CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 24
How Many Stalkers Does It Take to Commit a Murder?
Crazy Cathy is framed in a flash of lightning and the flickering lights as the rain pelts the windows and the wind howls through the palm trees. The two together create a strobe light effect, where the room shifts between light and dark, and the people do, too.
FLASH!
Cathy raises her arm above her head. She’s holding what looks like a piece of wood but might be a baseball bat.
FLASH!
Someone gets behind her—a dark figure looming with their face obscured by shadows.
FLASH!
Cathy’s arm comes down and is stopped right above David’s head.
FLASH!
Connor and Oliver have Cathy by the arms and are pulling her back.
FLASH!
Emma screams that piercing scream of hers as another BOOM hits the ground so near our structure that it shakes like there’s been an earthquake.
FLASH!
Officer Anderson is standing in the doorway with her arms out straight, her gun leveled at the group. She’s outlined by the light from the hallway.
“Freeze!” she yells, and everyone does.
But that’s a mistake because Oliver and Connor loosen their grasp, and Cathy wrenches herself free and runs toward the far doorway that she must’ve come through.
FLASH!
Officer Anderson’s arms swing around and follow Cathy as she yells “Stop!”
But Cathy doesn’t stop, and the next flash we see is from the barrel of Officer Anderson’s gun.
BAM!
A chunk of wood splinters next to Cathy’s head but that doesn’t stop her from wrenching open the French door. And then she’s out into the night in a flash of yellow rain slicker.
Officer Anderson tears after her as the lights finally stop flickering, leaving us all in stunned silence.
Except for David.
He never seems to be at a loss for words.
“Who was that?”
“That was Crazy Cathy,” I say. “My stalker.”
“ Your stalker.”
“What? I can’t have a stalker?”
“Why was she trying to hurt me ?”
“I have no idea.”
“What should we do?” Oliver says as he leans down and picks up the thick piece of wood Cathy was holding. It’s not a bat, but some discarded scrap of construction lumber from God knows where. Oliver hefts it in his hand, then drops it back to the ground, startling us.
“Stay here, I think, until Officer Anderson comes back,” Allison says calmly.
Emma slumps into her chair as Fred drags his chair even closer to her. “I can’t believe Officer Anderson shot at her.”
“She was trying to kill me,” David says.
“Let’s not exaggerate,” I say.
“Come now, El,” Allison says. “We all saw it. But where did she come from? Has she been here all along? She must’ve been.”
“To what end?”
“She must be behind everything.”
“Cathy?” I say. “I don’t think she has it in her.”
“You’re the one who got a restraining order against her,” Connor says.
“Yes, but that was before Italy. We’ve made up since then.”
“You made friends with your stalker?” Simone says.
I ignore her. “I don’t see how she can be behind any of this. She doesn’t know Fred or Emma or Tyler. The wedding was a secret. And what about changing the word to ‘murder’ on the schedule? She couldn’t have been behind that.”
“What if it was a moment of opportunity?” Connor says. “Coming over here was on the shooting schedule. She didn’t have to know it was a real wedding.”
“And what? She decided to try to kill Emma and Fred because...?”
“She’s a stalker, El!” He spins a finger next to his head. “You said so yourself. Her logic isn’t going to be something we understand.”
This stops me because Connor, once again, as much as I hate to admit it, is right.
Cathy’s obsessions and solutions have never made sense. She used to want to make me feel uncomfortable, even though she professes to love me, but now that we’re “friends,” maybe that’s flipped. Maybe she felt the need to protect me against people she perceived as my enemies.
Like David.
But how could she know I don’t like David?
And even this crazy logic doesn’t apply to Emma and Fred.
I doubt she knows anything about Tyler or even who he is.
And how would she have convinced José to work with her? Last time I checked, 83 Cathy was collecting disability because of a back injury she suffered in a car accident ten years ago.
Not that it looked like she had any problems with her back when she was getting ready to brain David.
But a doctor told me once that they search for one medical issue to explain all of their patient’s symptoms because the chance of them having two issues at once is very small. It’s the same with murder mysteries. There can’t be two plots at work at once.
You have to find a solution that explains everything . 84
“Something doesn’t make sense,” I say.
“ None of it makes sense,” Fred says with his arm around Emma’s shoulders. They make a striking pair, even now. Emma in her white sheath dress and Fred in his tux. “This is our wedding . It’s supposed to be a time of celebration. Not a place to air out old hurts.”
Fred’s quoting from something again, I’m not sure what. But he might also be onto something.
“What do you mean, Fred?”
“As just established before the fracas, someone is trying to kill Connor, not me . Your stalker is here. You’ve been acting as if this is all about me, or me and Emma. But it’s clearly about you .”
Harper gasps, and the room turns to me as a sinking feeling fills my heart.
Is he right? Have we been looking in the wrong direction all along?
