“The shag factory,” Sooz offered, her face a marble mask of shock.
“Would that be the kind of place that Rosie and Noel might go when they got together?”
“That’s what it was for. Shagging. Trysts. Yes.”
“So we have a connection. A girl dies in the river. Rosie and Noel are out back near the river. Rosie sees something that night, something she says she can’t understand. On the day you left for Merryweather, there’s an article in the paper saying Samantha had been found and it printed her picture. According to the statements, you were in Cambridge most of that day—you left late, around eight o’clock at night. Which means there was plenty of time that day for Rosie to see the paper. And she did. And Rosie suddenly knows what she saw. She tries to tell Angela about it when they get to Merryweather, but there’s no time. And then Rosie and Noel go out into the storm and never come back. This is the part where you all enter the story. You were witnesses to what came next. You know that Angela said the lock was off the woodshed that night. She said she saw it off the door. She told you, right?”
This was to Theo, who nodded.
“I thought she was drunk, upset about the lie we had to tell.”
“She was probably both of those things,” Stevie replied. “But she was right. When she went by that woodshed, someone was inside, killing one of her friends.”
She let this settle on the group. It was not a calming kind of thing to say, not up at a great height, locked up and alone. But that was part of what Stevie needed to do.
“Some things all look the same,” she said. “Like keys, right? Maybe you notice a key ring, but who notices a key? My friend was just saying that as we checked out of student housing. No one pays attention to them. When you realize that, the whole thing begins to make a lot more sense. When you arrived at Merryweather, you unlocked the door. Maybe you set the keys down when you came in? Even for a minute or two? It wouldn’t have to be much time.”
“I suppose,” Sebastian said. “That’s normally what happens with keys. I know I had them before the game started.”
“You definitely had some keys before the game started,” Stevie said. “Because everyone saw you put them down your pants. Those were not your keys. You took those . . .”
She finally looked at Peter again. His expression had not changed.
“You met Rosie at the woodshed,” she said. “You unlocked the door and barred it from the inside. The police report makes it clear that Rosie and Noel died one at a time—Rosie first. Is that when you found out about Noel? You buried her. You broke the light. Is that because you couldn’t look at what you’d done, or because you didn’t want Noel to see her body when he came in next?”
Nothing from Peter. Stevie pressed on.
“Maybe it was both,” she said, shrugging. “At some point, though, Angela comes by. Angela sees the lock off the door. Angela was primed to know something was wrong. Rosie just told her so.”
Now she was getting to the part that would be most difficult for them to hear.
“Rosie and Noel were both dead by the time the power went out and you all returned to the house,” she went on. “I know this because that is when you gave Sebastian his keys back. You probably just planned on slipping them into his pocket or something, but this story of him crawling across the floor to the cabinet keeps coming up. He kept trying to get it open, and it wouldn’t open—until, of course, you got on the floor with him. You opened the cabinet because you had the keys. You handed Sebastian his keys right in front of everyone. You didn’t need them anymore. But you had one more thing to do. The stage had to be set. It had to look like a robbery. You said you were sick, and you went upstairs. When the coast was clear, you slipped back down, went outside—there’s only about a thousand doors, so this couldn’t have been too hard—and you broke open the shed. You pulled out a wheelbarrow and a bucket. You did one more thing, for good measure—you walked around toward the sitting room and you flashed a light. Sooz saw it.”
Sooz got up and started circling the pod, looking over at Peter. Yash had retreated into himself. Theo looked reflective, like she was running through the case in her head, checking Stevie’s math. Julian concentrated on his hands, stretching out his fingers. Only Sebastian looked directly at Peter, considered him fully.
“It probably would have worked,” Stevie said. “It did work. You knew that woodshed was filled with weed. The police would immediately think that someone had come to steal it. If anyone got in trouble, it was going to be Sebastian. But then, something happens. Theo steps in to make sure that Sebastian is safe. Everyone takes part in getting rid of the plants. Your friends were helping you disrupt the scene, helping you bake in all the lies about that night. Lying sucks. It’s so lonely. Did that make you feel better, having everyone in on a lie? Not just you?”
This was the one and only time that night that Stevie saw a flicker of something pass Peter’s face.
“So,” Stevie said. “That was the end of it. Except . . . Angela saw the lock off the door. She lied to the police about it, but she couldn’t get it out of her mind. Angela knew something was wrong about that night. She wanted to know what it was Rosie wanted to tell her. I know what it’s like when you can’t solve something. It takes over your mind. She used her skills as a researcher and she got records and reports. She couldn’t tell the rest of you what she was doing, because she had no idea who to trust. She kept her investigation hidden from everyone, but then she had to get an operation, and she’s given painkillers. The painkillers made her loopy. On the night she vanished, we had dinner with her. Everything was fine until Izzy mentioned what Angela said while she was on the painkillers. Everything changed in a second. She suddenly had to get back to work and asked us all to call it a night. What happens once we leave the house? She’s upset. She knows her thoughts are out there in the world—she’s said them out loud. Her fears are real. She knows something is wrong, and now her niece has brought some weird American student detective . . .”
She indicated herself.
“。 . . to her house. So maybe this thing is going to blow up. She can’t take it anymore. She gets out her phone and starts to text her friends. And now we’re back to the button and Angela going out the door.”
Finally, after all that, Peter stirred. He straightened up, cracking his back accidentally, and looked at Stevie.
“Did you just say all that because you think keys look alike?” Peter said. “Because you just told all my best friends that I killed three of our friends, and you are basing this on the fact that keys look alike. I’m not entirely comfortable continuing this. We came here to have a memorial, and this—”
“Oh no,” Stevie cut him off calmly. She felt better now that he was talking. She liked having something to work with. Silence was freaky. “There was one more thing. Angela’s purse. Julian showed me the list of what they found in it. Here, I’ll read it to you.”
She had the photo ready to go on her phone, which didn’t want to wake up right away and made her do facial recognition three times.