Chapter Thirty-Five
Liv spent the rest of the time before dinner mulling over the riddle of Fiona’s words. There was something wrong with CareFree
that had killed Justine Long and Babette Sauvage. But it wasn’t the product, or the plant. Which left . . . what? The packaging?
Some other ingredient?
By the time the conch shell blew, Liv decided to recommit her energy to something more pressing: the question of who had killed
Babette. No one around the circle of camping chairs gave off the strong impression of having just murdered someone. On the
contrary, dinner went surprisingly well. Thor made margaritas that were mostly tequila. Charlie had two, Stefan five, and
even Fiona accepted one, claiming the salt around the rim had medicinal benefits. The tacos were delicious, if charred, and
the way Mandy drew people out of their funk was downright masterful. Her little sister seemed to know exactly whom to smile
at and whom to leave alone. By the time dessert was served—pineapple upside-down cake flipped from a cast-iron skillet, smothered
in gleaming caramel—the earlier tension had melted into a fragile peace.
Liv accepted a piece of cake and cracked the brittle shell of caramelized sugar with her spoon.
Now was not the time for calm. Someone had hurt Babette.
While it was possible the killer was not among them, all the people who had the most to gain—or lose—from Babette’s leadership of CareFree were here, and Liv would have bet good money that the person who’d planned Babette’s death was one of them.
There was more than enough love, greed, and tension on this beach to motivate a murder.
She scanned the group, considering the options. Charlie and Devon, the siblings in mourning. PK, the loyal assistant. Stefan,
the secretive investor. Lucinda and Imogen, new ambassadors to the Babette empire. Fiona, cast out and now invited back for
reasons unknown. Her dad, who had cadged a beer from Thor and plunked himself down next to Katy, gabbing at her about investment
strategy in an overloud, jovial voice, to the apparent discomfort of the young woman.
Her father. What was he doing here? From the furtive looks and whispers around the circle of chairs, it was clear Liv wasn’t
the only one wondering.
“Dad,” she said. Guy beamed at her, and Liv cursed the small, hungry part of her that still thrilled at his attention. “Why
exactly did you come down here with Babette?”
“I don’t see how that matters now, Livvie.” He gentled his smile. “Poor woman. She was so brilliant. Dedicated. Did I ever
tell you about the time—”
Liv cut him off. “You don’t hike. You don’t camp. You turned down the opportunity to come on this Essence Quest when you and
Mandy were originally invited. And then Babette buys you sushi, and suddenly you’re Mr. Great Outdoors? Why?”
“It was time.”
“Time?”
Guy nodded. “I haven’t seen you in what, a year?”
“Three years.”
“I thought it would be fun to surprise you.”
“Here?”
Guy was still smiling, but it looked forced.
“Let’s continue this conversation down by the river.
” He motioned to her and her sister to follow him, moving away from the circle of camp chairs and stilted conversations.
Mandy fell into step with him, and despite her annoyance, Liv did as well.
The further they got from the others, the more her father’s body seemed to relax.
Whether that meant he was more or less likely to tell the truth, Liv wasn’t sure.
His presence here was still a shock, and not just to her.
No one here knew him, except Stefan, who kept shooting glances their way.
According to Guy, he hadn’t even known he was coming until the day before.
It was the only part of his story Liv sensed was true.
“How long have you been advising Babette?” she asked him.
“Our engagement started informally,” Guy said. “It’s been a couple years.”
“And you never met PK? Or Charlie and Devon?” Liv looked back toward the group, hunting out the Sauvage siblings. Devon was
in conversation with her brother, her hand clutching Charlie’s arm in a way that looked more controlling than consoling.
“The pressures on a CEO taking on investment for the first time are singular,” Guy said. “Babette needed someone experienced.
Someone who could be discreet.”
“You.”
“Me. Is it really so hard to believe?”
His smooth words fell like barbed thistles on Liv’s ears. It was hard to believe. Impossible, even. But before she could question him further, Mandy spoke up.
“Dad can help us, Liv. He knows what she was thinking in the hours before she died.”
