Page 115 of Without a Clue

Perhaps Ricky is tricking me now; perhaps there is some way he has counterfeited all of this. Perhaps he’s just trying to convince me the suspect is someone else; either way, I find myself carefully putting the envelope in the inside pocket of my navy blazer.

Because the fact is, I know this handwriting.

I know this seal.

It’s Hugh’s through and through.

“Why didn’t you come show me sooner?” I say.

“I have never moved, Pip,” Ricky says lowly. “I was always waiting . . . for you.”

Creepy.

As I pull Nash out to the hall and shut the door behind me, as one shuts a tomb, there is silence on the other side.

The hallway is full of warmth, the golden sconces lighting the cheerful carpet and the lively faces of passersby. Instantly lighter.

“How was it?” Nash says.

“It was just as you’d expect. Thoroughly creepy.” I give a half-hearted laugh but find myself wrapping my arms tighter around me, the edges of the envelope poking my ribs in secret.

Secrets.

I find it hard to look at Nash.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Nash says and puts an arm lightly to my back. It jump-starts me, a little too much, I realize.

“Sorry,” I say. “I think this whole place is starting to get to me. I might go up and get some fresh air.” I make the mistake of casting a look at Nash and feel a fresh chill run through my body. “And maybe some tea.”

“He really did get to you, didn’t he? What did he say?”

I shrug. “The same thing they all say. ‘I’m nothing like you expected and absolutely capable of murder.’ I just . . . I think I need to sit down privately and work through everything. Sort it out in my mind.”

He casts me a puzzled look.

Calm down, Pip. You’ve got to chill out.

“If you don’t mind, though,” I say, “could you run to get me some tea? I like the kind they keep at the tea bar in the Magnolia room. It’s the loose-leaf cinnamon.”

To be fair, it’s the really good kind.

A cup of that actually does sound good.

I mean, as long as he doesn’t poison me along the way.

There’s an instant pounding in my temples at the thought that dared enter my head.

Oh my GOSH. Pull it TOGETHER.

This is Nash we are talking about.

The man who volunteers in hurricane relief with horses.

The man who stays up with you to watch the stars.

Cling to that reminder.

Cling to that fact.