THE SUBJECT OF MALICE

by Cynthia Kuhn

  “Selene?” Lex asked, quietly.

  “Yes,” she hissed, her face contorted.

  “Why?”

  “Because she gets everything she wants!” Candace yelled. “And someone had to put an end to it!”

  “I hear you.” Lex put both of his palms up. “Let’s slow things down.”

  “I was aiming for her. But then Selene bent down and I hit him instead. I couldn’t stop the swing. Is he okay? He’s not dead, is he?” She bit her lip.

  “I don’t know anything yet.”

  She dropped her arms and leaned forward. “You should really check into Selene. She’s the one who killed Flynn.”

  Lex froze. “Why would she kill him?”

  “Because she was sleeping with him.” She lifted her chin. “I found her ring in Flynn’s room.”

  “What were you doing there?”

  “Talking to him. He was in love with her.”

  So far, she was repeating what she’d told us at dinner. But I knew that wasn’t true. I hadn’t had a chance to tell Lex yet. On the way over, he’d been on the phone with the chief. When I’d tried to tell him my idea just now, he’d hurried me along.

  “Just check that shovel,” Candace said. “You’ll find her fingerprints all over it.”

  Lex cut his eyes to the other detective, who took over asking questions, and left the room.

  The door to our room opened.

  “She brought up the shovel,” he said, slapping the folder down on the table behind us. “We didn’t publicize the murder weapon.”

  “The people on the tour saw it,” I pointed out. “It could have gotten back to her a million different ways. I don’t think that was much of a secret.”

  He thought about this.

  “I bet you won’t find Selene’s fingerprints all over it. Candace is just trying to throw Selene under the bus. But I do have an idea about something you could ask her.”

  Lex paused. “Tell me.”

  “Here’s my theory: Candace was having an affair with Flynn.”

  “Flynn who was having an affair with Selene?”

  “Yes.”

  “Wait.” He crossed his arms and stroked his chin as he processed the information. “You’re saying that Flynn was having affairs with both Candace and Selene.”

  I nodded vigorously. “I think Ellis found out and threatened to tell her husband. She said that their families vacationed together, right? So it could follow that the husbands were close friends.”

  “With you so far,” Lex said. “Go on.”

  “But then Candace realized that Flynn was sleeping with Selene too, when she found the engagement ring. I don’t think she knew about it until this weekend. And not only did Candace realize that he was cheating on her with Selene, but that he loved Selene. Not her.”

  “Why do you think he loved Selene?”

  “Because that’s what Candace reported at dinner. She used Flynn’s words to try and break up Beckett and Selene. But that wasn’t all she wanted to accomplish. She’d already killed Flynn—and she wanted Selene dead too. She wanted revenge on the woman who stole her lover.”

  “You found all that out at dinner?”

  “Never let it be said that conference banquets are boring.”

  “Why wouldn’t she wait until later?”

  “I don’t know. She snapped?”

  “I see. Why did you go backstage?”

  “She had become absolutely enraged at dinner, and when I saw her following the twins, I had a feeling she was going to do something awful.”

  “Do you have any evidence?” Lex asked.

  “I’m sure everyone at the table can back up what was said at dinner. And Selene had emailed Candace’s husband Robert and told him she was cheating with Ellis. I overheard Candace reassuring him on the phone that the rumor wasn’t true.”

  “Selene didn’t know it was Flynn that Candace was involved with?” Chief Cortez asked.

  “No, she thought it was Ellis. So Candace could go on loudly and truthfully proclaiming that it was false, because they said the wrong person’s name.”

  “How did you figure this out?” Lex said, tilting his head.

  “Overhearing the phone call was the last piece of the puzzle. After dinner, I was thinking over everything that had happened and it all came together in a rush...like when you’re writing a literature paper.”

  “Um...we don’t do that.” Lex said. “Write literature papers.”

  “But you do gather evidence and see how it fits together.”

  “Yes, we do.”

  “It’s basically the same thing.”

  The detective and the chief conferred with a glance. An almost imperceptible dip of the head granted Lex permission to return to the other room. It was fascinating to watch them make a decision without ever saying a word.

  Lex skillfully asked more questions. At first, she denied having an affair with Flynn, but the more he stressed the logic of the connections, the less she tried to refute facts.

  Finally, she looked at him wearily and said, “I’ve made a mess of things, haven’t I?”

  “Those words are haunting me,” I said to Lex as he drove back to the Tattered Star Ranch. “‘I’ve made a mess of things.’ She certainly has. Two lives ended. Maybe three—have you heard anything about Richmond?”

  “Right before we left, Marcie handed me a message. They’re keeping him for observation overnight. They’ve stitched up his wound, but his skull is—miraculously—not broken. Not even cracked. Your grabbing onto Candace’s legs probably saved him.”

  I closed my eyes and sent up thanks. “Thank goodness. Will he be okay in the long run?”

  “The test results suggest he will recover quickly.”

  “Can he have visitors?”

  “Meredith is there, but I think we should let Richmond sleep.” He glanced at the dashboard. “It’s almost two a.m. We’ll find out more in the morning and make sure he’s taken care of.”

