Sophia scoots in close. “So what do you think of the tawny port?”
“Tawny port?” I squint over at her. “Is that some fancy way of saying stud muffin?” I point in the direction Jackson took off in. “Because if it is, Jackson Mortimer is one tawny port I don’t mind having by my side.” I belt out a laugh, but Sophia doesn’t join me in the endeavor.
“The tawny port in your hand.” She grimaces a moment before chuckling. “Although, Mr. Stud Muffin isn’t so bad either.” She flicks her finger my way. “Go on, drink up. It’s rude to nurse a drink in front of the host.” She toasts me with the glass in her hand. “Bottoms up!”
“Bottoms up,” I say with markedly less enthusiasm. I suppose one glass won’t hurt. And I do want to stay on her good side.
I quickly guzzle the precious few ounces afforded to me and feel the burn all the way down my esophagus.
“Fire,” I say a touch too loud as I sputter and cough. “Sorry.” I fan myself a moment. “It’s been a while since my last drink.”
She gasps. “You’re not on the wagon, are you?”
“No, I mean, not really.” Although, that would have been a brilliant excuse not to imbibe.
“Good.” She points to a woman striding our way with a tray full of white wine, and Sophia quickly replaces our glasses with a pair of new ones filled to the brim. “Because this chardonnay is to die for.”
Great.
She toasts once again, and it’s second verse same as the first.
Burn! Gah!
Let’s just hope the alcohol level is relatively low in these, but in the event it’s not, I’d better pull my proverbial magnifying glass out before I’m too sauced to remember anything.
“Sophia, have you heard anything about what may have caused Madeline to pass so unexpectedly?”
She leans in. “Word going around is”—her lips twist as she shoots a quick glance over her shoulder—“she was poisoned.”
I take in a quick breath as if the idea caught me off guard.
“Poisoned?” I wince. “That’s terrible. Who in their right mind would want to poison someone? Let alone at such an elegant function teeming with all of her friends?” I know exactly why the killer would choose an action-packed venue. It’s a tried-and-true tactic preferred by DIY executioners everywhere. The more people, the more suspects, the easier the getaway—not that they couldn’t have stuck around to observe the sheriff’s department theatrics.
She frowns at the thought and stops a waitress and refreshes our wineglasses once again before proceeding.
“Believe me, I know exactly who’s responsible.” She holds up her glass, prompting me to do the same, and we quickly knock ’em back like a pair of seasoned sorority girls.
“Who? Who?” My mouth feels numb as I do my best impersonation of an owl. The ground beneath my feet feels as if it’s pulsating, and I accidentally stagger toward her.
She giggles, bumping her shoulder to mine, inadvertently steadying me.
“Okay”—she leans in— “but don’t tell Jackson I mentioned this. He despises a rumormonger. Jackson is a lover, not a fighter. But I’m sure you’ve figured that out by now.” She’s right back to giggling, and this time I join her—even though I don’t seem to have much say in the situation. It feels as if my entire body is malfunctioning one giggle at a time.
Hey? I think I’m tasted—toasted. Wait? Is it tasted or toasted?
“Well?” I rock into her and nearly send the glass sailing right out of her grasp. “Who did it?”
“The butler with a candlestick.” She shrieks with laughter, and I cackle right alongside her. “Okay, seriously.” She pulls herself together far better than I seem to be capable of. “Madeline was doing some work at Biogen.” Her lips turn down a moment. “My boyfriend Parker is the owner.”
That’s right.
When I saw Kiera at Goober, she mentioned that Sophia here was having an affair with Madeline’s boyfriend Lucas. And that Madeline was maybe doing the naughty hokey pokey with Sophia’s boyfriend Parker.
My brain feels as if it’s pulsating after that exercise in higher relationship mathematics.
“Biogen?” I squint. “What is that exactly?”
“Mostly beauty creams and cosmetics. But he’s been working on a top-secret serum that’s still several years from hitting the market, too. As soon as Madeline heard about it, she was chomping at the bit to get her hands on it. Parker assured us it could stop aging in its tracks. Right now, he’s trying to get the FDA to approve it as a topical ointment, but he’s working on an oral version as well. It’s going to revolutionize the human race. Aging will never be the same.”
“So Madeline had access to this serum?” I’m not sure I’m following. But then, that might be the wine.
Speaking of which, she snaps up another pair of filled to the brim glasses and hands one my way.
“Madeline wanted to be an official volunteer, a front-liner as soon as the trials got underway. But that hasn’t happened yet. Let’s just say she was spending long hours at the Biogen lab in hopes to get an early preview.” She rolls her eyes. “Anyway, Parker’s security system was breeched and the serum was stolen. He was furious. He didn’t know who was responsible, but after a thorough investigation, he was sure it was Madeline.”
“Madeline? So she stole some serum? I mean, she was probably anxious to get a head start on the treatment. You mentioned that yourself.”
She shrugs. “She was also anxious to sell the formula to Parker’s competitor. Parker was furious. Millions of dollars, millions of hours down the drain. And, of course, Madeline was suddenly in the money. The deceptive math was pretty easy.” She touches her glass to mine. “To good old Maddie. She certainly knew how to set her life and everyone else’s on fire.”
She drinks up, and I join her. I’d hate to be rude.
She cranes her neck past
