A MATCH MADE IN MURDER (The Wedding Planner Mysteries Book 5) (2 page)

              “Daddy!” Kitty jumped out of her chair as soon as she saw Ernie waddle through the French doors that separated the terrace restaurant from the lounge.

              She rushed to him, gave him a big squeeze, and then pulled him by the hand to the table.

              Ernie was a portly man, wide in the hips, narrow in the shoulder. He’d always reminded Kitty of a cat in that sense, though his thick brown hair and circular spectacles helped him look like the intellectual that he was.

              Unlike Penny, who’d dolled herself up for the occasion, Ernie had stuck to his typical attire: head to toe corduroy with the exception of a taupe button down shirt. He couldn’t look more like a librarian if he tried. Even the leather patches on each elbow lent to the overall appearance, as did his loafers.

              Demonstrating good manners, Sterling rose to his feet when Ernie reached the table. He smiled with an air of pride and respect and offered Ernie his hand.

              Ernie smirked, shook his hand politely then glanced around at the empty chairs.

              “Sit here, Daddy,” said Kitty, pulling out the chair between her and her mother.

              As Ernie sat, followed by Sterling, Kitty got a waiter’s attention and swirled her finger in the air, the Delamar signal for a bottle of chilled champagne.

              When she sat down, she noticed her father looked a bit perturbed. Kitty placed her hand on his arm and brushed the corduroy, her silent way of checking if something was the matter.

              “Oh, it’s nothing,” said Ernie with a polite smile. “Leaving the men’s room I accidentally bumped into a man as he was trying to enter. I honestly didn’t see him. I feel terrible.”

              “I’m sure he thought nothing of it,” Kitty offered.

              “Oh he let me know what he thought, all right,” said Ernie, who then feigned a chuckle to brush off the incident so they could talk about the wedding.

              “My goodness,” said Penny, leaning in. “Did he say something?”

              “He told me to watch where I was going. He had a very loud voice. It frightened me.”

              Ernie looked frazzled.

              Penny craned to meet Sterling’s gaze and told him, “We’re not used to these fancy city types.”

              Sterling smiled, but wasn’t entirely sure what she was talking about. Greenwich wasn’t a city, more like a sleepy little town. And few were fancy, though if the Sinclair’s had only seen the Delamar, then that explained a lot.

              “Well,” Kitty concluded. “Let’s not let one bad apple ruin the pie.”

              “Oh dear Lord,” Ernie gasped, gaze locked beyond Kitty. “He’s coming this way.”

              Sterling sighed when he saw who Ernie was looking at.

              “He must be terribly upset with me.” Ernie was edging toward full-blown panic, and then looked utterly confused when Sterling began crossing toward the man in question.

              “Uh oh,” said Kitty, eyeing the man who could be none other than Sterling’s father.

             
So much for getting off on the right foot!

              Steve Slaughter looked like he’d walked straight off a Marlboro cigarettes billboard minus the horse and cowboy hat. His broad, muscular shoulders and steely gaze—that was just as dark and green as Sterling’s—impacted his tall stature to the extent that he looked downright intimidating. Though he had to be in his late sixties, he seemed strong enough to wrangle a bull or win a bar fight. And most menacing of all was his shiny, bald head.

              “What do I do?” Ernie percolated with rising dread that a confrontation could be coming. “What do I say? Should I apologize?”

              “I’m sure it’ll be fine, dear,” said Penny, patting his arm. “We’re all family now.”

              “What if he asks me to step outside?”

              "We're already outside, dear," said Penny like it helped.

              “He’s not going to ask you to step outside, Dad, you’re overreacting.”

              Kitty observed Sterling with his father and noticed their greeting seemed cold considering they hadn’t seen each other in a few years. Sterling had his hands on his hips and Steve was looking down his nose at his son, which took Kitty aback when she realized Steve was a solid two inches taller. And Sterling was a very tall man.

              They made their way over and Kitty caught Sterling elbowing his dad, which prompted the steely man to smirk and look Ernie in the eye.

              “Little misunderstanding in the men’s room,” Steve barked, causing Ernie to cower and not necessarily recognize the man was gearing up for an apology. “These rich types rub me the wrong way,” he went on, to which Sterling cleared his throat as though his father would have to do better than that.

