Page 26 of She Doesn't Have a Clue
“If I wanted pity, I’d have visited my mum,” Jake said, snatching a long-sleeved shirt from his bag and quickly pulling it over his head. It fit him like a glove, showing the muscles underneath, but covering the scars.
Kate drew her hand back sharply. It wasn’t pity she felt, not at all. It washurt. Hurt for the Jake from thoseWandering Australianpictures, who’d had the world in front of him. Hurt for the Jake she knew now, living with a shattered body and dream. But Jake didn’t want her hurt, any more than he wanted her attention.
“I’m going to sleep now,” he said, keeping his eyes resolutely away from her. “You should, too.”
“Fine,” Kate muttered, crawling over the bedspread toward the pillow. But there was something on the pillow, standing out black against the soft pink comforter, and Kate swept it up with her finger to take a closer look. That shard Jake had fished out of Kennedy’s mouth when he was performing CPR. The one that had been stuck against her skin when she changed earlier. Kate brought it close enough to make her cross-eyed, frowning at it. Something about it was so…familiar.
She’d never seen any oyster shell like this. It was too smooth, too black and shiny, and now, under less stressful circumstances, she realized the tip was bright red. Were there red oysters? Jake was already breathing deep and even, but the sliver tugged at her memory. She should know what it was, she was sure of it.
Kate sucked in a sharp breath, heart pounding. She did know whatit was—a rosary pea, a decorative bead used in jewelry and ornamental plants that also happened to be deadly if ingested. And she knew that because it was exactly how the bride had been killed inSomething Borrowed, Someone Blue, the latest Loretta novel. Juliette had been right about the circumstances, even if she’d been wrong about the culprit.
Kennedy hadn’t eaten some bad shellfish. She’d been poisoned.
Chapter Fourteen
Kate was on at least her sixth cup of coffee and her fifteenth sheet of paper borrowed from her Loretta plotting notebook (Loretta would certainly approve) by the time Jake groaned and cracked one eye open, his gaze widening as he took in the state of the attic.
“Kate?” he said, slow and unsure.
“You’re awake,finally,” Kate said, waving a sheet of paper in his face. “Can you tack that up there? Above the creepy portrait of the Victorian child with the blurry face? Actually, go ahead and put it over the picture, she’s been staring at me for hours now.”
“What’s with all the candles?” Jake asked, pushing himself to stand and stretching his arms above his head. The movement exposed a strip of lean stomach muscles that made Kate’s already over-caffeinated heart beat even harder.
“Power’s out,” Kate said, handing him a flashlight. “Storm knocked it out. Abraham says they have a backup generator, but something’s wrong with it? I don’t really know, he was in high form at fourA.M.”
“And what isthat?” Jake asked meaningfully.
Kate looked up at the swath of sheets she had haphazardly taped and tacked to the attic wall. “That? Oh, it’s my murder board. Murder wall?Murder attic? No, that just sounds like an attic where you do all your murders. Murder wall, let’s go with murder wall.”
“No, I don’t mean that.” Jake looked at the papers. “Well, I don’tnotmean that. I mean, what are you wearing?”
Kate looked down at herself in horror, suddenly unsure if she’d bothered with a bra at any point in the night. “What do you mean? What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”
“The jumper,” Jake said, as if that would explain the whole thing.
“Oh,” Kate said, perking up. “It’s my sleuthing sweater.”
Jake’s brows rose. “Sleuthing sweater?”
“Yeah, my mom gave it to me for Christmas after the first Loretta book came out. There’s this scene in the book where Loretta’s stuck on a clue, so she gets her grandfather’s old fishing cardigan out because she’s missing him, and the itchiness helps her realize who the real killer is.”
“The nephew with eczema, I remember,” Jake said, nodding sagely.
“You’ve readShaken, Stirred, and Stabbed?” Kate asked in surprise.
“’Course I have,” Jake said. “AndA Dark and Stormy Murder. I’m only halfway through the new one, though, so no spoilers. And I only read them for the Blake bits, since he’s obviously based on me. That kiss with Loretta when she thought the storm was going to tear the roof off the bar? Wowza.”
“He is not based on you,” Kate said with an eye roll.
Jake matched her eye roll. “Ofcoursehe’s based on me. He’s hot, he’s hilarious, he wakeboards, and he’s British.”
“You’re Australian,” Kate pointed out.
“Same thing to you Americans,” Jake said. “Our names even rhyme. Jake? Blake?”
“That’s… coincidence,” Kate said, turning away to hide her frown. They really did rhyme. How had she missed that? “Anyway, my mom drew an illustration based on the description in the book and had Jan at the retirement community knit it up. You remember Jan? The woman in the corner condo with all the cats?”
“The one with the cataracts and the revoked driver’s license becauseshe hit too many parked cars?” Jake said, looking at her sweater again. “That Jan?”