It’s Tuesday. Another episode ofMurders & Manuscriptswill be ready to air on Thursday, and this time, the only victim will be fictional. Right? So why can’t I shake this ominous feeling?
Before I can even scan the room properly, there’s a sudden shift in the atmosphere. Heads turn. Chairs squeak. And then… applause.Loud, enthusiastic clapping fills the air, startling me so much I almost trip over my own feet. Everyone is looking at me, their faces lit up with joy. My pulse quickens. What the hell is going on?
“Scarlett, you absolute badass!” Sarah calls out, clapping so hard I fear she might injure herself.
“You’re a legend, Scarlett,” Damien chimes in. “Willowbrook owes you everything!”
I blink, heat creeping up my neck.
“Uh, thanks.” I give an awkward wave, my cheeks burning, and I’m fairly certain my face matches the shade of the office’s fire extinguisher. “What, um… what are you talking about?”
“You caught the Lit Killer.That’swhat we’re talking about.”
“What—who—”
She holds out a copy of theWhistle, and once I grab it, I see my picture plastered on the front page.
Son of a bitch.
The headline reads, “Local Hero Scarlett Moore Brings Justice to Willowbrook.” Beneath it, there’s a picture of me, and the article goes on to detail how I “single-handedly” uncovered Vanessa’s web of lies and deceit, connecting her to the string of murders that had haunted the town for weeks.
Son of a bitch!
“What about Rafael?” I ask, looking up at Sarah as if she had any part in this. “Why don’t they mention him?”
“Uhhh…”
“He—he did much more than me. HesavedVanessa. He figured out she was the killer, and—” I stop, realizing I’m causing a scene. Did the police not mention him at all?
He’s the hero, and once again, he gets none of the credit?
This is bullshit.
“Sorry, I should…” I shuffle farther into the room, then knock on Celeste’s door, and she invites me in. She’s beaming from behind her desk. Her black bob is razor-sharp, not a strand out of place, and her small glasses sit perfectly on her nose, accentuated by a bold swipe of red lipstick. The moment she sees me, she jumps up, arms wide like she’s about to hand me an Oscar.
“Scarlett!” she shouts, her voice so full of cheer it nearly bounces off the walls. “The woman of the hour! You’re amazing. Incredible. The podcaster-slash-detective who solved not one, not two, not three, butfourmurders? Who does that?”
“Well, it was technically onlyonekiller,” I say as she wraps me in a hug. It’s one of those overly enthusiastic, bone-jarring hugs, and I let my arms dangle awkwardly at my sides, like they’re confused about how to participate.
When she finally lets go, I straighten my shirt. “And besides, it wasn’t me. It was Rafael. I mean, solving mysteries is literally his job.”
Celeste waves her hand, brushing off my words like they’re a stray piece of lint. “Please. Rafael didn’t turn this podcast into asensation.Youdid! If you think our numbers were impressive last week, you’ll be pleasantly surprised today. We’re everywhere—headlines, social media, the freakingnews. I even got an email from some guy wanting to turn your story into a movie. Can you believe that?”
I laugh weakly, more out of politeness than anything. “A movie. Wow, that’s… something.” I wonder if Rafael’s character would make it past casting. “But, uh, speaking of the podcast… Theo sent me a text about the next episode ofPassion & Pagesbeing pulled? Was there an issue with the script?”
“The script was flawless, like everything else you do. But…” She waves her manicured hand. “I have somemonumentalnews.”
More monumental than a potential movie deal?
“We’ve attracted someseriousattention,” she announces, leaning forward with her hands on her desk. “Big names. Investors, sponsors, people with actual money. This is our moment, Scarlett, and I’ve decided to capitalize on it.”
I blink, waiting for her to elaborate.
“I’m hiring someone for the romance podcast!” she says, as though she’s handing me a golden ticket, sitting back down and lightly spinning in her chair.
“Oh.” The word comes out flat. “Does… does that mean I’m back to part-time?”
Celeste laughs, loud and bright, like I’ve just told the funniest joke. “Oh, Scarlett, no. Absolutely not. You’re the face ofMurders & Manuscripts. Or, well, the voice. The podcaster who solved the murders—people can’t get enough of you. Which is why I want to double the weekly episodes. Twice the content, twice the buzz. Full-time. All murder, all the time.”
