Across the room, glasses rose.
As I toasted the former owner of the pageant, I thought about these guests, the contestants, the judges, and the staff. Were any of them likely to know the property as well as the Finches? Would any of them have a stronger motive to kill Mr. Finch and poison Mrs. Finch than his very own daughter, the one person eventually set to inherit all of this? And was anyone else paying as much attention to Savilla as her father’s dearest friend, Dr. Bellingham?
Still, even with signs pointing to the two of them as the culprits, I couldn’t help but wonder why she would need to involve DeeDee in any of this. Why would Savilla plant a crown in Aunt DeeDee’s room? Why place Polaroids in my bed? Whyaccuse my aunt of killing her father and Miss 2001? As far as I could tell, Savilla Finch had no reason to involve my aunt—or me—in any of this.
But someone else might. A grudge that had turned into something stronger, perhaps.
My head turned to Dr. Bellingham. He’d been around a long time—since 1999, when he’d been a judge for three years. That stint had culminated with the disappearance of Miss 2001, and he had only recently returned, two decades later. Could he be the missing link between a winner vanishing in 2001 and the systematic takedown of the elder Finches in the past two days?
My eyes trailed back to Jemma and Summer, both of whom were focused on Savilla in her blood-red gown.
My cheeks heated as I watched Dr. Bellingham’s eyes rove across her body.Couldthey be working together? Or, if he was working alone, might Savilla Finch, for reasons I had yet to discover, be his next victim?
TWENTY-SEVEN
Momma always said that the best way to handle a problem was usually the most direct way. This was when I’d just gotten my license, and the boy I liked—and who happened to be a year older than me—was sending me mixed signals, flirting with me in physics one minute and ignoring me by lunchtime.
“You should ask him out,” Momma advised as the two of us sat at the kitchen table while Aunt DeeDee whipped cream to top the blackberry dumplings. Momma’s suggestion didn’t surprise me because she herself had casually dated a couple of men who worked at the hospital. Nothing serious ever came of it, but she had a nice time.
Aunt DeeDee’s mouth set in a thin line.
“What is it, Dee? You disagree?” Momma asked.
“I think it’s the young man’s duty to ask her out, that’s all,” Aunt DeeDee answered as she finished whisking her arm frantically around the bowl and pulling up creamy peaks.
“But why do I need to wait around for him?” I asked as she handed me the whisk and let me lick the sweetness from the spoon, as she’d always done.
At this, Aunt DeeDee threw Momma a look to say that she hadn’t wanted to be involved in this conversation in thefirst place. Then she sighed and tugged at her apron strings. I expected her to say something trite like,Because it’s the proper thing to do.
Instead, she surprised me by saying, “Because, men really aren’t worth all the fuss, so I’d rather let them put forth the most effort.”
Momma and I couldn’t argue with that line of thinking, and the three of us had enjoyed our pinto beans and cornbread followed by blackberry goodness.
I thought of this advice now as I watched Dr. Bellingham with Savilla. This man was easily in his mid-fifties, so Savilla, at twenty-eight, was about half his age. He’d been good friends with her father, he had a plastic surgery practice in New York—that much I knew. Savilla was his patient, and they were close enough that she’d even inscribed a pill case for him. But, no, with the way he studied her, the way he watched her every movement—this was something else, a kind of intensity and focus as if his eye was on a prize to be won. Before tonight, he’d flitted from flower to flower, albeit wanting to adjust their petals. Now, he seemed eager to hang about Savilla like a lovelorn bee.
Money had to be part of what he was after. He may or may not have known about the insurance policy Savilla had taken out on her father, but it was no secret that if both Mr. and Mrs. Finch died, Savilla would be next to inherit.
I studied the man, seeing him in this new light: the glint of his gold cufflinks, the trim suit, the Rolex on his wrist. He already had money, but it wouldn’t surprise me if he wanted more.
As I ate my seasoned chicken and wondered what Mrs. Finch would think of Dr. Bellingham’s interest in her stepdaughter, I spotted Katie monitoring the two of them. Every time he leaned in to better hear Savilla’s laugh, Katie touched his arm or tuggedat his sleeve, drawing him back into her orbit and distracting him from her former charge. Good Nanny.
That’s why I wasn’t as surprised as I might’ve been when I turned to see Dr. Bellingham walking out with Katie Gilman on his arm. Savilla remained seated, chatting with another contestant.
I caught Summer’s and Jemma’s eyes, asking a silent question of my two sister-contestants. They gave me a quick nod and I stood to follow Katie and Dr. Bellingham. Within a minute, one by one, Summer and Jemma followed suit.
We made our way out the door as the pair of judges headed into the garden, but a man’s voice kept us from trailing them.
“Pardon me. Excuse me. Ma’am, I must insist you stop immediately.”
I paused and spun around to see the guard who’d handed me the box of pearls earlier that evening. Jemma yanked the earrings from her lobes, and Summer pulled off the emerald bracelet, handing them over.
“I really need to—” I glanced back in the direction of the judges, who were heading toward the maze.
“Please, ma’am.” The guard’s tone was tinged with a threat, so I hurried over, unwound the strand of pearls from my neck, and practically threw them at the man.
“One moment, please,” he said as he located the original box, took the necklace from me, and inspected it with a loupe.
I tapped my foot impatiently.
