They gave Spencer a moment to take in this news. He circled the room a few times and stared at Murray twitching on the floor.

“You know what really kills me?” he finally said. “No pun intended? It’s that I could have done that scene. I’m really good at getting beaten to death. It’s what people really want to see. It would make people like me.”

And that’s when it hit her—a flicker of remembrance first. Spencer working on the airline safety audition. A dozen ways to die.

“You can still die,” she said.

Both Mrs. Amberson and Spencer turned to look at her.

“What are you talking about?” he asked.

“Do it yourself.”

“What?” Spencer said.

“I’m saying…” As the idea took shape, Scarlett became more animated. “I’m saying you don’t need the show to stage his death. You just do it, in public, like you did before…but bigger. You got yourself attacked in public. You jumped into a cake. What’s a death? A million ways to die, remember? Like the tie? Get yourself beat to death in public. I mean…stage it. People already know the character is going to die. So just do it.”

At this point, Scarlett was losing her grip on her thought. Mrs. Amberson leaned forward out of her seat.

“Go on, O’Hara,” she said. “Keep talking. Don’t stop.”

“Getting people there, to wherever we do it, is no problem,” Scarlett said, hurrying over to the computer and opening the Spies of New York page and pointing at the corner. “They have a box for tips. They would not ignore this. It would end up everywhere. Kill him big, in public, where everyone can see.”

Spencer was looking away from them, but his eyes were flicking from side to side, like he was watching something in his mind.

“I’d have to die painfully,” he said.

“Very painfully,” Scarlett said.

“Painful is easy. I’m good at painful.”

“A location,” Mrs. Amberson said, standing up. “We’ll need the right staging area.”

“I’d need a partner, too,” Spencer said. “Someone good.”

Scarlett paused for a moment, then the answer became instantly clear. It caused her only the slightest pang to say it.

“Eric,” she said.

Spencer looked up and nodded immediately.

“I need Eric,” he said. “He could do it.”

Once again, Scarlett was mildly aware of setting something in motion that she probably didn’t mean to—but maybe, she wondered, that’s what life really was. Making stupid plans and having to carry them out.

THE DEATH OF SPENCER MARTIN

They posted it exactly as Scarlett wrote it:

A SPIES OF NEW YORK EXCLUSIVE: