Engaged in Murder (Perfect Proposals Mystery) (19 page)

“Got her, boss.” A stocky sandy-haired man stepped out of the shadows.

“No!” I said and zigzagged past him, cutting up the tree line back toward my car. My phone was inside old blue. If I could get in and lock the doors . . .

I grabbed the door handle as Jeb reached out and slammed his hand on the door. Struggling, I couldn’t get past the weight of him against the door. If I got out of this alive, I was going to add weight lifting to my new workout routine.

“You can’t kill me.” I turned and faced him. “Everyone will know it was you.”

“Who will know?” He raised an eyebrow. “Brian? He works for me. Laura? No, Laura won’t talk. She has too much to lose.”

“Warren will figure it out.”

Jeb laughed. “That man can’t even prove his own innocence—there is no way he’d prove my guilt. There is no one to link me to you. Besides.” His eyes gleamed with hatred. “I have a nice tidy stash of cash. Once your case goes cold, I plan on getting all I can from Laura and hitting the road.”

“Felicity knows where I am,” I blurted out as my phone rang inside the car. “Plus I have my phone GPS on. They will track me here and you will get caught.”

“It’s a chance I’m willing to take,” Jeb said. He grabbed my arm and dragged me away from my car.

Kicking and screaming and biting, I didn’t make it easy for him. He cuffed me upside the head and I saw stars. “Tie her up,” he ordered Brian as he handed me off to the fair-haired man. Brian was not much taller than me but he was solidly built. His hands were like iron grips on my arms as he pushed me to the ground and made quick work of tying my hands behind my back.

Having never been tied up before, I can tell you it wasn’t what I’d expected. The rope rubbed my wrists raw. The knot was impossible to get to. He grabbed my arm and lifted me to my feet.

“Put her in your trunk,” Jeb said. “We’ll take her to the quarry.”

“You going to kill her first?” Brian’s eyes sparked.

“No, then we’d have cadaver dogs poking around your car. She’s going to go in nice and alive. We’ll kill her when we get to the quarry and toss her over the side.”

“Sounds good!”

“No!” I shouted and Jeb hit me again. This time hard enough for my teeth to rattle. I might have bitten my tongue because I heard a crunch. I fell to the ground like deadweight. If they were going to take me away, then they’d have to really lug me. I made myself as unmovable as possible.

“I think you killed her,” I heard Brian say.

“Naw, she’s still breathing. Pick her up and put her in your trunk.”

“Damn, she’s heavy.” Brian tried to lift me and couldn’t. It was hard not to complain when he dropped me. I had to clench my teeth to keep from uttering a sound.

“She can’t be that heavy; look how skinny she is.”

“So now you’re insulting my strength. I’ll have you know I can bench a hundred and thirty.”

“Then you can lift a stupid girl.”

“This girl is a lot heavier than a hundred and thirty.”

“Hey.” I sat up, offended. “I only weigh a hundred and twenty pounds. That’s skinny for five feet eight inches.”

“Shit, she’s awake.” Brian jumped back, startled by my outburst.

“Good. Now she can climb into the trunk herself.” Jeb reached down and grabbed me by the arm.

“No.” I dropped. He had a hold of my arm and it kept me from hitting the dirt. Brian grabbed my other arm and together they dragged me to the car. I went kicking and screaming.

“Get in the trunk.”

“No.”

“Put her in the trunk.”

“I can’t . . . she’s kicking.” I bit Brian when he reached down to yank me up. “Ow!” He jumped back. “This chick is too much work. Kill her already. I’ll douse the car with bleach.”

“Fine.” Jeb took a small container out of his pocket. He unzipped it and pulled out a syringe. “A little too much insulin and she’ll be out for life.”

“Hold it right there!” Officer Vandall walked around the corner of a tree with his gun raised. “Police. Put your hands up.”

I don’t know about you, but when a man with a gun tells me to put my hands up, I generally obey. The problem was that this time my hands were tied behind me. “Oh, thank goodness,” I said and showed my tied hands. “These two tried to kill me.”

