Page 53 of The Perfect People

The guy immediately hopped out of the way, as did the other people nearby.

“Look out—she’s gonna puke!” the guy bellowed.

The crowd parted like the Red Sea.

“Clear a path,” Susannah ordered, grabbing Jessie’s shoulder and guiding her in the direction of the commotion they’d heard. “She’s feeling sick. You’ve got to let her get outside now.”

Jessie kept her head down, letting her partner direct her through human traffic as she focused on making noisy retching sounds. After ten seconds of that, Susannah tapped her on the back.

“You can stop now.”

Jessie looked up to see that they were near the front of the house, where it opened out onto the yard. It looked like a fight of some kind had just been broken up. Several people were holding one guy with long blond hair back from another dude with a crewcut, who was sitting on a couch, holding a bloody napkin to his nose. Susannah didn’t waste any time trying to get answers and walked up to the blond guy being held back.

“Why did you punch him?” Susannah demanded. “Was he trying to choke someone?”

“What?” he said, stopping his struggle to get free long enough to look simultaneously confused and annoyed by her question. “Are you here to arrest me, Officer Chesty?”

Jessie, no longer faking nausea, slipped past the collection of guys assembled nearby who all said “Ooh!” in unison, and grabbed the forearm of the blond guy, twisting it behind his back as she kneed him in the back of his leg. He dropped to his knees, wincing in pain.

“That was a very rude way to talk to my friend,” she said, tugging his forearm upward slightly. “She asked you a simple question and you responded in an offensive manner. Apologize!”

“Sorry!” he grunted.

“Now answer her question—did that guy over there try to choke someone out?”

“No,” the blond guy muttered. “He knocked over my beer.”

“It was an accident, man!” the bloody-nosed dude objected.

Jessie leaned over and whispered in the blond guy’s ear.

“So this altercation involved no choking of any kind?”

“Uh-uh,” he gasped.

“Okay,” she said so only he could hear as she gave an extra little tug. “I’m going to let you up. I suggest you go outside and take a breather. If you bother me or my friend or anyone who inadvertently bumps your beer, I’m going to reach out to my good friends in the Manhattan Beach Police Department and get you tossed in a cell for the night. Got it?”

He nodded. She let go and stepped back. As he stood up and scurried outside, desperately avoiding eye contact with her, she heard a loud voice behind her.

“What the hell is all this?”

She turned around to find a voluptuous, dark-haired woman in her mid-forties wearing what was essentially a black negligee stomping toward them. She recognized her immediately and walked over, as did Susannah.

“Hi, Daphne,” she said quietly. “I’m Jessie Hunt. This is Detective Susannah Valentine. We spoke earlier. I thought you were going to stay upstairs until we gave you the all clear to come down.”

“I couldn’t wait any longer,” Daphne said. “The music and the happy voices were just too much. And then I heard about this ruckus. I had to check on it. So now I’m here and you can keep me safe. If this person you mentioned tries anything, you’ll stop him, right?”

“Yes ma’am,” Susannah said.

“Frankly,” Daphne said, “I’m flattered that Curly thinks my party is choke-worthy. But all things being equal, I’d rather everyone just run around half-naked and have the evening end without incident.”

“So would we, Daphne,” Jessie said.

Unfortunately, all her experience told her that the chances of that kind of happy ending were remote. Whoever killed Shasta Mallory on Thursday night and Nicole Boyce on Friday night was unlikely to take Saturday night off.

Whether he was already inside the house or still out there somewhere, waiting to get in, he wasn’t done. He would strike before the night was out. But at least when he did, they’d be here, waiting for him.

CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT

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