up. “Nope, I’ve got pretty much everything covered. I’ve also got some Band-Aids, and Gravol if you feel a bit pukey.” She hunted a bit further and then pulled out a tiny bottle of Tylenol. “Bingo.”

I took the pills from her. “Thanks.”

“Well, you know what the British think: a cup of tea can fix just about anything. Go down to the café and grab a cup, and we’ll meet up with you there after we cross all this off.” Alex held up the work sheet where we initialed each item we’d seen.

“Are you sure? You’ll be stuck doing the rest of it.”

“How often does someone with my build get to be a hero?” He motioned to his thin frame. “Plus, then you’ll be grateful and feel like you owe me something.” He wiggled his eyebrows and I laughed, feeling my cheeks heat up.

Jamal barked out a laugh and high-fived Alex. “Nicely done, man.”

Sophie shook her head, dumping everything back into her bag. “Tea is good for a headache—?it’s the caffeine.” She motioned toward the exit. “I’ll make sure we don’t leave without you.”

“Go on, go get some tea, feel better,” Alex said.

“If you’re really sure,” I said, already standing.

“Stop trying to keep me from being gallant.”

I squeezed his hand in thanks, waved to Jamal and Sophie, then wound my way back to the main floor. I paused in the door of the café. I’d expected a sterile cafeteria, but the space was opulent, like an extra room in Downton Abbey. Decorated pillars held up the impossibly tall Morris-tiled ceiling with a bank of stained-glass windows at the back.