“Oh, hell,” Brian said. “I’m not taking the fall for this.” He dropped his hands and took off running.

“Stop!” Officer Vandall wavered. It was enough to make Jeb split off and run in another direction.

I sat with my hands tied behind me, but up as far as I could hold them, which wasn’t very far considering the position I was in. The officer said something foul under his breath and took off after Jeb.

“Stop! Police!” Officer O’Riley had his gun pointed at me.

“My hands are up,” I said. “You might want to go apprehend someone who’s not already tied up.” I pointed toward Brian. It was Officer O’Riley’s turn to curse. He took off in the direction Brian ran.

I sat for a whole three breaths waiting to see if any other policemen came out of the bushes. When no one did, I wiggled my bum and feet through my arms so that my hands were now in front of me. Can I say, thank goodness for yoga class? I stood and walked toward old blue. The police had things in hand, right? No need to run if I didn’t have to.

Pop, pop, pop went gunfire in the distance. It had to be one of the officers. I mean, I’m pretty sure neither Jeb nor Brian had a gun on him. On second thought, I wasn’t going to stick around and find out.

My heart beat picked up, pounding loudly in my chest. I ran. Digging the keys out of my pocket wasn’t as hard as I thought it might be. I jumped into old blue, locked the doors, and started my car up. Driving was tough with your hands tied together, but I was getting out of there. I had a pretty strong fight-or-flight instinct, and now that my fight was over, flight took hold.

I peeled out of the meadow and onto the two-track drive, passing the single cop car in the lane. “I sure hope they called for backup.” Glancing at my cell phone on the passenger seat, I figured I’d call 911 as soon as I got just a little farther away from all the shooting.

I pulled out onto the road as three cop cars came screaming past. Their sirens wailed. I watched in my rearview mirror as they turned and bounced wildly down the two-track. Old blue sped up down the road. If more bullets were going to fly, I didn’t want to be anywhere nearby.

Detective Murphy’s blue sedan cut me off. I hit my brakes and pulled to the side of the road.

Shoving the gearshift into park, I left the car running, but rolled my window down. Hard to do when both hands are tied together and the window was not automatic. Detective Murphy approached my car with his gun in hand.

“It’s only me,” I said as firmly as I could and stuck my tied hands outside.

“You okay, Pepper?” Detective Murphy eyed me first, and then peered inside the back window.

“I’ve been better,” I replied. I waited as he walked around the car and finally put his gun in the holster and opened the driver’s side door.

“Did they hurt you?” Detective Murphy asked. He examined the raw red welts on my wrists and then the rough rope.

“How do you know it was a ‘they’?” I asked as the radio in his car squawked out the news that both men were in custody.

“We’ve been following you and Jeb for a while,” he said and pulled a pocket knife out and sawed at the rope.

It came off with a yank and I instinctively did what everyone does on television when they are freed. I rubbed my wrists. The problem with that was that they hurt. A lot. I winced.

“There’s a first aid kit in my car,” Detective Murphy said. “Unless you want me to call an ambulance.”

“I think the first aid kit would be fine.” I got out of old blue. I knew I was a mental mess when I realized that he reached behind me and turned the car off and pulled the key out of the ignition.

“Come on.” Detective Murphy took my elbow and walked me to his car. He opened the door and I sat in the passenger side. Then he went to the trunk, and came back with a tidy white box marked
FIRST AID
.

He worked efficiently, opening the kit, finding some antibiotic cream and gently smearing it on my raw wrists. I closed my eyes and tried not to cry. I had been scared—really scared. I didn’t know how to admit this to anyone. Least of all Detective Murphy. He had warned me to leave the snooping to him.

“I suppose you’re going to say I told you so,” I said. My voice was weak and tired.

“Not necessary at this point.” He wrapped my wrists in gauze and taped them up. I opened my eyes. “I am going to need a statement.” He put the bandages and tape back into his neat kit and closed it. “We usually do that on scene.”

