CHAPTER 29
CHAPTER 29
Have We Gotten to the Least Likely Suspect Yet?
“That’s it,” I say.
Emma turns on me with hurt in her eyes and a layer of disbelief. “You think I did it?”
“No, that’s ridiculous. You’re not capable of murder.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“I didn’t mean it that way. It was a compliment.”
“What are you talking about, Eleanor?” Simone asks, her contempt for me as evident as always.
And I should’ve seen it. I should’ve known. The least likely suspect, standing in front of me the whole time. Almost begging me to call her out.
And maybe that’s what her antipathy is about?
A shield from my eventual accusations?
But no. No. She’s too arrogant for that. She never thought I’d catch her. She had to be sure of that. Because that’s what murder really is.
Arrogance.
I have to find a way to stop her.
But I can’t just accuse her like Tucci’s done with Emma. I have to have evidence. I need to make sure.
“What’s your problem with me, Simone?”
She flicks her hand up. “Let me count the ways.”
“No, tell me. Tell me what it was that I did to you that made you hate me so much.”
Her eyes narrow. “You truly don’t remember? This isn’t some act?”
“I’m not an actor.”
“Unbelievable.”
“What did I do?”
She pauses, maybe for dramatic effect, and maybe because she can’t quite believe that she has to tell me. “Aiden.”
Aiden. Aiden .
Oh my God, Aiden.
This is actually about a boy?
I was eighteen and it was the end of high school. It was a few months after my parents died. I was taking care of fifteen-year-old Harper and, if I’m being honest, already resenting it.
It felt like all my dreams had been ripped away. I was supposed to be going to New York in the fall with Emma. We’d both gotten into the acting program at Tisch. But that was all on hold. I was stuck in Venice Beach, temping at my father’s advertising agency, a grown-up before my time.
I needed to do something. Anything that felt like the old, irresponsible me.
So I went to a party in the Valley with Emma.
A night for myself, I’d said.
One night where I could make stupid mistakes and be a teenager before Emma left and I settled into being an adult for real.
Aiden was the cool guy in our class in high school, the one everyone wanted. Six feet. Blond. Baseball team. You can imagine him, can’t you? Every high school has one.
I’d always crushed on him from afar—we didn’t run in the same circles. I knew he and Simone had been a thing at some point, but were they still together that night? They weren’t acting like it. I mean, he wasn’t. I don’t remember if she was there.
I just remember tossing back a drink and walking toward him while a slow smile played on his lips because he’d been watching me all night. Tracking me.
All I knew was I’d been chosen and I wasn’t going to say no.
We hooked up. You can imagine it.
The next morning, I collected my things from the floor of his room and snuck out of his house before anyone else was awake.
I wasn’t ashamed. I was proud of myself. But I knew it didn’t mean anything. Not to him or to me. In fact, we never spoke again.
“Eleanor?” Emma asks. “What’s going on?”
“I slept with Simone’s boyfriend.”
“Recently?” Her eyes track to Oliver.
“Right after high school. You remember that party in the Valley?”
“There were many.”
“Maybe for you,” I say. “But I only went to one.”
I can almost see her reach back into her memory and fix on it.
“That’s right,” she says. “You did.”
I turn to Simone. Her face is flushed with rage. “That can’t be it,” I say.
“That can’t be what?”
“One mistake when I was eighteen with some guy I didn’t even know you were with. That can’t be the reason all of this is happening.”
“You always think everything is about you,” Simone says.
“I mean, we’re in the movie about my book, so...”
“You don’t know anything .”
“I’ve been slow, I grant you...but I’m putting it together now.”
“What are you talking about, Eleanor?” Connor asks.
“It’s Simone. The one Shawna’s been taking orders from. That’s what Shawna meant. She’s the one in charge. The one behind it all. Directing it all.”
“Do you have any evidence of this?” Officer Anderson asks.
“It’s been right in front of us the whole time.”
“What has?” Emma asks.
“The original ending of the movie—it was that Allison was in on it with Connor. It was all a scam to defraud Cecilia of her inheritance. That’s why Connor seduced her and involved her in his investigation. But that wasn’t the ending that was shot. Instead, it was Connor and Cecilia all loved up because of the rewrites by Simone, right, David?”
He nods in response.
“What’s all this about?” Harper asks.
“The script for When in Rome . The one Simone rewrote enough to get partial credit for. It’s what must’ve given her the idea. But then she needed to cover her tracks. That’s why she made the changes. Not to make it better but to hide what the plan was.” I turn to David. “When did Simone start rewriting the script?”
“In pre-production. She pitched me the new ending; I didn’t really have a say.”
“So that’s what this is about.” I look at Officer Anderson. “It’s the oldest motive in the book: money.”
“Isn’t that what I said?” Inspector Tucci says.
“Whose money?” Harper asks.
“Emma’s.”
“But then, that would mean...”
“Yes.”
