Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Five
Several minutes passed—or hours, possibly days; time was a very loose construct after all that exertion—before Kate regained the capacity for speech. Even when rational thought returned, the words uncurled out of her like a soft, slurring purr. She had tucked herself into Jake’s side, one leg hitched high over his hip, her head on his chest and her arm wrapped around him and tucked under his ribs. They’d burrowed under the covers on the bed, which were surprisingly soft and normal, all things considered.
“You’re so warm,” Kate said, snuggling into all of his soft corners. “I want to cut you open like a tauntaun and crawl inside you like Han Solo.”
To his credit, Jake only tucked her in closer.
“Something is still bothering me.” Kate sighed, fighting against the heaviness of her body and the gritty feeling every time she blinked.
“Then I haven’t done my job properly,” Jake said with a grin.
“About the murder,” Kate said, pushing at his shoulder playfully. “And Cassidy. If she’d wanted a DNA test on Kennedy, why take the poisoned champagne glass? I mean, she could have just swabbed Kennedy as soon as she passed out. Why take the one piece of evidence that connects her to the crime? Unless she didn’t know the glass was poisoned.”
Jake propped himself up on one elbow to face her. “So now you’re thinking Cassidy wasn’t the murderer?”
“I mean, if she’d taken the glass as evidence—to hide it, or get rid of it—I’d be sure it was her. But she took it to swab it for Kennedy’s DNA. Which implies she didn’t realize that was how Kennedy had been poisoned.”
“So, what then? We’re back to Richie and Steven as our murderers?”
“They both certainly have motive,” Kate reasoned. “And I’m positive they’re the ones who have been sabotaging the house. Probably to tank Rebecca’s chances with the historical inspector. But their efforts have been rushed and poorly thought out. I mean, cutting the generator fuel line? They were just as likely to blow themselves up as anything else. And whoever planned Kennedy’s and Rebecca’s deaths really planned things out. I mean, they used my books as a blueprint, for pete’s sake. That kind of planning and foresight doesn’t exactly seem like Richie Hempstead’s forte.”
“That certainly knocks out Marcus Sheffield, then,” Jake said, rolling on his back and propping up his head with both hands. “Which puts us back at square one, doesn’t it?”
Kate huffed out a breath in annoyance. “After all these years of dreaming up Loretta, I thought I’d be better at solving a real-life murder mystery. It’s not nearly as fun as I imagined.”
“And yet it’s just as disastrous as I imagined, having read Loretta all these years. I was genuinely angry with you when the fourth book was delayed, although I obviously didn’t know why when I saw your Instagram update from Borneo.”
Kate didn’t want to think about Borneo right now, not when she finally had a naked Jake Hawkins wrapped between her thighs. She didn’t want to think of the heartbreak that would ensue when he inevitably left again.
“I need proper clothes,” she said, suddenly feeling shy. “You’ll have to get them for me, since I’m still a wanted woman. And because I’d rather parade around this house naked than ever put that dress back on.”
“Mmmm, I might make you get them yourself just to see that,” Jake said, grinning as he dipped his head toward the soft curve of her neck.
“There’s something I’m still missing,” Kate said, sighing and stretching her neck to afford him better access. “I can feel it. I just don’t know what. So, I’m going to need my suspect lists, too. Please.”
“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather stay here and convince me you aren’t the murderer?” Jake said, shifting and pressing against her and making it clear how much he didn’t think she was a murderer.
“After,” Kate gasped, giving into his kiss. “Catch a killer, get off this absolutely cursed island, then this all over again. Several times, preferably.”
Jake sighed, pushing up off the bed. “I was out of condoms, anyway. Which is an oversight I’ll never make again.”
“Hurry back,” Kate said as he slipped out the door, attempting a sultry smile that was undercut by the yawn that erupted from her. She really ought to go over the evidence again, or find her way back to Kennedy and warn her that she was still in danger, or do something. But instead she relinquished herself to the blissful sleep that only a fantastic sexual encounter could bring, a sleep so deep it felt like only seconds later when the handle of the door rattled, dragging her back to the surface.
“That was fast.” She sat up, the covers slipping away as the door swung open, revealing not Jake, but—“Spencer?”
Spencer looked up from the door handle with a frown. “Kate? Why are you naked?”