  “Sounds good.”

  Minutes later, we parked the car in the lot and went upstairs. I collapsed on the bed in my clothes and was asleep before he turned out the light.

  So much for my vision of dancing beneath the stars.

  But knowing the murderer was in custody made up for it.

  Chapter 21

  On Sunday morning, Lex, Calista, Nate, and I shared a table in the hotel restaurant.

  “The Path’s End is a perfect name,” I murmured. Everything seemed so peaceful now: the fountain burbling merrily in the background, the sun streaming in through the windows, my friends around the table.

  “Can’t believe we made it through this conference,” Calista agreed.

  Lex and I exchanged glances.

  “I meant that we’d reached the end of the case,” I clarified. “But conference works too.”

  She looked at me, surprised. “What happened? Who did it?”

  Lex walked them through what had transpired at the police station.

  Calista smiled. “Lila solves another case! That’s amazing. Maybe detective work is your true calling.”

  “No. Lex is the authentic detective. I’m just a helper,” I said, leaning against him slightly. Then I straightened up. It felt strange to snuggle with Lex in front of Nate all of a sudden.

  But Nate didn’t blink an eye. “You get folks to open up to you, for one thing, and you’re also good at figuring out people’s secrets.” He waved his fork in a circle. “And we already established that you’ve got a gift for finding bodies.”

  “Don’t say that, please.” I shivered.

  He continued undeterred. “Those are all special skills that would come in handy if you decided to take up law enforcement.”

  “True,” Calista said. “And just think: there wouldn’t be stacks of papers
always waiting to be graded in police work.”

  “There’s plenty of other paperwork.” Lex lifted his mug and winked at me. “Oh, and speaking of paper, that note you pinched, with the handwriting sample? It was a match. Candace did write it. Good tip, Lila. Even though it broke every rule of evidence we have.”

  “You can teach me the rest. And then we could open our own agency. You up for it? Big sign that says Archer and Maclean on the door?”

  “I’m up for it.” He took a sip of coffee and waggled an imaginary cigar. “You’ve got the goods, Professor.”

  “That would be a great name for a television show,” Calista said, sliding into dramatic voiceover mode. “Next week, on Archer and Maclean: the case of the cursed conference!”

  “And like any good television show, there was no shortage of suspects,” Nate said.

  “So many scholars behaving badly,” Calista agreed. “Higher than usual amount of malicious intent around here this weekend, wouldn’t you say?”

  We were commenting on the truth of that when I registered movement in my peripheral vision. Simone Raleigh was in the doorway of the restaurant, beckoning me over.

  “Excuse me,” I said.

  “Where are you going?” Calista pointed to my plate. “You didn’t even make a dent in your fruit and yogurt.”

  As I stood, I slid my eyes sideways to point toward Simone without being obvious about it.

  Calista turned to look, then gave a little wave to our colleague. So much for not being obvious. “What’s going on?” she asked out of the corner of her mouth.

  “No idea.” I pushed my chair in and told everyone I’d be back soon.

  By the time I reached the lobby, Simone was tapping her foot, but she smiled. “Lila, I owe you an apology.”

  I was stunned.

  She clasped her hands. “What you said last night—well, it gave me pause. Maybe I haven’t been fair to you. Maybe I misjudged you. Maybe I need to try harder.”

  I wasn’t sure what all those maybes were doing in there, but I didn’t want to interrupt her flow. “That’s very—”

  “And most of all, I need to know that I can absolutely rely on your discretion about what I told you on the terrace. I should never have carried on about private family business. And I can guarantee that the help my sister needs will be provided to her.”

  Ah, now I understood. She wasn’t apologizing with any amount of sincerity—she hadn’t actually said “I’m sorry” at all in there, I realized. She was simply trying to keep me quiet. Too little, too late.

  “I understand what you’re saying, Simone.”

  She scanned my face and recognized that no additional assurances would be forthcoming. “I appreciate that.”

  Selene marched across the lobby toward us. Her salmon-colored jacket was nothing like Simone’s teal one—and instead of high heels, she was wearing mules.

  “Hello, Lila,” she said, looking down her nose at me before sweeping past with her suitcase.

  She didn’t even acknowledge her sister.

  Who didn’t acknowledge her either.

  The twins appeared to be at war.

  If scientists could have figured out a way to bottle the antagonism between sisters at that moment, they could have powered entire cities with it for centuries.

  “Is there anything else?” I asked Simone, who was glaring after her sibling.

  “No, thank you,” she said tightly.

  As I turned to go, I thought I saw disappointment on her face. It probably surprised me even more than it did her when I heard myself blurt out an invitation to join us.

  Her face lit up. “Really?”

  I nodded.

  She had just bit her lip, deciding, when Beckett walked up. We exchanged greetings and he asked Simone if she could spare a few moments to chat.

  She began to glow.

  “Excuse me, Lila,” she said to me. “Beckett and I need to speak. Rain check?”

  “Rain check,” I said.

  Simone threaded her arm through Beckett’s in a possessive manner and they strolled off together.