Am I the main character in this story after all? 85 , 86
The lights flicker again and the French doors open, bringing in a swirl of rain and a very wet Officer Anderson hauling Cathy in front of her. Her hands are cuffed with a zip tie, her hair is matted down, and there’s a streak of dirt on her cheek.
“Let me go!” she says as she struggles against Officer Anderson’s grip.
“Stop moving or I’ll tighten the restraints.”
Cathy settles as Officer Anderson leads her to a chair in our circle and pushes her down into it. “Sit here. Do. Not. Move. I will be back in a moment.” She looks at Oliver. “Please guard that door.”
Oliver moves to the door, blocking the exit with his arms crossed over his chest.
Officer Anderson walks toward the other door, with her radio up to her ear, which is squawking with a disembodied voice.
I guess she’s calling in yet another crime, but what can dispatch do about it?
Nothing until the storm clears.
Which I assume will last conveniently long enough for us to figure out what’s going on.
Or until we’re all killed.
“Cathy,” Harper says, “what are you doing here?”
Cathy looks at her through her dripping bleached-blond hair. “El was in trouble.”
“What?” I say.
Cathy looks around the room, her eyes unfocused until she gets to Mr. and Mrs. Winter.
“I didn’t know you were here,” Cathy says. “I’m a big fan! I’ve seen every episode of Trial by Night !” 87
“Thank you, dear,” Mrs. Winter says. “Perhaps I could sign something for you later?”
“I’d love that. But I left my autograph book at home. But maybe—”
“Um, Cathy?” I say. “This is not the time.”
She turns her eyes to me, and they soften, like eyes do when they look at something they love.
I shiver, but I don’t look away. “Why did you come here?”
“I read the stories online. I heard someone died. I came to save you.”
“You came here in the storm?”
“I took a boat.”
“How? Did you steal one?”
She shakes her head, letting droplets of water fly. “It was the ferry.”
“The ferry is running?”
“On Friday.”
“You came here on Friday ?”
She tries to cross her arms but is stopped by the restraints. “I was invited, wasn’t I?”
“Invited? By who?”
“Them,” she says as she points to Emma and Fred. “‘Emma Wood and Fred Winter cordially invite you to their wedding on Catalina Island.’”
“Do you know about this, Emma?”
“We didn’t send out wedding invitations,” Emma says. “Remember?”
“Oh, right. You didn’t. So how did she get one?”
“Someone brought her here,” Harper says.
“Or she’s lying,” Connor adds.
“I’m not a liar!”
“Where have you been all this time, Cathy?” I ask.
“In my room. As instructed.”
“As instructed? By who?”
Confusion clouds her features. She must’ve been quite attractive, once, but wet and crazy is not a good look for anyone. “I’m not sure. I assumed it was Harper.”
“Harper?”
“Cathy texts me sometimes.”
Um, what ?
Harper’s shaking her head. “About events and things. And El’s newsletter.”
“You texted me back.”
“Harper?”
“Once. I did that once. Before the restraining order.”
I give Harper a look, then turn back to Cathy. “Was it Harper who told you to stay in your room? Her number?”
“No, the number was blocked.”
“Why did you think it was her, then?”
“Who else would it be?”
Thunder cracks again, making the ground shake and the lights flash.
I shudder. I have a terrible feeling of déjà vu. In Italy, someone invited Cathy on the book tour to divert suspicion and create chaos. And here she is again .
But why?
No matter how crazy Cathy is, and she’s not that crazy, 88 no one would reasonably think that she had anything to do with a plot to murder Emma or Fred. But Connor, on the other hand...
Connor is another story.
If Connor was the intended victim, then bringing her here makes sense.
You’d want to have more than one person who had a motive to kill him on the scene.
Like me.
Like Oliver.
Like Harper.
Like Allison.
Like Cathy.
Like Italy .
Because I’ve seen this movie before.
I’ve lived it.
I search the faces sitting around me. Fred is consoling Emma, stroking her hair like she’s a child. Mr. and Mrs. Winter are in a similar position, like a fast-forwarded version of Emma and Fred. Simone is standing over Cathy, with an expression that’s daring Cathy to try something, anything. Oliver’s by the door, watching me. Connor, Allison, Harper, and David are clutched together, waiting for something to happen.
Maybe for me to provide the solution.
And Inspector Tucci has his notebook out, but God knows what he’s writing.
Doodles, probably.
But wait.
Someone’s missing.
“Where’s Shawna?” I ask.
Harper’s head swivels, like she might be hiding in a corner. “She was just here.”
“When’s the last time you saw her?”
“I...”
“Anyone?”
“She was here before the lights went out,” Oliver says.
“I haven’t seen her since then,” Allison says. “But she’s so quiet, it’s easy to overlook her.”
“Simone?” I say. “Did you see her leave?”
“No, but that girl isn’t reliable.”
“She’s been at your beck and call for months ,” Harper says with a flush to her face. “Making your movie happen, making this wedding happen. Doing everything.”
