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Chapters (56)
  1. Cover
  2. PART ONE The Preparations for the Party
  3. Claudine
  4. Zara
  5. Henry
  6. Zara
  7. Zara
  8. Claudine
  9. Henry
  10. Zara
  11. Claudine
  12. Henry
  13. Zara
  14. Claudine
  15. Henry
  16. PART TWO The Affair
  17. Claudine
  18. Henry
  19. Claudine
  20. Henry
  21. Claudine
  22. Henry
  23. PART THREE The Game
  24. Zara
  25. Claudine
  26. Henry
  27. Zara
  28. Claudine
  29. Zara
  30. Henry
  31. PART FOUR The Murders
  32. Claudine
  33. Henry
  34. Claudine
  35. Henry
  36. Claudine
  37. Henry
  38. PART FIVE The Process of Elimination
  39. Claudine
  40. Henry
  41. Henry
  42. Zara
  43. Zara
  44. Claudine
  45. Henry
  46. Claudine
  47. Zara
  48. Claudine
  49. Henry
  50. Claudine
  51. Henry
  52. Claudine
  53. Henry
  54. Claudine
  55. Zara
  56. ABOUT THE AUTHOR

When we got back to the party, everyone was trying to sneak looks at me without being obvious. Which made it all obvious. When you go to enough parties, pretty soon everyone starts seeming like extras. Hired to be there. Actors on a lot dressed for an Aspen Holiday Party, a fractured fakeness. Thankfully, I’m used to it. It didn’t take long before I was pretty sure I had everyone sized up pretty accurately. No huge crazies. Everyone who worked for Calhoun + Calhoun seemed very “regular,” very “normal.” They were all in charge of something. Lighting a candle, straightening the presents, stoking the fire. The whole crew seemed scared shitless even then if you ask me. But I did appreciate that they treated me like I had a brain. By this point, the few conversations I’d had weren’t about the music industry but about the history of the area. I even had what was almost a deep conversation with Kevin and Jerry about the holidays in general. What a strange time of year it can be. But also how you’re supposed to be happy all the time when in reality it just makes you miss all the things you don’t have anymore. It was actually nice. Some people automatically think I’m an idiot. Which gets old.

Then John approached me. We hadn’t really spoken yet, but I know the type. Overconfident. Clearly he thought he was sexy, because his eye contact was off the hook. Too much. This is why I started calling him Intense John. I wouldn’t say he loved it, but I told him he should feel pretty good; not everyone gets a nickname.

He was like, “Care for any party favors?” Hysterical. What a dork. I couldn’t resist fucking with him a little. I asked if he had any blow. It was like springtime on his face, flowers blooming, rainbows coming out of his eyes. Just thrilled. He dropped his voice and said, “Why, yes. I have lots of cocaine in my pocket.” I had to tell him to calm down, I didn’t do drugs, but Pip did. Could he cut her a couple lines down on the floor?

He was like, “Yes! Of course!”

“Fuck off, Intense John,” I said, but nicely. “Pip doesn’t do blow either.” Then Pip was barking at him; she’s the best. He said something ridiculous like “Okay, great!” and walked away. Probably to go freak out somewhere.