Kill Joy (A Good Girl's Guide to Murder, #0.5) — Chapter no 2

It was Jamie, Connor’s older brother.

He wasn’t moving.

His eyes were closed, his head sagged at a strange angle against his shoulder. And the entire front of his once-white shirt was soaked with blood, glistening in the new light, angry and red.

Her mind stalled, emptied out, and refilled itself with all that blood.

“J-Ja—” Pip began, but the word cut off, crashing against her gritted teeth as she watched Jamie. Wait…maybe he was moving. It looked like he was shaking, his chest shuddering.

Pip took a step forward. It wasn’t her eyes tricking her; he really was shaking, she was sure of it. Shaking or juddering or… …laughing. He was laughing, trying to hold it in, eyes opening and flicking up to her.

“Jamie,” she said, annoyed. At him and at herself, really; of course it was just part of the game. She should have known right away.

“I’m sorry, Pip,” Jamie chuckled. “Looks good, doesn’t it? I look super dead.”

“Yeah, super dead,” she said, taking a deep breath to release the tightness in her chest. And now that she was closer, the fake blood was just a little too red, like the lipstick stains on her hands.

“I suppose you’re Reginald Remy, then,” she said.

“Sorry, can’t answer you. I’m too dead,” Jamie replied, rearranging the bright purple dressing gown he was wearing over the shirt. “Oh shit, everyone’s coming.” He dropped his head back and closed his eyes as Pip heard the others thundering up the stairs.

“Celia, where are you?” Cara called in her cockney accent.

“In here!” Pip shouted.

Zach was the first one to reach her from across the landing. He smiled when he peered in and saw Jamie. “Thought it was real for a sec,” he said.

Lauren gasped as the others piled in behind her. “That’s disgusting,” she said. “And you said we were home alone, Connor.”

“Golly,” cried Connor. “It seems that Reginald Remy has been murdered!”

“Yeah, we got that part. Thanks, Connor,” said Cara.

“That’s Humphrey to you,” he retorted.

There was a moment of silence as they looked expectantly at Connor. And then the dead body cleared his throat.

“What?” Connor turned to his brother.

“Your line, Con,” said the corpse, moving as little as possible.

“Oh right. Everyone back to the dining room now,” Connor announced. “I will call Scotland Yard at once…oh, and also order the pizza.”

—

They were sitting back in their assigned places, Pip resisting the urge to peek at her booklet. A few minutes passed before Jamie strolled into the room. Except he wasn’t the murdered Reginald Remy anymore. He had changed out of the bloody shirt into a clean

black one. And on his head was a plastic police hat. He and Connor were very similar, even for brothers: freckled and blond. Though Connor was skinnier and more angular, and Jamie’s hair a touch closer to brown. Jamie had offered to host the murder mystery so Connor could play along too.

“ ’Ello, ’ello, ’ello,” Jamie said, standing at the head of the table, scrutinizing them all, a thicker Kill Joy Games booklet clutched in his hands. “I am Inspector Howard Whey, with the Scotland Yard police force. I understand that there has been a murder.”

“Sal Singh did it!” Ant shouted suddenly, looking around,

expecting a laugh.

The table went quiet.

Of course, there had been a murder—a real murder—in their town, Fairview, just over five years ago. Andie Bell, who had been the same age Pip was now, was murdered by her boyfriend, Sal Singh, who killed himself days later. An open-and-shut case of murder-suicide as far as the police were concerned. And everywhere in Fairview was a reminder of what happened: their school that Andie and Sal had both attended, the woods outside Pip’s house where Sal was found, the bench dedicated to Andie on the town common, sightings of the Bells and the Singhs, who still lived here.

It was almost like Fairview itself was defined by the murder of Andie Bell, both names usually uttered in the same breath, inextricable from the other. Pip sometimes forgot how un-normal it was to have such a terrible thing so close to their lives, some closer than others. Cara’s older sister, Naomi, had been best friends with Sal. That was how Pip had known him, and he’d always been so kind to her. She didn’t want to believe it. But, as they said, open and shut. He did it. So he must have.

Pip looked up at Jamie and saw a flash of shock in his eyes.

Jamie had been in that same school year, took the same classes as Andie.

“Shut up, Ant,” Cara said seriously, no trace of the cook Dora Key.

“Yes,” Jamie said, recovering. “Typical Bobby Remy, always interrupting and seeking attention. As I was saying”—he breezed past the awkwardness—“there has been a murder. Reginald Remy is dead, and because you are the only people on the secluded private island of Joy and there is only one boat a day, one of you must be the murderer!”

Their eyes shifted suspiciously to one another, and Pip noticed Cara avoiding Ant’s gaze.

“But together we can solve this mystery and bring the killer to justice,” Jamie continued, reading a line from his booklet. “Here,” he said, holding up a Target bag, “I’m going to give you each a little notebook and a pen so you can keep a record of clues and theories.”

Jamie asked Connor to hand them around, and—as Humphrey Todd, the butler—he dutifully accepted.

