CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 18
Can You Get Away with Murder by Making It Look Like an Accident?
“Have you called the police?” Oliver asks Mr. Prentice twenty minutes later.
Andre had radioed for him to come while we all stood around in a stressed circle because dead body, and he arrived in a paisley suit and a flop sweat. “I have, but...”
“Everyone left because of the storm?” I say.
“There’s one officer still on the island. She’ll be here as soon as possible. She was attending to something on the other side of the island in Two Harbors. She’ll want to talk to everyone, I assume.”
I glance at Emma. She has her fist in her mouth to keep herself from losing it, a habit she’s kept from childhood. She got a look at the body before I could get down from the tangle of ropes. Fred pulled her away, and Andre covered it with a tarp, then cut us out of our harnesses. But I didn’t get the same consideration as Emma. I had an aerial view, as did Oliver.
It’s definitely José. He’s on his back, in a ropes course harness, with his neck at an odd angle. Like Oliver and I might’ve been if the safety ropes hadn’t arrested our fall.
We’re alive, but José is dead.
Fuck.
“In the meantime,” Mr. Prentice continues, “everyone should return to their rooms and await the arrival of the police officer. She’ll decide how she wants to proceed.” His radio crackles on his hip. “Excuse me.” He walks away with it to his ear.
“Should I start canceling things?” Shawna asks. “I mean, everything is here already, but if there isn’t going to be a wedding, I should let everyone know.”
“We’re going ahead with the wedding,” Fred says with authority. “This has nothing to do with us.”
“How can you say that, Fred?” Emma says. “It’s happening at our wedding. Oliver and Eleanor...they almost died, too.”
“I’m sure it was simply an accident. This ropes course isn’t safe, and we’ll be speaking to an attorney about it as soon as we get back to the mainland.”
“The electrician wasn’t using the ropes course, surely,” Connor says.
Fred blinks slowly. “Well, I don’t know. The police will look into it and that will be that.”
“What do you think, Em?” I ask.
She looks uncertain and I know that look.
Emma is a lot of things—strong and beautiful, a great actress, and kind. But one thing she’s never been good at is standing up for herself in her relationships.
It was something I’d raised to her, back in that conversation we had when I told her that getting married this quickly was too soon—didn’t the fact that she’d had a massive crush on Fred since she was a teenager concern her?
“Why would it?” she’d asked.
“It could set up a bad power dynamic.”
“That was forever ago,” she’d said.
“Right, but he knew about it, didn’t he? You told a bunch of people in interviews.”
She’d smiled at me indulgently. “And we’ve laughed about that. Everyone has had a crush on him at some point.”
“I know, but...”
“But what?”
I’d held back what I wanted to say. About it all being too much—becoming a star, marrying another one. Marrying your co-star. It wasn’t my life; it was hers. And it’s not like I’m any role model in the relationship department.
But now I wish I’d been more forceful.
Because it feels like I could’ve kept this from taking place.
From my best friend being in danger.
If I’m taking credit for the wedding, I have to take credit for the bad that’s come with it.
And while that doesn’t quite make me a murderer, it does make me murderer-adjacent.
Connor puts his hands on his waist. “Well, this is a clusterfuck.”
“You don’t say,” Oliver drawls.
“I say,” Inspector Tucci says, bustling up, still in his harness. “Perhaps I can be of assistance? Murder is my business, after all.”
“Knock it off, Corey,” Simone says. “You’re taking this method business much too far.”
“It’s Inspector Tucci .”
“I’ll call you whatever I want,” Simone says.
“I do not answer to you.”
“I’m the director!”
“I do not recognize your jurisdiction!”
“Enough!” I say.
Simone glares at me, but Inspector Tucci shrinks back.
“I think Tucci’s right. We should investigate,” Connor says.
“Shouldn’t we wait for the police?”
His mouth twists into a half smile. “When has that ever stopped us before?”
“And look how well that turned out for us.”
“Bestselling book series.”
“Almost getting murdered.”
He smirks. “There is that.”
And oh, no.
Oh, shit.