              Steve extended his hand to Ernie. “I know you’re not one of them,” he added. “I shouldn’t have barked at you.”

              “Oh, it’s quite alright,” Ernie offered up easily. He was eager to smooth this over. “Penny and I aren’t used to these aristocrats either.”

              Steve glared at him and his use of a fancy word, but when Sterling cleared his throat again, Steve softened his gaze, smiled, and let Sterling draw his attention to his fiancée.

              “This is Kitty,” he said then corrected “Catherine—”

              “But everyone calls me Kitty,” she added, already out of her chair and enthused to embrace her father-in-law. “It’s so nice to meet you!”

              When Kitty gave Steve a big squeeze the man went stiff and wasn’t quite sure what to do, but Kitty chose to take no notice.

              By the time everyone sat back down, a waiter arrived with a bucket of ice and a bottle of champagne, which Kitty plucked up and began peeling off its foil top.

              “So Steve,” Penny started. “Ernie and I work in a library up north.” She smiled and gauged his reaction. He didn’t have one so she went on. “Ernie’s been working on a book about how to properly train rabbits as house pets, and I enjoy knitting.”

              “I like to shoot rabbits,” he stated.

              Penny blinked and Ernie stole the first glass of champagne out of Kitty’s hand and downed it in one long gulp.

              “Dad,” Sterling said like a warning, but Steve interpreted it all wrong.

              “I hunt deer, bobcats—”

              “Aren’t they endangered?” Penny asked, not meaning to sound appalled, though she was.

              “Rabbits like I mentioned,” he went on. “Got a bear once, big brown bear. It’s stuffed in my living room.”

              “How interesting,” said Kitty and she meant it. She had a tremendous capacity to love whoever had lent a hand in raising the man she’d so easily fallen in love with. In her eyes, Steve was a hero of sorts.

              “Is that what you do for a living?” Penny inquired. “A sportsman? An expert marksman? A hunter?”

              “It’s just a hobby,” Steve explained, finally relaxing into the conversation. “I run a strip joint off the 101 in Hudson.”

              “Christ,” Sterling muttered.

              “They asked, I answered,” he barked. “I used to lead a much calmer life back when Sterling was a boy, but all that changed when—”

              “Dad.”

              “How could they not know?” Steve challenged.

              “We talked about this,” Sterling countered.

              Penny tried to smooth it over. “We read about it,” she offered. “We’re so sorry.”

              “Life’s a real bitch,” he barked, slapping Sterling on the shoulder then squeezing him hard. “You enjoy this woman as best you can every second.”

              “I will, Dad.”

              “I mean it,” he pressed, as though the weight of his wife’s death had changed him in ways that hadn’t affected Sterling. “You never know, son. You just never know.”

              Sterling looked uncomfortable, but Kitty was sure the topic had concluded.

              “Where’s Layla?” she asked her mother then explained for Steve’s benefit. “Layla’s my cousin on my mom’s side. She’s been studying geology in New Zealand, but flew all the way over just for the wedding.”

              “What the hell is geology?” Steve looked annoyed.

              “Rocks, Dad. It’s the study of rocks and the earth.”

              Now Steve looked disgusted, but he shrugged, claimed the entire champagne bottle as his own, and drank it down, leaning back in his chair and spreading his legs wide as though the Delamar’s famed terrace restaurant was no different than his living room.

              Kitty found it amusing, but Sterling was clearly dying on some level. She got the waiter’s attention and swirled her finger then softly announced, “Another bottle is on the way.”

              “Oh, I’m sorry,” said Steve in a manner that showed he wasn’t. “I guess I just feel comfortable with you folks. Ain’t that a good sign?”

              “I wish it were, Dad. I wish it were.”

              Penny picked up where Kitty’s question had left off. “Layla wanted to be here, sweetheart, but she’s terribly jetlagged. She’s up in her room. I’m sure she’ll be one hundred percent tomorrow morning.”

              Kitty nodded and realized she wasn’t at all disappointed, though she couldn’t wait to see her cousin. Being in Steve’s company had put her on cloud nine. And she genuinely felt that things were going well.

              “Grady’s coming,” said Steve, as he slammed the empty champagne bottle on the table.

              Sterling brightened at that.

              “Grady?” Kitty asked.