  That whole relationship was very complicated in theory, I knew, but it didn’t look so complicated right now.

  As I crossed the lobby on my way back to the restaurant, someone tapped me on the shoulder. I turned to find Sunny at my elbow, bouncing on her heels. She had a big bow on the back of her head like an oversized doll and was once again dressed in yellow to match her name, as she’d explained was her habit to the tour group during some point on our ill-fated march through the property.

  “This is for you,” she said, thrusting a wad of cloth toward me. “Courtesy of Tattered Star Ranch Tours.”

  I accepted the lump of white fabric. “What is it?”

  She giggled and covered her mouth, removing her fingers long enough to squeak, “Read it!”

  I shook it out and held up a t-shirt that said I Got Freezer Burn at the Ranch.

  Although Sunny was still consumed by mirth, she managed to unpeel her fingers from her heavily frosted lips. “Don’t you adore it?”

  “Um—thank you.”

  “These shirts were my idea.” She informed me that anyone who got locked in the freezer received one of these and that they were highly prized, even considered collector’s items by movie fans. “They trade them online. In forums and such.”

  “But if the t-shirts are collector’s items, doesn’t that encourage people to lock themselves in the freezer on purpose?” I wondered aloud.

  She stopped bouncing and drew her over-plucked eyebrows together. “I never thought about that before.” After a moment, she brightened and shooed the issue away with both hands. “That’s a problem for another day. Enjoy your shirt and come visit us again soon.” I took that as my cue to leave, thanked her again, and returned to my friends.

  At the table, I shoved the shirt into my bag—no need to relive the whole freezer ordeal right now. Especially since Candace had confessed to that too. The way she’d described it to Lex, she had been racing through the woods after “taking care of Flynn”—her euphemism—when she saw me at the edge of the freezer through the open slaughterhouse door. She’d hoped that veering a few steps off the path to administer a swift shove would be enough to lock me inside where no one would find me, thereby putting an end to what she called my “incessant questioning.”

  Whatever.

  I had just taken a bite of yogurt when Meredith approached us, out of breath. “Sorry, I had to run over because I didn’t know if you were done eating. And I definitely didn’t want to miss you.”

  I made sure everyone had been introduced, invited her to join us, and asked about Richmond.

  “He’s doing well—thank you for asking. We’re going to stay in Colorado for a while before we fly back so that he can rest, but he’s not feeling up to having visitors, I’m afraid.”

  “We understand. Please give him our best. And if you’re interested in getting together next week, we’ll be here. We’d love to take you out for dinner or something.”

  “I’ll tell him. In fact, I come on his behalf.”

  She put her glasses on top of her head and rooted around in her shoulder bag, then handed me a tan manila envelope. “Please open it.”

  I slid my thumb along the flap and pulled out a sheet of paper with a border of gold. I skimmed the words, and as I realized what I was reading, I put my hand over my mouth and raised my head, locking eyes with Meredith.

  “What?” Lex looked back and forth between us.

  “This says—no! Is it true, Meredith?”

  She nodded, smiling.

  “This says I won the New Voices Prize!”

  “Congratulations,” Lex said, clapping so loudly that the diners at nearby tables peered at us curiously.

  “But I thought Richmond wanted to giv
e it to the Raleighs.”

  “He did at first,” Meredith said, “but that was outrageous and he knew it. Both Candace and I thought you had the best proposal, and once we presented our arguments to him, he agreed.”

  Calista grabbed my hands. “I knew you would win.”

  “I didn’t know!” I gasped. “I never even imagined it.”

  “So proud of you, cousin.”

  “It had to be unanimous,” Meredith informed us. “Not an easy feat.”

  “Thank you. Please thank the press too. I’m so grateful.”

  Lex smiled. “You won fair and square, Professor.”

  I just sat there, clutching the certificate.

  “Well, show it to me already.” He stretched his hand across the table, reviewed it, and gave me a wink. “Well done.”

  He passed it to Nate, who congratulated me and handed it to my cousin.

  “I’m so glad you’re happy, Lila.” Meredith said. “Sorry you didn’t get to cross the stage and have it announced in front of everyone. In all the madness last night, nothing was given out. All the winners in the various categories are being notified by email. Not quite the same thing.”

  “I don’t care about that. This is a genuine thrill.”

  “If Lila won, why was Selene onstage last night?” Calista asked Meredith.

  My editor smiled. “Oh, Selene wasn’t up there as a winner. She was going to thank everyone for looking for her ring before Richmond took over the microphone.” Something flickered across Meredith’s face, causing her pleasant expression to fade. Her sense of unease reached me before her words did. “But Lila, could we please talk somewhere privately?”

  This wasn’t going to be good.

  “I trust everyone here,” I said, gesturing around the table. “You can speak freely.”

  “I’m sorry to have to tell you this. Especially right now. But while you are indeed the winner of the award, we’re not going to publish your book after all.”

  Calista gasped.

  Meredith looked stricken. “Oh, that came out wrong. Let me try again. It’s not just your book. We’re not going to be publishing anyone’s books. The press is closing.”