“That is… a long story,” Kate said, pulling up the covers for some modesty. “What are you doing up here on the fourth floor?”
Spencer looked around in confusion. “Is this the fourth floor? What am I doing on the fourth floor?”
Kate leaned in closer, peering at his bloodshot eyes. “Spencer, are you high ?”
“Shhhh!” Spencer said, looking around the hall again.
“Oh my god, your mom is going to kill you,” Kate said in a jubilant whisper.
“I know that,” Spencer said, exaggerated. “That’s why I’m hiding in here. Do you have anything to eat? I could murder a charcuterie board right now.”
“How high are you?” Kate asked on a half laugh.
“In case you hadn’t noticed, it’s been a stressful couple of days for me,” Spencer muttered. “I took some gummies from Richie. I thought it would help me relax, but I can’t feel my face and I have no idea how to get around this fucking house. And now Rebecca’s dead, and Ken and her cousins are fighting, and Ken ate some bad shellfish last night, apparently? I didn’t even know because I was too busy being a selfish asshole asking Ian how to get out of my prenup. Ken deserves better than this. Better than me.”
He groaned and slumped down onto a nearby ottoman, burying his face in his hands. Kate had to wrestle the giant comforter loose from the bed and wrap it around her nakedness as she dragged it across the room and sank down to the floor at his feet, patting his knee.
“There are some… issues to sort out, sure.”
“Issues.” Spencer snorted. “That’s the understatement of the year. She works so hard, and she cares so much, and she just… she deserves the best. Better than any of us are giving her.”
Kate had been so focused on Rebecca’s murder, so sure that Kennedy’s poisoning had been a distraction, but what if she was wrong? Loretta would tell her not to go jumping to conclusions and assume Kennedy wasn’t the target all along. If someone had a grudge against Kennedy, Spencer might know something about it. “Spencer, do you know if anybody has been… I don’t know, upset lately? With Kennedy, I mean. I know about the fight with Rebecca over the wedding, but what about anyone else in her family? Or the board of trustees? Or at work?” A thought occurred to Kate. “Maybe even someone who might be upset with me, too?”
Someone who might want to frame Kate for their crimes.
Spencer gave her a look. “You mean besides Serena Archer and her mighty lion’s roar picket line out there?”
“Why is Serena so upset with Kennedy?” Kate asked. “At the rehearsal dinner, she was going on about Kennedy poisoning you and Simon against her, and people having their contracts withheld. And I know you said Simon might be looking to sell the company, but that doesn’t explain why he’d hold back on all contracts. And what does any of that have to do with Kennedy? She’s head of marketing, sure, but she doesn’t run the place.”
Spencer side-eyed her. “Unofficially and off the record?”
Kate rolled her eyes. “Seriously? At this point?”
“Kennedy isn’t quite the silent partner I said she was,” Spencer said. “I think she meant to start out that way, but once she was involved with the finances, she realized how much better Simon is at reading books than he was at keeping them, if you know what I mean.”
“Simon Says wasn’t profitable,” Kate guessed.
“It wasn’t just not profitable. It was hemorrhaging money. Simon was paying out these big advances for local authors who would sell maybe a thousand copies, if we were lucky. I mean, he shelled out a hundred grand for Marla’s first book. And, yeah, it got some decent coverage, won a few local awards, got reviewed in The New York Times . But a hundred grand for an esoteric feminist fairy-tale retelling?” Spencer shook his head. “And she wasn’t the only one. Serena hasn’t earned out on her last seven books, but Simon kept buying them for the same money. Renewing her contract even as her sales dropped. Simon kept saying we needed to invest in local talent, but those investments weren’t paying us back. We’re a small publisher, we don’t have the protection of big-name bestsellers to make up for our losses. The Loretta books have been the only thing keeping us afloat the past three years, basically.”
“Oh,” Kate said. She knew they were profitable, considering her royalty checks, but she hadn’t considered how much they might mean to everyone else working at Simon Says. “So, what did Kennedy do after she gave Simon Says her cash infusion?”
“Look, Kennedy might seem like the cheerleader sorority type, but she’s not the future Hempstead heir for nothing.” Spencer made a ghastly face. “I guess she’s the actual Hempstead heir now. God. Am I going to have to live here?”
