Page 22 of She Doesn't Have a Clue
Kate took Marla’s hand, leaning heavily into her as the alcohol hit so much harder without Jake to support her. They fumbled their way back to the main hallway, the corridors passing like a haunted nightmare. Kate would have gotten hopelessly lost, a ghost haunting the Manor, if it weren’t for Marla’s navigation. They reached the kitchen, several servants cleaning up dishes from the rehearsal dinner. They ducked behind a counter to avoid being spotted, and Marla pointed to a stone arch on the far side of the kitchen.
“That’s the wine cave,” Marla whispered. “I’ll grab some glasses and score us some of those crab things they had during the cocktail hour. You find the Dom and I’ll meet you down there.”
Marla crawled away and Kate headed for the wine cave. A puff ofcool, dry air greeted her from the top of the stone steps. It certainly had the feel of a hidden distillery as Kate descended. Earthy and dark, the walls set in close as if they were meant to inspire claustrophobia. Or stop the G-men from gumming up the works while you made a quick escape.
There was something hauntingly familiar about the dark, rocky stairs, even though Kate had certainly never stayed anywhere posh enough to have an entire cave for storing wine. The nubbly feel of the stones beneath her hands, the faint trace of dry dirt in the air, the soft pad of her bare feet against the rough steps, it all felt like something she’d done before. A vivid memory from someone else’s life.
The cinematic feel was brought to an abrupt halt when her toes met with a soft, immovable object. She cried out in pain and surprise, falling over just as some demonic motion sensor turned the electric lights on full blast, illuminating Kennedy Hempstead’s lifeless face.
“Come on, Lor, be reasonable,” said Geoff, leaning over the bar as Loretta wiped it down for the evening. Or the early morning, by the clock, but Loretta didn’t keep her hours by the clock. “I know you were fond of the kid, but the police have him dead to rights.”
“The police are wrong,” Loretta said, snatching up a bin of pint glasses for the washer. “Blake is innocent. And if someone doesn’t do something about it, he’ll go to jail for a crime he didn’t commit. Which means the real murderer will still be out here, roaming free. I can’t let that happen.”
“What are you going to do?” Geoff snorted, slapping his hand down on her freshly washed bar and leaving behind a smudge. She could hardly tell him to clean it up himself, considering he was both her boss and the owner. She’d had plenty of hound dogs for bosses before, but there was something else to Geoff. Something… tender. Protective. It kept her from kicking his ass when she caught him looking at hers.
“I’m going to do what the police can’t do. Or won’t do. I’m going to find that woman’s real killer,” Loretta said.
“How do you plan to do that?” Geoff asked, his eyes following her as she replaced bottles on the back bar. “You’re not a cop. Hell, you’re barely even a bartender. I hired you on as a favor to your pops.”
“You hired me on because I bring in the navy boys when they’re off duty,” Loretta shot back, giving him a long look as he guiltily lifted his eyes away from her ass. “And you’ve gotten more than your money’s worth out of me, Geoff. This is something I have to do.”
“I’m just worried about you, is all, Lor,” said Geoff, his eyes goingsoft. “You’re in over your head, and a girl like you could get herself in real trouble poking around where she doesn’t belong.”
“I plan to stir up some trouble,” Loretta said, her brows drawing down in a fierce line as she set the last of the tequila bottles to rights. “Whoever thought they could get away with murdering a poor old woman and framing my friend better watch out. Loretta Starling is on their case.”
EXCERPT FROMSHAKEN, STIRRED, AND STABBED
LORETTA STARLING, BOOK 1
BY KATE VALENTINE
Saturday
Chapter Twelve
Somewhere overhead, a clock clanged midnight, and Kate couldn’t stop screaming. She couldn’t stop as she dug her heels in and shoved away from Kennedy’s body; she couldn’t stop as she bumped into a rack of wine bottles and they gave a perilous rattle; she couldn’t even stop as voices called down from the kitchen in alarm. She couldn’t stop because, despite writing several mysteries with heaps of dead bodies in them, Kate had never personally encountered one.
Until now.
Loretta. Loretta would know what to do. Loretta always knew what to do in situations like these. And Kate needed Loretta now, more than ever.
Loretta stalked the perimeter of the body, her boots clacking heavily against the old stone as she took in the bride’s lifeless body. She still wore the lovely crystalline dress from the rehearsal dinner, the hem twisted up around her thighs. Her feet were bare, the heels nowhere to be found, and her glossy curls were spread haphazardly over her neck. Her face was relaxed, as if she’d just laid down for a second in a most inopportune location, but her color was all wrong, her white skin closer to gray.
“Her lipstick is smudged,” Loretta said, pointing with the metal swizzle stick she always carried in her back pocket. “See? Just there.”
“You think it was the killer?” asked Blake, his eyebrows creeping up. He was always happy to play second to Loretta’s detective, knowing that she was the only reason he was working the island wedding this weekend instead of wasting away in jail. “Maybe she was assaulted.”
Loretta shook her head, pointing to a twin smudge on the opposite side of her lip. “I’d guess it’s from her glass, the champagne toast. I don’t see the glass anywhere around now. Which can only mean—”
“The Spice Girls preserve us, is that thebride?” came a sharp, dramatic voice that wasn’t nearly as seductive or understanding as Blake’s. Kate looked up, startled, at Abraham the wedding coordinator as he stood at the bottom of the wine cave stairs, mouth dropped open.
“Wha… what?” Kate asked, still caught in the fog of Loretta’s murder scene investigation. But there was no Loretta, no fictional bride. Kennedy Hempstead was really lying on the floor, and she was really dead, and Kate had really tripped over her. “Oh, god.”
“Help!” cried Abraham, pressing a hand to his chest and swooning against the wall. He waved that same hand toward the top of the stairs, as if he could magic someone there. “Please, we need help down here immediately!”
“What’s going on?” called a strident, authoritative voice. Juliette Winters appeared moments later, Veeta trailing behind her, eyes as wide as saucers and just as unblinking. Kate didn’t want to imagine what the company chat would look like come Monday, but she didn’t figure she would feature positively in it.
“Is that Kennedy?” Veeta asked in a hushed tone. “What’s wrong with her?”