Family Case of Murder by Vanessa Gray Bartal Page A

sigh of relief that she had given the correct response to whatever the woman mumbled.
    The dining room was a piece of artwork Lacy would like to revisit. She hadn’t gotten as far as having a meal during her last visit, so this was her first glimpse of the dark wood paneling and Tiffany-style chandeliers. Or maybe they were actually Tiffany chandeliers. In a house this grand, nothing would surprise her, though the seating arrangement did. Jason was beside her. Her memory of formal etiquette was spotty, but she was under the impression that men and women who were together never sat beside each other.
    “I can see what you’re thinking, Lacy,” Aunt Enid said, which was a scary thought in and of itself. “Married partners sit opposing each other; engaged couples sit beside each other.”
    “Lacy and Jason aren’t engaged, Aunt Enid,” Riley said. “They’re not even dating.” Jason and Lacy glanced at each other, wondering who her source was.
    “My mother,” Lacy mouthed.
    Smiling, he reached over and rested his hand on her knee. Whether it was to confuse Riley or because he had a thing about touching her while he was eating, Lacy didn’t know. And she didn’t care. She had missed him in the brief time they had been at the house. The morning had been intimate and fun, and then they arrived and he was mad at her. This time she had felt his anger all the way to her toes, so she covered his hand with hers and gave it a squeeze. He didn’t take it back as the first course was served, eating with his right hand, and Lacy didn’t remove hers, eating awkwardly with her left hand.
    “They look cozy to me,” Aunt Enid observed, and Lacy wondered over the hint of approval in her tone.
    Uncle Chuck—Lacy still had no idea if that was his real name—began a lively discourse on Kung Fu movies of the seventies. The one-man conversation lasted through dinner, and then it was time for dessert. Lacy sat up in anticipation because if there was one thing she was looking forward to, it was sugar. But to her dismay the plate of crackers and spray cheese was passed instead.
    “Where’s dessert?” This came from Gregor who had put down the game console long enough to come to the table and eat, but was clearly longing for a fix if the yearning looks he was giving the other room were any indication.
    “There is no dessert,” Aunt Enid said. “I’ve given up sugar. There’s not a trace of it left on the property.”
    Lacy’s jaw dropped and she turned wide eyed to Jason. No sugar? Was this some sort of sick joke?
    Gregor pushed away from the table and stood.
    “Where are you going, young man?” Aunt Enid asked.
    “I’m going to look in the kitchen. There has to be a bottle of chocolate syrup or something left in the fridge.”
    Lacy started to push her chair back, too, but Jason held her back. “What are you doing?” he whispered.
    “I’m going to help him search,” she said.
    “Don’t sink to his level,” he whispered.
    “But,” she started, but he interrupted.
    “Do you trust me?” he asked, giving her one of his patented soul-touching looks that made her stomach flip in response.
    “Yes,” she said.
    “Then stay in your seat. The night is young.” He gave her knee a pat and passed the plate of spray cheese.
     
    After supper the maid, who, Lacy learned, was named Hildy, led her to her room. Logically Lacy knew that it had only been a few hours since she last had sugar, but her body was already experiencing the symptoms of withdrawal. Her hands shook as she surveyed the space.
    Her room was on the small side with an old-fashioned looking standard-sized bed, meaning it was really only slightly larger than a modern day single. There was a closet where she saw Hildy had already unpacked and hung her clothes. Another door was on the opposing wall; Lacy guessed it was the bathroom. She opened it just as Jason opened the door on the other end.
    “A Jack-and-Jill bathroom,” he said. “How very