Page 66 of She Doesn't Have a Clue
Richie couldn’t stop prodding. “Told you what? To pay your own debts for once?”
“You’re one to talk,” Cassidy said, pointing at him viciously with her freshly manicured nails. Kate wondered where she’d gotten the money to have them done, considering her financial troubles. Maybe Kennedy had paid to have them done, to match her mauve bridesmaid dress. Although Cassidy’s nails were more purple than anything—
Kate smothered a gasp of recognition. The hand in the photo holding the champagne glass had purple nails, the exact same shade as Cassidy’smanicure. It hadn’t been Juliette; it had been Cassidy, standing right beside her in the picture, smiling to the point of pain. Kennedy stepped up between her cousins, pushing them apart.
“Both of you, please, just stop!” Kennedy said. “Please, for me. For Aunt Rebecca. She wouldn’t want you fighting like this.”
“Are you kidding me?” Richie said. “She’dloveit.”
“Yeah, she really would,” Cassidy said, looking down at Rebecca’s body mournfully.
“Can we please just… find a better resting place for her?” Kennedy sniffed. “I can’t bear to think of her in those potted plants again.”
While the family members made arrangements for how to respectfully handle Rebecca’s body, Kate slipped out the door leading into the hallway and hurried to the bridal suite.
It had been filled with an ocean of satin and organza since the last time Kate was there, making it hard to wade through the seaweed of discarded bras and the undertow of a pair of very stretchy leggings. These girls made her apartment look like Martha Stewart’s jail cell. Of course, they were probably used to someone cleaning up all their messes.
She didn’t have much time, and she wasn’t sure which suitcase might belong to Cassidy, so she started unzipping bags and rifling through each one with impunity. It wasn’t until the third suitcase that she spotted the woman’s ill-fitting rehearsal dress, price tag still attached. Her hand hit a hard yet delicate object, wrapped in an old T-shirt and stuffed in a plastic bag for some reason. Kate pulled it out, sucking in a breath at the sight of cut crystal.
“Gotcha,” Kate declared quietly, holding up the missing champagne glass.Find the glass, find the killer.
“What are you doing?”
Kate whirled around to face Cassidy glaring at her from the door to the bridal suite, blocking her only exit.
Chapter Thirty-Two
“Cassidy!” Kate declared, sweeping the champagne glass behind her back. “I thought you were moving Aunt Rebecca.”
“We are,” Cassidy said flatly. “What areyoudoing?”
“I… am…” Kate had told Jake that she wasn’t good at spur-of-the-moment confrontations, and she’d meant it. She looked around the room desperately, hoping something would jump out as a reasonable excuse for why she was lurking around the bridal suite, pawing through other people’s things. But unless her excuse was that she was a perv for expensive fabrics and other people’s underwear, she had nothing. So, she decided to turn the tables, holding up the champagne glass in the thick plastic bag.
“What areyoudoing withthis?” she demanded, matching Cassidy’s stance.
Cassidy gasped. “That’s not yours! Give it back.”
She hurried into the room and Kate moved to the far side where the bathroom door stood open, a narrow band of light barely illuminating the room. There was something in the bag with the champagne glass rattling against it, distracting Kate’s attention. She frowned, raising the bag closer so she could see it. It was some kind of long tube—maybe thepoison? But no, there was something in it. It looked like a cotton swab, the long, skinny kind they kept in a doctor’s office. And there was a sticker on the side of the tube with a logo.
“Family Ties?” she read aloud. “Isn’t that one of those find-your-ancestors kind of deals? Like you’re twenty-three percent Scottish or whatever? Why do you have one of these?”
“That’s none of your business,” Cassidy growled, lurching for Kate and missing the bag. “Give it back!”
Kate tracked around the room, keeping her eye on the exit door, trying to keep a piece of furniture between her and Cassidy at all times. She had to hop over several suitcases and piles of clothes in the way, making her balance less steady. “Wait, are you… Were you doing a DNA test for… for Kennedy? Do you think Kennedy isn’t a Hempstead?”
Maybe that was why Rebecca had slapped her, for suggesting that the heir apparent wasn’t so apparent anymore. But Cassidy pulled up short, looking confused.
“That’s stupid. Of course Kennedy is a Hempstead. Just look at her jawline.”
“Then why…” Kate looked down at the bag, trying to fit the pieces together. If Cassidy knew Kennedy was a Hempstead, why would she secretly test Kennedy’s DNA?
Kate gasped, clasping the test to her chest as Cassidy once again made a move toward her. “It’s you, isn’t it? You’re not trying to prove Kennedyisn’ta Hempstead, you’re trying to prove youare.”
“Of course I am,” Cassidy said, scowling at her. “Everybody already knows that.”
But Kate shook her head, the pieces finally coming together. “But you’re the wrong kind of Hempstead. You’re on the broken branch of the family tree, the relatives that got cut out of the inheritance after the family split. Unless… unless you’re not?”
Cassidy went so still Kate could barely see her in the dimness. She was still between Kate and the exit, and Kate wasn’t feeling very confident about her ability to sprint in heels, so she kept talking, kept distracting Cassidy as she tried to edge closer to the door.