Page 27 of Safari Murder Party
Something contorted Rick’s face, all wrinkled and puffy. His quick temper flared. “Sure it does. I’m as eligible as any of you to inherit the company. Why settle for taking your job when I could take over all of Cartwright Media?”
Theo stepped forward. Loafer to loafer. “Is that a threat?”
“Was it a threat when you nominated Opal for last quarter’s commission bonus even though my sales were higher?” Asshole Rick bit back.
Across the room, where Opal had been poorly consoling Joplin, her head perked up. “Hey, I worked with higher-profile accounts. Leave me out of your pissing match.”
Theo started, “Like me, Opal’s a go-getter. You want something at this company, you’ve got to work for it. I eat, sleep, and breathe Cartwright Media, and I have for the last two decades. Why don’t you—”
Melv moved between them, hands out to physically separate them. “Before anyone does something regrettable, why don’t we all take fifteen? I’ll take a closer look at this will, and we’ll regroup.”
Despite Melv’s best efforts, the mention of a break only frayedeveryone’s nerves more. Telling someone to calm down was the quickest way to make them angrier. Tension ratcheted up until the air in the sitting room grew so helplessly thick, Fletcher felt like a stapler floating in a mound of green Jell-O.
Neither salesman budged. Melv’s fingers strained against their chests.
“Gentlemen,” Melv said, firmer this time and far too generous. “Maybe Waylon had the right idea. We could all take a minute to ourselves.”
Theo turned to the room, eyes blazing and jaw set. “No, Jackie’s right. Dyer knew what he was doing. This isexactlywhy he brought us here. If that old bastard wasn’t already dead, I’d kill him myself.”
Joplin cried harder at this.
It nearly drowned out Rick’s moaning. “Dyer invited usall. Not just the execs. It’s anyone’s company.”
In the center of the conversation pit, Theo’s attention returned to Rick, still fuming. “You’ve never bothered showing any initiative before, Rick. I don’t expect you to start today.”
“Initiative?” Rick echoed. A dark sneer wiped across his lips. “Initiative?” He marched across the living room and stripped the rifle off the mantel. Melv reared in shock as Rick slammed the barrel against Theo’s chest, the brittle rib cage, and the beating heart beneath. “How’s this for initiative?”
It was Fletcher’s own voice she heard shouting, “Stop!”
She lunged forward, the adrenaline in her system clearly mistaking her for some kind of hero. A gun like that was ornamental. It wouldn’t be loaded. It was decor. Nothing worse. Nothing bad could—
Her hand reached Rick’s shoulder a second too late.
The blast rang Fletcher’s ears into oblivion. Her lungs choked on gunpowder.
Then, there was blood on her face.
Sticky. Hot. Metallic. Dripping onto her cheek, her chin, her chest.
Theo wilted. Barely alive. His eyes lowered to half-mast as a corsage of red sprouted at his breast pocket. Weak, he drooped against the seat cushions, a hand feebly coming to his chest.
“Rick, what have you done?” Fletcher shouted.
They had all kinds of corporate trainings—sexual harassment prevention, cybersecurity awareness, regulatory compliance—but no lesson on what the hell to do when one of them got shot through the heart.
The world didn’t slow. Opal and Sheila hunched together in the corner, whispering. Bertram counseled the Brians with meaty hands on their shoulders. The rest formed an angry mob around Rick. Everyone hollered over one another, making it impossible to comprehend their words. Didn’t anyone want to say goodbye?
Fletcher’s body moved, desperate to do something. Fix something. Anything. She hefted one of the fur throws off the sofa even though it was about a million degrees outside. She had half a mind to hide under it, but instead pressed it firmly against Theo’s chest, despite the queasy spinning the room was doing.
Theo looked up at her. She looked down at him. He was about to die, and there was nothing she could do. What was the right thing to say to a man like him on his deathbed? (Deathcouch?) She hadn’t liked him all that much in life, but even he deserved…something.
It’s okaywas a blatant lie.
The Sales team will be nothing without youwas equally untrue. They were feral creatures, clearly rabid enough to kill their own leader. And the company as a whole would easily chug on without him. If he’d died under ordinary circumstances, she would have sent condolence bouquets to the Groffs and forged Dyer’s signature on the sympathy card.
As Theo writhed and sputtered, blood crusting his lips, she landed on something in the middle, the only honest thing she could think. “You gave everything you had to Cartwright Media. You were good at your job. You can rest now.”
A sigh left Theo, like that was all the validation he needed for his eyes to glaze over. She was certain the moment he was gone. It didn’t take long. The light dimmed in Theo’s eyes, the wax of a candle dripping until there was nothing left.
