Chapter Thirty-Six. The Body in The Deep End
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
THE BODY IN THE DEEP END
The situation with Felix isn’t the only thing still in need of untangling. Unlike Killing Me Softly, where the big reveal leads straight to an after-party, solving a real-life murder is just the beginning.
There’s the real estate question, for one thing.
As a first step, Claude’s penthouse officially reverts to the board, per the terms of his will. After discussing various options for the space (dance studio, permanent Claude-themed exhibition, dojo) they opt to invite Sofia and her sisters to move in and make it their HQ.
“It’s nice to have youthful energy in the building,” Mrs. A says with an affectionate look at me. “And that sweet Carmen needs a place to stay, thanks to her dirtbag ex.”
Because of course she’s up to date on everyone’s love life, in and out of the building.
On a less cheerful note, the residents are taking turns visiting Mervyn at the local jail. According to Mrs. A, he’s putting a brave face on it, but I can tell she’s worried.
Until Grandma Lainey returns from her trip to the slammer and asks everyone to gather in the dining room for an announcement.
“It wasn’t the plant that got him,” she reports to a rapt audience. “When they found poison in Bradley’s system, naturally they assumed that was the cause of death. But no!”
“Then what killed him?” Mr. Gutierrez asks.
My grandmother looks at us one by one, to see if anyone has a guess before proceeding to the big reveal. “Cat dander. Remember what she said about Bradley kicking back on her sofa? Well, you know who else liked to lounge there?”
“Zenobia!” Mr. Namura exclaims. “The real killer was the cat.” He shakes his head. “That’s a twist.”
“Anaphylaxis,” Grandma Lainey confirms.
Malia looks thoughtful. “You could argue he was murdered twice. The poison would have gotten him, if he’d still been alive.”
“It doesn’t let Mervyn off the hook,” my grandmother admits. “But his lawyer might be able to argue for a lesser charge. More importantly, it’s a weight off his conscience.”
“I’ll drink to that.” Malia frowns at her hand when she realizes it’s empty.
“Good idea,” my grandmother says. “We’ll have a champagne toast tonight.”
When we go upstairs to change, I ask Grandma Lainey a follow-up question that didn’t seem appropriate for the whole group.
“Are you okay? About Mervyn.”
“Do you mean, am I okay with what he did?”
I shake my head, though I’m also curious about that. “It seemed like there was a vibe there, at least on his side. I didn’t know if you were extra sad. Because of … feelings.”
Even when I’m babbling, Grandma Lainey takes what I have to say seriously, coming to sit next to me on the love seat in her living room.
“I’ll let you in on a secret it took me years to figure out.
Sometimes the best part of a crush is the intoxicating bit at the beginning.
All that energy buzzing around, the delicious thrill of anticipation—as often as not, it’s more fun than actually dating someone.
” She must see on my face that I’m not there yet, because she tries again.
“Vibes don’t always survive a reality check, so you may as well enjoy the illusion for the pleasant distraction it is. Life can always use a little more vim and vigor. Do you follow?”
“I think so.” If I had to guess, she’s telling me there’s no lost love story to lament—at least not between her and Mervyn. Jury’s still out on Mr. Gutierrez.
I’m glad she’s not devastated, but the whole thing makes me feel melancholy.
What if you’re missing out by never finding out whether that fluttery feeling could become something more?
Maybe it’s different if you’ve already had plenty of swoony escapades.
Some of us are still waiting for our first real romance.
“You’re thinking about Felix,” my grandmother guesses.
“Maybe a little. Among other things. Like what I’m going to wear tonight.” Which has nothing to do with wanting to impress anyone in particular.
“Do you want to borrow my pearl choker with the teardrop pendant?”
The tiara of necklaces? “Yes, please.”
“To Claude,” Malia says when we’ve reassembled downstairs in our finery.
We raise our glasses to his portrait, clinking them before sipping our drinks.
Felix and I have been given approximately one-fourth of a serving of champagne in exchange for a promise not to operate heavy machinery afterward.
I’m not totally in love with the flavor, but the bubbles feel like magic in my mouth, not to mention the fanciness factor.
“And to Zenobia,” Grandma Lainey adds, lifting her glass a second time. This is one of those remarks I’m glad my mother isn’t around to hear.
Felix casually strolls up beside me, standing close enough for the velvet of his sleeve to brush the skin of my arm. My nerve endings are on high alert. Coming over here was a deliberate move, so he must have something to say.
But instead of talking to me, he sets his glass on a nearby table and pulls out his phone. Who is he texting?
A second later, my phone vibrates in the bejeweled clutch dangling from my elbow. The clasp sounds like a balloon popping as I fumble to open the bag. Felix’s message is short and to the point.
Want to sneak out?
Leaning past him, I check to see what everyone else is doing. Answer: whipping their heads around to pretend they weren’t staring at us.
Stealth is not an option. This moment calls for the Grandma Lainey approach. I drain the last of my champagne for courage. “Felix and I are leaving.”
In the sudden silence, we all hear Felix choke. “Give a guy a little warning next time.”
“Have fun!” Mrs. A waves as if we’re getting on a plane.
Grabbing our empty glasses, I head for the kitchen, followed by Felix—and a chorus of heated whispers I choose to ignore.
“Where to now?” I ask, after we’ve deposited our champagne flutes next to the sink.
“I was thinking maybe the pool.”
“Marco Polo?” I guess.
“Very funny. I’ll meet you there in five.”
Seven minutes later, I walk outside to find a deserted swimming pool. I guess I didn’t need to sprain a shoulder trying to squeeze into my bathing suit in record time.