“Spencer?” Kate prompted. “The money?”
Spencer shook his head. “Right. Ken knows her way around a checkbook, and a family like the Hempsteads doesn’t stay as wealthy as they are without learning how to balance the budget. Once she saw the trajectory Simon Says was on, she knew she had to right the ship. So she started holding budget meetings with Simon, looking at where they could cut expenses to keep the doors open. And one of the first places, the most obvious, was book advances.”
“So Kennedy was the one who decided to cut contracts?” That was a prime motive for Serena to want revenge on Kennedy, indeed.
Spencer shrugged uncomfortably. “Sort of? I mean, yes, technically. But it’s not like anyone else knew. Or they shouldn’t have, if it weren’t for…”
“For what?” Kate asked. She held up a finger. “Don’t tell me you’re not supposed to say, Spencer, I will end you.”
“Somebody’s been… leaking privileged information,” Spencer said begrudgingly.
“The mole!” Kate gasped, remembering her conversation with Juliette.
“That sounds like an Ian Fleming novel, but yes, sure. The mole. That’s how Serena and the others found out about Kennedy becoming a partner in the business, and how they found out that she was the reason their advances were so much smaller, or why their options weren’t picked up on their newest books. It’s been a huge mess, and we haven’t been able to figure out who’s been doing it. For all I know, it’s Serena herself.”
Juliette certainly seemed to think so, considering the fact that she was snooping in Serena’s room last night. Still, it didn’t explain who killed Rebecca Hempstead, or why.
Spencer sighed, rubbing at his already bloodshot eyes. “I can’t even get married without everything blowing up in my face.”
“Hey, hey, it’s gonna be okay,” Kate said again, patting his knee awkwardly.
“Is it?” Spencer groaned, looking at her through his fingers. “Because it feels like a pretty disastrous start right now.”
“It’s… not the most auspicious of beginnings,” Kate admitted. “But, hey. Nowhere to go but up from here, right?”
“Don’t do that,” Spencer said, closing his fingers up again.
“Don’t do what? Try to make you feel better?”
“Dismiss my feelings,” Spencer said. “You always made me feel like shit.”
“That’s not what I was trying to do,” Kate said in surprise. But Spencer was still going.
“‘Why are you sad about not getting the executive editor position when you said you didn’t want the responsibility anyway?’” Spencer pitched his voice up in what she guessed was supposed to be an imitation of her own. “‘Hey, I know your dad ignores your existence, but at least yours is still alive!’ Or, my personal favorite, ‘of course I love you, Spencer, why would you even question that? I’m just emotionally unavailable, daydreaming about Jake as Blake the bartender. But you’re the one I’m sitting on the couch with, so it’s all fine, isn’t it?’”
“That’s…” Kate frowned to herself. “Possibly a valid point. But you’re not innocent here! You cheated on me with Kennedy!”
Spencer sighed, pulling at his hair. “I kissed her once, Kate. And I came home and confessed right away. I thought it would finally be a wake-up call to stop dragging your feet on the wedding. But you acted like it meant the end. Like you couldn’t wait to get out. I ended things because you made it so obvious it was what you wanted.”
“What I wanted?” Kate said, sitting up in shock before remembering the comforter. Spencer’s eyes followed the fluffy white material as it dropped dangerously low, before she snatched it back up. “You are not making this my fault. You fell in love with someone else!”
Spencer looked so ragged it squeezed her heart. “Just because I fell in love with her didn’t mean I fell out of love with you. The only difference was she loved me back.”
“I loved you,” Kate said, quiet, hurt.
“Maybe at one point.” Spencer sighed. “But not in the end. Not for a long time. I was just a security blanket for you, and you were the kid who couldn’t grow up and learn to sleep alone.”
It was a hurtful accusation, if possibly a true one. Still, there was something that needed resolving in this weekend of mysteries. “Spencer, when Jake and I had our falling-out… how did you know I tried to kiss him?”
“Oh.” Spencer’s expression turned sheepish. “I was kind of hoping that would never come up.”
Kate narrowed her gaze. “What did you do?”
“For the record, I just want to say it happened years ago, and I’ve grown since then—”
“Spencer!” Kate said, prodding him hard in the leg. “What did you do?”
“Ow,” he said, rubbing at the spot. “Fine. You called me.”
