The Body In Apartment 4B

Lena Vance had three rules for dating:

Never date a man with a snake tattoo.

Never date a man who says “I’m an entrepreneur” but won’t specify of what.

Never, under any circumstances, date a man you found standing over a dead body.

She was currently breaking rule #3.

The body belonged to Derek. Or, _had_ belonged to Derek. Now it was mostly a conversation piece. A very dead, very naked, very not-breathing conversation piece sprawled across the kitchen floor of Apartment 4B.

The man standing over it was named Silas. Silas had cheekbones that could cut glass, a jawline that belonged on a wanted poster, and blood on his hands. Metaphorically. And literally. A little.

“Okay,” Lena said, because what else do you say when you walk into your Tinder date’s apartment and there’s a corpse? “So. This is awkward.”

Silas looked up. He was holding a kitchen knife. He was also holding a lemon. The juxtaposition was not comforting.

“He’s not mine,” Silas said.

“The body or the lemon?”

“Both.” He set the knife down. Not threatening. More like _I was making fish_. “I came home. Found him like this. Was about to call 911.”

“You were about to call 911 with a lemon in your hand.”

“I panic-zest.”

Lena should have left. Lena should have run. Lena should have listened to Rule #3, which she had written in her journal after the incident with Kyle, the “crypto investor” who turned out to be a magician’s assistant and also had a warrant in Ohio.

Instead, Lena looked at Derek. Derek had been her date last week. Derek had a snake tattoo. Derek had called himself an “idea man.” Derek had also stolen her AirPods and ghosted her after she refused to invest in his NFT for alpacas.

“Is that…” Lena squinted. “Is that my AirPod in his mouth?”

Silas crouched. Poked it with the lemon. “Yep. Pro Max. Nice.”

Lena felt something. Not grief. Not shock. Something warmer. _Vindication_.

“Huh,” she said.

“Huh,” Silas agreed.

They stood there. A dead ex. A hot stranger. A lemon. The three pillars of modern romance.

“Did you kill him?” Lena asked. Because if you’re going to break Rule #3, you should at least get clarity.

Silas looked offended. “Do I look like I’d kill a man and then zest a lemon about it?”

“You look like you’d kill a man _while_ zesting a lemon. Efficient.”

He almost smiled. Almost. “I didn’t. But I know who did.”

“Who?”

“Me,” said a voice from the hallway bathroom.

Lena and Silas both turned.

A woman walked out. She was 5’2”, wearing a _Bride-to-Be_ sash, holding a bloody stiletto in one hand and a pregnancy test in the other.

“Oh,” the woman said, looking at Derek. Then at Lena. Then at Silas. “You must be the next one.”

Lena blinked. “The next what?”

“Victim? Date? I’m not sure what his system is.” She tossed the stiletto in the sink. It clattered. “I’m Becca. Derek’s fiancée. Was. Apparently he had a few of those.”

Silas picked the lemon back up. “I’m going to need a drink for this.”

“Kitchen’s a crime scene,” Becca said. “Living room’s fine. Unless you count the _other_ body.”

Lena choked. “I’m sorry, the _OTHER_ body?”

Becca pointed with the pregnancy test. “Brad. In the closet. Also an ex. Also had your AirPods, I think. Derek was a… collector.”

Silas went to the closet. Opened it. Closed it. “Yep. That’s a Brad.”

Lena sat down on the floor. Not because she was faint. Because her legs just gave up. “I came here for tacos and bad decisions. Not a multi-level-marketing scheme of murder.”

“I make good tacos,” Silas offered.

“You make good _murder tacos_?”

“I make good _regular_ tacos. The murder was Becca’s.”

“Hey!” Becca waved the pregnancy test. “This is positive. I’m hormonal. He told me the baby wasn’t his. He told me _you_ were his girlfriend, Silas.”

Silas paused. “I’m a dude.”

“He was very open-minded,” Becca sobbed. “And very dead now.”

Lena looked at Derek. Then Brad. Then Becca. Then Silas, who was now squeezing the lemon into a glass of tequila he’d produced from nowhere.

“So,” Lena said slowly. “Let me get this straight. I matched with Derek on Tinder. He stole my AirPods. He was engaged to Becca, dating Brad, and apparently also telling people he was with you?”

Silas sipped his tequila. “I’m his landlord. He owed me rent.”

“Of course you are.”

“He said he’d pay me in exposure.”

“Derek,” Lena said to the corpse, “you absolute idiot.”

Becca sniffled. “So what now? We call the cops? I can’t go to jail. I have a baby. And a sash.”

Silas looked at Lena. Lena looked at Silas. Something passed between them. Something stupid. Something dangerous. Something that felt a lot like _chemistry_, which was insane because there were two bodies in the room and one of them was her ex.

“We could,” Silas said, “not call the cops.”

Lena stared. “I’m sorry, did you just _suggest_ becoming accessories to double homicide?”

“I suggested _not_ spending the next decade explaining why we were all in an apartment with two dead men and a lemon.” He held out the tequila. “Also, I really do make good tacos.”

Becca perked up. “I could eat.”

“FBI!” shouted a voice from the window.

Everyone froze.

A raccoon fell through the screen, landed on Brad, and hissed.

“…Not FBI,” Lena whispered.

The raccoon grabbed an AirPod and left the way it came.

Three seconds of silence.

Then Silas started laughing. Real, awful, helpless laughter. The kind that happens at funerals and in war zones. The kind that means you’ve chosen violence or love and sometimes they’re the same thing.

Becca started crying again. “I think I’m having a breakdown.”

Lena took the tequila from Silas. Drank it. It burned. It was good.

“Okay,” she said. “New rules.”

Silas raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“Rule #1: We get rid of the bodies.”

“Rule #2: Someone explains why Derek had a harem and a death wish.”

“Rule #3…” She looked at Silas. At his blood-stained hands. At his stupid, criminal, beautiful face.

“Screw Rule #3,” Lena said. “Hand me another lemon.”

Silas grinned. It was the first honest thing she’d seen all night.

Outside, sirens wailed. Or maybe it was just the ice cream truck. In Apartment 4B, it was hard to tell the difference.

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*End of Chapter 1*

*Content warnings:* Murder, dark humor, pregnancy, theft, raccoons, bad men, worse decisions.

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