CHAPTER TWELVE
Early evening found Rey and I sipping Mai-Tais at Lily Pad, a quaint lounge a few walkable blocks from the house. Sach had wanted to catch up with friends visiting from Denver, so he’d left us after high tea with The Dowager. Despite pelting rain and a gray drab day, my cousin and I were feeling fine—and no, it wasn’t the rum that was contributing to it (though it didn’t hurt).
“What do you think about the fact they were bent to the right?” Rey asked, playing with the pretty plumeria that adorned the thick glittery tumblers. “And who’s ‘I’? GRP?”
When Ald had confirmed that the roses pinned on the victims were bent to the right, we’d called back Sach’s great-aunt. She’d advised that bent to the right meant “I”, while to the left meant “you”.
“Maybe. But who does the ‘I’
