Page 99 of Sunburned

His jaw feathered and I thought for a moment he might say something else, before he gave me a stiff nod and jogged up the stairs behind Gisèle and Samira.

I’d never felt more alone as I strode toward Rémy. But there wasn’t time to stew in the sea of emotions frothing inside me. All that mattered now was discovering who had killed Tyson before it was pinned on me.

“May I join you?” I asked as I approached, checking again that Marielle and Justine remained in the bar.

My voice distracted Rémy as he let the dart fly, and it went wide of the target. “Okay,” he said. “But I must warn you, I am terrible.”

“I’m not so great either,” I admitted, though it wasn’t true. I was a damn good shot. But being terrible would serve me much better in this situation.

I grabbed a half-empty bottle of Dom off the bar, topping off Rémy’s and my glasses as I scoured my weary brain for an organic way to ask him about his dogs. “So, who are Mister and Sister staying with tonight?”

“My partner,” he said.

“Oh, I get it,” I teased. “The dogs made the lock screen but the partner didn’t.” My jocularity was forced, and we both knew it, but he let it slide. A kindness.

“What can I say, their little faces…” He shrugged.

I took a handful of darts from the table behind the couch and stepped up to the line, aiming for the wall just above the target. I hit it, and cursed.

“Cody says you must let it gocomme ça,” Rémy said, sending a dart flying so low it nearly hit the floor.

He didn’t seem wary of me, which I took as a good sign. “My mind isn’t all here,” I admitted.

“I understand,” he said.

Justine was cleaning up the cake now while Marielle fluffed pillows. There didn’t appear to be much more for them to do in the room, which meant that I would soon be alone with Rémy unless I said good night now. But I didn’t yet have the answers I needed.

I took aim to the right this time, and my dart lodged in one of the outer rings. “I didn’t kill Tyson,” I said. “Just to be clear.”

“Okay.” He met my eye with a shrug, apparently taking my declaration at face value. “And I did not kill him also.”

“But no one thinks you did,” I said bitterly. “They think I have a motive, but I didn’t even know the boys were in his will.”

“Can you prove this?” he asked. “To the police? It is not important what these people think.” He flourished his hand vaguely in the direction of the stairs.

“I don’t know how I would.” I leaned against the couch. “But if I can figure out who did it…”

“Do you have an idea?”

I sighed. “Not really.” Here was a chance to make sure he wasn’t on the defensive with me. “It wasn’t me, and I’m pretty sure it wasn’t you or Laurent. But the rest of them…”

“I think earlier they all seem so nice,” he confided, lowering his voice with a glance toward Marielle and Justine. “Alors,at dinner they are so—vicieux?”

“Vicious, yes,” I agreed. This was good, we were chatting like confidantes.

“Can we get you anything else?” Marielle asked, her hands clasped behind her back.

“I would love a Perrier,” I said. I wasn’t terribly thirsty, but I wanted her to have reason to come back, and I’d noticed earlier that we’d drunk all the Perrier in the bar fridge.

“Same,” Rémy said.

“Of course,” she said with a nod.

“I didn’t fall overboard,” I whispered once she and Justine had disappeared down the stairs toward the kitchen. “Someone pushed me.”

“I believe you,” he said. “I tell them call the police, but nobody listen to me.”

“Thank you,” I said, hoping this meant he might confide in me. “Can I ask you something?”

---