Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
T hat scene in the movie Finding Nemo , where they’re swimming along and everything is going great…and then, everything goes dark and suddenly it’s, happy feeling is gone ?
Yeah. That about summed up what happened once Elaine’s attempts to get Landon’s attention had all been rebuffed and she finally decided to join the group .
I’d say he ignored her, but he made it clear he heard each flirty remark and had nothing to say in return. She pouted, of course, but eventually gave up to butt her nose into something else that was going well.
Our group of four had deciphered the code on the letter.
The code, SHOES, made no sense to any of us, but we’d narrowed down our list of suspects to the creepy stage director, who’d had feelings for the rising star, and her costar.
The costar was a hard sell to the other girls because, technically, he had an alibi. After their rehearsal, he’d attended a movie premiere for another project. He’d been schmoozing on the red carpet, while our girl died backstage after being attacked.
I hadn’t found the evidence to back it up, but I still didn’t trust the guy. He’d been into her, but wary of her thrust into the spotlight. A transcript of his conversation with her understudy right before the attack had shot off alarm bells in my head.
The other girls continued to pull for pinning it on the stage director, but we had to agree before submitting our answer.
And, while the stage director was super creepy, he struck me as harmless. Since I leaned toward suspect first and ask questions later , I trusted my gut. But I needed more evidence to tie her costar to the crime.
He had the motive, but not the opportunity, given his whereabouts at the other premiere.
“What about the clue, though?” I argued as the clock dwindled down. “We still haven’t used it. Why give it to us for no reason? Where’s the newspaper clipping with his alibi?”
Camille handed it over, rolling her eyes because she was officially over my shit. I scanned the newspaper article. Again. And this time, I inspected every inch of the page.
Finally, I zeroed in on his shoes. “Hey! This smudge here. Was that a note? No one mentioned it.”
“It just said he had to duck back to his trailer, after tracking mud on the red carpet like the article mentioned.” Elaine scoffed. “Big deal, Quinn. It was probably raining.”
I rolled my eyes because had she been paying even the slightest bit of attention, she would’ve known it was a dry day in Los Angeles, California, where the crime took place.
“He tracked mud on the carpet? But…there’s no mud.”
“So? Maybe that was taken after he changed his shoes.”
“Or maybe ,” I said through gritted teeth, “it’s the one link we have to the clue they gave us. In the letter you were supposed to decipher.”
Elaine released a bored sigh. “Just let me know when you pick someone and we can get out of here. I’m not a fan of Nancy Drew. Thanks.”
Ignoring her, I rifled through each scan we’d gotten of the newspaper clippings and magazine articles.
“Look!”
The three other Ladies crowded around me.
Elaine yawned.
“His outfit is different!” Morgan cried, pointing to a photo of the costar at one of the after parties. His shirt and tie had been changed, along with his muddy shoes. “So, then, if that picture in the article is before he changed, then you’re right. Why isn’t there mud?”
I squinted at the photo. “The marks on the carpet…They just look wet. It’s just a darker red.”
My eyes flew wide and met Morgan’s equally surprised gaze.
“Red-soled heels!” she blurted out, and I nodded frantically, hunting for the timetable that showed the distance to the theater where the premiere was held and the stage where the murder occurred.
“If this photo was taken at 7:57 p.m., and he left to go back to the stage, that puts him there right at the time of death. He’s definitely a suspect.”
“Maybe even our prime suspect, if the red on his shoes was blood.”
“Exactly.” My brow furrowed. “So, he had the opportunity. He had a motive, based on his chat with the understudy. So, we just need to tie him to the murder weapon.”
“She was attacked while she was changing,” Morgan reminded me. “Her killer got her from behind when she wasn’t expecting it. So, it could’ve been anyone, with the element of surprise on their side.”
“And we crossed off the others, as far as opportunity goes?”
“Yes, technically,” Lynette chimed in. “The understudy wasn’t there that night. She’s the only one we don’t have a time stamp for, but maybe they just included her to give us the costar’s motive?”
Morgan chewed on her lower lip, smudging the red matte lipstick that had faded as we worked through everything.
Something about it didn’t sit right with her, either.
“We need to pin down where she was, and search the crime scene again for anything that ties the understudy or the costar to the murder.”
“Ten minutes, Ladies,” Landon announced from the corner. “I need your final answer in ten, if you want to submit a guess.”
“I want to submit the right answer,” I huffed.
Elaine groaned and dropped her head back on the wall. “Why does this matter so much to you, Quinn? We get points for everything we submit. With the amount of clues you weirdos have pieced together, we’re going to be fine.”
“Maybe that’s good enough for you, Elaine.” I snapped. “But I want the truth.”
She scoffed. “Do you, though?”
“What the fuck does that mean?”
“First, you’re fixated on the guy who was in love with the rising star , wanting to pin it on him.
Now, what? You want to clear his name, and suddenly, her understudy is a suspect again?
” Elaine arched a brow, as if it was all so obvious, but I had no idea what the fuck she was talking about. “Just sounds familiar, I guess.”
When she smirked and said nothing, I shot a questioning look at Landon. He shrugged, as in the dark on her meaning as I was, before he glanced at his watch.
I forced myself to take a breath. “Whatever, Elaine. Just stand there and be quiet. You’re distracting us.”
“And you’re missing the call that happened before she was attacked.” Elaine brushed her nails on her sweater before examining her hand.
“What call?” Morgan asked, shuffling through the papers we’d assembled to hunt for it.
Elaine held up a slip of paper. “Whoops. This one, I guess.”
I stalked over to her and all but ripped it from her manicured fingers. “You are the worst .”
