Page 98 of Festive in Death

“Oh... let’s see.”

For the next few minutes, Eve entertained herself watching Mavis send the head caterer scrambling to comply with suggestions, wishes, additions. Because it was Christmas, she opted for mercy, and pulled Mavis away.

“That was fun,” Mavis commented.

“Not for her, but yeah. Best, everything’s under control, I kept my part of the deal, and Summerset can polish it all off.”

“Now we get to groom. My favorite pre-party activity.”

“Why?”

Mavis hooked her arm through Eve’s. “Because it feels good, it smells good, and when it’s all done, you look good. But we’re not going to look good.”

“We’re not?”

“Hell no. We’re going to look ultramazing. Take it easy on Trina, okay?”

“Again, I say why?”

“She’s still a little whacked about finding the dead guy. Sima’s dead guy. She’s been putting on the brave since she’s looking out for Sima, but she let it drop with me. So I know she’s still pretty whacked about it. Most people don’t find dead bodies unless they’re you. Finding them, I mean, not being them.”

“She wouldn’t have found a dead body if she hadn’t been where she shouldn’t have been. Okay, okay,” Eve muttered when Mavis just looked at her.

“It’s worse maybe because she knew him and really didn’t like him.”

“Nobody really liked him.”

“Sima did. Mostly.”

“Did you know him?”

“Nope. I don’t use Buff Bodies. I started using Fit Plus. It’s ‘plus’ because they have all these parent/kid classes, or kid classes. We all go, my honey bear, our Bellisima and me, when we can. Or one of us goes with Bella. Completely family friendly, so we like it. But I know Sima a little, and Trina gave me the whole lowdown on the dead guy before he was dead, and more LD after he was. She’s a little bit freaked you’re going to arrest her for something, but you’re not. Right?”

“I would if I could just to keep her out of my hair. Literally.”

With Mavis, Eve turned into her bedroom.

Trina stood, quietly arranging what Eve thought of as her instruments of torture on some sort of table beside some sort of salon chair. Another table—a massage table, Eve recognized—stood in front of the simmering fire.

“Hey!” Her voice bright, Mavis bounced to Trina. “Dallas is all done, and early! We can get this part of the party started. How about we have a drink?”

“I want a shower,” Eve said. “But go ahead.”

“When you’re done, if you’d come out in just a robe,” Trina said, voice subdued, eyes on her tools. “We’ll start with the massage and body glo.”

“What the hell’s a body glo?”

“It’s a hydrator with a light sheen. We can test it on your arm to make sure you approve. I also brought the no-sheen if you decide against it.”

Eve narrowed her eyes. She didn’t like the real Trina, with her brisk bossiness and sneaky ways. But she liked this fake, mealymouthed Trina even less.

“Whatever.” Eve spotted the gift bag on her dresser, poked at it, noted Trina’s name on the tag. Roarke had, as promised, seen to it.

“This is yours.” Eve picked up the bag, pushed it at Trina.

“What?”

“A thing. A Christmas thing.”

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