But so far, he wouldn’t tell her. And even if he did, Liv wasn’t sure she could believe him. She thought again about the message
in Mandy’s hat.
“No one can verify Dad’s story about how he got here,” Liv said. “And the fact that his investment wasn’t kosher might have
been what Babette was threatening you about.”
“What’s your point?” Guy asked.
“Some people might think you hurt Babette to protect your secret.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Mandy insisted. “Dad wouldn’t hurt anyone.”
“How we got here doesn’t matter.” Guy put one arm around Mandy, the other around Liv. “What matters is that we’re together
now.”
Liv counted to eight and backed out of his embrace. She considered herself a minor saint for not slapping him.
“And besides,” Guy continued. “I have a theory. There’s someone here I think might be involved in Babette’s death.”
“Who?” Mandy asked.
“Stefan Eriksen,” Guy said. “I’m the one who introduced Babette to him originally. Two nights ago, in Vegas, Babette told
me she was afraid her lead investor was trying to take her company. We thought if I came down here, I could help stop him.
I thought he could be reasoned with. Obviously, I was wrong.”
“Stefan,” Mandy whispered excitedly, looking back up the beach. “He didn’t want to call the cops.”
“Neither did Dad,” Liv pointed out. “And Babette didn’t threaten Stefan.”
“But maybe the hats weren’t really from Babette,” Mandy said. “Maybe Stefan wrote the messages to distract everyone, to point
fingers at someone else. Charlie said Stefan was on his own for some of the hike back from Thunder Spring, remember? Maybe
he killed Babette then.”
“He would have had to get extremely lucky on timing,” Liv said. “And why would Stefan need to kill her to take over her company?
It sounded like he was already colluding with Charlie and Devon on something like that.”
“You wanted the truth,” Guy said. “Stefan represents a lot of money. A lot of power. And power protects itself. That’s the
truth.”
“Makes sense to me,” Mandy said. “What do you think?”
Liv stared at her dad and sister, their arms still linked. Part of her wanted to believe them. To join them. It would be easier
that way. But telling stories was what they did, especially when the truth was messy, dangerous, or unflattering.
“I don’t know,” she said softly.
Guy gazed at her for a moment, then gave her one sharp, dismissive shake of the head. “Come on, Mandy. Your sister isn’t going to make them trust me. We have to do it without her.”
Liv watched her father and sister turn and head back up to the rest of the group. She wanted to cry. She wanted to run away.
She wanted to ford the river and storm up to the North Rim and grill Marc on exactly what he’d witnessed. She’d thought Mandy
was on the same team with her, the two of them working together to find the truth in this convoluted canyon of deceit. But
Mandy was her father’s daughter. She and Guy would always choose whatever story served them best.
Guy strode to the center of the circle of camping chairs and raised the mostly empty can of lager in his hand. “If I could
get all of your attention,” he announced. Even Liv found herself moving toward his loud, authoritative voice. “I’d like to
propose a toast. To Babette.”
Fiona glared at him. “First, I’d like to know why she brought you down here.”
“Babette trusted me,” Guy said. “She knew me.”
PK sniffed. “If you really knew her, you’d know a beer is no way to honor her memory.”
“You’re right.” Guy nodded eagerly at the young man. “Absolutely right. If we’re going to salute the queen, we’ve got to do
it with royal jelly.”
Liv had no idea where her dad was taking this, but that was the rub of it. This was his production now. He wasn’t here to
answer questions or tell the whole truth or help figure out what happened to Babette. He was here to put on a show. And he
did it disgustingly well—conjuring curiosity and desire, making everyone his complicit audience, waiting to hear what he would
say next.
“PK!” Guy said. “When times get tough, what do we hope for? When our house is torn apart, when we’re lost in the wilderness,
when our loved ones abandon us: What do we wish, against all odds, that we could do?”
When the young man didn’t answer, Guy smiled. “Let. Your. Worries,” he said, directing each word to a new person in the circle. “Wash away.”
“No,” Charlie said. “Stop. This is a nightmare. It is not an advertisement for CareFree.”
