Page 38 of She Doesn't Have a Clue
“You know, that’s funny,” Kennedy said, coming to the door. Kate snapped her hands to her side, trying to lean casually against the nearby wall before realizing it was a good half a foot farther away than she’d thought. She stumbled, catching herself on the bag and wincing at the flash of diamond clutched in her fist. Kennedy gave her a look of concern. “Are you all right?”
“Yep, just great!” Kate said enthusiastically, recovering her balance and clasping her hand behind her back. The zipper on the dress bag gaped immodestly, and she moved to block it from Kennedy’s view. “You were saying, about your shoes?”
“Oh, right. Yes. The funny thing is, I haven’t been able to find them either this morning. I don’t remember taking them off, but I must have, right? Only they’re not anywhere in the room.” Kennedy gave a little laugh, touching her forehead. “I swear if my head wasn’t attached to my neck, I’d lose that, too!”
Kate gave a weak laugh, figuring that the joke wasn’t as far off as Kennedy thought. Kennedy turned back toward the bathroom, and Kate took the momentary advantage to tug at the zipper of the dress bag again. Except Kennedy pivoted just then, and Kate’s sleeve got caught in the toothy little bastard, and so she had to twist into a thoughtful position, her fist positioned under her chin while she tried to tug her sleeve loose.
“And now all this business with the generator!” Kennedy exclaimed, politely ignoring Kate’s ludicrous impression of Rodin’sThe Thinker. “And, apparently, the water is acting up, too. The toilets won’t flush. I know weddings never go as smoothly as you imagine, but I didn’t think we’d be fielding this many disasters. And now I’ve lost my necklace and my shoes!”
Kennedy shook her head and turned back to the vanity, giving Kate the opportunity to finally rip her sleeve loose and stuff the necklace deep in the folds of the dress inside the bag. She tugged the zipper into position before it could give her any more trouble.
“I’m sure they’ll turn up somewhere,” Kate murmured, though she didn’t think Kennedy had misplaced them like she’d thought. Kate figured that Kennedy lost her shoes when her poisoner dragged her down into the wine cave. It was the only way to explain the scratching and bruising. And the only stairs she’d encountered so far that weren’t luxuriously carpeted were the rocky stairs leading down into the wine cave. Which meant nobody could have dragged her down from the second floor, across the entryway, into the kitchen, and down into the wine cave without being seen.
“This weekend has me all turned around,” Kennedy said ruefully, sweeping a makeup brush across her cheeks. “I even dreamed that someone was trying to choke me. I couldn’t breathe. I woke up withmy pillow over my face. I was so stressed I tried to smother myself! Can you imagine it?”
Kate could imagine it, but she didn’t think Kennedy was responsible for the late-night smothering. She recognized a second attempt on Kennedy’s life, even if Kennedy laughed it off. And she knew that whoever was after Kennedy wouldn’t stop until they saw the job done.
Chapter Twenty
The kitchen was already bustling with servers prepping the wedding day breakfast. Even in such an expansive working kitchen—an unprecedented seven cooktops—the space was crowded. Kate could barely make it past the entrance, much less across the room to the wine cave stairs. But she wasn’t there for the wine cave—at least not yet. There had been several servers in the kitchen last night when she and Marla had snuck in, which meant if someone dragged an unconscious Kennedy Hempstead down the wine cave stairs, someone must have seen something. She just needed to grease the right wheels.
Kate posted herself at the door between the kitchen and the main entryway, where servers carried trays loaded with tantalizing piles of bacon, steaming eggs, and croissants so flaky and buttery they rustled in the faintest breeze. Kate snagged a few strips of bacon for emotional fortification before pouncing on a young man carrying a full tray of mimosas.
“You didn’t see anyone come through here with Kennedy Hempstead last night?” Kate asked, crunching down on the delicious strip.
“No ma’am,” he said, struggling under the weight and uneven distribution of glasses. “Nobody but staff back here last night. Ms. Hempstead—uh, the boss one, I mean—she’s got very strict rules about servers and guestsmixing. She says it ‘muddies the waters.’ She even makes us stay in the old servant quarters, and she put an alarm on the door separating our rooms from the rest of the house so nobody gets tempted.”
That tracked with the Rebecca Hempstead she’d met at the rehearsal dinner. Kate didn’t mention that she’d been in the kitchen and nobody had spotted her, but she hadn’t been dragging an unconscious body. “Were you in here all night?”
“No ma’am, we were in and out of the ballroom, collecting plates and glasses. I’m sorry, I’ve really got to get this to the breakfast room.”
Kate questioned a few more servers as they passed through, but each one of them had the same frustratingly vague answer. Nobody had seen Kennedy, and nobody knew how she’d gotten down to the wine cave last night. She moved into the breakfast room for better access to the pastries, eyeing the guests as she entered.
The breakfast room looked more suited to a jazz club than a mimosa and pastry bar. The walls were the same dark wood that made up the rest of the house with panels of floor-to-ceiling stained-glass installations, the wan morning light casting pearlescent beams of light across the black- and-white-tiled floor.
“It just doesn’t make any sense,” Kate muttered as she swiped a fresh croissant.
“What doesn’t make any sense?” someone asked, startling her into dropping her treat. Marla stood behind her, holding a position Kate knew all too well.
“I take it you kept the party going after you left my room last night?” Kate said.
“Turns out Rebecca Hempstead’s wine selection is as cheap as she is, and gives you twice the hangover,” Marla said, pressing a hand to her head. “My entire kingdom for a decent cup of coffee and some buttered toast right now.”
“I got you,” Kate said, slipping away to the coffee stand. The smell alone perked her right up, and she glanced around for any sign of Jake before filling a second mug for herself. Kate was almost positive you couldn’t overdose on caffeine, but if anyone was going to find out thatweekend it would be her. When she returned, Marla took a long, hot slurp without even wincing.
“Speaking of hangovers,” Marla said, eyeing Kate up and down. “What the hell are you wearing, Valentine? They look like erotic krakens.”
“I think they’re jellyfish,” Kate said. “Or a very creative take on mermen?”
“Why are you wearing that monstrosity, whatever the shellfish involved?”
“Oh, it’s my sleuthing sweater.”
Marla raised her brows. “What are you sleuthing?”
Kate glanced around at the wedding guests crowding into the breakfast room, lured by the heady scent of bacon and eggs. “Can you keep a secret?”
“No,” Marla snorted, chugging another swig of coffee. When Kate gave her an exasperated look, she shrugged. “Maybe? I’ll give it the old college try.”