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Last night I would be all in on asking Sienna about her experience on the field as an FBI agent. Today, though, not so much. The last thing I want to think about is corpses. Especially when we are minutes away from having a meal. Though I doubt my nerves will allow me to eat much.

“What are they all gossiping about?” Sienna adds when she catches a few strangling glances our way.

“Who knows?” I lie. “They’re probably just talking about Jordan’s sudden death.”

“Right.” Sienna plucks a mimosa from a passing waiter’s tray and takes a large gulp. “Jordan must be having a field day in hell knowing she’s all anyone can talk about today. She always did know how to make an entrance. Bet she never thought she’d make one hell of an exit, too.”

“Jesus, Sienna. This is no time for jokes,” I say, uncomfortable with how brazen she is about Jordan’s death.

“Oh, please. You hated her just as much as I did. Jordan was a bitch with a capital B. Trust me, if the roles were reversed, she wouldn’t shed one tear for us.”

She’s not wrong there.

I know you’re not supposed to speak ill of the dead. But you’re not supposed to lie either.

So there’s that.

“Let’s just get this over with,” Sienna says, downing her mimosa in two seconds flat. “I want to go into town and talk to Chief Eli after this.”

“Why?” I ask, curious as to why she needs to see Fairhope’s chief of police.

“I want to know what the coroner thinks about the whole thing.” When she sees the confusion on my face, she lets out a sigh. “I want to know if he thinks this was an accidental death or if there’s more to it.”

“What do you mean, more to it?”

“I mean, did Jordan slip and fall off her balcony, or was it something else?”

“You think she jumped?” My eyes widen in alarm.

“Jumped? No. Jordan loved herself too fucking much to jump.” Sienna’s demeanor shifts. “I’m thinking more like… pushed.”

“Pushed?” I chuckle nervously. “You’re kidding, right?” One look at her face tells me she’s nowhere near kidding. “Why would someone,” I start, before lowering my voice. “Why would someone push her off her balcony?” Sienna gives me a look that says, Hello? This is Jordan we’re talking about. “Stupid question,” I concede.

“Jordan was a bitch to a lot of people,” Sienna reminds. “Maybe someone from back in the day had an old score to settle and decided this reunion was the perfect opportunity to do it.”

“If that’s true, then both you and I would be on that list.”

“True.” Sienna shrugs, not one bit bothered by my accusation. “But that list is fucking long. I doubt we make the top five.”

“Maybe it’s best we don’t give in to our own paranoia or dive into conspiracy theories just yet. The most probable scenario here is that accidents happen to good and bad people alike.”

“Is that really what you think?”

“It’s the most likely explanation, isn’t it?” I defend.

“Okay, then let’s talk it through. You’re a writer, right? If this were one of your stories, what would you think happened?”

“I write fiction. This is real life.”

“Humor me.”

“I really don’t like this game,” I mutter. Sienna simply stares at me, waiting. With a sigh, I offer up my theory. “Jordan was a smoker, right? Maybe she was sneaking a smoke on the balcony last night, tripped, and fell.”

“Fair enough. Only one problem with that theory.” A knowing look crosses Sienna’s face. “Some of the guests heard her arguing with someone last night. Maybe whoever she was arguing with decided words weren’t enough to end the conversation.”

Shit.

“I… um…” I swallow. “That was me. I was the one arguing with Jordan.”