“But don’t you see? It is. This is exactly what Babette would have wanted. For us to turn to the revolutionary power of CareFree
to give us peace at this time.”
“Absolutely not.” Liv had to step forward. “You’ve all been drinking. And from what I understand, CareFree has neurochemical
effects.”
“It’s perfectly safe,” Devon said.
“It would ease the pain,” Fiona said.
“With a lot fewer calories than those margaritas,” PK muttered.
“I’ll try anything twice,” Thor said.
Before Liv could issue any further protest, PK had dragged his soft cooler over to the circle. Even Imogen, who’d seemed lost
in a catatonic state of grief and fear, perked up when he pressed one of the white tubs into her hand. When Liv tried to brush
PK off, he insisted.
“It’s for Babette,” he said.
She shoved the container deep in her pocket.
“Is there a protocol for how to use it?” Imogen had already whipped out her phone.
“Put that away,” Lucinda said.
“Nana, CareFree is the entire reason we’re here.”
“She’s right,” PK said. Sheepishly, the young man gestured for Imogen’s phone and propped it up against a rock on the sand.
Charlie looked stricken.
“You’re a loud, arrogant leech,” PK said to Guy. “But you’re right. Babette would have wanted us to do this.”
He hit Record.
“For Babette,” PK said. He dipped his fingers into the lavender-tinted cream and started rubbing circles over his cheeks and
forehead.
“For Babette,” the others repeated. Guy slathered the stuff onto his cheekbones.
Imogen made careful dots along her jawline for the camera, smoothing them away one dainty stroke at a time.
Even Charlie dipped into the cream, worrying the furrow between his eyebrows.
Only Liv, Lucinda, Katy, and Big Pete abstained.
“It’s cooling,” Mandy murmured.
“The final calibration on the scent is excellent,” Stefan said.
“How long before it starts working?” Imogen asked.
“That’s the beauty of topical application,” Devon said. “It’s already sinking into your bloodstream.”
“But the full effect?” Stefan asked.
“It peaks in one hour, lasts for two,” PK said. “Hopefully by then we can drift off and forget this horrible day.”
Forget. Was that what her father had wanted to achieve?
In the first half hour, as far as Liv could tell, everyone just grew quieter. More detached. PK’s pupils were dilated, and
Devon’s skin reddened, but that could also have been a result of the long day in the sun. Thor picked at a ukulele he’d pulled
from the supply boat, as if this were just another lazy day on the river.
Liv stood awkwardly with Big Pete, Katy, and Lucinda by the dish station, watching.
“It doesn’t look like they’re in thrall to a goddess of hell,” Liv said.
“It’s worse,” Katy said. “They neutered the datura plant. Bled the goddess dry. And turned everyone into . . .”
“Lotus eaters,” Lucinda said.
“What?”
“In Homer’s Odyssey. There was an island where everyone was stoned all the time.”
“Did something terrible happen to them?” Liv asked.
“Strangely, no. It’s one of the few places where Odysseus’s crew doesn’t torment the locals. They just forget their earthly
toil and lounge around.”
“But it’s dangerous, right?”
Lucinda scrutinized the plate in her hands for spots. “For people like us, maybe. For them . . .”
Liv scanned the beach. Down by the water’s edge, Mandy and Guy were sitting together, Mandy’s head on his shoulder, singing the Beatles.
They swayed gently, losing the lyrics here and there, wandering off-key.
It would be so easy to slather on some cream and join them on the sand.
To let go of the hurt, the threats, her suspicions about her father’s role in Babette’s death.
If she could only forgive. If she could only forget.
But that carefree dream world was theirs, not hers. Calmly, Liv turned to Big Pete, Katy, and Lucinda. “There are three people
who had the opportunity to be alone with Babette today. There’s a possibility one of them could have . . .”
“Killed her?” Lucinda said.
Liv still wasn’t prepared to say that out loud. “They might have seen something that makes them a target as well. Either way,
we need to take care of them. Of all of us.”
“How do you suggest we do that?” Big Pete asked.