Page 81 of She Doesn't Have a Clue
“I believe she’s poisoning the bride’s bottle of Dom Pérignon,” Kate said, a heavy weight settling in the pit of her stomach. Marla’s distinct red-tipped hair and lace-up boots identified her more than her face, and while Kate couldn’t see specifically what was in her hand, she was positive it was a small bag or vial of crushed rosary peas. Kate could at least make out the bright redFor the Bridesash the bartender had put around the neck of the bottle in her other hand. The same bottle Kate had found in Rebecca’s locker in the pool room. The bottle only Kennedy was supposed to drink out of for the weekend, before Kate had knocked her glass out of her hand and then distracted Kennedy with the scene she had caused during Spencer’s speech.
“You know, in a way, I think I actually saved your life,” Kate said, bemused. She shook her head, knowing she had the evidence she needed, but missing the most critical piece—why.
“You think Marla did all this?” Juliette asked.
“We need to find her and talk to her,” Kate said, her voice sounding funny even to herself. She couldn’t begin to imagine how or why Marla had done what she’d done. She’d found Kate after the speeches and lured her down to the wine cave, conveniently abandoning her in the kitchen under the guise of looking for glasses. She’d been in Kate’s room helping her change, digging through her suitcase. She could easily have planted the necklace then.
But why? Why poison Kennedy at all? Why frame Kate for it? She couldn’t possibly have done this, could she?
Juliette took a long, slow breath, letting it out in a huff. “I’d believeworse of her with less evidence. Her books always had too much body horror for feminist retellings. Where’s your low-rent Hemsworth stand-in? Why isn’t he here to back you up?”
Kate looked away. “We had a… misunderstanding.”
Juliette snorted. “See, this is why I only fuck guys I don’t like. Then when I have to cut them off, I never feel bad about it. You need backup?”
Kate looked at her in surprise. “Are you offering it?”
“I’ll search Marla’s room,” Juliette said. “Since you are clearly no Loretta when it comes to real-life investigations. This doesn’t make us friends.”
“And here I was, ready to give you half a heart necklace that saysBe Fri,” Kate said dryly. “If you find her, don’t do anything until I can talk to her.”
“You know I won’t promise that,” Juliette said grimly.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
They gathered all the wedding guests they could muster—at least, the soberest ones they could find—and combed the house from top to bottom with no luck finding Marla. The worst of the storm seemed to be passing, the rain little more than a misting as they directed their search to the grounds surrounding the Manor. Kate still hadn’t seen Jake, and she tried not to worry about where he might be and whether or not he might be safe. He was the freaking Wandering Australian; he’d weathered far worse than a tropical storm in a decrepit manor house, right? Of course, that meant he was just avoiding her, which didn’t feel much better.
Kate was so caught up with trying to decide whether or not she was mad or worried or madandworried that she missed the first crash down at the boathouse. But she didn’t miss the sharp curse that followed, turning her attention to the washed-out remnants of the trail leading to the dock. Debris littered the hill, driftwood shoved into the mud and the occasional dead fish that Kate avoided looking at too closely. She never imagined the water had made it that high; how close they had been to disaster.
The door to the boathouse was slightly open as Kate approached, something heavy bumping around followed by a more emphatic curse. Kate stepped inside the dim and moldy building, scrunching up her noseas she looked for the source of the sound. A particularly inventive curse came from her left, and she turned half-blindly toward it.
“Marla?” she said into the dimness.
The vague shape of a woman straightened with a start, eyes gleaming like a raccoon. “Satan’s ass cheeks, Valentine, don’t sneak up on a person like that!”
“What are you doing here?” Kate asked. She could just make out the racks of boats, and a long object Marla was currently wrestling with that looked an awful lot like a canoe.
“I am…” Marla looked around, as if just realizing where she was. “Getting a boat.”
“Why?” Kate asked, bewildered.
“Because the yacht is damaged, and there’s no other way off this godforsaken island, apparently. So I’m gonna row to shore!”
“It’s eighty miles to the mainland,” Kate reasoned. “You can’t canoe across eighty miles.”
“Well, I’m sure as fuck gonna try!” Marla said with a hysterical bark of a laugh. “I saw that bitch Winters breaking into my room just now, and I sure as hell am not sticking around for whatever witch hunt you and Loretta have planned.”
“Marla,” Kate said, uneasy with the tension vibrating off her friend. “What did you do?”
“Is this where I make my big villain reveal speech like the destitute cousin in your first book, huh? I mean, never mind that all of Loretta’s evidence was circumstantial and she wasn’t an actual cop and couldn’t do anything to him, he just gave up the ghost as soon as she put the screws to him! Like he was impressed that she’d figured out his plan when he was the actual mastermind who came up with it! Is that what I should do, Valentine? Spill my guts to you because I’m so impressed that you figured it out?”
“Okay, well,” Kate muttered, “kind of feels like that’s not what you want to do—”
“No, that’s not what I want to do!” Marla snapped, shoving her hands into her hair. “I just need to think.”
“Marla,” Kate said, hesitant. “Juliette is going to find the documents from the historical society that prove you were the inspector Rebecca invited for the weekend.”
“That doesn’t prove anything,” Marla said, waving dismissively. “It’s circumstantial.”