THE SUBJECT OF MALICE

by Cynthia Kuhn

  Now it was Candace’s turn to gape. “But we decided—”

  “That’s enough,” Richmond warned her. “We’re done talking about this.”

  Simone and Selene glowed at Richmond from across the table.

  Candace snapped her mouth shut and shoved her mashed potatoes around her plate angrily with her fork so hard that we heard the china scratch.

  Luckily, the servers swept our plates out of reach soon afterwards. They made one more rotation, depositing dessert plates in front of us, upon which rested miniature chocolate cakes with a skull and crossbones design on top, garnished with berries. I could hear attendees snapping pictures. Social media would be flooded with images of the delectable offering within minutes.

  We all dug in eagerly—except the twins, who were faced away from the table, whispering about something. They reached an agreement just about the same time as we had licked the last bit of delicious frosting from our forks.

  “No need to continue this discussion. We’re going to take our book to another publisher,” Selene informed us.

  Simone didn’t make eye contact with anyone.

  “It just makes more sense,” Selene said. “There shouldn’t be so much drama involved.”

  Funny, since they were the ones who stirred up the drama in the first place. The drama would certainly follow them wherever they went.

  “Honey,” Beckett said, “That seems a tad hasty. Why don’t you think about it for a while?”

  Selene, regal as a queen, fluttered her fingers. “We have made our decision.”

  Beckett spoke haltingly. “Wouldn’t it be strange, though—your husband continuing to publish with them after you leave?”

  “Not at all, my love,” Selene assured him. “Because it’s our choice to leave. You do whatever you like.”

  This was so illogical. Richmond had just shut down the termination of their contract. There was no reason to do this other than to serve some misguided sense of revenge for having been questioned.

  “We will leave our proposal in the running for the award,” Selene added. “That only seems fair, given what you’ve put us through.”

  What the publisher had put them through? They sure turned that around quickly. I wondered if they really believed themselves to have been wronged or if they were simply crafty that way.

  Richmond’s face reddened as he glowered at her. “This is unacceptable.”

  Selene shrugged. “It’s done.”

  “How very ungrateful.” He stood, threw his napkin down on the table, and walked away, shaking his head.

  Simone’s body language said that she was not on board for whatever her sister’s plan was.

  Perhaps Selene knew that the book was likely to be rejected and was being proactive to avoid that. Maybe she simply couldn’t handle being rejected.

  Still, it was a mess.

  Selene smoothed the tablecloth. “I’m relieved, actually. Now I can focus on the wedding full time.”

  “That’s right, you’re getting married soon.” Candace smiled at Beckett. She was more relaxed—practically jubilant, in fact—now that the Raleighs had withdrawn their book. “Congratulations.”

  “Thank you,” he said, “I’m the luckiest guy in the world.” He threw an arm around Selene and planted a loud kiss on her cheek.

  She looked down at her hands and emitted a small shriek. “Becks! My ring is gone!”

  The twins jumped up and began looking. As Selene and Simone fluttered about, Beckett repeated what Selene had told us at the after-party—the ring was an heirloom, an irreplaceable one at that. He went over to Acadia, who was sitting nearby, and whispered in her ear. When he returned, I overheard him tell Selene that he’d offered to donate a hefty amount toward next year’s conference if Acadia could ensure that the ring was found.

  Soon, Acadia was onstage with Selene, who described the ring in detail, asking everyone to check near their chairs and tables. People complied with enthusiasm, even crawling on hands and knees to search. Eventually, Acadia took to the microphone again. “Could we please ask you to go back to the hotel and cover the floors and surfaces there? We’ll reconvene for the award portion of the evening in an hour.”

  A raucous cheer rose up from across the room. Someone had just decided to spend that hour in the hotel bar, I bet.

  “I’ll go to the lobby,” Simone said. “To supervise the search.” She paused and touched Beckett on the arm. “I’m so sorry about this.”

  “Thank you,” he said, giving her an affectionate look.

  Selene and Acadia stayed onstage, directing the efforts of the crowd.

  I remembered the photo from the book that I snapped earlier and pulled out my cell phone. I showed it to Beckett. “Maybe a visual will help—isn’t this her ring?”

  He stared at it suspiciously. “Why do you have a picture of Selene’s ring in your phone?”

  It did seem odd, now that the ring was missing. I hurried to explain. “It’s from the book.”

  “What book?” His forehead was all scrunched up in his confusion.

  “The one about Flynn—”

  “This picture is of his desk?” He stared out over the crowd, processing. Then his face went slack, and he roared Flynn’s name. “That bastard!”

  His response seemed much bigger than the situation warranted until I watched him stomp over to Selene and confront her. I couldn’t hear what was said, but the narrative was clear, even from where I stood. She shook her head vigorously as he flailed his arms around, but, eventually, she looked down and nodded. He took a step backwards, then stumbled over to a nearby chair, where he put his head in his hands. She followed and bent down to speak, but after a few minutes, he waved her away. She ran through the front doors and out into the night.

  Poor Beckett.

  His shoulders were shaking as he cried. I slipped into the chair next to him and tentatively patted his back. “Can I get you anything?”

