Page 77 of The New Year's Party
He took a moment in the silence to really look at her. The heater whooshed on. The dartboard bleeped faintly—shit, had someone broken it? There was the sound from the pipes of a flushing toilet from upstairs. It seemed incredible that a dead body was lying in his basement, right in front of the couch where he playedBreath of the Wildwith his boys.
He rubbed his face, blinked, half hoped he was hallucinating, but no, there she was, her eyes wide open, buthewasn’t about to close them. Her jaw was slack and falling crookedly to one side. It wasn’t an attractive look.
Well, it hadn’t been God after all, had it, hating on Phelps and letting his dreams go up in flames. It had been Jenn. But now wasn’t the time to recalibrate his religious views.
“Did you have to get murdered at my party?” Phelps finally said, but it didn’t sound as funny as he’d thought it might.
Shit. The text he sent from Bennett’s phone. It would still be on Jenn’s phone, right at the top. Prime pickings for the cops. With a grimace, Phelps leaned over Jenn’s body. He pulled his sweater sleeves down, over his hands, and tugged her phone free from her waistband. It no longer mattered if he got blood on him. He already had while he was searching for a pulse.
With Jenn’s phone in hand, he swiped up, then held the screen over her face. It unlocked. His hands were shaking as he deleted the text he’d sent her, then awkwardly shoved the phone back into her waistband. Now to delete the text from Bennett’s phone... Thank heavens Phelps had inadvertently taken in Bennett’s password as he unlocked his phone earlier to show Phelps that stupid-assSNLvideo. In fact, he might as well clear out all those texts from five years ago. In a few swipes, they were gone.
Okay.Nowhe was ready to dial 9–1–1.
Phelps was calm when the emergency operator picked up. Cool. Efficient. Gave his name, his address.Yes, she appears tobe dead. No, I didn’t try mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. She’s covered in blood. No, I don’t see a source for the blood, but I didn’t exactly look that carefully. Would you like me to?
By the time he returned upstairs, the living room was in chaos. Bennett had reappeared, wet and muddy, looking overwhelmed and confused as Hellie described the scene in the basement with a lot of hand-wringing. Olivia was lying on the couch, her knees gathered up and an afghan around her shoulders, staring blankly. Allie was talking to Will, who was in the recliner leaning over his knees, and Bunny—God knows whereshehad been—was demanding to know who saw what in a very excitable, unhelpful way. “Wait, you just got back, Bennett? You were in the field thewhole time?” Jesus. Did she fancy herself a detective now?
That’s when it hit Phelps. Not only was Jenn dead, but one of these people had killed her. Which one? Bennett sure had been in that cornfield for a while... Olivia was the first on the scene and was acting very unstable... Hellie had already been physically violent with Jenn once... and Will? He had been Jenn’s victim for years, and who could blame him if he’d snapped...
By the time Doug and Ted came stumbling in with their idiocy and their drugs, Phelps had assembled a case against nearly everyone present. But, like the smart man he was, he kept them to his fucking self. Bunny, on the other hand, was still going on.
“If one of us did it, they should just confess,” she was saying. “Even if it was just an accident! I’m not even saying it was intentional! Just—”
“I was doing drugs in my car, man,” said Ted with a laugh. “But now that you bring it up, where were you, Bunny?”
“In the garage talking to myfriendwho’s alawyer, oh, myGod, weren’t you listening?” said Bunny.
“Well, I was in a cornfield!” Bennett exploded, as if he’d been personally accused.
“They’ll think it was me!” cried Olivia suddenly, clutching the afghan tighter around her shoulders. “I’m the one who found the body!”
This unleashed a whole onslaught of verbal diarrhea from the group.
I was... Well,Iwas... Well, I sawyou... The sound of their combined voices increased, just like children, just like when Skyler and Kayden were little and they both started talking at once, except to the fucking tenth power—
That’s when the siren got unbearably loud, then cut, and Phelps told everyone to shut up.
He opened the front door to two firefighter EMTs. The taller man stepped forward. Behind Phelps, the living room was now quiet as a graveyard. The firefighter’s voice was deep and rumbly.
“We got an emergency call from—”
“That would be me,” said Phelps. “Come in. The... Jenn... she’s in the basement. Back that way. Door’s off the kitchen. Do you want me to—”
They were already jogging past him.
“We’ll just wait here,” Phelps called behind them. “Shout if you need anything!”
Phelps stood with his back to the front door, surveying these now-quiet people he’d invited in good faith into his home. A home he didn’t own, a home that wasn’t clean most of the time, a home where the only decor was the stuff Kylie hadn’t bothered to take—but still his home.His, damn it. And one of these people, one of hisguests, had soiled it. He was starting to get mad. This happened to him sometimes after a crisis with his boys too. After he’d done his duty, once the Band-Aid was applied or the broken glass cleaned up or the blood wiped away,thenPhelps would get pissed. Why weren’t you more careful? How, exactly, did you fall while walking across the same living room you walk across multiple times per day? Were youtryingto drop your beverage?
He could hear the clock ticking. It was that huge wall clock Kylie bought at T.J. Maxx. Next to it, the pictures of his boys smiled at him. How was he ever going to explain to his kids... how was he ever going to explain toKylie...
Hi, Kylie, hope your New Year’s Eve was good... yeah, there was a fuckingmurderin my fuckinghouse. But hey, could you get the boys from school on Tuesday if I take Thursday, and could we switch next weekend to your weekend because they changed my work schedule again?
God.He was too old for this. Too tired for this. He was never hosting a party, ever again.
He strained to hear any sounds from the basement. Nothing.
Olivia was breathing rapidly, her hands clutching the blanket like it was a parachute. Bennett’s hand was silently stroking her back. Bunny was adjusting the strap of her dress, over and over. Doug was sitting on a low bookshelf, swiveling his feet back and forth, his eyes riveted on Hellie. Every time he swiveled his feet to the right, the scented candle on the shelf rattled. Ted was glowering on the couch, slunk low and tapping his foot to some rhythm only he could hear. And Will was sitting forward on the recliner, arms leaning on his long legs, gaze down, as if he was trying to see through the floor, into what was happening in the basement.