Pip wasted no time writing her name on the first page of her notebook and started taking notes. Not that she cared—it was just a game—but she hated the sight of an underused notebook.

“To begin, how about we go around the table and introduce ourselves?” Jamie said. “I’m sure you are all well acquainted, but I would like to know a little more about our suspects. Let’s start with you, Bobby,” he said, nodding to Ant.

“Yep, OK.” Ant stood up. “Hi, everyone. My name is Robert ‘Bobby’ Remy. I’m thirty-nine years old and I am the older, and favorite”—he said with a teasing glance at Zach—“son of Reginald Remy. I used to work for the Remy Hotels and Casinos empire and was due to inherit the company from my father, but a few years ago, I realized that hard work isn’t really my thing and since then I’ve just been taking it easy in London. Thank god my father still pays me an allowance. Paid, I mean. Oh, my poor father, who could have done this?” He clutched his chest in an over-the-top manner.

“OK, next,” Jamie said, pointing to Zach.

“Hi all,” he said, standing, with an awkward nod around the table.

“I’m Ralph Remy, Reginald’s younger son, age thirty-six. I work for Remy Hotels and Casinos, and for the last few years my father had been training me to take over the company. He’d been retired for some time but still made most of the executive decisions. We worked well as a team. Um…oh,” he said, pointing to Lauren, sitting two places over. “This is my lovely wife, Lizzie. We’ve been married four years and are very happy together.” He went to pat Lauren awkwardly on the shoulder and then retook his seat.

“Me?” Lauren went next, getting to her feet. “I’m Lizzie Remy, née Tasker, thirty-two years old. I’m Reginald’s daughter-in-law, married to Ralph. Yes, very happy, dear.” She smiled down at Zach.

“I also work at the family company and have been managing the flagship London casino. Some of you might not think I belong in this family, but I’ve earned my place here, and that’s all I have to say.”

“OK,” Pip said, rearranging her feather boa as she stood. She felt slightly ridiculous, but she was here; she might as well try to enjoy it. And maybe she’d forget about the senior capstone project proposal waiting for her at home. Damn, now she’d thought about it again. “I’m Celia Bourne, age twenty-nine. Reginald Remy was my uncle. My parents both died tragically when I was younger, so the Remys are the only family I have. Though they probably need reminding of that,” she said with a sharp look at Ant and Zach’s side of the table. “How nice that you all work at the family company; I’ve never been offered such a thing. I’m currently working as a governess in London, teaching the children of a very welcoming family.”

“Ooh, my detective skills are picking up on some tension here,”

Jamie said, tapping his police hat. “And the household staff?” He turned to Cara and Connor.

“Yes, I’m Humphrey Todd,” Connor announced, rising from his chair. “Sixty-two years young. I’ve been working as the butler here at Remy Manor for the last twenty years. It hasn’t always been easy

living somewhere so remote. I have a daughter, you see, who I don’t often get to visit. But Mr. Remy has always paid me fairly, and I have always had the utmost respect for my master. In that time, seeing each other every day, I believe we came to be good friends.”

Ant snorted. “No one makes friends with the staff,” he said.

“Bobby”—Zach turned to him, shocked—“don’t be cruel.”

“Very good, sir,” Connor said, a bow of contrition in Ant’s direction as he sat back down.

“Last but not least,” Cara said about herself as she stood, the accent making a comeback. “I’m Dora Key. And I’m only fifty-six, even though I’ve heard some of you gossiping that I look eighty-six.”

A meaningful look down at Pip. “I’m the household cook. I haven’t actually been at Remy Manor very long; I was hired about six months ago. There used to be more staff here, apparently, but after the master’s wife died he started letting people go, but I guess he realized he couldn’t survive without a cook. Me and old Hump here, we keep the place running, even if it is hard work.”

“Excellent,” Jamie said. “Now that we’ve got the introductions out of the way, let me tell you the details of the case so far from my initial inspection.” He started reading aloud. “ ‘All of the guests arrived yesterday, Friday, on the same boat from the mainland, to stay for the weekend. This evening, on his birthday, Reginald Remy, aged seventy-four, was killed in his study from a fatal stab wound straight to the heart. He would have died instantly. There are no defensive wounds on the body, which meant that Reginald knew and trusted his killer, and they were able to get close to him without raising suspicion.’ ”

Pip scribbled away, already on her second page.

“Our next task, then, is to establish the time of death and your alibis. So if you would all like to turn to the first page in your booklets.

No further.”

Pip picked hers up and spread it open on her plate. She read the first page quickly, and then again, checking that Connor and Cara

weren’t looking her way, rearranging her face to guard Celia’s secrets.

YOUR ALIBI

When asked where you were at the time of the murder, you claim that you were in bed, taking a nap. Your allergies had been playing up and you thought it best to try to get some rest before the big birthday dinner.

In this round:

Listen carefully to the alibis of the other guests.

When Lizzie Remy gives her alibi, you must cast doubt on it. Tell her it is very strange she says she was having a bath at that time, as the pipes are usually very loud right by your room when someone upstairs lets out the bathwater, and you did not hear that sound this evening.

Page 1