“Mean what?” Emma asks.
I meet her eyes and try to convey something that I can’t. Because I’m not an actor.
He is.
“I’m sorry, Em.”
“Sorry for what?”
“It was Fred. Fred and Simone.”
“ What? ”
There’s a cacophony of voices. I’m not even sure who’s speaking.
But it’s clear in my mind. Finally.
I turn to Simone, who’s standing stock-still. “You were bailing him out, weren’t you? It wasn’t your idea, it was Fred’s . This is all his fault. He owed money to Tyler and didn’t have a way out. He had to make the movie to pay back his debt. And then he brought you on as the director as, what? An apology?”
Simone’s chin lifts. “I deserved the job.”
“Of course you did. But you’ve been in the wilderness for years, just like David. This was your shot. He probably didn’t even tell you about his plan to seduce Emma and marry her for her money at first.”
“He did not .”
“Of course he didn’t. He thinks he’s smarter than he is. But nothing he does ever fixes anything. It only makes it worse.” I pause, waiting for her to say something more.
I don’t even search for Fred in the room, but I can feel him backing away from us.
Only there’s nowhere to go.
“And then what happened?” I say, working it out aloud. “He went and fell for Emma for real, didn’t he? He left you for her. He was going to get his cake and eat it, too, and leave you out of it. After everything you did for him.”
“Fred?” Emma says. “What’s she talking about? Is this...Is this true?”
And now we all turn to look at him. He seems smaller than he did a few minutes ago, like the key light he’s usually standing under has been dimmed.
“Of course not, darling, I promise. I love you.” His voice sounds hollow. “That’s the only thing she’s said that’s true. I fell in love with you, I did.”
“And her?” Emma’s hand rises and points toward Simone.
“She’s nothing to me.”
Simone winces.
“But you were with her...You told me it was casual, but you lied. And your mother. Your mother hates Simone. She wouldn’t hate just some random girl you’d been with. She wouldn’t accuse her of murder.” Emma’s head shakes slowly from side to side. “Is she the ex? The ex who was texting you? The one you couldn’t let anyone know about?”
“No.”
“I don’t believe you.” Emma slides down to the floor, her knees catching her in a deep knee bend. “Oh my God. Oh my God. You were going to kill me, weren’t you?”
Bile rises in my throat because it’s sickening, that thought. But also, it must be true.
“I would never do that.”
“But you’d have to. We signed a prenup. If we got divorced, you wouldn’t get anything. But if I die...if I die, then you get everything .”
“Oldest motive in the book.”
“Shut up, Tucci!”
“You were going to kill me.” Emma’s swaying on her heels now, still crouched. Maybe she feels safer, closer to the ground.
She needs help.
Fred isn’t helping her.
That motherfucker.
“You were going to kill me,” Emma says again, popping up, her voice stronger, but her face so pale I think she might faint.
“I...no...”
“Perhaps we should go somewhere private to talk,” Officer Anderson says to Fred.
“You don’t have any evidence,” Fred says, just like an innocent person.
Ha ha.
This isn’t a laughing matter, but his response is laughable.
And now I can help Emma.
Because Fred is wrong.
“There is,” I say. “I can prove you were communicating with Simone. That she’s the one you were meeting with.” I pull my phone out and dial the number I can visualize from the texts I’ve read over too many times.
There’s a pause, and then a phone starts to ring. It’s coming from Simone.
“What does that prove?” Fred says as Simone reaches into her pocket and silences it.
“That’s the number on your burner phone. The one you were arranging all those meetings with. Not Shawna. Simone. ”
“But Shawna had the phone with that number,” Harper says. “That’s the number I called for Shawna.”
“Simone cloned Shawna’s phone,” I say. “Just like Tyler’s. She probably needed Shawna to be able to communicate with Fred if necessary. And if Emma found Fred’s phone, then it wouldn’t trace back to her.”
I press dial again. Again it rings.
“Will you stop that,” Simone says.
“Take out your phone.”
“No.”
“It doesn’t matter. We all know it’s you.”
“Do we?”
“You’re the only one who could’ve pulled it off. You were in charge of everything. And you were the one scaring Emma with those notes. You wanted them to call off the wedding.”
Simone pauses, her eyes narrowing. Then, “Why would I do that if this is about getting Emma’s money?”
“It was all about money for him . But you? Look how hard you love. You’re still mad about some stupid boy I slept with in high school. And that must’ve made it all the sweeter, right? The fact that it was my movie. Duping my best friend.”
“I already told you. This isn’t about you .”
“No, it’s about José and Ken and Shawna. Why did you kill José? Was he going to tell on you? Tell everyone Fred had him set up that potential electrocution at the pools?” I stop, remembering. “Fred told Emma to go there. Remember, Emma? He said you should go and have a soak.”
Emma blinks rapidly. “He did.”
