Beach Thriller(57)
She pictured herself seated by the fire, glass of wine in hand, Conrad beside her. Her face flushed.
“It’s perfect,” she said softly. “A cottage by the ocean? I can’t believe no one uses it.”
Conrad’s eyes didn’t leave her. “I’m enjoying it now.” His voice was low. “You’re glowing—it’s like you belong here.”
He stepped forward. She smelled spicy notes of cinnamon on his skin, mixed with the freshness of lemons. Anna felt she should move back, but she always did what was expected of her.
“Why did you take this job?” Conrad asked.
“I need money for school,” Anna answered nervously, looking away.
He touched her arm, encouraging her to meet his gaze. “Is that the only reason?” His words came out in a pleading whisper.
Anna was never much of a liar. “Maybe because of the way you’re looking at me right now,” she said.
The air grew tense. She felt a pull of gravity dragging her where she shouldn’t go. Maybe, just this once, she could break the rules.
Now she met his gaze, unwavering.
He leaned in slowly, his warm lips brushing hers, and she melted into his embrace.
Chapter 31
Jade
I’m grateful Holly is letting me stay. I should be able to relax, to let my guard down.
But I know better. Good things never last; opening up leads to hurt, and trust equals pain.
Holly and I have come to an understanding: I’ll pitch in with the groceries, split the housework, and I can help with Beach Thriller—sort of.
When I told Holly my plan to investigate the Carmichaels’ connection to Anna’s death, I got serious pushback.
“It’s too risky. Too dangerous,” she said. “Fine if you want to make money cleaning Maeve’s closets, but don’t go looking for skeletons. Any writing blocks I have, I’ll overcome them on my own. Is that understood, Jade? This is non-negotiable.”
What she offered instead was a shit deal to be her first reader. Talk about getting the consolation prize. Here I am, thinking I can help her write the blockbuster of the summer—and essentially, she’s tying my hands behind my back. No sleuthing, no writing, nothing glamorous at all. I’m like a furry sidekick in a cozy mystery. Chester has a bigger role than I do. But I’ll show her. Since when have I followed the rules? I’ll figure the whole thing out, and she’ll thank me all the way to the bank.
I don’t think Holly realizes how valuable I am. I’m at the scene of the crime every day. Or alleged crime—it’s hard to tell fact from fiction, and Holly’s explanation raised more questions than answers.
“We were both working as caterers at the Barefoot Beach Ball, which happened to be Conrad’s engagement party that year. That’s where Anna met Conrad. There was a spark—a big one—and it only grew. Back then, I was a young writer looking for a story, and a classic love triangle fell into my lap. I figured it would be easier to write if I used the characters’ real names, but I never intended for anyone to read it that way. I included some secrets my sister told me.
“Anyway, I thought the book was building toward a mystery where the Carmichaels were up to no good, and my protagonist, Anna, would get in over her head. But then real tragedy struck.”
“What happened to her? How—how did she die?” Tough question, but I had to ask.
“Depends on who you talk to,” said Holly, who thought she was going to leave it at that, but my stare demanded otherwise.
“No one knows. Maybe it was a gas leak that started the fire that killed her,” she said. “All I know is that Anna went to break up with Conrad, and she was inside the guesthouse on the Carmichaels’ property when it exploded.”
The ruins. My skin turns clammy. What a horrible way to die. It’s right up there with being attacked by a wild animal.
“But Jade, please remember I was writing a fictional story based on some real events. I never imagined there would be an actual death, let alone my sister’s. What I do know is that Elizabeth hated my sister, Maeve falsely accused her of stealing and fired her, Baxter was a total creep, and Conrad risked losing everything if his affair came to light. Plus, his ego was probably bruised from being dumped. I don’t trust anyone in that family, and I believe someone at Miramar is responsible for Anna’s death. But either way, after the fire, I couldn’t keep writing the story. It was too much.”
Holly may not have all the answers, but I’m determined to help her find them. Then again, this family won’t be easy to crack. Maeve is more closed off than the tower I’m banned from entering. And I’ve already caught glimpses of Conrad’s dark side—not to mention his weird hang-ups about sunrise and sunset.
Do his secrets have something to do with the tragedy Beach Thriller is “loosely” based on? Could there have been a cover-up within the Carmichael clan? If so, the only logical explanation would be that Anna’s death was, in fact, a homicide.
Something tells me I should start by searching the tower—the one place Conrad has forbidden me to go. I form the start of a plan. Gripping the key ring in my pocket, I stroll through downtown Beauport, acting like a girl without a care in the world.
I don’t have to be at work until noon, so I take my time poking into every jewelry shop on the strip. I can’t find a store that sells my necklace, but the stubborn girl in me can’t stop checking. Maybe the inventory turns over? Maybe the salesclerk got it wrong. Maybe. Maybe. Maybe.