Wicked Games: Book Two of The Psychopath Series

Chapter 19

In the Hamilton's foyer, Faith sucked the blue cheese and honey off the tip of her index finger. She leered at the floral arrangement that rests in an embellished gold vase of onyx Greek goddesses on top of an oblong jarrah table. Faith ran her deep blue eyes over the bloomed white roses encircling a single dark red rose. She rubbed her licked-clean finger across the name on the card.

"With Deepest Regret and love—The Chambers-Andreassen's," Faith mumbled so only she could hear. She wasn't surprised Harper wasn't there. No one expected her to.

Faith felt his sanctimonious energy shroud her shadow. She didn't acknowledge his presence instead she whirled her around the ceramic saucer shifting her weight away from him invading her left side hoping he caught the hint and walked away.

"Your brother performed a consoling sermon," Clayton uttered over the jazz as he studied Faith's delicate, stoic face.

Faith remained quiet. She wanted to be left alone. This was the reason she was in the foyer, to begin with. It was the peak on top of the hill, where the eagle rested utilizing its bird's eye view. She saw Tanner and Shannon Richmond the owners of the Dairy Farm stand awkwardly in the blue room, feeling a little out of place, inadequate in a house filled with so many powerful and influential people. It didn't matter if they were a fixture in the community, they always ran in the back of the pack never in the front; not even the middle.

Over there was Mrs. Caldwell in her floor scrubbing black dress ushering Mrs. Hamilton up the spiral stairs with a strong hand around the grief-stricken woman's waist and a firm grip on the stairwell. The men huddled in clusters talking about business, keeping things light avoiding the topic of death and the afterlife. Unlike the men, the women coupled off keeping conversation heavy; keeping score on who wore the most appropriate funeral outfit sipping on lavender-infused cocktails, counting the calories of the hors d'oeuvres they gobbled down since walking through the Andean walnut doors all while the smooth notes of a tenor sax flutter in the atmosphere.

Clayton cut through Faith's serenity once more, "Your mother. Met her. Lovely woman. Your brothers, Chance mentioned him already. Augustus, two words that sum him up, sincere and enlightened. It was a pleasure to speak with him. And let's not forget Kelly, he buzzed through here for ten minutes. I'm not a fan of the long hair." Clayton ran his hand over his clean-shaven head. "But you've got to love the boy's passion and dedication for the sport he loves. I have yet to experience the opportunity of meeting Mr. Payson's but from the word around town, he's a remarkable man. So, Faith that leaves me with one question." Clayton inched closer to her, his voice tickling her ear. "How far did your apple fall from the tree? Off a cliff?"

Faith swiveled her head toward him, "Off a cliff, down a street, and up a creek where you were in a boat without a paddle." She bit into the blue cheese stuffed, honey-drizzled fig, savoring the cheese's creamy, saltiness and the sweet succulent honey.

"I'm not quite up a creek without a paddle, Miss Payson because I've talked to your friends."

"Friends. What friends?" Faith's mind pinpointed the one person in her exclusive circle of friends with lips looser than a kindergarten's shoelace after recess. Faith slowly swallowed with figgy goodness, "What did Harper say?"

Clayton stood straight with a coy smile, peaked that he finally got her attention. "No, not Harper." He shook his head. "Carolina Archer."

Faith huffed pushing the saucer away, "She isn't my friend. An acquaintance in the very least."

"Well, whatever you call her, she had a lot to say about you and.... theTrillion. Isn't that what they call you and your friends?" Clayton learned that moniker from watching the news.. "Carolina Archer has an interesting account of you and Fiona arguing in the hallway of the Faulkner mansion."

"The Faulkner mansion? That's impossible." Faith flicked her golden hair over her shoulder. "I was at Harper's beach house."

"You know that's what I told her." Clayton tapped Faith's shoulder and she squinted daggers at him. He drew back his hand. "But Carolina was adamant. She even heard you tell Fiona, Die Bitch before storming off."

"I don't know how much weight Carolina's confessions hold." Faith watched as the waiter collected her saucer. "You know, since her little cocaine problem." Faith swiped her finger under her nose. "You should go ask her, again." Faith shifted her eyes to Carolina coming out of the hall restroom dragging a tissue over her nose.

Clayton smiled, "You know what that's called?"

Faith turned away from him, "What?"

 "Motive."

Faith flexed her shoulder trying to control her emotions but not looking guilty was becoming pretty hard. Since she didn't know what the hell she did that night. Did she really tell Fiona to Die Bitch? 

Faith didn't remember that but she sure could believe it. It wouldn't be the first time she told Fiona that. When Fiona slapped her after finding out she slept with her boyfriend, Faith remembered saying those exact words in front of the entire junior class.

"I wouldn't kill Fiona." Faith admitted.

"Hum." Clayton slipped his phone back into his pocket. "But your words say otherwise."

Did Faith kill Fiona? She does have an angry streak.