We’re bantering .
I can feel Oliver stiffening beside me, but I can’t seem to make it stop.
“I, for one, think Tyler is behind this,” Fred says.
“How?”
“I saw him on the dock this morning. He was getting ready to take the last ferry before the body was discovered. That’s suspicious, isn’t it?”
“We don’t even know what time José died,” Allison points out.
“Well, no, but it has to be Tyler.”
“Why?” Oliver asks.
“Because of what happened yesterday. How else would José have gotten my number?”
“You mean your second number?” Connor says.
Fred glances at Emma, the two bright spots on his cheeks betraying his mistake.
But this confirms something I assumed before.
Fred only gave that number to a few people—Tyler and whoever he was meeting up with. So the list of people who could’ve given it to José is small.
But wait. Connor’s on it, too. He had Fred’s number.
“Fred,” I say, “what’s going on with you and Tyler? All of it. Someone’s dead. It’s not time to keep secrets anymore.”
Fred runs his hands through his hair, which is a classic stalling tactic.
But then Emma puts her hand on his waist and stares into his eyes. “It’s okay, Fred. You can tell me. You can tell us. Whatever it is, I love you.”
And now, finally, Fred looks vulnerable. “I’m broke.”
“Seriously?” I say.
“How?” Harper says. “You’ve made so much money.”
“You don’t understand. All you see is the big numbers they announce in the trades, but it’s not like that in real life. My agent and manager and lawyer—they take 25 percent right off the top. And then there’s taxes. That’s another 50 percent.”
His math is wrong, but now’s not the time to point that out.
Or that 25 percent of $20 million is still $5 million.
A picture!
He’s made ten .
“And then there’s all the expenses no one tells you about—a money manager and the glam squad and having to travel in a private jet because you can’t go commercial anymore, and so it makes sense to have your own jet, or at least time-share in one. And someone else convinces you that you should buy this enormous house that costs a fortune to run and you need actual servants to do it, and the taxes are nuts, and so then you have to take roles just to pay for all these things you didn’t even want in the first place.”
“So that’s how you lost your money? Overspending?”
“I’m getting to that. So yeah, I had all that going on, but it was fine, I was managing, and then I started going to Vegas with some guys who are big gamblers, and I got into some situations that weren’t good. But I did stop. I stopped like I told you, Emma, I promise. But now the government’s saying I owe them some insane amount of money in back taxes that I don’t have, and they’re going to take the house.”
I sigh. No point in counting up all the money he’s blown through. It’s not like it’s mine.
But it is honestly perfect casting that he’s playing Connor. 64
“Why didn’t you tell Tyler you didn’t have it?” Oliver asks.
“I tried to, but...I couldn’t tell him about all of it. I...” He hangs his head in shame. “He put me on a payment plan. Like I was some...some criminal.”
“Did you make the payments?” I ask.
“I did what I could. And Tyler’s not paying me for the film—he’s only paying scale. That’s one of the things we were fighting about.”
“What were you supposed to get for the film?”
“It’s a bit complicated because I co-own the option and have executive producer credits, but my acting fee was supposed to be ten million.”
I guess his quote went down after the disaster that was Julius Caesar .
“So why was he still after you?” Oliver asks. “If he’s getting his money back?”
“And this morning?” I ask. “On the dock? What else was going on there?”
Fred’s eyes shift from Oliver to me. “He’s been extra pissed ever since he found out we were using the production as a decoy for the wedding. But it was the least he could do after everything. He told me he was going to rat me out to TMZ. I was...trying to convince him to keep it in the family, so to speak.”
“Did he threaten you?” I ask. “Say he was going to kill you?”
“How did you know that?”
“I heard him.”
“So you see? He’s lost it. Clearly.”
“Is that everything?”
His eyes rove around the group and rest on Emma. “Yes. That’s everything. Do you forgive me, Em?”
Emma’s standing very still, the way she does when she’s trying to absorb information. I know she’s struggling; we can all see it. But she also loves Fred; I know that, too.
“I don’t care about the money, Fred. I have enough for both of us.”