  He dragged himself upright and wiped at his eyes. I offered him a clean napkin roll from the table. He shook the silverware out of it and dabbed his face. After a forceful sniff, he looked at me. “I can’t believe it. That man took everything else from me. Now she tells me that they had a little fling once?”

  “That’s what she said?”

  “Yes. It happened years ago. Short-lived. Over.” Unlikely, judging from the way Selene had skulked out of Flynn’s hotel room with a colossal case of bedhead.

  “But once is enough.” He stared across the room. “She was the love of my life.”

  “I’m sorry, Beckett.”

  He accepted this with a soft bob of his head. “Here’s the kicker. You know the books he wrote? The ones that made him millions and ensured him fans forever all over the globe? That could have been me too.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The basic concept was our idea.”

  “It was?”

  “Yeah. In grad school, Flynn and I’d had a few beers one day, and we came with the general premise for the series. Joking around. Broad strokes. Then I suggested we actually write the books together someday.” He twisted the napkin. “At first, he made fun of me, but when I confessed that I was serious, he said they were too genre. Sounded horrified. Told me I should focus on my own Great American Novel instead. I tried that and failed. Meanwhile, he wrote the series without me.” He made a fist and hit the table.

  I jumped.

  “I don’t know why I ever listened to him.” His whole body wilted. “I thought he was my friend.”

  “Did you ever talk to him about it?”

  “No. I mean, what was there to say?”

  “Exactly what you just told me, that it was your concept too.”

  “But he’s the person who wrote the books. He did all the hard work. I didn’t feel like I had a right to complain. After all, I’
d only been there for the initial spark. Plus, I knew Flynn. He revised history in his head. Once he’d convinced himself of something, you couldn’t persuade him otherwise. For him, I was no longer part of the Powell Block genesis story.”

  I nodded. “Was it hard to be colleagues, considering all that?”

  “Yes. Especially since I was compelled to write literary criticism about his novels, even though I knew it was self-sabotage.” Beckett sighed. “And, as if that weren’t enough, did you know that he put us in the books as characters? I’m Ascot Fallingsworth, the absurd sidekick to Powell Block’s clear-sighted hero. The punchline of every joke. Powell, as I think we both can easily see, is Flynn.”

  “Oh. No, I didn’t realize that. Though Ascot is beloved in his own right—”

  “For being delusional, though. He denies the existence of monsters again and again, despite all the evidence to the contrary.”

  I didn’t want to point out that Flynn may have been on to something there, judging from what I’d seen of Beckett and Selene’s relationship.

  “Everyone loves cheering on Powell and laughing at Ascot.” He threw down the napkin. “And obviously Serena Lovington is Selene.”

  “The romantic interest.”

  “Yes. I thought his depiction of her was admiration. Wishful thinking. But, as it turns out, it wasn’t. And now I know that he didn’t mind broadcasting his feelings for her to the world despite what it meant for me. While he mocked me as a sidekick at the same time.”

  “That’s—”

  “Horrible. I know. Flynn was a horrible person.” Beckett let out a deep breath. “A monster, turns out. I always thought that I was the horrible one, because I was so jealous of my friend’s success. But he wasn’t my friend. And I don’t have to admire him anymore.” He reached a hand out and touched my forearm. “You’re a good listener, Lila. Thank you. I had to tell someone. It’s been eating me alive.”

  “You didn’t talk to Selene about any of this?”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “Why not?”

  His face fell. “She already thinks she’s settling, marrying me. That she could have done better.”

  “She told you that?”

  “Not in so many words. But it’s clear. I don’t know why she didn’t break up with me and just go for it. Him. Whatever.”

  “Beckett, sounds like Selene didn’t love him.”

  “I doubt I could ever measure up to the glorious Dr. McMaster in her eyes. But it’s kind of you to say.” He brushed his hair off to the left. “I understand that all of this looks bad, as if Flynn sleeping with my fiancée wasn’t enough motive to kill him. But Lila, I didn’t. I swear. You believe me, don’t you?”

  “Mind if I join?” I glanced up to see Lex standing next to us. Something inside of me constricted.

  “I was just leaving, actually.” I pushed back my chair.

  “Please stay,” he said, softly.

  I ignored him. “Beckett, will you please tell the detective everything you told me? It may turn out to be important.”

  Beckett nodded miserably, and I walked away.

  Chapter 18

  Back in the hotel lobby, it was mayhem. People were crawling around scrutinizing floor tiles, slithering under benches, shoving their hands into the fountain, moving potted plants, and generally getting in each other’s ways. I went out onto the dark terrace, which had been cleared off in readiness for the next portion of the Gala—they were moving us out of the Red Barn Event Hall for the “Dance Beneath the Stars.” The rustic metal lanterns on poles along the sides had not yet been illuminated, so I switched on my cell phone flashlight and swept the ground from side to side, looking for the ring. When I’d almost covered the whole area, my beam landed on a pair of white lace-up boots.

  “Hello, Lila.”

