Engaged in Murder (Perfect Proposals Mystery) (7 page)

“Are you okay with all this?” I asked as I dried the dishes.

Felicity paused from her washing and sent me this sweet dopey smile. “I simply can’t believe it. I mean, the proposal was out of this world. It was everything I’d ever dreamed it would be.” She plunged her pink-gloved hands back into the sudsy water and pulled out a plate. “Warren tells me you helped him stage the whole event.”

“I did,” I said. “But I had no idea he had a trust fund or that the airplane belonged to him. He lied to me and told me he was renting it for a good rate because he did some work for the company.”

“He lied because he wanted to tell me first and he couldn’t tell me until we were engaged.” She wiped the plate with a sponge, rinsed it, and put it in the drainer. “I’m glad he didn’t tell you. I’m glad he told me first. I should have been told first, don’t you think?”

“I think he should have been honest with you from the start.” I picked up the plate and wiped it with a dish towel. I could hear Mom and Dad and Warren laughing and talking in the front room.

“He had good reasons not to tell me.” Felicity shrugged. “I don’t think I would have even dated him had I known.” She paused and leaned against the counter, dampening the towel she had pinned around her waist. “The whole weekend was so incredible. He told me right after we took off. The flight was smooth and everything was perfect. He took my hand and confessed everything. When we landed in New York, there was a stretch limo waiting to pick us up.” She shook her head. “We stayed in this incredible hotel and ordered room service. He took me for a carriage ride around Central Park. The next day we toured museums and that night he took me to see a Broadway musical. Then we went to dinner at a swanky restaurant that had floor-to-ceiling windows. Pepper, you could look out over the skyline.” She sighed. “It was like being on top of the world.”

I cringed inwardly at her joy. I hoped that my suspicions were groundless. For Felicity’s sake . . . she deserved the best in a relationship. So did I, for that matter.

“Felicity, we need to plan your engagement party,” Mom said as she entered the room. “You could have Pepper plan the event for you. She’s thinking of opening her own event-planning business.”

“You are?” Felicity asked me as she put the last dish in the drainer and removed her pink rubber gloves.

“It was Warren’s idea,” I said. “Of course, start-up money is always an issue, my being out of work and all.”

“I don’t see why you can’t move back home,” my father said from the kitchen doorway. “It’s silly for you to keep that tiny apartment when you are unemployed. You should come home until you get back on your feet. Right, dear?”

“Yes, of course,” my mother said. “I could even divide the music room and you could have your own office for your event planning.”

I swallowed my horror at their invitation. It’d taken me so long to get out on my own. The last thing I wanted was to live with my parents when I was thirty. “Gee, thanks, Dad, thanks, Mom, but my apartment isn’t that expensive and it’s near the mall. So I’ll have access to more ideas and materials.”

“What’s going on?” Warren stood behind Dad.

“Pepper’s going to open her own event-planning business,” Felicity said and took the towel off her waist. “Isn’t that great?”

“Fantastic,” Warren said. His blue eyes twinkled.

“Thanks, I had good inspiration,” I said.

“Speaking of inspiration, let’s talk about your engagement party,” Mom said. We all adjourned to the living room.

“We are going to wait on the engagement party,” Felicity said, her gaze never leaving Warren. He put his arm around her waist and nodded.

“Why would you do that?” Mom asked as we all sat.

“It’s only until after the investigation,” Warren said.

Felicity put her hand on his knee. “We felt it was in poor taste to party while they investigate that poor man’s murder.”

“It’s simply better to wait until after the police have made an arrest,” Warren added. “Don’t you agree?”

“Makes sense,” Dad said

“Fine.” Mom leaned forward and clasped her hands. “How long do you think they will be investigating?”

“I have no idea.” Felicity frowned as if she hadn’t quite thought that part through.

It struck me that murder investigations could take years. My next thought was worse. What if after five or more years, they determined Warren had something to do with the murder? Felicity would already be married and possibly even have children.

Something had to be done about that.

“You don’t want to wait too long to announce your engagement, do you?” Mom had that hopeful look in her eyes.

Felicity looked at Warren. “No, not really.”

“If I had it my way, I would have screamed it from the rooftops on Friday.” Warren raised their joined hands and kissed her knuckles. “But seriously, the man had a family. How can we put on an appropriate party when he is lying in the morgue?”

“I suppose that’s true.” Mom sat back and did not hide her disappointment. “I’ll have to ask my friend Doris what the proper waiting period is for something like this.”

“Yes, do. Doris knows more than Miss Manners sometimes.” Felicity’s gaze brightened. “In the meantime, we could plan the party, couldn’t we?”

“I don’t see why not,” Warren said. “Pepper, what do you think? Would you consider planning the event?”

“Yes, Pepper, please?”

“Okay,” I agreed. After all, Warren had given me the idea to start my own business. The least I could do was plan my sister’s engagement party. In fact, that might make a great package deal—proposal and engagement. After all, I would know what the bride-to-be wanted, wouldn’t I?

“That’s settled, then.” Mom stood. “Come on, girls, let’s coordinate our calendars. Oh, Felicity, I know the perfect woman to sing at your wedding . . . and Mrs. Shelton can play the organ . . .”

I followed them into the kitchen. My thoughts were less on the planning and more on how I would figure out if Warren was guilty or not before this engagement got too far.

“What are you doing here?” Officer Vandall asked.

“I wondered if you needed anything further from me for your investigation,” I said. I had dressed like a professional so that the police would take me seriously. A quick glance around told me that they didn’t deal with professionally dressed people too often. Besides, I didn’t want to come off as a kook.