“He called and told you Emma was going there, right, Simone? When he was going to the ferry to meet his parents. That’s why you came to the pools? To, what, supervise?”
“This is ridiculous,” Simone says.
“Was it you or Fred who killed José? Breaking a grown man’s neck...It must have been Fred. He must’ve asked José to meet him at the ropes course. He killed him and rigged the course so it would seem like an accident. That’s why I fell through it.
“And then he sent himself that text to meet José in the basement from José’s phone. He erased the other texts between them. And then he dropped the phone by accident and couldn’t find it because he didn’t have his phone. And then you must’ve hit him on the head in the basement to make it look realistic.” I shake my head at myself. “It was an alibi . To make us think José was still alive long after he was dead.”
“And Ken?” Oliver says. “Why Ken?”
“Because he looks so much like Fred. If Fred was the victim, then he couldn’t also be the murderer. Easy enough for him to slip away for a minute and do it. His prints were already on the knife from cutting the cake. And Ken trusted him. He’d go anywhere with him.”
“And Shawna?”
“That was Simone, it must’ve been. She was coming here to tell Emma everything.” I turn back to Simone. “So you stabbed her before she could get here. But you must’ve gotten a bit sloppy because she didn’t die. She made it here anyway.” I wait. “Nothing to say, Simone?”
“I’m not some villain in a bad movie. You have zero evidence of any of this, and when we get back to the mainland, I’ll be speaking exclusively to my lawyer.”
“In the meantime, the phone will be enough to hold you. You and Fred, right, Officer Anderson?”
“I have nothing to do with this,” Fred says. “I would never be with her .”
“Fuck you, Fred,” Simone says in a whisper, and her breaking heart is plain for all to see. “I am not taking the fall for you.”
They stare at each other, and it’s impossible to know what’s passing unsaid between them. But then Simone shakes her head slightly from side to side, her eyes narrowing, some plot forming.
I see it. Fred sees it.
And now Fred is scared. “I’ll confess, Officer Anderson. She did want me to marry Emma for the money. But not to kill her. If we were married, I’d have access to it, prenup or not. Resources. Credit. She’s the one who killed José. And Shawna. And Ken. She never told me half of what she was doing—”
“Stop it. Stop, stop, stop . You...This was my one shot. My one chance to prove myself, and you just threw it away. Because you’re Fred Winter! You always land on your feet. Even when you were stupid enough to lose all that money. Tyler was never going to do anything to you. That’s what you never understood.” She clamps her jaw shut.
“As I was saying—”
“Shut up, Tucci!” half of us say together.
Not Emma. Not Harper. Not Fred. Not Simone.
The victims and the perpetrators.
They’re silent, locked in this tragedy together, everything changed forever.
I know the feeling, but I’m apart from it.
The hurt doesn’t touch me the way it touches them.
And I can’t even feel the satisfaction of solving it because I didn’t want to know this.
I wish it weren’t true.
Officer Anderson takes out a set of zip ties and walks toward Fred. It feels like it’s happening in slow motion, this big dramatic rise to one more moment before the curtain falls.
CRASH!
The door slams open and the wind howls as Mr. and Mrs. Winter burst in through the door. Mrs. Winter stops as her eyes sweep the room, her cheeks two high spots of color. “What is happening? Where are you taking my son?”
“Mrs. Winter, please calm down,” Emma says.
“No, I will not calm down! That Mr. Prentice told me that there was a body found in your room and I thought...I thought...” She glances at Shawna’s body on the floor, covered by a sheet. “What is happening, Fred? Tell me at once.”
“Just leave it, Mother.”
“I will not.” Mrs. Winter looks around the room desperately as her eyes come to light on Simone. “Is this because of you ? It is, isn’t it? I told him and told him to stay away from you. That you were nothing but trouble. But did he listen to me? No, no, he never has.”
Simone just stares at her. “Your son did this on his own.”
“I doubt that very highly.”
“Why, Mother? Because I’m not smart enough? That’s what you think, isn’t it? Fred’s the handsome one, not the smart one. Fred takes after his father. Fred isn’t meant for academics. Fred only got that Oscar because it was a weak field.”
“I never said any of those things.”
“Yes, you did .”
“So it’s my fault? All of this?” She points dramatically at poor Shawna on the ground, covered by a sheet, the blood easing out of it and staining the floor.
“Just be quiet, Mother. For once in your life.”
Mrs. Winter’s hand goes to her heart and she falls back dramatically onto Mr. Winter, and I have a moment where I think that maybe she’s had a heart attack, but no.
Mr. Winter catches her with a practiced hand and rights her as Officer Anderson puts the zip ties around Fred’s wrists and pulls them tight.
There’s a minute of silence while the storm gathers outside for one last fight, slamming against the windows like a lung that inhales and exhales.
The building shakes, then settles.
No one knows what to say.
Well, not no one .
“So, this had nothing to do with me?” Connor says.
Some people never change.