  I raised the light to see Simone’s face with parallel trails of smeared mascara on her cheeks. She put one hand up to block the brightness and sniffled into a tissue with the other. Her eyes were unfocused.

  I turned off my phone. “Are you okay?”

  “No,” she said. “I’m not. I don’t know what to do.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  She downed the last bit of champagne from a slim flute and rested it on the iron railing. “I’m talking about Selene.” She was slurring her words. “You heard all that at dinner, so you know what’s going on. And you’re the one who found her stupid empty notebook in the first place.”

  “I did, but I don’t know what it means.”

  “Of course you don’t. No one does. But I’m going to tell you.” She kicked the ground with her heel. “What it means is this: Selene has a history of troubles. I’ve helped her as much as I can. We’ve always been able to keep it private before. But it’s out in the open this time, and she doesn’t even seem to care!”

  “What kind of troubles?”

  Simone spun her neck lanyard, causing her badge to flip backwards and forwards. “Concentrating. Behaving. Making choices. Controlling herself. Telling the truth.”

  The last thing—at the very least—seemed to run in the family.

  “It’s one reason my parents wanted her in Stonedale. I was supposed to keep an eye on her. But you got the job, so instead she ended up far away with none of us there to help her.”

  I didn’t say anything. The lanterns along the sides began to glow, emitting a soft white light. Someone inside must have taken pity on us and turned them on.

  “In the past, I’ve been able to do the work. Cover for her.”

  “In what ways?”

  Simone flicked her slim wrist outward. “In all the ways. But this time, she made it impossible. Both the book and the chapter we were co-writing are dead in the water.”

  “Did you know Selene hadn’t written anything?” I asked, as gently as I could. No sense in pretending I hadn’t figured out what had happened.

  “No!” Simone fiddled with her lanyard again. “She kept saying that it was coming along nicely. Her plan was that we’d slip away on Saturday, she’d give me the manuscript to read, and we’d have a long talk about it in person.”

  “But then they scheduled the awards panel on Saturday.”

  “Yes. Still, she said we’d go to a little bistro afterwards, where I could read it.”

  “But then she fainted instead at the end of our panel.”

  Simone laughed bitterly. “So convenient, no?”

  Even Simone thought her sister had faked it.

  She picked up the glass and peered at the empty bottom, then set it gently back down. “You know, Lila, during this time, I could have been finishing my own book. I wrote the proposal. I wrote the sample chapters. We were accepted based on the strength of my writing on Brontë. Yet I ended up without a contract. All because Selene dragged me down with her. And it’s not the first time. She has been a burden to me her whole life!” She put her hand over her heart and looked down. “I’ve never admitted that aloud before. I can’t believe I said that.”

  “I’m so sorry,” I said. “Anything I can do?”

  She lifted her head to meet my eyes. “Find me another champagne?”

  “How about some coffee instead?”

  Simone shook her head. “No. I need to forget all of this. And I need to speak to Beckett.”

  “Why?”

  She drew herself up and spoke deliberately. “He was my fiancé first. Mine. I never would have treated him this way. She’s gone too far.”

  I flashed back to our first year at Stonedale, the way I’d noticed a diamond on Simone’s hand catch the light at a mentoring meeting, and gasped. No wonder Selene’s ring seemed familiar. “It’s the same ring?”

  “Yes, and I loved that ring, Lila. Cherished it. She treats it like it’s a costume piece. So careless.” Her eyes narrowed. “Selene tricked him, you know.
She pretended to be me and slept with him one winter break. Then she told him she was pregnant. He broke up with me and proposed to her out of a sense of duty. He’s an honorable man. Then she told him she lost the baby, but...”

  “There was no baby,” I guessed.

  “Correct.”

  “He stayed with her?”

  “He feels protective of her.” She swiped at her eyes again. “I literally threw myself at him during the square dance—right into his arms—to remind him of what we had. But there’s no chance for us. He loves her now.”

  I thought back to seeing Selene embrace Beckett while we were busy promenading. Only it hadn’t been Selene. It had been Simone.

  Now the argument that had immediately followed made sense.

  And I was surprised about Simone’s behavior. I hadn’t figured her for the kind of woman who would try and steal her sister’s fiancé.

  Well, steal him back.

  Did that make it better? It was all very complicated.

  “She’s always acted this way,” Simone went on. “My parents explained to me at a young age that I shouldn’t blame her, that she can’t help it. It’s just how she’s made, is how they put it. I had to be the strong one and look out for her, they said.”

  Wow. A lifetime of not only having to look the other way but also feeling responsible for your twin’s bad behavior?

  “And they made it clear that I’d need to take care of her. No matter what.”

  Make that responsible for her, period. That must have been so difficult.

  “I am furious with her and...and...my whole family.”

  “What can I do to help?”

  “Nothing,” she said. “Except please keep this between us. I shouldn’t have said anything. It’s just...I cannot carry this around anymore. Not for one more minute.”

  I remembered with a jolt that Selene had made Simone her maid of honor. Talk about cruel. I wondered if Simone still truly loved Beckett.

  Or if Selene even loved him at all.

  Beckett didn’t think so.