“You don’t need to pay my debts. I don’t want that.”
“I know. It’s...It’s you keeping things from me. That’s what I’m having trouble with.”
“Don’t we all have secrets? Things that knock about our hearts deep in the night. Things we can’t even admit to ourselves?”
Wow, that was eloquent. But wait, I recognize that...Oh.
He’s quoting from the movie he won an Oscar for.
Hmmm. I wonder if Emma will notice.
“Yes, that’s true.”
And now Fred is down on one knee, holding a hand to his heart. “I love you, Emma. Truly. I only kept all of this secret to shield you from it. I never meant to hurt you, and if you don’t want to marry me anymore, I understand. But it’s the thing I want most in the world. Not your money. You. Will you still marry me?”
I watch Emma melt and then she’s down on the ground next to him. “Oh, Fred, of course I will.”
They kiss with passion, then cling to each other, not seeming to care that they’re doing it in front of us.
Allison and David are smiling and indulgent. Harper looks wary. Oliver raises his eyebrows at me and smiles. Connor is watching them like this reunion might hold clues to José’s death, while Simone snorts again in disgust.
And as for me?
I still have a lot of questions.
But maybe I can get the answer to at least one of them. I walk away from the group to where I left my backpack earlier. I search around in it and pull out the phone I got from Fred yesterday.
“What are you doing?” Oliver asks, coming up behind me.
“I thought I might make a call.”
“Maybe we should turn that over to the police.”
“I will. Just let me do a couple of things first.” I pull out my phone—which, yes, I did bring with me because it feels like walking around on this island without a phone is a bad idea—and take photos of the text messages and the numbers on Fred’s phone.
And then I dial a number.
“Is that a phone ringing?” Emma asks, her head poking up.
“I think it’s coming from there.” Fred points to the thickest part of the undergrowth near where we found José’s body.
The phone stops ringing, and everyone pauses. I push the call button again.
“There!” Connor says, pointing in the opposite direction from Emma.
“No, it’s over here, I do believe,” Inspector Tucci says.
“You’re both idiots,” Simone says. “It’s this way.”
The ringing stops.
“Are you having fun?” Oliver asks me.
“You have to admit, it’s a bit funny.”
“Can you ever be serious?”
Ouch.
“Of course I can. Sorry. Last time.” I make another phone call and follow the ringing sound myself with Oliver close behind me as the others close in around us in a ring.
“You’re the one making the phone ring?” Allison says, nodding toward the phone in my hand. “How?”
“I have José’s number.”
We stop and peer into the thicket in front of us. José’s in front of us, covered by the tarp Andre put on him.
I take a step forward. You’re supposed to leave the body in situ until the police arrive to process the scene. Even I know that. And if I do what I’m thinking of doing, I’m going to be contaminating the scene, which is a crime in and of itself, isn’t it?
Whoopsie.
I’m a novelist, not the police.
There’s a reason for that.
I’m not fit for anything else.
I drop to my knees. I get the phone to ring one more time and reach out my hand; when I come into contact with a phone case, I rip a leaf off a palm frond and pick the phone up with it, then stand.
“So, it is his phone,” I say to Oliver.
“What’s the relevance of that?” Connor asks.
“It means José was the one who wrote to Fred to get him into that basement yesterday.”
“Or someone used José’s phone,” Harper says.
“Why would someone use José’s phone to get Fred into a basement?” Shawna asks, gnawing at her bottom lip.
“Misdirection, indubitably,” Inspector Tucci says.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Connor says. “A man doesn’t just give up his phone like that. He’s clearly involved.”
“So,” David says, “ José lured Fred to the basement and hit him on the head, then left him down there?”
“Maybe,” I say.
“At the behest of someone else?”
“Stands to reason. I don’t think he just randomly decided to hit a major movie star on the head the night before his wedding and lock him in a half basement without there being a fairly good reason. It’s not how I’d write it, anyway.”
“ Was that door locked?” Connor says, ignoring my sarcasm. “I don’t remember that.”
