“Can’t I?” I asked. “The one thing that Dooney and Quentin had in common was that they both drank very expensive Macallan whiskey right before they died. Is that where you put the poison, in the bottle of whiskey?”

Her lips puckered and her eyes narrowed. “You think you’re so clever, don’t you, party crasher?” she asked. “Well, you’re not. I’m smarter and prettier and more powerful than you’ll ever be, and when you’re dead, who do you think is going to console your heartbroken fiancé?” Her smile was pure evil. She wrinkled her nose and said, “Not to ruin the ending for you, but it’ll be me.”

I scoffed. “Harry would never have you.” My voice came out strong and I was grateful because, quite frankly, she was scaring the snot out of me. “It was you in the maze, wasn’t it? You’re the one who tried to kill me with the scythe.”

She shrugged. “Not kill you so much as permanently disfigure you. I was hoping to slice off your face so Harry would dump you.”

I swallowed hard. Okay, I was downshifting from impressed with myself to scared to absolutely terrified. I glanced at the door again. She followed the line of my gaze. Then she rose from her seat and crossed the room to close the door. She turned the old skeleton key in the lock and tossed it across the room. I was locked in with her.

“You’re right,” she said. “Someone will be here soon. I’d best dispatch you before that happens. It’s cold comfort, I know, but you can die knowing how very clever you are.”

I knew I could run and she would chase me or I could plow right into her and, hopefully, catch her off guard. I chose the latter, thinking it was the less obvious choice. With a yell, I launched myself at her.

Chapter 18

I did catch her off guard. Yay, me. But as we hit the ground, she clobbered me with a vicious backhand that I did not see coming and it threw me across the floor.

It took me a beat to get my bearings. I pushed up onto my hands and knees. My face stung where she’d struck me, which just made me mad.

“How exactly are you planning to explain my murder?” I asked. “Don’t you think the police will find it highly suspicious that I was left alone with you and then I was suddenly dead when they came back?”

She reached into her pocket and pulled out a very long, very lethal-looking knife. “You were consumed with jealousy that I had dated your fiancé before you. You came at me with a knife that you must have taken from the kitchen. We fought and while I was defending myself, I stabbed you. Such a tragedy.”

“No one is going to believe that,” I said.