“I did not!” Kate said. “You called me, and said that Jake had called you!”
“No, no, I mean, you called me that night. After he’d left. I think you thought I was Marla. I guess our names must be in your phone right next to each other.”
Lieman. Lynch. It never occurred to Kate that they were. That explained why Marla had never called her back that night.
“Anyway, you left me a voicemail, and you were pretty hysterical. Saying you’d screwed things up with Jake. So, I called Jake the next day, and I swear I only intended to fix things. To figure out what exactly happened, and make sure Jake didn’t file an HR complaint or something. But once I started talking to him, it just kind of… spiraled.”
“Spiraled?” Kate echoed, deadpan.
“I’m sorry,” Spencer said. “It was wrong, and deceitful, and definitely unprofessional. It’s just… I liked you so much. I’d been trying to work up the courage to ask you out for so long, but I didn’t want to compromise our working relationship. And then you met Jake, and it was like the sun came out for you. I figured he would pass out of your life eventually, but you started working on the Wandering Australian books. When you called me and said you tried to kiss him, I just felt like I needed to do something. I never thought it would go as far as it did.”
“You mean destroying our entire friendship and ending the book contracts early and then dating me without telling me the truth?”
“I know, I know!” Spencer moaned into his hands. “I’m such a fuckup. Honestly, when I proposed, I figured you would say no. You were always half out the door, anyway. I was just as shocked as you were when you said yes.”
She had been shocked—not that he’d asked, but that she’d said yes. And she had been half out the door their entire relationship, even when she’d told herself she was over Jake and ready to build a life with Spencer. It was all so clear now, from the other side. But they’d had to wade through all that shit to get here.
“Aren’t we a pair.” Kate sighed, laying her head against Spencer’s leg. “I’m sorry, Spencer. For everything.”
He ran his hand over her hair. “I’m sorry, too, Kate. For everything.”
They sat like that for a while, ruminating on what could have been, what never would have been, and what must be now. At least, that was what Kate was doing. She assumed Spencer was doing the same thing, until he spoke again.
“Do you ever think about how squirrels have all the data they need to overrun the human race?” he asked. “Ferrets, too. They’re like long squirrels.”
“Come on, Cheech, up you go,” Kate said, struggling to straighten up with the comforter still wrapped around her as she offered him a hand.
“What if I’m not good enough?” Spencer asked, staggering to his feet.
“Good enough to fight off the squirrels? I’m sure you’ll manage.”
“For Ken,” Spencer said, looking like a lost puppy. “I was never good enough for you.”
Kate sighed. “You weren’t not good enough for me, Spencer. You just weren’t right for me. And I wasn’t right for you. I think that’s why I got so obsessed with Loretta. She was an escape from a life I didn’t want.”
“I suppose that makes sense,” Spencer said glumly. He frowned. “Did you mean what you said, about the… the oral thing?”
Kate grimaced. “Ahhhh.…”
She was saved the embarrassment of answering by the man responsible for the statement in the first place as Jake slipped in the room. “Found your clothes and a couple of torches to—Ah. Spencer’s here.”
“He was just leaving,” Kate said, giving him a friendly push toward the door.
“Right,” Spencer said, slapping his hands against his thighs. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, stepping up to Jake. “I’m ready.”
“Ready for what?” Jake asked.
“For you to punch me in the face.”
Jake looked bewildered. “Why would I punch you in the face?”
“No, it’s okay,” Spencer said. “I insist. I tried to take your woman, it’s your right.”
Jake looked to Kate, incredulous, but she only shook her head and mouthed he really didn’t , trying her best not to break out laughing.
“Spencer, mate, look at me,” Jake said.
“I am looking at you.”
Jake sighed. “No, you’re not. Your eyes are closed.”
“Oh.” Spencer blinked his eyes open, looking around. “Oh, that’s why it got so dark all of a sudden. I thought the power went out again.”
Jake took Spencer by the shoulders and looked at him earnestly. “I’m not gonna punch you right now, all right? Consider it my wedding gift to you.”
“That’s really good to hear, honestly,” Spencer said, his shoulders slumping forward. “I really didn’t want to get punched in the face. You’re a good, handsome man, Jake.”
“Same to you, mate,” Jake said, ushering Spencer out with a shake of his head.