Page 92 of How to Kidnap a Fake Date
‘What now?’ I ask Eliza.
She wipes her hands on her dress like she’s been baking a cake rather than dealing out death. ‘We need to move him.’
‘Move him where?’ I ask, already knowing I won’t like the answer.
She looks at me like I’m an idiot. ‘The pig pen.’
‘No.’
‘Yes.’
‘I am not becoming an accessory to a murder at a wedding.’ I insist.
‘That ship has sailed, Bucko. Plus, it’s not like there will be a trial.’
‘I can’t.’ But when I look at Maggie, I know I’ll have to. She’s in no position to help.
‘Don’t be such a fanny,’ she says. ‘Help me lift him.’
Maggie looks up at me, eyes huge and terrified. ‘Roman…’
I take a breath, my body screaming at me as I move. My ribs ache as I bend, but adrenaline pushes me onwards.
‘What about his family?’ I ask. Someone has to be thinking about consequences.
Eliza pauses. ‘Yes. That might be tricky.’
That’s it. The entirety of her consideration.
‘Okay. The plan. We deny any knowledge of Eddie leaving the party. You two were upstairs banging each other’s brains out. His family aren’t staying tonight, so they’ll assume he left early as he’s been sulking all day. Then we send you two fuckers back to London and hope they blame someone else. Dad will sort the rest.’
‘You’re going to tell him?’ Maggie looks gaunt.
‘Of course I am.’
I blink at her. ‘That plan’s insane.’
‘You gotta better one?’ Eliza has a point. I most certainly do not.
Eliza turns to Maggie to give her an order. ‘Mags. You stay here. Clean up this mess before anyone notices, then get up to your room and make enough noise that people think you are giving Roman the time of his life. Cry later. There’s no time for tears now.’
‘I don’t think I can clean all this up. I don’t even think I’ve ever seen where a mop lives in this house.’
Damn. You’ve got to be rich to not know where the cleaning supplies are in your childhood home.
‘I’ll text Tuck to come help. He won’t spread gossip around the staff, and he’s helped me with… incidents… before.’ Eliza pulls out her phone and sends a message.
Maggie hesitates, then nods numbly and sits on the bottom step, looking anywhere except at the gaping hole in Eddie’s face. Would Coffin come back for seconds?
I grab Eddie’s ankles while Eliza takes his shoulders. We start dragging him down the corridor, my shoes slipping on a puddle of God only knows what.
‘Oh, for fuck’s sake,’ I mutter as I skid, nearly going down myself.
‘Try not to die,’ Eliza chirps. ‘One corpse is plenty.’
We haul Eddie out into the cold night air via an old servant’s entrance at the back of the house. The music from inside fills the air with disjointed sounds, clashing with the dark acts we commit.
By the time the pig pen looms ahead, I’m sorer than I think I’ve ever been.