Simone’s eyes flash. “What do you know about it?”
“We’ve all seen how you treat her on set.”
“What has that got to do with anything?”
“It doesn’t. But you’re a jerk. No one likes you.”
If circumstances were different, I might throw out a “You go, girl” to Harper, proud that she’s sticking up for someone, even if it’s not her. But now is really not the time for a Norma Rae moment. 89
Besides, Simone doesn’t seem to care that she’s being judged.
But also...
“Harper,” I say, “what do you know about Shawna?”
“What do you mean?”
“Has she said anything to you?”
“Anything to me about what?”
“Me? Or Connor? Or Italy?”
“What are you talking about?”
“This all feels way too familiar. Everyone gathered here, and someone trying to kill Connor, and Cathy being here...you see?”
Her eyes dart back and forth quickly. But she’s always been the smart one. It doesn’t take her long to get there. “You think this has something to do with what happened in Italy?”
“Maybe, yeah. One of the Giuseppes is still on the loose, isn’t she?”
“You think Shawna is Marta?”
“She could be.”
“Come on, El. I knew Marta. I met her many times. So did you.”
“I met her twice. Maybe three times. A year ago and in a completely different circumstance. I doubt I’d recognize her.”
“Well, I would.”
My brain is whirring. “What about the other sister? Rosa. There were three of them. Maybe that’s who Shawna is?”
“That doesn’t make any sense.”
“I know, but where is she? And what is Cathy doing here? Someone is fucking with us. With me .”
“Because everything’s always about you?” Simone says. “Even this.”
“Shut up, Simone.”
“You can’t talk to me that way.”
“El,” Oliver warns, and I clamp my jaw shut because he’s right.
This isn’t helpful.
But somehow, deep down, I know I’m right.
About all of it.
“We have to find Officer Anderson and tell her Shawna is missing.”
“Shawna’s missing?” Officer Anderson says, coming through the door with Mr. Prentice. “Since when?”
“We’re not sure. She was here before the lights went off. But no one’s seen her since then.”
“She must’ve left during the chaos of Cathy’s entrance,” Oliver says.
“I was told to come here, I’ll have you know.”
“Wait, what?”
“I was telling you before,” Cathy says to me. “That same person who was texting me, they told me to come help you.”
“They told you to club David?”
“No, but I assumed that’s what they meant.”
“Why?”
“You’ve been complaining about him for months, haven’t you? Saying how he was ruining When in Rome ?”
“Where did you hear that?”
She hangs her head. “I can’t say.”
I cycle through all the times I’ve complained about David. On the beach with Oliver and Harper, in my brain, once on set, and many, many times at home.
In my home.
“Have you been...listening in on my conversations somehow?”
Cathy’s eyes flash with defiance and pride. “It was for your own good.”
“My own...what?”
“You were almost killed in Italy! And two of them are still out there. I was just keeping watch.”
I feel sick to my stomach. Cathy is dangerous. And I’m an idiot. “How did you do this?”
She clamps her jaw tight. “I refuse to answer because it might incriminate me.”
“Oh my God, you broke into our house?” Harper says. “What the fuck .”
You know things are going badly when Harper sounds like me.
“Officer Anderson?” I say.
“Yes?”
“Are you going to arrest her?”
“For what?”
“She was trying to kill David.”
“I was not .”
“She’s been spying on me. She crashed this wedding. You saw it, you shot at her.”
“She was fleeing the scene,” Officer Anderson says in a robotic voice, like she’s trying to convince herself. She’s probably never fired her service weapon before.
“She needs to be locked up.”
“She’s under restraint and will remain that way until my colleagues arrive.”
“What about Tyler?” Emma says. “Is he going to be released?”
“I say,” Fred says, “he could still be involved.”
“Why would Tyler want to kill me?” Connor asks. “Or do you think I killed Ken by accident?”
“Of course not.”
“This has nothing to do with me.”
“Who, then?”
“You,” Connor says with emphasis.
Fred takes a step toward him.
“Fred!” Mrs. Winter calls, a plaintive note in her voice.
“Not now, Mother.”
“But Fred, I...I...”
“Are you quite all right, dear?” Mr. Winter says.
“I...” Mrs. Winter goes pale and then paler again, and before anyone can reach her, she faints dead away.
“Now, that’s what I call making an exit.”
“Shut up , Tucci!”
83 I did a background check on Cathy when I got the restraining order against her.
84 Does that apply to book series? Hmmm.
85 I mean, obviously, yes. But also, no, right? Like the medical symptoms, I can’t be the target of two different people’s plots to murder me. I’m not that bad of a person, am I?
86 Like the chapter titles, this is a rhetorical question.
87 The name of Mrs. Winter’s biggest nighttime soap, on before I was born.
88 At least, that’s what I tell myself because you can’t live your life looking over your shoulder all the time.
89 Is this reference too dated for my age? It was one of my mom’s favorite movies.