She rolled her eyes. “And you’re transparent. But lucky for me, I know what you don’t. The understudy may have attacked her, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t have a hand in it. He’s not innocent in this.”
Bringing the note to Morgan, we both read the transcript of the costar’s phone call with the understudy.
He needed help. His fear over what would happen to their production was apparent in their conversation.
What he said…the understudy took it and ran with it.
Like she’d been waiting for the chance to steal the spotlight.
Hated waiting in the shadows while the actress stole the show.
Morgan squealed with excitement. “We’ve got them.”
I nodded, staring numbly at the paper while she wrote out our final answer. The understudy committed the crime, but he was an accomplice. He’d helped hide the blood trail, without realizing he’d carried some of it away. Painted on his shoes, like I’d painted my heels for the first party.
When we handed the paper to Landon, he smiled and congratulated us. We’d solved the murder and were released from the room.
As the girls jumped and shouted with excitement over completing the first trial with perfect marks, I couldn’t understand why it didn’t feel like a win.
Why my mind spun over other secrets waiting to come to light, and why the truth felt like an axe waiting to fall. Certain that when it came down...
It would change everything.
That evening, Kingston escorted me to the bathroom to clean up and change, while Landon and Max cleared out the first escape rooms together.
My mind kept circling back to what Elaine had said in the room, despite not wanting to let her get under my skin.
I side-eyed Kingston before shutting off the water at the bathroom sink. “So, these secrets you’re still holding onto…” I hedged as I dried my hands. “How bad are they?”
Kingston tilted his head, watching me from the doorway, with his eyes clouded by shadows and regret.
“Most are heavy, like the one I shared about my father and Landon. Pieces of my past I need to share with you so you understand…all this, and me, more. But there is another one I need to share with you, and I?—”
I walked over to him, eager to hear anything he wanted to share, if it might put my mind at ease.
But a blast of air from the vent above it hit me, filling my nose with a strong scent I couldn’t immediately place.
“What’s that smell?”
Even though I’d chastised Max about asking someone that, it was the first thing that popped into my head.
“Smell?” He sniffed the air, then dropped his head to his shirt, lifting the fabric and smelling it before holding it out to me. “Maybe the detergent Alice uses? She makes it herself.”
I sniffed at his shirt, and my vision blurred as the overwhelming scent of citrus and spices filled my nostrils.
“That smell?—”
I blinked, trying to clear my head and recall all the times I’d smelled that scent. When I swayed on my feet, Kingston took my elbow and led me away from the bathroom.
“It’s probably on all the towels and things. Come sit and let me grab something from my room that isn’t freshly washed.”
I nodded, my mind going a mile a minute. I recognized the scent from that night in front of Pendragon with Merle. From the night I’d been drugged. And…
From the night I’d been attacked.
I’d caught a hint of it at other times, too, but I’d never been able to place it on one person or thing. The last few times I’d smelled it had been here, and I’d written it off as whatever Miss Alice had been cooking in the kitchens.
But it was the laundry.
The scent lingered on clothes, just as it lingered in my memory, tying it to my first attack at Camelot Court.
After the murder mystery trial, my mind jumped into crime-solving mode. I couldn’t remember what days those events had happened on, but if Miss Alice did the laundry on specific days of the week, she could help me narrow down the list of suspects.
I swallowed past the lump forming in my throat, unsure where it was coming from. Unsure why all I smelled was lemons.
Rationally, that had to be the citrus she used in the detergent. It had just never been quite as prominent before.
I didn’t know if it was really there or my mind playing tricks on me. Was I simply recalling the smell I linked to bad moments in my life? Or was it a coincidence?
Something told me it was more than that, and the feeling in the pit of my stomach worsened.
My steps faltered. “Kingston?”
He stopped walking and turned to face me. Holding me steady, he scanned my face and body quickly. As if checking me over for signs of dizziness.
While I squinted and wrinkled my nose, trying to get rid of the smell, he slid his grip down from my elbow to circle my wrist. And another thought occurred to me.
“Back at the appointment with Dr. Barrow, you mentioned something Miss Alice said to me about Nanny and asking for help...How did you know she’d told me that?”
“I asked her to meet you and tell you that when you arrived at Pendragon.” He didn’t hesitate to answer, but guilt flashed across his features.
But other than the experience weirding me out, I couldn’t think of a reason why he’d feel guilty about it. Convinced the smell was messing with my head, I laughed it off. “Yeah? Did you ask her to bring me to that creepy bedroom, too?”
Even though I said it as a joke, Kingston nodded.
“But…why?”
Kingston stepped closer to me, taking my hands in his and pulling me toward him. The serious expression on his face amplified the dread building in my gut.
“Because I needed you to go to Merle for your contract. But, once you’d done that, I needed you to know you couldn’t fully trust him.”
I tried to wrap my head around that, but I couldn’t.
I thought through the different things that had happened the day I arrived at Pendragon. The room had been the creepiest part, but the look on Miss Alice’s face when she saw me, the way her tone had hardened, and the offhand remark she made about how she’d thought they’d put a stop to something...
Not to mention the jerk I’d run into in the tiny bedroom.
“What about the guy who found me and kicked me out? Did you plan all that?”
I stepped back, unsure why I wanted space but suddenly needing it. He took in the distance I’d placed between us with a pained expression.
“Wait. What do you mean you needed me to go to Merle? Landon said you assumed I’d ask for my contract after my attack, but why does it sound like…”
“Quinn…”
Then, dropping his head, he told me the truth.
“I needed a way for you to be locked into The Quest, but to also throw off my father’s suspicion over my intentions to keep you here.”
My mind raced as I processed what he was telling me, searching for anything else he could mean, because the only explanation in my head couldn’t possibly be true.
“Kingston, what did you do?”