Page 32 of Juniper Bean Resorts to Murder

“Stop it,” I croak.

For a second, she doesn’t respond; she still seems to be deep in thought. But then her gaze finds mine again, and she nods, causing the pumpkins on her headband to dance once more. She looks like she’s just made a decision. “Hey,” she says. “Do you want to help me research something?”

“I really don’t,” I say quickly. “At all.”

“Please?” she says, grabbing my arm when I take another step toward my bedroom. “Help me just a little bit? It really won’t take long at all.”

“Use the internet,” I say firmly.

“I tried!” she says. Her hand tightens on my arm, and good grief—where did she get a grip that strong? “But this is more of a hands-on research thing. Come on,” she adds, her voice wheedling now. “I need a distraction. Don’t you?”

This is sounding more and more dangerous by the second. And I am clearly insane, because my mind starts running through all the things she could mean bydistraction,and most of them involve the two of us in compromising positions.

My stupid brain. I don’t want that kind of relationship with Juniper. I don’t wantanykind of relationship with Juniper.

“Please,” she says once more. “I need a distraction. I think being with another person will help.” She gestures to the explosion of decorations around the living room. “This isn’t really helping. Please.”

It’s that lastpleasethat does it. Because her voice cracks when she speaks, and her big, blue eyes seem glossier than usual. Those stupid pumpkins are still bobbing this way and that on her headband, and her inside-out sweatshirt advertises loudly that this is a woman possibly unhinged.

Crap.

“Fine,” I say, sighing. “Fine. Just for a little bit, okay? What do you need help with?”

Her eyes brighten. “Thank you, thank you! And it’s really nothing much,” she says. “I just need your body.”

I swallow.

* * *

“I hate you so much.”

“I know,” Juniper says soothingly from where she’s standing over me. “Lift your left foot a little bit more?”

I comply, glaring at her. “So, so much.”

“I know,” she says again. “It will all be over soon, okay? Now I’m going to try to drag you by the ankles.”

As it turns out, the research help Juniper needs is figuring out how her female killer would move a body.

And guess who was stupid enough to agree to be that body?

I’m lying supine in the middle of the living room floor, glaring up at the ceiling. The fall decorations have all been moved to the couch, so it’s just me down here, feeling ten kinds of foolish. Juniper has both of my ankles held in her weirdly strong grip. She’s repainted her fingernails, I notice dully; they were black before, but now they’re a vibrant pink.

“Okay,” she says, taking a deep breath. “Ready?”

“No.”

She ignores this. “Here I go.” She heaves, and with a decent amount of force, she begins pulling me. I slide slowly along the hardwood floor as she moves backward, her face screwed up with concentration. Despite her efforts, though, I continue to move at roughly the rate of a migrating ice cap.

I think I’d rather be the ice cap.

After only a few seconds of this, Juniper stops. She drops my feet without warning, causing both heels to bang painfully against the floor, and then bends over, panting slightly.

“That’s not ideal,” she says.

“No,” I agree, still glaring. I sit up, rubbing my heels. “It’s not.”

“Let’s try the firefighter’s carry.”

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