Page 158 of Not That Ridiculous

“Ha ha. Sorry about leaving you to do everything.”

“Charlie, I was happy to.”

“Drink’s on me. Usual cappuccino?”

“Yes, please.”

“Coming up.” I straightened, doing my best to hide my grimace at the twinge in my thighs, and tottered over to the bean grinder. I narrowed my eyes at Ray over my shoulder, daring him to say something.

He shook his head, not even bothering to hide his smile.

Once I’d made Ray’s drink, Phil came into the kitchen with me for a cuddle since Pippa wasn’t there to disapprove. Ray joined us to sip his cappuccino, snitch a brownie from the basket of fresh ones I hadn’t taken out to the front yet, and get the gossip on the dead bodies.

“Since I’m the founding member of the Dollhouse Murder Club Support Group,” he said, “you can’t ban me for asking.”

I laughed. “Dollhouse Murder Club Support Group?”

“Yeah. I designed us a logo and everything.”

I eyed him. “You did not.”

“I did. I’m getting us membership cards printed, and t-shirts, and mugs. The little enamel ones. I was thinking a kerchief for Phil to wear?”

I eyed him again. “You’re serious.”

“Yes, I am. This is fun. It’s a lot more exciting when it happens to someone else.”

“Thanks, Ray.”

“You are very welcome.”

“I still can’t believe I’ve had those dead guys in my house the whole time I’ve lived there.”

“I lived with mine for five years,” Ray said.

“I had more.”

He pulled a face. “You already know mine were a seventies doll and a clown doll. I never got a good look at the one in my guest bedroom and Liam still won’t tell me what he was dressed as. I guessed Batman. He neither confirmed nor denied. What was yours?”

“I’m not supposed to say.”

“Founding member,” he said, pointing to himself. “Dollhouse Murder Club Support Group. I bought you a t-shirt, Charlie. Next-day delivery. It’ll be here tomorrow.”

I laughed. “If I tell you, will you keep it to yourself?” Liam might try to arrest me if he found out, but I’d never been one for rules. Besides, this was Ray.

“I will tell Adam,” Ray warned me.

“I assumed.”

“Other than that, yes. I will keep it to myself.”

“Cowboy.”

“Cowboy,” he breathed. “Way cooler than a carnival clown.”

“He was a Wild West cowboy. Hat and spurs. Bullwhip. Crazy facial hair. The works.”

“What about the others? I read Karen Strickland’s article on theInquirer’swebsite, and she said four were stretchered out.”

---