Page 44 of Don't Cross Mo Ellery

As I look for an opening to squeeze past the buff broker, I hear Tond deep in conversation with somebody I can’t see.

“...she said Claudia’s got the cops sniffing around. You told me this was the end of it and that nobody would find out—”

My blood suddenly runs cold. The other guy says something, but I can’t hear him over the buzz of the room.

Tond interrupts. “No way, I didn’t sign up forthis. I’m out.”

Andthat’swhen Mr. Eternal Rest spots me, gestures toward a security guard, and in a first for me, I’m pretty sure I’m about to get kicked out of a fucking funeral.

As the security guy barrels his way toward me, I finally hear the guy Tond is talking to, loud and clear this time.

“Cran was your ticket in, don’t go soft on me now. Just take care of her.”

Take care of ?

Her?

Oh my god.

Was Claudia right?

Itwasmurder? And these are the guys who did it? His own brother?

And “her” is next?

Who is “her”?

Me?

I need a paper bag, I need a paper bag so bad.

Calm down, I tell myself, except then I think of the dogs. How Louis, who hasn’t made a single sound except to sneeze, barked when Tond walked up. How Jean, who will eatanything, ignored a perfectly good turkey sandwich, just because it was in Tond’s hand.

Oh my god. Claudia and Benny were right.

The dogs told me who the murderer was.

And Tond freaked outthe momentI brought up the police.

I’m definitely breathing too fast. And I still have not one single solitary paper bag to hyperventilate into. But I do have the next best thing. I have Chris.

Vision’s getting sparkly. No time to think.

Get to Chris. Fast.

The security guard is trying to push past the buff broker now, but she’s still on her phone and yelling at him to get his hands off her, so she’s inadvertently acting asmysecurity guard.

Thank you,CrossFit, I say silently as I squeeze myself and the three dogs back the way we came. I catch a glimpse of Mr. Eternal Rest making his way through the crowd to cut us off, and I realize even worse than getting kicked out of a funeral would begetting detainedat a funeral (can they do that?) and I do not want to get detained while spying on murderers. I elbow my way harder, the four of usjustmanaging to spill out into the lobby before Mr. Eternal Rest can clamp a hand down on my arm.

“Hey!” he calls from his spot next to the poster of Cran’s face.

“Great funeral, thanks for hosting!” I call back to him as I run toward the exit.

I throw the door open and almost bowl over Leslie, who’s inconveniently about to make her tottering way down the front steps.

Jean, meanwhile, is thrilled to get one last shot at a second course.

“Not now, Jean,” I say, crushing his hopes again.