“Okay.” I closed my eyes again. “I came out here looking to hire a biplane for my next proposal event.” I opened one eye. “It’s going to be an opulent kind of affair. The guy wanted a zeppelin, but they’re hard to find unless you own a tire-manufacturing facility.”

“Go on . . .”

“I got here a little over an hour ago. The guy on the phone—he said his name was Brian—said he would be running late, but he gave me directions and permission to come out and look at the plane. I didn’t think anything of it.” Tears filled my eyes and rolled down my cheeks. “It was all a setup.”

“Here.” Detective Murphy handed me a tissue. “Then what happened?”

I told the rest of the story quickly and flatly with as little embellishment as possible. “The next thing I knew, I was driving off as fast as I could. I had to get away. If you hadn’t stopped me, I might still be driving.”

“Someone would have stopped you.” His voice was calm.

“Wait. If you had been watching me, then you knew that Jeb set me up.”

“We suspected, but there is little we can do until something illegal happens.” Office Murphy’s eyes were hidden behind mirrored sunglasses. His mouth was a grim line.

“Wait. You mean you had to wait for Jeb to kill me before you could act?” That was insane. I thought policemen were like the cavalry—supposed to come riding up in time to save the damsel in distress.

“It would not have come to that. O’Riley and Vandall never let you out of their sight. They were on strict orders.”

Why did that not make me feel better? “How long have they been following me?”

“Ever since you left the airport with a taillight out.”

“You mean that officer who gave me a ticket . . .”

“Was sent out to delay you long enough to get our guys on your tail.”

“That ticket cost me fifty dollars.”

“It’s against the law to have a taillight out.” Detective Murphy shrugged. His right eyebrow twitched. “Who can I call to come get you?”

“I’m fine. I can drive.”

“No, you can’t,” he said firmly. “You are in shock, and when that wears off, you’ll be exhausted. I can’t put you behind the wheel. Who can I call?”

I gave him Gage’s number. If he called my parents, the phone call alone might give my dad a heart attack. The drive here would give my mom a stroke.

After he called Gage, Detective Murphy got a phone call. “Good. Keep her there until I can interview her.” He hung up his phone. “Laura Snow wants to confess everything.”

“You know she was only trying to protect herself from Jeb,” I said.

“The woman has an addiction problem that needs to be addressed,” Detective Murphy said, his tone brisk. “She’ll be facing multiple charges from stealing insulin to covering up the murder.”

For a brief moment I felt sorry for Laura, but then Gage pulled up and all thoughts of Laura left my head. He got out of his blue hybrid SUV. The next thing I knew, I was running to him. He grabbed me up and held me tight. It felt too good to be in his arms, tears streaking down my cheeks.

Trust me—when I cry, I don’t get that pretty movie star crying face. No, I get the red blotchy skin, runny nose, ugly kind of cry. To Gage’s credit, he didn’t look away. “Are you okay?”

“Yes.” I nodded, but refused to take my arms down from around his neck. He didn’t seem to mind. His strong, capable hands held me close.

“What the hell happened?” he growled at Detective Murphy.

“We caught the killers,” I said with pride in between tears.

“She was never in any real danger,” Detective Murphy said. “It took time to call in backup.”

“She’s shivering.” Gage ran his hands up and down my back.

“It’s shock,” Detective Murphy said. “That’s why I called you. We’ll have someone drive her car home. I’d feel better if someone else took care of her tonight.”

“I’ll see her home,” Gage said. “Come on, Pepper.”

“Wait!” I turned to Detective Murphy. “My camera . . . I left my camera and tripod and one of Gage’s props out there.”

“We’ll see that your things are returned,” Detective Murphy said. “Go home, Pepper. You’ve done enough.”

“I solved a crime,” I said.

“Yes,” Detective Murphy said. “You did.”

My knees buckled and Gage caught me. I let him help me into his car and drive away. I closed my eyes and smiled. Warren would be cleared, and Felicity would never have to worry again.

