Shep emerges from the crowd and quickly checks the poor woman’s vitals before shaking his head my way.
A crowd quickly gathers around the body.
Maddie won’t have to worry about any more philanthropic efforts.
Madeline Swanson is dead.
Chapter 3
Screams erupt through the ballroom like a chorus as Shep quickly calls for backup on his phone.
“Give us some room,” I shout as the crowd presses tightly around poor Madeline, sprawled across the floor. “No crowding.”
I drop down next to Shep as both of our chests pound out of rhythm. Madeline’s face is ghostly pale, a thin line of lavender liquid drips from her lips, her pink dress sits askew, and her neckline is stretched as if she had been plucking at it, but it’s the dark spot near the bottom of the skirt that catches my eye.
“Shep, look,” I whisper as I point over to the peacock feather trapped in the hem of her gown. “How do you think that got there?”
His brows furrow as he quickly takes a picture of it.
“I don’t know. But she could have picked it up as she was walking.”
“Doubtful with that fabric.” I spike to my feet and quickly retrace her steps.
Madeline staggered in from the left. She was unstable on her feet, clutching at her throat.
A glimmer of a glass sits on the floor near the entry to the room, and there’s a film of lavender liquid in it, just like the drippings from Madeline’s lips. I quickly scoop it up with the hem of my skirt. If it’s evidence, I sure as heck don’t want to compromise it. I give a quick glance around, noting the man in the red suit who pulled Madeline to the side earlier stands by the door. He’s twirling a ring on his finger with his thumb, over and over, a nervous twitch if ever there was one. His eyes meet mine, and he frowns before making his way toward the body on the ground.
Odd. I specifically saw him speaking to her just a little while ago. It’s almost as if he had no reaction to what befell the woman he was just having a conversation with. I decide to follow him and spot Kiera Hillerman, the blonde friend of Madeline’s, throw her arms around him.
“Oh, Lucas!” she wails. “What’s to become of us? Our poor Maddie is gone!”
Poor Maddie, huh?
Not an hour ago she was accusing her of being philanthropic with her body. I guess giving up the ghost changes things. It whitewashes people of their sins pretty quickly—even moments after death.
I spot that redheaded friend of Madeline’s staring dazed at the body on the floor as a team of emergency medical workers make their way in, followed by members of the sheriff’s department.
“Sophia.” I step in close to the redhead and she does a double take my way.
“We met earlier. Jackson introduced us,” I say, nodding over to him as he speaks with Shep. “I’m Bowie Binx.”
“Oh, right.” She blinks hard. “What a disaster. I mean, who thought this night would end this way?”
“Not me.” Some superpowers I have as far as peering into the future goes. Of all the things I could have seen, my mind decided to zero in on a flirtation gone awry. I take in the woman’s pale face and her bright orange lips that only seem to accentuate the cardinal hue of her hair. “Sophia, when you were at the bar, do you know what kind of drink Madeline might have ordered?” I ask as I curl the glass in my hand behind my back.
Her lips part as a mild look of confusion takes over her face. “How do you—” She shakes her head. “I don’t know, Kiera was ordering something for her.” She takes a deep breath. “I was late to that party.” She shrugs. I got waylaid speaking to Jackson. Her lips invert a moment. “You don’t think somebody spiked her drink, do you? I mean, she was choking, and gagging, and clawing at her throat. My God, you don’t think someone killed her, do you?”
“Well, maybe not on purpose. She could have ingested something she was allergic to. But the coroner will be able to determine that pretty quickly.”
Sophia takes a step in closer to the body, her eyes quickly washing over her friend as she lies there lifeless just as Shep steps over to us.
“Oh my God.” The words swim from her in a panic as she points to the same dark circle that caught my eye earlier. “That feather”—she wails as she cranes her neck in every direction—“I knew Kiera would take things too far. They never got along, but I’ll admit, I never saw this coming.” She darts off and the crowd blocks our view of her.
“Shep, I found this on the floor.” I hold the glass out over the fabric of my dress. “It has a film of lavender liquid in it. I found it near the entry, in the direction where Madeline stumbled from. It’s the same color liquid that was—”
“On her lips.” He quickly pulls the pocket square from his suit and gingerly takes the glass from me. “Bowie, this could be evidence.”
“I know,” I say a smidge excited. “And you’re welcome.”
He frowns my way. “I’m not thanking you. This could be compromised. You should have called me over.”
“There were people all around. Someone would have kicked it away. Or the killer could have come back for it,” I hiss. “And did you hear? Sophia thinks Kiera took things too far.” My eyes widen over at him. “Shep, we have a murder on our hands.”
His lips stretch slightly. “Bowie, I have a murder on my hands. Your job is to manage the Manor Café and keep your head low, remember?”
I frown over at him. “I remember.”
A petite brunette pops up with her hair
