Over the years, Natalie Ratcliff and Victoria Ford had developed a routine. Victoria wrote the first draft of each manuscript and sent it off to Natalie, who reworked the story, picking out the flaws and inconsistencies. This many years later they both knew Peg Perugo equally well. But they each knew her differently. The advantage Victoria held from having originally created the affable character more than twenty-five years earlier was matched by Natalie’s understanding of how to mold Peg Perugo’s character for maximum commercial appeal. Together, they had developed a smooth back and forth that, while never fully escaping disagreement, always avoided argument. Until this year. Until the sixteenth Peg Perugo novel. This time there were deep disparities on how they each thought the plot should be structured. E-mailing their opinions and attempting to work through the problems from thousands of miles away had only added fuel to the fire, so Natalie arranged a trip to Santorini to sort out the details.
Victoria and Natalie sat in the splendid Ratcliff-owned villa on the tiny island of Santorini. They had spent the week reading and rereading the manuscript, tweaking and reworking the story in an attempt to find common ground on which they could both agree. Natalie had fought hard to convince Victoria that they should stick with the formula that had produced fifteen best sellers and had sold a hundred million copies. Victoria, on the other hand, wanted to go in a different direction. A darker, edgier direction that had been absent from all the previous Peg Perugo stories.
Natalie had noticed this change to Victoria’s writing since summer. An edge to Victoria’s writing that didn’t match the voice from the previous decade and a half of work. They wrote hard-boiled mysteries, not dark thrillers. And they had been spectacularly successful at it. Their readers expected a certain genre, and using their beloved protagonist in such a dark way would not be well received. But no matter how many times Natalie pointed this out, Victoria refused to listen. She simply came back with darker ideas still.
Natalie was sitting on the veranda of the villa and reading the latest version of the manuscript Victoria had produced. Victoria walked out and popped the cork to a bottle of Dom Pérignon. The Aegean Sea was in front of them, and the air was chilly. It seemed to Natalie to fill Victoria with vigor. More than that, actually. Natalie sensed defiance in the way Victoria carried the bottle of champagne and filled their glasses.
“Well?” Victoria asked. “What do you think? Is it our best yet?”
Natalie felt a strange shiver climb up her spine. There was something in the way Victoria asked the question that made Natalie hesitant to voice her true opinion. Still, she tried one last time.
“Vic, this is not what our readers want from us. It’s not what they want from Peg Perugo.”
Victoria handed Natalie a champagne flute filled to the brim.
“Why do you say that? It’s okay if Peg gets an investigation wrong. It will build her character in future books.”
“Sure,” Natalie said. “It’s just that . . . the way it happens. I’m not sure we should go in that direction.”
“Of course we should,” Victoria retorted. “It’s the only way Peg Perugo could be fooled. It goes hand in hand with the title I’ve come up with.”
Victoria reached over and touched her glass to Natalie’s.
“Besides, it’s too late to change things now. I’ve already sent the manuscript to New York.”
Another chill ran through Natalie’s body when Victoria smiled at her. It felt like Victoria was daring her to protest. Something told her not to, so she didn’t. Instead, Natalie lifted the champagne and smiled back at her friend.
CHAPTER 80
Santa Monica, CA Saturday, April 16, 2022
WALT HAD NOT MADE THE FORMAL MOVE FROM JAMAICA TO CALIFORNIA, but it was inevitable. He visited more and more often, to the point that Avery had given him a key to her place. She was getting used to the Friday afternoons that she came home from the studio to find a rental car in the driveway and Walt making dinner in her kitchen, a glass of wine waiting for her. After spending most of his life on the East Coast, Walt pledged never to spend another winter anywhere the temperature dipped below fifty degrees. He rather enjoyed, he told her over the last year, bouncing between the Caribbean and Southern California.
He was staying for a week this visit, and they were taking advantage of rare downtime Avery had before she would be busy recording the last few episodes of her second full season as host of American Events. After this weekend, they wouldn’t see each other again until Avery headed to Jamaica in July to spend a month during her summer break from AE. She hadn’t seen Christopher since the previous October and was anxious to hear about his adventures at sea. Walt had provided updates over the months, reporting back to Avery every time Christopher returned to Jamaica to restock supplies. Claire-Voyance II was proving to be as formidable a vessel as Avery had predicted, and Christopher was enjoying his new life as Aaron Holland.
Avery and Walt returned home from a late dinner. Walt turned on the Yankees game. They were playing the A’s and they had made it home for the ninth inning. Avery poured them each a glass of wine and, while Walt became engrossed in the game, she returned to the book she was reading—the latest Peg Perugo novel, which was proving to be as unputdownable as all the others she had read over the last few months. This one, though, had her on edge in a way the other books in the series hadn’t. It was darker than the previous ones, and more intense. She was lost in the pages.
The Yankees game ended. Walt clicked off the television.
“I’m heading to bed,” he said.
“I’ll be up in a little while,” Avery said. “I just have another couple of chapters.”
Walt kissed her and disappeared up the stairs. Avery reached for her glass of wine before returning to the pages. As her eyes skimmed through the final chapters, time seemed to stop and the pages flew past with no effort at all. The ending materialized and Avery anticipated the twist as she read. It would be the first time in Peg Perugo’s storied career that she got a homicide investigation wrong. It would be the first time the loveable character got duped. The way it happened brought goose bumps to Avery’s skin. It was clever and cunning, and the only way for the endearing heroine to be fooled. Not even Peg Perugo would suspect that the killer planted her own blood at the crime scene to lead detectives in the wrong direction.
Avery’s mind spun as she read the final page. Finally, she closed the book and looked up at the blank television where the Yankees game had been playing a few minutes earlier. Then she turned the book over and looked at the cover. The wineglass dropped from her hand and shattered on the floor when she reread the title with a new understanding of what it all meant.
The Perfect Murder
A Peg Perugo novel