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“The kitchen. That’s where the next clue is.”
Another scream slashed through the peaceful calm of the quiet lakeside. Theo and I looked at each other, the scream having come from behind us. The secret Santa slayer had struck again, and this time it had been someone from the boathouse group.
CHAPTER 5
Theo Perez
Griffin shrieked and squirmed on the snow covered ground, being as dramatic as possible in his fake death. Alex stood above him, a hand covering his face and likely hiding the smile. Penny put a hand on his back and gave him a back rub.
“Sorry, buddy,” she said, “looks like Santa struck again.”
“How will I ever get over this?” Alex asked.
“How will you ever get over this?!” Griffin shouted as he writhed on the ground. The yells attracted more attention as people started filtering out from the mansion, coming through different side-doors I hadn’t even realized were there.
“Was anyone else around when it happened?” I asked, slipping into detective-mode.
“No,” Alex said, shaking his head. Griffin’s wails started to die down and his twitching became more sporadic. “I was inside the boat house with Penny when we heard him go down.”
Mark and Liam, a handsome couple from the New York branch, stepped forward, Austin and Shiro at their side. Zane was coming out, too, a notebook in his hand as he surveyed the scene. I only met a handful of the Stonewall detectives before this holiday retreat but I already felt close to all of them. I couldn’t recall the last time I felt this connected to a group of people before. I’d always either been paired off with someone or alone. I wasn’t the type who effortlessly collected friends wherever they went like they were gathering souvenirs to sit on a shelf at home. It was harder for me to make those kinds of connections, but for some odd reason, every connection made here felt natural and deep.
Chalk it up to the holiday spirit, I guess.
“Damn, we’re dropping like red-nosed reindeer,” Austin quipped.
“That’s a little morbid, isn’t it?” Mark asked, adjusting the blue and white baseball cap so that the lip faced the back. “I don’t think Rudolph ever died.”
“Sorry, I didn’t realize we drew the line at fictional reindeer deaths.”
Mark chuckled. “Just saying, Rudolph was always my favorite holiday icon. Something about him being the underdog always got to me. Why don’t we kill off Frosty? I think that fucker has shifty eyes.”
The group—even a dramatically posed ‘dead’ Griffin—all laughed. Penny piped in just as Darien and his boyfriend joined us from inside. “I second that. Anyone who can take their nose off their own face and fuck themselves with it shouldn’t be trusted.”
My eyebrows jerked up as Zane started to crack up, laughter spreading through the group again.
“Ah bueno, that sounds like a perk to me,” Alex said.
“Yeah honestly, same,” Griffin said from the floor.
Darien smiled underneath a fake Santa beard that hung precariously off his already prominent five-o’clock shadow. “If we’re throwing prominent Christmas figures to the wolves, can I nominate the big man himself? I mean, I don’t need a dude I don’t even know watching my every move and creeping in through my chimney so he can eat my cookies and leave me gifts. Like… what?”
More laughter, more cheer. Griffin was helped to his feet by his husband. Since he was technically dead, no one could talk or interact with him for the rest of the game. He waved to no one in particular and headed back into the mansion.
“He’ll be missed,” Alex said solemnly, a fist to his chest and his head dropped.
“Just a little reminder,” Zane chimed in, “there’s still a prize at the end of all this.”
Alex’s head shot up and he clapped his hands together. “And with that said, I’ve got a case to crack. Gotta avenge my husband.” He tipped his head as a goodbye and left, following in the footsteps of his husband on the search for more clues. Penny and Austin excused themselves, too, both of them deciding the boat house needed an extra look.
Mav and I had other plans. No one else seemed to have spotted the clue that Maverick found written in the snow, which meant we might have had a head start. Something was waiting for us in the kitchen, now it was just a matter of finding it. I looked to the Victorian goliath that blotted out a portion of the evening sun with a spiraling tower that jutted out from the side, directly above a wrap-around balcony. There were about a thousand windows all pointing to a thousand rooms.
We had our work cut out for us. “Come on,” I said to Maverick as the rest of the group dispersed. “Let’s go look for the kitchen.”
A surge of adrenaline pumped through me as I led Mav back into the house. This was what I imagined the racers on TV felt whenever they were jetting off to another country, solving clues and working through challenges together.
