Hmmm… this didn’t seem like the kind of list that a boutique owner would need to make. It looked much more like a to-do list for a man in Mr. Finch’s position.
The garbage bag was filled with torn pieces of yellow paper. I bent and picked them up, placing the bin on the counter and removing the pieces on top, flattening them against the edge of the sink. The pages had been ripped and discarded, but I was able to see which edges fit where.
I made quick time to assemble them into the proper order until a message emerged.
I regret what I did to Miss 2001. I’m only getting what I deserve from the one who took her crown. To the real jewels…
Oh my God. I’d heard these words before. Out of Savilla’s mouth as she’d read her father’s letter to the entire ballroom. Except this letter was unfinished, and around the edges were half-formed words repeated in various iterations:regretwith a loopyganddeservewith a swoopingd. As if someone had been practicing to get the look of the words just right.
I pulled out the next piece of paper and the next, arranging them to find the messages not quite as finished, the letters around the edges repeated again and again.
I held up one of the strips beside the to-do list, comparing the handwriting. The script wasn’t an exact match, but it was close enough. Close enough to fool me from a distance. But close enough to fool Savilla and Glenda Finch up close? I wasn’t sure.
Katie Gilman had written these letters, using Mr. Finch’s handwritten to-do list to get his handwriting just right.
I tore the list from the wall and grabbed the strips of paper, throwing them inside Dr. Bellingham’s bag and tucking it under my arm. This, along with the Polaroid photos, was the proof I needed that Katie had been involved in the entire plot—or at least as close as I could get.
As I turned to leave, I spotted something on the ground. Beneath the edge of the door was a golden high heel with rhinestones running across nearly every inch of the fabric. This was the other half of the pair that Jemma, Summer, and I had found in the tunnel last night, the heels that Savilla had stolen fromMommy’s closet.I could hear her saying the words on my first day here.
Mommy.Savilla Finch knew her mother was Katie Gilman, and she’d been wearing the woman’s very gold, very suspicious heels.
The other shoe was about to drop.
THIRTY-EIGHT
I spotted the sheriff in the Color Gallery and ran up to him.
“Nice swimsuit,” he said as he glanced at me appreciatively.
“I made it myself out of duct tape and super glue,” I quipped. “I only have a minute, but I need to show you something.”
He glanced back and forth and then led me behind a glass case and through a door that was visible, but just barely. We stood inside a small room with a cabinet filled with dishes and drink supplies.
“A butler’s pantry,” he explained. “According to the blueprints, there are two more of these on the first floor.” He pointed to the objects I’d brought with me. “What’s all that?”
“I found them in Katie Gilman’s room,” I said, as I spread everything out in front of him like a sacrifice, explaining as I went.
When I finished, he pulled out his walkie-talkie and requested the presence of two of his officers before he began snapping photos of the evidence.
“Good work,” Charlie finally said, his hazel eyes fixed on mine. I was fairly certain that he wanted to thank me properly, but that would have to wait.
I hurried to change back into my ballgown, and as I followed the other ladies onto the stage for the announcement of the Centennial Queen, I thought about Katie holding up the ring—likely her ring—and allowing the sheriff to take it as evidence against my aunt. I pictured Katie lifting her glass at the Gilded Age dinner, toasting to justice. I imagined her studying Mr. Finch’s writing. I could practically see her getting rid of evidence at the back of the property. My pulse sped and my muscles tensed as I considered the magnitude of deceit that this woman had employed to fool us all.
“After difficult deliberation among the judges,” Aunt DeeDee began, as she stood center stage, “we have our top three contestants in this year’s Rose Palace Pageant.”
Light applause. My heart beat a steady rhythm that began to increase.
“These women embody the core principles of the pageant,” my aunt continued. “Confidence, comportment, and conversation—and they look great in their costumes. Each of the three women I’m about to ask to step forward will take home one of the top prizes in tonight’s contest.”
Applause again. My mouth went dry.
“Now, ladies, please step forward when I call your name.”
All of us fanned out across the stage as music blasted through the speakers, and I tried to keep the humming in my chest at bay. A teary-eyed Summer stood with her hands clenched, and Jemma’s expression seemed almost hopeful. While they thought about their prospects, my attention was split between anticipation of potentially winning and wondering how the next few minutes would play out.
The music swelled and two staff members dressed in black made a show of rolling a locked, clear box onto the stage.
Aunt DeeDee took the key from them and opened it. “Now for the moment we’ve been awaiting all evening.” She reached ahand into the box. “Inside these envelopes are the names of the women who have stolen the hearts of the judges—and of all of you, no doubt.”