The temperature barely drops after dark around here, which is annoying when you’re desperate for a breeze but nice when you want to be outside in a bathing suit at nine P.M. There’s a hint of coolness as the water moves over my feet.
After lunging off the last step, I sink down until my shoulders are submerged.
It turns out you can’t not relax in a pool.
At least one like this, in a quiet garden, with the moon high overhead.
I’ve been in community aquatic centers with a few thousand elementary schoolers that made me want to beat my head against the concrete until I lost consciousness, but this is a different world.
I stretch out, paddling gently. Is that jasmine I smell?
The thought of green growing things hits different now.
Something beautiful can also be deadly, poison hiding underneath the surface.
I’m sure there’s a metaphor there, about Bernie’s jealousy of her brother taking root years earlier.
Or maybe it was her desire for money and status that turned toxic.
I should come up with something deep to say about that, like a detective at the end of the mystery making one last speech. That will dazzle Felix.
The clang of the door opening short circuits my thoughts. I pretend to be absorbed in gracefully treading water as his sandals flap against the pool deck.
“Incoming,” he says. Two seconds later, I’m wiping the explosive aftermath of his cannonball out of my eyes.
“What are you, five years old?”
He grins at me, unrepentant, before ducking underwater. When he pops up again, Felix sweeps his dripping hair off his forehead. “You know what I’ve been wondering?”
“What part of the plant he used?”
“No. Well, that too. But this is a different loose end.” He gives me a significant look. Hopefully the fountain is loud enough that he doesn’t hear the catch in my breath.
“Okay.”
“You remember when we were hiding in Bernie’s apartment?”
My chin breaks the surface of the water as I nod.
“I kissed you.”
“Did you?”
“On the neck,” he says. “But you didn’t say anything.” It’s a question, with a pinch of accusation.
“Neither did you,” I remind him.
“I thought you were trying to pretend it didn’t happen. I was following your lead.”
“Well, I didn’t know what I was supposed to think. What if it was just a friendly gesture?”
“A friendly kiss on the neck?”
My shrug makes a faint splash. “Like kissing somebody’s hand. Or their forehead.”
“The neck is a totally different category.”
“How do you know? I bet French people kiss each other on the neck.”
“French vampires, maybe.” He shoves a little water in my direction, grinning. Luckily for him, arguing is also my idea of a good time.
“Anyway,” I say, ready to wrap up the discussion part of our evening, “there was a lot going on. I was distracted.”
He paddles closer. “How about now? Am I catching you at a good time?”
“One second.” I hold up a finger, instructing him to wait there as I plunge underwater. Once I’m several feet deep, I scream as hard as I can, like Malia suggested.
When I pop up again, I do feel lighter—like I yelled away the tension and worry of the past few weeks. It’s just me now, in this moment. And Felix. I take a deep breath, filling my whole chest with it.
He grins at me, and I must be smiling back at him, because his eyes are locked on my mouth. I lean forward, giving him a tiny nod of permission.
It’s hard to say which of us kisses the other first, though I’m sure we’ll squabble about it later. For now, I’m concentrating on the fact that it’s happening. On purpose. As opposed to a surveillance-related maybe-accident.
Our mouths are damp from the pool, and there’s a moment where we both forget to paddle and start to sink, but even with those minor distractions, I can tell that this is something I’m going to like.
A lot of things you build up in your head end up not being worth the wait, but kissing Felix isn’t one of them.
And if my mouth gets tired, he can always go back to the neck. I have no problem with that.
But then he pulls away. “I’ll be right back.”
“Oh. Uh,” I start to say, disappointed but trying not to show it.
Instead of heading for the side of the pool, Felix sinks to the bottom. I can’t see his face, but I hear the muffled sound of his primal scream as a stream of bubbles rises to the surface.
“Feel better?” I ask, when he shoots out of the water.
“I feel amazing. Might need to sing.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
“Ridiculously charming?”
I shove him with both hands, and he does an exaggerated backward fall, going fully underwater before resurfacing to fling droplets all over me like the golden retriever he is.
“I’m glad you’re not wearing your mustache,” I tease. “It might have floated off and clogged the pool filter.”
“I’m glad you got that mole looked at.”
“I told you, it’s called a beauty mark.”
“Maybe I like your face the way it is.”
The great thing about being in the pool is that I can put five feet of water between us if I need to make an emergency pterodactyl screech. When I surface, Felix is waiting.
“Are we going to keep in touch next year?” he asks, swimming close enough that his legs brush against mine as we tread water.
“Is that your way of saying you want to?” I need more of a hint before I put myself out there. Is he talking about a long-distance relationship? And does that mean we’re dating now?
“If you do.”
I pretend to think it over, like it’s a brain teaser I need to solve. “I’m willing to investigate the possibility.”
“So that’s a yes?”
“Maybe.”
“Are we going to riff like this all night?”
“Why? Are you running out of steam?”
“Never.”
I grab his shoulder. “We have a whole month left of this summer. Let’s see if we get through that first.”
“Without another murder, you mean?”
“Or killing each other.”
“Okay,” he says, bobbing away so he has room to kick. “We’ll start a new case file. The Mystery of What Happens Next.”
“I think I have an idea.”
“Really?” He drifts closer.
I nod, smiling as he gets into kissing range. And then I plant both hands on his shoulders and dunk him. I’m still laughing when he grabs my arm to pull me down after him.
Afterward I need a second to catch my breath, so I roll onto my back and float into the deep end, letting the water rock me as I gaze up at the stars.
I’ll say this for my summer at Castle Claude: We may be up to our eyeballs in murder, but I have never felt so alive.