Steven gestured with his head toward the reeds. “Want to come see my yacht?”
“Do you say that to all the girls?” Aster giggled. She suddenly felt reckless and stupid, and she didn’t give a shit, the way she’d felt in Paris after doing a line of coke. She reached for Steven’s hand and took it, following him toward the beach as if she was doing nothing wrong. She heard someone gasp and faltered for a moment. Poppy stood frozen, a drink in hand, looking at Aster with a guarded expression. But then Aster thought of everything her father had done, and found that she didn’t care anymore, not even if Poppy judged her.
Her heart pounded as she followed Steven to the beach. Yes, she decided, she would hook up with hot, older Steven Barnett, even though it was hideously inappropriate—maybe because it was hideously inappropriate. Her father and Danielle weren’t the only ones who could do whatever they wanted and get away with it.
Now, in Elizabeth’s office, Aster shut her eyes, trying to find her center. “We can cut the crap,” she said. “We both know what this is about.”
“By all means,” Elizabeth said. “Enlighten me.”
“The night with Steven.” Aster stared at her. “You know that he and I—”
Elizabeth leaned back, suddenly cold and assessing. She didn’t look surprised.
“I’m sorry, okay? It wasn’t about Steven, if that helps. It was more about pissing off my dad, and—”
“Jesus Christ. Stop.”
Aster looked up. There was a strange smile on Elizabeth’s face. “You think I care about that? You were one of many, my dear. And those were just the ones I knew about, the people around town.”
Aster stared at the floor, not knowing what to say. “Oh, um . . .”
“To be honest, I’m glad my husband is dead. Your cousin did us all a favor.”
Aster looked up. “Wait. What?”
Elizabeth cocked her head. “Your cousin Poppy did us a favor by killing Steven.”
Aster blinked hard. “Excuse me?” Did she just say Poppy killed Steven? Aster burst out laughing. “That’s crazy.”
Elizabeth looked amused. “You didn’t know?”
Aster ran her tongue over her teeth. “Steven Barnett drank too much and drowned.”
“Oh, that’s what the papers said. But I saw that crazy bitch standing over my husband on your family’s marina the night of that party. He was most definitely dead . . . and she was the only one there.”
“What?” Aster said slowly. Elizabeth just stared back at her, her expression grave. She meant what she was saying, Aster could tell.
But it couldn’t be true. Aster grappled to remember that night. Steven had taken her down to the beach, where they’d undressed. She’d remained on the sand for a long time after he left, staring at the stars. Where had Poppy been during that time? Following Steven to his yacht? Killing him?
Aster blinked at her boss. “Did you tell anyone else about this?”
Elizabeth shook her head. “I’m the only one who knows, darling. I don’t think your cousin went around telling people. And I’m sure if anyone in your family knew, they kept it a tight secret—the way you Saybrooks do.” She chuckled nastily.
“Did you ask Poppy about it?”
Elizabeth snorted. “Poppy and I weren’t exactly friends. But like I said, Poppy did me a favor. I’m glad he’s gone.”
Aster swept her arm around the room. “Then why do you still have your wedding picture up?” Something didn’t add up here. A horrible thought struck her, and she scooted back from Elizabeth, suddenly terrified. “Did you kill Poppy?” she whispered. “Out of revenge?”
Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “No, Magnum, P.I. I was in Los Angeles that morning. And I’m not a murderer.” She pointed to the wedding photograph. “I keep it as an homage, I suppose. Steven was an asshole, but I loved him once. And I love that I inherited everything.”
Aster felt out of breath. “Okay. Okay. If what you said is true, why haven’t you said anything to the police?”
“Jesus, you are slow.” Elizabeth grabbed a pack of Parliaments from inside a desk drawer and shook out a cigarette. “I already told you I’m glad he’s gone. I just wanted it over.”
Her words sent a shiver down Aster’s spine. “It sounds more like you might have killed Steven, not Poppy.”
Elizabeth chuckled. “I wish. What your cousin did was brilliant, really—I would never have thought to just push him in the water and make it look like a drowning.” Her eyes sparkled. “My schemes were always a bit more . . . graphic.”
Aster stared out the window at the Hudson far below. “B-but why would Poppy kill Steven?” Poppy had just been promoted, after all. She’d met James that summer; not long after the party, they’d become engaged. She had so much to live for . . . and so much to lose.
Elizabeth took a long drag and blew a smoke ring. “Perhaps you aren’t the only one in the family with secrets, my dear Aster.”
“So you’re saying Poppy was covering something up?”