A Detective's Guide to the Perfect Crime

XV

The Founders Day had approached fast for Roman. In small towns like Paulson, the time seemed to fly or slow down as it so pleased. For example— it felt like just yesterday he was first meeting Margo Jameson, and now he couldn't get her out of his head.

At first, the thoughts mostly stayed in ties with the case and how he could use her as per her father's request. After a while, though, he started thinking about what she was actually like. As a person.

Who was she really?

Who was Margo Jameson?

"You good?" Her voice startled him. He'd almost forgotten where he was.

"Oh, yeah, totally." Roman sighed. Margo leaned against the wall beside him in a dark green dress. Sleeveless, showing off the still-healing bullet wound.

She swirled the drink in her hand before downing the last of it. "I want to go home so bad." She groaned.

Roman scanned the crowd for her family. "What, you didn't come by yourself?" He asked. Roman paused, almost fearing the answer.

Margo gestured with a fresh shot glass to a figure behind the DJ's table. "My dad is helping with the sound booth."

"You're just gonna drink that?" Roman gestured to the sharp whiskey in her small glass. "No chaser?"

She grinned before pouring the drink down her throat. Roman's own mouth burned just watching her. After just a few seconds, she seemed perfectly fine. "I've been drinking this stuff since I was like twelve." She put the shot glass down on the table.

"You do know you just said that to a cop... right?" Roman raised an eyebrow.

Margo grinned. "Yeah, but you're not gonna do anything, Ociffer." She said the word with a disrespectful lisp.

Roman chuckled. "You're more daring than I could ever be."

The two stood side by side, watching people pair off and dance only to be traded out with other partners as the songs changed. "Are all your 'parties' like this?" Roman snorted, raising his fingers for air quotes.

Margo looked him over, for sure fighting some sort of sarcastic quip. "For the most part, yeah." She shrugged. "I kinda like it. It's quieter than your big city parties."

"Yeah, we usually call those parades or riots." Roman chuckled. He coaxed a laugh from Margo. "This is just so different."

"Really?" Margo grinned. "It's just people dancing around and stuff. Do they not to that where you're from?"

Roman shrugged. "It just feels more like one big family dancing together rather than a bunch of strangers."

Margo began to tie her brunette waves back out of her face. "Have you ever danced before?" She asked.

Roman hesitated. Was he supposed to just say 'no' and look like an idiot? "Uh.. yeah, kinda, I guess."

"Uh, yeah, kinda." Margo mocked. "Come on," she extended a hand, the drinks clearly loosening up her attitude towards him.

"I don't know. I think I'm better off on the sidelines." Roman stepped back, back and away from the party lights.

Margo grabbed his arm. "Come on, Roman. What's the worst that could happen?" He hesitantly followed her pull. "See? No one's dead."

Except a cop and like 4 other people... Roman scoffed. He would so rather be working on the case. Finding new leads and suspects instead of dancing like some middle schooler. He looked around at the other people throwing their bodies around on the floor. Some drunk, some just downright clumsy. "Does no one here know what they're doing?" He scoffed.