“Jammed, whatever. Don’t edit me, Connor.”
“But why would anyone lure Fred to the basement?” David says, pressing the issue. “What for?”
Emma looks down at the ground. “Because he was in love with me.”
“José was in love with you?”
“No, Tyler.”
“Emma,” I warn.
“It’s okay, El. I told Fred everything last night.” She raises her eyes to his. He nods twice but doesn’t seem happy about it.
I mean, who would be?
“Love,” Inspector Tucci says with a nod of the head that I assume he thinks makes him look wise. “It’s a powerful emotion.”
“Either motive would do, honestly. Or both,” Connor says. “But I must defend my client. His intelligence at least.”
“What’s that got to do with it?” Oliver says.
“Why would he hire me to find Fred’s assets when he was planning on killing Fred?”
“Or Emma,” I add.
“Maybe it’s a smoke screen,” Oliver says. “So you could make this exact point.”
“Does Tyler strike you as a murderer?” David says. “Not me.”
“Me neither,” Simone says. “Not one bit.”
“What do you know about it?” I bite.
“I wouldn’t cast him in the part, that’s for sure.”
“We’re not casting parts.”
“Aren’t we?” Simone puts her hands on her hips. “You’d be surprised how accurate casting can be. Typecasting exists for a reason. When you watch thousands of self-tapes 65 ...you get a sense of a person is all I’m saying.”
“What would you cast me for?”
“A woman who feels like she lucked into her fame but also kind of thinks she deserves it.”
Well, that’s a little too accurate.
“Easy guess. Plus, you know me.”
“I knew high school Eleanor. Are you the same person?”
“Are you?”
She gives a little shrug of her shoulders. “That’s irrelevant.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure that Tyler isn’t capable of this,” Allison says. “He’s a self-starter. He built his company himself. He’s not a nepo baby. And he’s okay with getting his hands dirty. Trust me.”
“How do you know that?” I ask.
She shrugs. “I’ve been in this business for twenty years. I’ve heard all kinds of things.”
“So he thinks that by leaving the island he’ll just get away with it?”
“It makes sense to create an alibi.”
“Not if José was killed yesterday.”
“But it’s only luck that we found him,” Simone points out. “He could’ve been missing for days or weeks, especially with the storm.”
“True, but wait...” I think it over. “Me and Oliver falling through the ropes...that had to be deliberate. That’s why José is in a harness. Someone wanted to make it look like he had an accident on the ropes course. And so they made that hole my foot went through, and maybe they frayed some of the ropes and that’s why they gave out.”
“But everyone knew we were coming here this morning,” Oliver says. “It’s on the schedule.”
“Maybe they forgot that. Or maybe if the body was found today it doesn’t matter, because it would be long after the murder happened.”
“We saw José yesterday after lunch. Anyone see him since then?”
“He texted Fred around five last night,” Harper says.
“Right. And it’s eleven thirty now. That’s a big gap.”
“We should ask Mr. Prentice when the last time anyone saw José was,” Oliver says.
“Agreed.”
“So, we are saying Tyler killed José?” Inspector Tucci says, making a note in a notebook that he’s pulled from somewhere.
Maybe his ass.
But it does make me think of something.
“Maybe Tyler communicated with José?” I look down at the phone I’m still holding. The screen is locked. What are the chances his password is as easy to crack as Fred’s?
Won’t know unless I try.
“What are you doing?” Connor asks.
“Seeing if I can unlock this phone.”
“We should leave that for the police,” Harper says.
“Just give me a second.” I tap in 000000 and get nothing. Then 111111. Nothing again. I try 123456 and it works. “Oh, I’m in. Let me see if—”
“Freeze! All of you! Hands in the air!”
I drop the phone and wince as it hits a rock and cracks, the screen shattering into spiderwebs.
64 Connor blew through most of the finder’s fee he got when we solved the original case we worked on in Rome ten years ago at the baccarat tables in Monte Carlo, and the money he got from my books God knows where.
65 When people audition now, they put themselves on tape reading lines from the script—it’s called a self-tape.