“What is it?” I pat the lone clear space on the bed next to me. Ben obliges but ducks his head to the side, hiding his hurt. I ache for him.

“I thought I’d hear from them, now that she’s gone.” His voice is small, lost. “God, that sounds bad, but, I mean, we were all friends. This horrible thing happens, and they throw a…grief party and invite you but not me?”

“Technically, I wasn’t invited. I crashed.”

I get a withering look. Right. Not the point.

“I’m sorry they didn’t ask you to come. I don’t know them that well, but I’m sure if you reach out, you guys can talk.”

Ben lets out a snort. “Luke’s ignored all my texts. Maybe he thinks I did it.” There’s a pregnant pause. “Maybe he knows I’m wondering if he did it.”

“You are?”

“He was her escort in the procession. The last person to see her alive. Of course I’ve wondered. And then those texts?”

“And why would he think you did it?” My voice shakes. I’m afraid to hear the answer. But of course anyone there, who knew Natalie, who disliked Natalie, is a suspect.

“Natalie…had a twisted sense of humor,” Ben says. “I loved that about her. Nat was a good time.” A cloud passes over his features. He means it. Ben cared about her, even if she had stopped caring about him. “There was…an incident at the end of last year. She was upset about the lawsuit. She, uh…” Ben gulps, his face going a mottled red. Fastidiously avoiding my gaze, he lets it out in one rushed breath. “She started a rumor that I was, uh, pleasuring myself with the mascot head. I wasn’t! To clarify.”

“Wow.” I picture it momentarily and find a flash of embarrassed heat rushing through my body. But then I can’t help laughing. “That’s ridiculous, though. Who would believe that?”

“You’d be surprised,” Ben says dryly. “But you see why I avoided her and her family like the plague.”

“Did Natalie target anyone else?”

“Not publicly, but it looks like she was even awful to her close friends, judging from Luke’s texts. Who knows who else bore a grudge.”

“Morgan,” I suggest, fingering her Post-it. “She lacks an alibi, and there was tension over the dress. And she definitely has a personal connection to and in-depth knowledge of the Killer Queen murder scene.”

“Luke does, too, though,” Ben says, “given the murder tour….”

I picture them all running off the field, into the parking lot. But what next? Logically, the whole thing is murky. Why would Natalie go to the pool with either of them? Or anyone else, for that matter?

“What are you thinking?” Ben’s watching me curiously.

“Why was she at the pool? It’s weird, right?”

Ben shrugs. “Maybe she was hooking up with someone.”