Page 10 of Spies Don’t Fall for Their Best Friend

In grave seriousness, Miles says, “The alpacas are a front.”

I gasp. “For what?”

“Competitive jam sabotage.”

I grin widely. “I think that is the most Havenridge thing you have ever said.”

“Thank you. I’ve been studying the town’s criminal ecosystem.”

I’m the next one to pause the show, this time for Secret Lives of the Innocent, where we pick the least suspicious person in a scene and give them a dramatic secret life. This time, Roxie is talking to one of the suspects—a woman standing on her front lawn while holding a fluffy little white dog. A mailman is in the background, walking with a satchel full of envelopes and the bearing of a man who has seen some things.

I point at him. “Exiled prince of a very tiny country.”

Miles doesn’t even blink. “Mountain country or island country?”

“Island. It’s more strategic.”

“Ahh. Right. The postal job gives him access to boats.”

I raise my eyebrows a few times. “And secrets.”

“And the addresses of his enemies.”

“Which he doesn’t use yet. He’s biding his time for the perfect moment to take back his kingdom.”

Probably only two minutes of show-watching passes before I pause again and point. “The guy in the yellow windbreaker is in witness protection.” We try to pick one minor character each episode who might be on the lam.

Miles motions at the screen. “Obviously.”

I nod. “Too obvious, maybe. It’s the town sweatshirt he’s wearing that gives him away.”

“It still has fold lines.”

“New identity,” I say. “Weak cover story. Rookie mistake.”

“His name used to be Sebastian.”

“His name is still Sebastian. He panicked during relocation and chose it again.”

Miles shakes his head. “That is such a Sebastian thing to do.”

This is why I love watching murder mysteries with Miles. He doesn’t just tolerate my side quests. He embraces them. Plays along. Multiplies the amount of fun. Spends all evening wearing a fake mustache (that is weirdly kind of growing on me).

Three-fourths of the way through the episode, I’ve turned so that my back is resting against the side arm of the couch, my legs across Miles’s lap, and we’ve each voiced many guesses about the mystery. Some of mine have already proven to be very wrong—one mere seconds after I voiced it. A couple, though, have been spot-on.

I know when my predictions are insightful, because Miles looks at me like he’s half impressed. The other half is… I’m not sure. Worried about how well I can see what a person is hiding? Maybe he figures it won’t be long before I’m getting all the guesses right instead of us each getting half and half.

By the time we get to the end of the episode, which took us ninety minutes with all the pausing, even though the episode is only 42 minutes long, we discover that the killer was the Harbor Lights Festival coordinator, in the lighthouse, with the mayor’s commemorative plaque. Apparently, the mayor planned to move the festival away from the harbor, which, according to Roxie, was “not murder-justifying, but certainly murder-explaining.”

Miles’s guess was the closest. Maybe he shouldn’t start worrying anytime soon about me getting so many more guesses right than he does. Especially if he’s going to wear the overconfidence mustache again.

After we finish creating a much more elaborate motive-based storyline for the festival coordinator, Miles turns on the couch so his back is against the other side arm, and he’s facing me. Our legs overlap in the middle of the couch.

He asks, “Have you ever thought about why you like murder mysteries so much? I mean, aside from our commentary, of course.”

I guess I’ve thought about it, but I haven’t put it into words before. I pause a moment, then say, “I think maybe I like them because you get to experience danger without any actual danger. And there’s the puzzle-solving aspect—I like that. And it feels like big stakes, because it’s a murder, but since it’s just a show, it’s not. So, you just get to enjoy the thrill of it.”

Miles is nodding thoughtfully.