The engagement party was a huge hit. Warren and Felicity were dressed in 1920s black-tie fashion. My sister was stunning in a pale champagne sparkly gown. They looked like a couple straight out of old Hollywood.

I managed to find a full-length gown in dark green satin. The halter top added curves to my frame. I did my hair up in a twist and had fake pearls cascading down my back.

There were one hundred and fifty guests. Warren’s mother met with my mother on two occasions, and they worked together to hone the guest list—each promising to keep the wedding guest list down to three hundred of their closest friends and family.

For the first time in my life, I was happy not to be planning the wedding. It’s not that Warren’s family wasn’t wonderful. It’s just that each mother had her own idea of how to please her child. I could see why Warren liked my mother so much. She was a lot like his, which meant they were either going to get along like gangbusters or they were going to butt heads every step of the way.

My vote was that they would butt heads. But then that was all part of building a new family. Everyone had their expectations, and compromise was the name of the game. Like how I worked within Mom and Dad’s budget, but then let Warren pay for extras—such as the part of the venue that wasn’t in their budget to make the engagement party something to remember—even if there wasn’t a biplane or skywriting.

After what happened with Jeb in the field, I didn’t want a reminder of my near-death experience to put a cloud over Felicity’s party. As for Mike’s perfect proposal, I did find an actual zeppelin. The permits to fly it in town were in the works and the company promised they could run a private message across the balloon.

Unfortunately my five-hundred-dollar bonus from Mike would come too late for Felicity’s party. So my gift to them was clearing Warren’s name. I would wait for the wedding to get them something special.

“The party is fantastic,” Mom said, “like a fairy tale.” Mom wore a long gown with bits of red beaded fringe that glittered from the bodice. Her arms were bare, but she made up for it with over-the-elbow gloves in soft red velvet.

“You did all this on our budget?” My dad wore a black rented tuxedo cut in the 1920s fashion with baggie pants and wide shoulders. He had white spats on his shoes. He snagged a small glass of sauvignon blanc and a skewer of grilled scallops with seaweed. We were currently on the second course of the
Great Gatsby
theme of mini wines and crudités.

“You’ve seen the bills,” I said with my fingers crossed behind my back. Of course, they were bills made up just for my dad. The hotel understood when I asked them to split the billing, and having Warren on the same charity board as the president and CEO of the W helped a lot with their cooperation.

“You are a wonder.” Mom kissed my cheek and hugged me. “I couldn’t be prouder of my girls.”

At that moment Warren grabbed a glass of wine and tapped it with a spoon so it rang out. “Attention . . . attention everyone,” he said loud enough for the talking to die down. The string quartet paused in their playing. “Thank you. I’d like to welcome everyone here tonight. Thank you for coming and celebrating our engagement.”

He hugged Felicity and everyone clapped and cheered as he planted a kiss on her lips then straightened. “Before we go any further, I want to thank my soon-to-be sister, Pepper Pomeroy. Pepper, come up here.” Warren held out his hand.

Embarrassment washed over me as I took his hand and let him pull me to the middle of the crowd.

“This lovely woman is the reason we are able to celebrate tonight.” He tugged me in between him and Felicity. “Without Pepper’s work, this party would never have happened. Not only did she plan the proposal, but she planned and executed tonight’s party.”

The crowd of friends and family cheered.

Felicity put up her hands to quiet everyone down. “She is also responsible for risking her life to uncover the true murderer of Randy Stromer and clearing Warren’s name. We owe her more than we can ever repay her.” Felicity glowed and my heart soared.

“To Pepper Pomeroy.” Warren raised his wineglass. “All success and happiness.”

“To Pepper,” my father shouted out.

“To Pepper,” everyone responded and raised their glass. “To Perfect Proposals,” I said and raised my glass.

“Here, here,” Warren added, and we toasted the happiness my new business created.

Warren’s mother, Helen, joined my parents, and the circle of our family was complete. That is what I call good party planning.

Don’t you think?