Page 84 of Dancing in the Dark

A single eyebrow shoots high on his forehead. “Uh… What did I think of Jo? Professionally, I felt she was eager to learn, quick to take initiative, paid attention to details, and never missed deadlines.”

“And personally?” Archer prompts.

“She was kind.” Less sure now, he shrugs. “She was one of those introverted extroverts, I think? Or extroverted introverts. I’m not sure which it is, but she was the type who was pretty quiet until she was comfortable, then she could get a little rowdy.”

“Was she rowdy the other night at Carson’s party?” At the beep of the machine, I spin and remove the first mug from the spout, then I select a second pod—one that comes with a vanilla and caramel pizzaz, since I love my best friend so much—and repeat my steps. “Was she drinking? Was she having fun?”

“W-well, yeah. I guess. We were all drinking. Carson’s one of those always-extroverted types, so if you party with him, you know you’re in for a big night.”

“Drugs?”

His eyes flare wide with panic. “No way! Never.”

So yeah. Definitely.

You suck at lying, Tyler Salvestrin.

“I-I spoke to her on the boat,” he damn near whimpers. “We hung out for a few minutes. She was fine, I swear.”

“And now she’s dead.” Archer tears a fresh page from his notebook and slides it closer. “I want you to write the names of every person in attendance that night. You’re a man who has an eye for detail too, aren’t you? You work with numbers, so I know you keep these things straight.”

Shaky, he drags the paper across, then accepts Archer’s offered pen. “I s-suppose, yeah.”

“Good. Those yachts house twelve guests and nine staff. Twelve and nine make twenty-one.” He taps the paper and flashes a hunter’s grin. “I wanna see twenty-one names on that list. And then Detective Fletcher and I are gonna sit here and speak to every single one of them until we figure this out.”

“That’s alright with you, isn’t it, Tyler?” I grab the second coffee and carry both back to the table. Setting the vanilla monstrosity in front of Arch, I pretend not to notice the upturn of his nose. “We all want to solve this. For Jo.”

“Johanna was getting kinda flirty with Dexter as the night went on, but she was alive last time I saw her, I swear.”

“Jo was flirting with me for a sec, but then she was busy grinding on Carson. It was his birthday, after all.”

“I don’t know that I even seen her on the boat! Oh, man. She’s really dead?”

“Carson throws the sickest parties! No way he’s ruining that winning streak by hurting some chick who stuck her tongue down his throat anyways.”

“No, detectives, I didn’t see or hear or have knowledge of anyone who might’ve harmed her.”

“Jo was friends with everyone. Why would anyone even wanna kill her?

“Dexter was kinda pissy that Jo stopped dancing with him so she could dance with Tyler instead.”

“Tyler’s a pussycat. He wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

“Tyler? Naw, man. He would never!”

“Slater and Datsun is a really awesome place to work. The women are never treated differently than the men.”

“Mr. Slater and Mr. Datsun are staunch advocates for equality and stuff.”

“Slater and Datsun hosts quarterly ethics seminars reinforcing their stance on inter-office relationships, since everyone knows those things could get messy. It’s especially important when power dynamics come into play. That’s why Carson would never even think about crossing that line.”

“Carson is a really decent dude, Detective. No way would he entertain anything if she came onto him.”

“I saw Carson and Jo making out at about… I don’t even know. It was late, and we were all pretty wasted by that point.”

I take a seat beside Arch, my brain aching after hours of listening to a bunch of idiots chopping and changing their stories. Because Carson Slater would never! But also, he totally would! I long ago switched from coffee to water, and though I’d rather stand, there’s only so much of that I can do without considering a jump from the thirty-third-floor window a viable option for neutralizing my headache.

“Sit down, Carson.” Arch gestures toward the seat opposite us, then he flips a page in his notebook and prepares for another hour of obnoxious chatter.