Jill whispered. Monica Jill Nelson was tall and thin with long dark hair and dark eyes. She was my realtor and had helped me find the house I was currently renting and hoping to soon buy.
“I can’t believe someone was actually murdered.” Jacob took a sip of champagne. “The board of directors is going to freak out.”
“Did you call Linda Kay?” I asked.
Linda Kay Weyman was our boss. She was a kind-hearted woman who had gone to bat for me and convinced the board to allow the event to take place at the museum. I felt horrible thinking that doing a favor for me would cause her distress.
He nodded.
I sighed. “Maybe they’ll accept my resignation in lieu of Linda Kay’s head on a silver charger.”
“You’ve worked here long enough to know Linda Kay will never stand for that.” He blushed. “Bad choice of words.”
Linda Kay ran the museum. Even though she only had one leg, she was certainly a force to be reckoned with. A southern lady with style and gentility, she had a spine of steel. I’d place money on Linda Kay in any fight she undertook. However, I certainly didn’t intend for her to have to fight on my behalf. After all, Jacob was a permanent employee and I was merely a temp.
“Well, I don’t intend for Linda Kay to take on the board of directors on my behalf,” I said.
Jacob took another sip from his champagne. “She’s already working on damage control.”
“We can’t have you losing your job over a murder you had nothing to do with.” B.J. tossed back a glass of champagne. “I guess we’ll just need to make this right.”
I stared at her. “What are you talking about?”
“We’ll just have to solve the murder.” She looked at me. “And by we, I mean you.” She gave me another stare. “If we catch the murderer, then the board won’t be angry, and you keep your job.”
“I can’t find a murderer. Are you drunk?”
She grabbed another glass of champagne. “Not yet, but I’m working on it.”
“Working on what?” Dixie joined our group.
I stared at my friend. “B.J.’s lost her mind.”
“Honey, that’s not the issue. I lost that a long time ago.” She chugged back another glass of champagne. “This stuff is pretty good.”
“Don’t you dare get drunk and puke in a planter. We’ve already had one person do that tonight.”
“Ughh.” Jacob rolled his eyes and sipped his champagne. “I don’t even want to know.”
“I’m not drunk.” She smiled. “Not yet anyway. However, I could use a few more glasses of this bubbly liquid courage.”
“What are you all talking about?” Dixie asked.
“B.J. thinks I need to solve this murder.”
Monica Jill picked up a glass of champagne. “B.J.’s not the only one.”
“Et tu, Brute?”
“Et tu?” B.J. stared. “Was that some kind of sneeze?”
I chuckled. “It’s from Shakespeare. It’s what Julius Caesar said when he saw Brutus, the person he thought was his friend,” I looked pointedly at Monica Jill, “was involved in the plot to murder him. It means, You too, Brutus?”
Monica Jill nodded. “Yep, me too.”
I turned to Dixie. “They’re all crazy. Maybe there’s something in the champagne.” I stared in my glass.
“What’s so crazy about it?” Dixie looked at me. “It’s not like this is your first rodeo.”
I stared at her as though she’d lost her mind and then glanced at all of them. “I think you’ve all gone crazy.” I reached over and took each of their glasses of champagne which was a challenge while cuddling a poodle who was trying to drink from the fluted glasses.
Dixie took the poodle.
“Thank you.” I placed the fluted glasses down and turned back to my friends. “I’m not a detective and just because I got lucky a couple of times doesn’t mean I plan to quit my day job and become Nancy Drew.”
All three women and Jacob stared back at me.
Dixie turned to B.J. “In the words of Queen Gertrude from Hamlet, ‘The lady doth protest too much, methinks.’”
“Uh huh.” B.J. nodded. “Methinks so too.”
“Yep, ditto,” Monica Jill said.
I glanced at Jacob.
He raised an eyebrow. “Don’t even look in my direction.”
I picked up a glass of champagne from the table and downed it. This was going to be a challenge. “You’ve all lost your minds.”
Chapter 3
Dixie and Beau drove me home. It was late or rather early Saturday morning when the police got everyone’s names and addresses and allowed us to leave. However, I couldn’t complain since Red had only gone as my date, and he was still there working and probably would be for several more hours.
By the time I got home, Aggie was curled up in a ball in the middle of my bed.
Aggie was the six-pound, black toy poodle I’d adopted before I left Indiana. My vet estimated her age at two years old. Surprisingly, she hadn’t woken when I arrived, so I was able to watch her unimpeded for a few minutes. Her chest expanded as she slept, and I couldn’t help smiling as I listened to her snore. An uninformed person, or non-dog owner, would think she’d worked hard based on how heavily she slept and the sound of her snoring. I glanced at the white fluff scattered around my bed. I saw the plastic squeaky that had once resided inside the white lamb toy, but was now outside with a hole that I suspected would match Aggie’s teeth perfectly. Apparently, gutting stuffed animals, sleeping, eating and just being adorable was exhausting. I stared a bit longer and then bent down and caressed her muzzle. She opened her eyes and stared at me. Then, she gave my hand a lick. She was small, but she was such a big part of my life. I picked her up and carried her outside to take care of her business. I carried her partly because she was so cute and partly because since we’d moved, she preferred playing a game of catch me if you can instead of going outside and taking care of business. Dixie assured me I was playing into her paws every time I allowed the game to continue. My compromise was to carry her and place her outside rather than engaging in the sport.
Outside, Aggie shook, pranced around a bit and then quickly squatted and took care of business.
When she was done, I opened the door and she came inside, taking the time to stretch multiple times. Her life is so hard.
Despite my late arrival and the fact that it was Saturday and I didn’t have to go to work, Aggie woke me up at six, as she
