less horror...a lot more humor Berkley Prime Crime
“What’s going on?” A guy called down from the porch above us. “Is somebody there? Did somebody fall?”
Sutter and I exchanged uh oh looks and a woman on the porch squealed. “Ohmygoodness! It’s a body! This is fantastic! I know what this is. It’s one of those murder mystery weekends right here at the Grand Hotel. The victim’s right there, I can see him all sprawled out on the ground. Oh this is so much fun.”
“Look, lady,” Sutter shot back. “This is no mystery weekend party this is a real crime scene here.”
“Of course it is,” she squealed again. “You all are great actors, this is amazing. What a fantastic surprise right here on Mackinac Island.”
Shakedowns cover-ups and big fat lies keep bodies hidden on Mackinac Island and bike-riding tourist oblivious to it all.
“Bunny?” I called out into the night.
Heart rattling around in my chest, I crept though the bushes. Leaves crunched under foot and I tried to remember to breathe. Maybe Bunny fell asleep on her perch and didn’t hear me calling, or maybe she was just enjoying the moonlit view over the lake. Bunny’s eyes were wide open all right, but they weren’t looking at the view. They weren’t looking at anything. They were cold, vacant, dead.
My legs went to jelly and I crumpled to the ground. I’d lived all my life in Chicago and never came across a dead person. A few bar-fights when the Bulls lost or shoving matches at a Bloomingdale’s sale but that was it. Yet here I was on Mackinac Island in the middle of freaking nowhere sitting next to a corpse named Bunny. Next time I wanted to impress my parents I’d stay home and buy them theater tickets.