Page 61 of The Unknown

If clothes are found in the tree, the person who wore them is gone.

“There has to be a logical reason for all of this,” Violet says. “Did Susie have another costume just like that one?”

“No,” Ronan says. “Only one. Like the rest of you.”

Violet looks my way. “Marin, you were in her cottage. Did anything look out of place?”

“I’m not sure,” I say. “I’d never been inside before.”

“Well, let’s all go look,” Violet says, taking charge with an unfussy efficiency that makes me realize she’d be amazing in a mystery series. A reboot ofMurder, She Wrote, perhaps. Or maybe playing a faded movie star who now solves murders on various film sets.

Inside Susie’s cottage, nothing looks amiss. Sure, it’s messy, with non-period clothes strewn everywhere, but not crime scene messy. The only thing slightly suspicious is a Fendi satchel on the bed, sitting wide open next to her discarded nightgown, as if someone had been rooting through it. Thinking robbery, I pick it up and dump its contents onto the bed. Susie’s wallet is still there. As are a flashlight and a lithium battery for a device that notably isn’t present.

“Does anyone know what this could be for?” I say, pointing to the battery sitting among a compact, a tube of lipstick, and Susie’s vape.

“No idea,” Heather says. “But Susie wouldn’t leave without her wallet or vape.”

“No one said she left,” Julianne says.

Heather gives her a look. “No, but we’re all thinking it.”

“Did anyone see Susie this morning?” Violet says as she edges back outside, pausing on the cottage’s porch.

I certainly didn’t, and according to the others, they hadn’t, either.

“What about last night? Who was the last person to see her?”

I look to Ronan, wondering if he’ll admit that he’d gone to Susie’s cottage, how casually she’d opened the door, how he hesitated just a moment before slipping inside. When he doesn’t, I’m left with no choice but to do it for him.

“Ronan was,” I say, unable to meet his gaze. Although I’m not accusing him of anything, I know those words make it sound like I am, the unspoken allegation hidden in the space between them.

“Is that true?” Violet says, turning to Ronan.

“I don’t know if I was thelastperson to see her,” he says. “But, yes, I was here at her cottage last night.”

“What time was this?” Heather asks.

“I don’t know. A little after eleven, I think.”

“Why?” I say, the question itself an insinuation. There are very few reasons for a director to visit an actress at that hour. No good ones, at least.

Ronan looks at me, hurt. Like I’ve betrayed him somehow. I could say the same thing about him. “She slipped a note under my door asking me to come see her,” he says.

“Which you did,” Julianne says, making it clear just how imbalanced the conversation has become. Four against one. “What happened?”

“We talked a little bit,” Ronan says, hedging. “Then I left.”

“What did you talk about?” Violet again, resuming her role as leader.

“The movie.”

“Why did you leave?”

“Because it got uncomfortable.” Ronan again reaches for his neckerchief. “Igot uncomfortable. It turned sexual. At least it felt that way to me. So I left.”

Heather gives him a look, hands on her hips. “Just so we’re clear. You’re saying this was Susie’s doing? That she initiated a conversation that madeyouuncomfortable?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”