Shiver : 13 Sexy Tales of Humor and Horror - Aurora Belle - Страница 41
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“You didn’t sound Scottish, Ruby, you sounded like you were from the Middle East,” George said, rolling his eyes.
I pressed my mustache back into place and tried again.
“Heeelllooo evverryonnee, I’m Deteccttivvee Mavverriickkk.” I mostly, sounded like a drunk version of Shrek.
“Nope. No. Now you’re just talking really slow, Ruby,” George said, interrupting me. “Damnit, just scratch the accent all together!”
I shrugged and stepped forward to examine Sandy’s body. It was kind of awkward since she wasn’t actually a dead person and she was blinking up at me while I circled around her. Her character’s blonde wig was still on straight, a strand of pearls hung around her neck, and a big fake, diamond ring hung on her bony finger. Nothing seemed out of the place except for the fake knife lying directly next to her head with blood on it. At least, I thought it was blood. It smelled like ketchup. I pretended to be horrified either way.
“No!” I gasped, pulling out the gloves that I’d spied in my packet earlier and slipping them on so I could pick up the knife and hold it up for everyone. “She’s been stabbed to death!”
Everyone gasped and Sawyer even screamed “Nooooooooooo,” for emphasis. George applauded him for being committed to his character. I laughed until our eyes met, and then I quickly looked away like a nervous school girl. You’d think my badass detective outfit would have helped with my nerves. I really thought I was pulling off the mustache look rather well, but still, one look from Sawyer and I was like a shy three-year-old.
After I confirmed that there weren’t any more clues surrounding Sandy (Gwyneth), we all looked to George for our next piece of instruction. He shoved his hands into his argyle sweater and sighed. “You’re supposed to put together the clues and figure out where to go next.”
“Oh right,” I said, glancing back down at the knife in my gloved hand.
I frowned at my lack of intuition about where to go next. I wasn’t an actual detective, people.
“Is there a card that tells us where to go next?” Sawyer asked, stepping toward me and kneeling down so that I caught a whiff of his cologne. Let me tell you, it was not that cheap stuff that makes your nose fall off. It was light and masculine and it made me forget that we were in the middle of a nursing home.
“No! You have to think,” George replied, enunciating “think” like we were a couple of simpletons.
“Alright well, we have a knife, and…” my sentence trailed off as I realized I had nothing else to contribute.
“And where do you get knifes from?” George gestured in a circle with his arms, trying to get us to fill in the answer.
“The kitchen!” Sawyer and I yelled in unison, smiling at each other as we got to our feet.
“Okay, let’s go check the kitchen for clues,” I said to the other characters in the game.
“How about you two go check it out and we’ll all hang back here and search for more clues,” Anne suggested. I glanced toward her, trying to decide if she was being sly in trying to get Sawyer and I alone.
“Yeah, that’s a good idea,” Sawyer said, looking toward me to lead the way.
I nodded silently, heading toward the kitchen, but not before looking back at Anne. The little devil winked at me.
Sawyer caught up to me as I exited the dining hall. “This is better,” he said. “They’d just slow us down anyway and we’re on the trail of a murder.”
I laughed. “A made-up murder.”
Sawyer guffawed. “You’re Detective Maverick. You’ve never had a case you couldn’t solve.”
I thought for a moment, wondering if I was going to shy away or if I was going to show him my true personality. I decided there was no point in trying to be cool. I was still wearing my mouse ears, after all, let’s not try to kid ourselves.
I stopped walking and turned to him, pointing toward his chest. “You’re damn right, and this one won’t be my first!”
Just before we pushed open the shiny, swinging door that led to the massive kitchen of Paradise Springs, Sawyer put his hand on my shoulder.
“I have a confession to make,” he said.
My heart rate picked up at his serious tone. Was he about to confess his love for me? Right here in the doorway to the kitchen with the smell of potato salad in the air?
I cleared my throat. “What do you have to confess?” I asked, purposely keeping my gaze on the metal door in front of us.
“I think I know who the murderer is,” he said.
“What? No! Don’t tell me,” I said, holding my hands up to my ears to block out his voice.
He laughed and reached over to pull my hands away. “I won’t tell you, and anyway, I don’t know for sure.”
“Maybe you should have been the detective,” I joked.
He thought for a second, narrowing one eye on me before announcing, “Nah. You make a cute detective.”
Cue internal breakdown. Sound the trumpets. Open the gates. He thought I was cute!
“Desserts going out!” a voice shouted behind me just as the metal door leading to the kitchen swung forward. I didn’t have time to move before the door slammed into me so hard that my face smashed into Sawyer’s chest and he had to reach forward and catch me.
“Oh no! Sorry! Sorry! I just hit you, didn’t I?” The cook was overly enthusiastic with his apologies, and Sawyer’s hands were a little too tight as he attempted to steady me.
“Are you okay?” Sawyer asked, bending low so that his eyes were level with mine. The entire situation was almost too endearing to handle.
I nodded, wishing he’d pull his hands away before I did something weird, like bend down and lick them.
“Your mustache is all crooked,” he said with a smile, reaching up to straighten it on my face. Oh great, his fingers just accidentally brushed my lips. I was practically salivating in the hallway with a random cook looking on.
“I didn’t hurt you, did I? You really shouldn’t just stand behind that door. That’s a safety hazard,” the cook said, starting to ramble on like I was a complete idiot for idling behind a swinging metal door.
I shook my head clear of thoughts about sexing Sawyer in the hallway and turned to the chef.
“We were on our way into the kitchen for the murder mystery game,” I explained.
The chef glanced over our costumes, as if seeing them for the first time. Before that moment, he probably just thought I was a girl wearing a mouse ears, aviators, and a fake mustache for fun.
“Oh, right, right. You can go on in, just don’t get in anyone’s way,” he warned before stepping around us to deliver the platter of food that he was carrying.
I watched him walk away for another second before Sawyer pressed his hand to my lower back and gently nudged me forward.
“Let’s go, Detective,” he said.
The sounds coming from the kitchen made me assume that it was packed inside, but when we stepped in, it looked like most of the staff had gone home for the day, probably to celebrate Halloween with their families. The kitchen was large and industrial with clean, metal surfaces and a few oversized refrigerators. Along the back wall there was a massive assembly line of dishes being run through a machine to wash and dry them. A man stood at the very end overseeing the process. He nodded his head in greeting at us before going back to his task.
“Where should we look?” I asked, continuing to glance around the space. Shouldn’t the clue have been obvious considering we weren’t actual detectives and this was just a game? I wanted to ask one of the men in the kitchen, but the man had warned us to stay out of everyone’s way.
“You take that half,” Sawyer said, pointing toward the industrial washer. “And I’ll take this half.”
Before he could even finish his instructions, my eyes landed on a large knife block sitting in one corner of the kitchen. It held dozens of kitchen knives, but there was one slot notoriously empty at the very bottom of the block.
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