“I should have figured that,” Brent replied shamefacedly.
“I can’t believe it was Frank,” Ginger said. “Poor Eliot. He’s devastated.”
I looked around for him, but of course he wasn’t there. If I’d been in his shoes, I wouldn’t have been, either. It would be hard to celebrate the return of the man your lover had tried to murder.
I was led around back, where I saw they had set up a table, with chairs in a semi-circle at one side. Sitting in the middle of the table was a cake I knew had to have been created by Paula. It looked like a house, my house actually, and across the roof was written “Our Hero”
“I’m not, you know,” I protested. “I didn’t do anything. It was all Steve.”
“Not from what he said,” Chase replied. “You were willing to put yourself in the line of fire to draw out the killer.”
“And before you say that’s not true,” Steve said, putting his arm around my waist, “If you hadn’t agreed to our plan, Frank would still be running loose.”