I tugged my navy skirt down to ensure it hit at my knee. The fabric had a way of hiking up when I walked. Mom used to tell me all the time to slow down and walk like a lady so that wouldn’t happen. Some things a girl never learns.

Officer Vandall tilted his head. “Did you remember something else?”

I recognized that as a gatekeeper question. I was prepared to lie. “I have information about Warren Evans.” That statement was true, and my skin stayed blushless as he eyed me.

He glanced at me and his mouth pursed. “Fine. I’ll see if Detective Murphy has time to talk to you now.”

“Thank you.”

Officer Vandall went through the door that I assumed led to the officers’ cubicles. I was left to cool my heels in the waiting area out front. I took a moment to check that the patterned blouse I wore was appropriately buttoned. The thin belt at my waist had not slid to the left.

My hair, well, I had learned long ago that it had a mind of its own. We had come to a deal. I didn’t expect it to do anything fashionable and it didn’t stick out . . . too much.

“Ms. Pomeroy?” I glanced up to see the hound dog face of Detective Murphy. He wasn’t unattractive. He had that older Humphrey Bogart kind of look. It made you think he put on a fedora when he walked out the door. Today his broad shoulders were encased in a white shirt. A red and blue striped tie was pulled loose at his neck. Black dress slacks and standard-issue black dress shoes finished the look. Even if I hadn’t known he was a police detective, I would have imagined that he was.

“Yes, hello again.” I held out my hand.

He shook it. “Detective Murphy. Officer Vandall told me you have information on the airport murder?”

“I was the one who called 911,” I said.

“Yes, I know.” He opened the door wide. “Why don’t you come back and we’ll chat. Can I get you some coffee? It’s cop coffee, but it’ll do in a pinch.”

“I’m fine, thank you.” I followed him down a hall that was made by the edge of cubicles and a wall that held windows and doors. From what I could tell, the doors led to small rooms. I had watched enough
48 Hours
to know they were most likely interview rooms.

His office was in the room at the end of the hall. The room was about twelve feet by twelve feet and held four desks, a bank of file cabinets, and two printers. It smelled of stale coffee and aftershave.

“Have a seat.” He waved me toward a chair next to a desk with his name plaque. I noticed that he had the desk farthest from the door and his back was to a wall.

I sat in the green plastic chair, my purse on my lap and my hands gripping the handle. I took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. It was kind of scary in the police station. Odd to think I was more frightened in here than I was when I found the body. Maybe because the man was dead. While Detective Murphy looked as if he could read my every thought.

I steeled myself. “Do you know his name? The dead guy . . . That night all Officer Vandall would tell me is that he didn’t have any identification on him.”

“His name was Randy Stromer. Jeb Donaldson identified him.”

I shook my head. “I don’t know a Randy Stromer. I’ve never heard Warren speak of him.” Okay, so that was a white lie. It was Warren who had told me his name.

“He was a janitor at the airport. It’s how he got through security. We figured he was an employee as Donaldson didn’t have a record of any other nonpassengers besides you and your video man.”

“Do you have a motive? I mean, why would anyone want to kill a janitor?”

“That’s the question, isn’t it?” Murphy sat back. “Did you have information for me, Ms. Pomeroy, or did you have another motive for coming by?”

I blinked. “My sister is engaged to Warren Evans.”

“I think that’s in the report.” His gaze was flat.

“She is my baby sister and I need to know if marrying Warren Evans is right for my sister or not.” I clutched my purse. “Felicity said you had a lot of questions for them and that Warren called in his lawyer.”

“I do have a lot of questions,” Detective Murphy said.

“Is my sister in trouble?”

“You tell me, because she wouldn’t.”

I frowned. “That doesn’t sound like Felicity. Besides, I know she wasn’t at the airport until after five. I was there when she got there and I’d already . . .”

“You already what?” He leaned forward.

“Decorated the plane,” I said. “Before she got there. I decorated the plane and Cesar went up and hid himself.”

“Are you withholding evidence? Because that is a crime.” He gave me the serious look of a parent who already knew their child was guilty.

I could feel the heat of a blush race up my neck. “Is it hot in here?” I asked and fanned myself.

“You’re avoiding the question. Are you withholding evidence?”

“No,” I said as sincerely as possible. “No. I need to know what you know about Warren.”

“I can’t reveal anything about the investigation.” He leaned back. “You know that.”

“You can tell me how seriously you are looking at Warren Evans.”

“You suspect something, don’t you?” he asked.

“Did you know he is wealthy?”

“Yes, he owns forty-nine percent of the private airline at the Executive Airport. The company owns three private jets and leases them along with the mechanics and pilots.”

“See, he’s been seeing Felicity for over a year and lied to her the entire time. He told her he was an accountant and that he worked for the airport.”

“Both of those things are technically true,” Detective Murphy said.

I crossed my arms. “Is he a suspect or not?”

“I can’t tell you.”

I stood. “Then I’m sorry for taking up your time.”

“Ms. Pomeroy . . .” He stopped me. “Take my card. You look like a determined person. If you come across anything you think I might need to know, call me.”

I took his card. “I wish I could ask the same of you.”

“Have a good day.”

“Right.” As I walked out, I passed Officer Vandall talking to another officer I recognized from the crime scene.

“Evans is our number one suspect,” he said to the other officer. Then I heard the word
blackmail
before they grew quiet.

“Have a nice day, gentlemen.” I pushed my way through the doors to the waiting area and my car. Officer Vandall knew I was in with Detective Murphy. I figured I was meant to overhear what he said.

Why would Warren kill a janitor? How did blackmail fit in? I had thirty days to find out.