Page 94 of Head Over Feels
“It’llbe unlocked.Goon in.”
Feelingonly slightly presumptuous,Iopened the front door.
“Felix!”Severalvoices shouted from inside the house.Chairsscraped back andDetectivesCallahanandOchoa—ArtieandCarlos, dang it,Ikept forgetting—appeared, followed closely by a tallBlackman with a tight fade.
“Felix!”Artiecaroled.Hefrowned at my empty arms, then leaned to one side. “Greg!Arethose for us?”
Ipushed ahead, scooting aroundArtieandCarlosto let them reachGregand “help” him with the pan of cupcakes. “Hi,I’mFelix,”Isaid to theBlackman.
Hegazed longingly at the cupcakes, but his manners seemed to kick in and he held his hand out. “MikePalmer.You’vemet my wifeAmy.”Hejerked his head toward the dining room, whichIcould now see into.Amywaved.Shewas sitting next toFoster, who hadCraigon his other side.
“Silviacouldn’t make it,”Miketold me solemnly. “Sowe’ve only had pizza and snacks until now.Youmade the cupcakes?”
“Hedid,”Gregsaid, appearing beside me. “Eventhe frosting is from scratch.”
Artiewas holding the pan out to the people at the table, butCarloswas already eating a cupcake. “Damn,Felix!HowcomeMalcolmdidn’t tell us you could bake?”
Icoughed. “Um,Idon’t think he knows.”Everyonewent silent, all heads swiveling in my direction.Itwisted my hands together. “It’sjust,Ihaven’t had a chance to do any baking since we met.SotonightI’dplanned to show him....”Ishrugged and headed for the kitchen.Alcoholwas definitely in order.
“Well,Malcolm’sloss is our gain for sure,”Artiesaid as he shoved a bowl of tortilla chips out of the way to make room for the pan of cupcakes on the table. “Andhe’s going to be so jealous when he finds out you made these and he didn’t get any.”
Myface must’ve shown my horror becauseGreglaughed. “Iwondered why you didn’t leave any at home forMalcolm.”
Igroaned. “Ididn’t think of it.Wewere in such a rush.”
Craigsqueezed in betweenArtieandGreg. “Here.I’llget you a container.Wecan set some aside for him now so these bottomless pits don’t eat them.”
Ithought about protesting, butIdid wantMalcolmto have some. “Okay, thanks.”
Oncethat was sorted,GregandIloaded up plates with pizza, chips and salsa, and veggies with ranch dip.Wejoined everyone else at the dining table, where they’d set up to playJustOne.LuckilyI’dplayed it atSteve’splace.Learninga new game on top of the stress of being here by myself?Thatwould’ve been the worst.
“Youguys ever playD&D?”Iasked before taking a bite of pizza.
Everyoneshook their heads. “Onlya couple of us have played, and none of us know how to beDM,”Craigtold me.
Inodded. “Iplay, butI’mnot the bestDM.MyfriendCalis a great one, though, if you ever want to try it,I’msure he could design a one-session campaign for us.”
Everyoneexpressed vague interest soIdropped the topic.They’dprobably love it, but they were also a pretty big group, which meant we’d have to set aside an entire day.Orhave two campaigns running simultaneously.StevecouldDMifCalcreated the campaign.
Carloswas passing out the little dry erase table tents for writing the clue words, soItook the opportunity to askFoster, “Hey, did y’all ever find out whereTrentwas making the bombs?”
Foster,Amy,CarlosandArtieall shook their heads and made faces. “No,”Fostersaid. “TheDAsays we have enough circumstantial evidence to convict without it, but we’d all prefer to find his materials.”
“Yeah,”Amysaid. “Thebig concern is whether he made any other bombs.Youdon’t want somebody finding them and setting them off.”
“Ican see that.”Frowning,Iaccepted my green dry erase marker. “Butyou’re sure it wasTrent?”
Thefour detectives exchanged glances but didn’t show any expressionIcould read.Maybethey weren’t convincedTrentwas their guy?
Carlosasked, “Youhave any other suspects for us?”
Myhope deflated. “No.”
Fostersighed. “Yeah, we don’t either.”
ON DISCORD PRIVATE MESSAGES
ProfXJune5, 9:36pm
