Demarien knelt and hugged his dog. “There’s a chicken in the kitchen. A live chicken.”
Felix released a deep breath. “Okay. What are we going to do?”
“We all quit our jobs,” Milo said, turning away from them. “I’m so sorry, guys. I pulled you all into this mess.”
“Now who’s being a drama llama?” Puck slapped Milo’s ass, making him jump and glare at their friend. Puck raised a brow. “We knew this wasn’t going to be easy. We can fix this.”
“We have to,” Felix said, voice soft. “This is our dream.”
Demarien nodded and cupped a hand over his abdomen.Perfect time to get pregnant. Really. Perfect, he thought to himself, already listing all the work he would need to do to the kitchen.
“Is it?” Milo asked, shoulders slumping. “There’s no way we can have this place opened by summer.”
Demarien looked at his friends and thought about the flash of a dream he’d had. Their kidswouldgrow up here and be best friends. They would make this work.
“Wecando this,” Demarien said. “We’re together, right? That’s all that matters.”
Milo ran his hands through his dark hair and gave them a reluctant smile. “You’re right. That’s all that matters. Let’s go to Aunt Dahlia’s office. Maybe Bernard left a note explaining this.”
Demarien focused on Puck’s back to avoid looking at the rest of the ransacked rooms as they followed Milo to the back of the house. Brownie trotted at his side, unconcerned, tongue lolling.
The silence was depressing, and something really stunk, making his stomach churn.
“I call the beach house, by the way.” He covered his nose to try to lessen the stench in the hallway and told himself not to think too hard about the shape the beach house would be in. “The one closest to the cove.”
Felix took his free hand and squeezed it. “I call the lighthouse. That’s where my gloryhole is anyway.”
Milo snickered. “You love your gloryhole.”
“I call the cabin farthest from the house,” Puck said. “I’ll need somewhere to get away from you weirdos.”
“I’ll take the top flo—” Milo yelped, stopping in place.
Puck ran into him, and they stumbled forward into the office.
Demarien’s eyes widened as he saw someone on the floor in front of the large, ornate desk. The stench suddenly made sense as he noted the discolored skin.
Milo spun back toward them, clutching Puck to him. “That’s Bernard. He’s dead. Oh, my god, there’s a dead body in my house.”
Demarien fumbled his phone from his pocket and pulled Felix behind him as he ran toward the front of the house, Brownie on his heels. Milo and Puck almost knocked him over as they followed.
He dialed his dad’s number, unsure of the police department’s number. “Dad? I need your help.”
Chapter 5
Demarien fought off a headache as he put a pot of tea on the ancient gas stove. It was late, and they were all exhausted and gathered at Demarien’s new home. Piko and Brownie curled up together on a dog bed by the couch, and Milo’s two cats had made themselves comfortable upstairs in one of the bedrooms.
The beach house was in a lot better shape than the main house, even if it was an overgrown, outdated mess. It would need new siding, windows, and flooring. Plus, the chimney needed cleaning, and the porch rails would have to be fixed. It hadn’t been burglarized, though, and there wasn’t a dead body lying on the floor.
At least I don’t have a chicken in my kitchen, he thought, glaring toward the living room where Puck held the damn chicken on his lap.
Joe sat with Milo on the couch, arms wrapped around Demarien’s shaken friend. “The sheriff will take care of everything, so don’t you boys worry one bit.”
“I talked to Bernard just last week.” Milo sighed. “He already moved out of the house and said he was on his way to his sister in Montana.”
“He must have come back,” Felix said, handing freshly cleaned mugs to Demarien. “Maybe he forgot something and walked in on whoever broke into the house.”
“Maybe he never left,” Puck said with a scowl. “Honesty isn’t his thing, apparently. The fucker didn’t bother maintaining the house for the five years he lived here. What did he even do with all that money Dahlia sent?”