              “My uncle,” said Sterling. “Dad’s older brother.”

              Ernie let out a little yelp of terror then turned it into a cough, as Penny pat his arm.

              “Awe, you guys’ll love Uncle Grady,” Sterling assured them.

              Ernie chuckled nervously. “We love Steve here.” The poor man was terror-stricken.

              “Uncle Grady’s a writer as well,” Sterling told Ernie. “He was a professor of philosophy up at Syracuse before he retired to work on his satirical novels.”

              Ernie was genuinely intrigued. He leaned forward and mused, “Grady Slaughter... Penny, have we read any of his books?”

              “He sounds familiar.”

              “You might have,” Sterling said proudly. “He wrote Time and its Patterns, and The Road to Randomness.”

              “Yes!” exclaimed Ernie. “The Road to Randomness! I read it last year! Wonderful, wonderful writing, so unique. He really got me thinking.”

              Sterling smiled and nodded. “Grady’ll do that. He’s the best.”

              “And he’s your brother?” Ernie asked Steve as though it shocked him.

              “Indeed,” said Steve, looking around for the next bottle of champagne. “One hell of a nerd, but I love the guy. That’s how it is with family.”

              It was the most encouraging statement Steve had made all night, and as if Ernie’s thrill to meet the wordsmith couldn’t rise any higher, Grady sauntered through the French doors and eyed the crowd.

              “Uncle Grady!” Sterling called out, drawing everyone’s attention to the tall man in his early sixties who was the spitting image of Steve, but couldn’t have carried himself more differently.

              Grady was equally tall, equally bald, equally confident, yet dressed in a modest suit, wore wire frame glasses, and was holding a book under his arm, which Kitty recognized as Nietzsche as soon as he came close enough.

              Sterling rose to greet him, but Grady kept his gaze on Kitty, as she smiled up at him then got to her feet.

              “This must be your beautiful bride,” he said, taking Kitty’s hand between his.

              “It’s so nice to meet you, Uncle Grady!”

              He could hardly tear himself away, but did to shake hands with his brother and then make formal introductions around the table.

              “I trust my brother wasn’t behaving himself?” He chortled, as they all took their seats.

              No one laughed harder than Ernie.

              Then Grady turned to Sterling and asked, “How did you meet this fine woman? Tell me everything.”

              “Thank God for Uncle Grady,” Sterling sighed as he collapsed to the couch beside Kitty. “I’m not going to lie, I was seriously nervous for awhile there.”

              Kitty laughed. “Your dad is great!”

              Sterling looked at her as if she were insane. “Hey, I love my dad, but he has his flaws. He rubs people the wrong way. That whole mess with your father in the men’s room? That was my worst nightmare coming to life.”

              “Oh, Daddy didn’t mind.”

              “Uh, yeah, your dad definitely minded. I’m just glad he didn’t opt for a restraining order.”

              Kitty kicked off her heels and tucked her feet under her so that she was leaning into Sterling’s shoulder.

              “If I hadn’t stopped him, he would’ve talked about my mother, you know.”

              Kitty fell somber then defended Steve. “Maybe he needs to talk about it.”

              “Not on an occasion like tonight, he doesn’t.” Sterling seemed put off. He tensed at the thought of Steve elaborating on the horror he’d survived growing up. “He’s not a classy guy. He has no sense of etiquette.”

              “He respected you, wouldn’t you say?” She stared at him until he looked at her. “When you indicated he shouldn’t go into all that, he didn’t. He’s a good guy.”

              “Yeah, I know he’s a good guy,” he sighed. “I also know I’m going to be on edge with him here.”

              Kitty shrugged then squeezed him. “I’m in the same boat. Whenever I’m around my parents I turn into an embarrassed teenager. That’s the way it goes.” Kitty let that sink in then her curiosity got the better of her. “Your wife’s murder was connected to your mother’s?”

              He fell silent and turned stiff again.

              “Do you ever talk to your dad about it?”

              Sterling held his breath for a beat then acquiesced. “Not really.”

              “What was she like?”

              “My mom?”

              Now it was Kitty’s turn to hold her breath as she double-checked whether or not she really wanted to know. “Your wife.”

              Sterling stroked her hair, as he gathered his response. “I try not to think about her.” He drifted into silence and Kitty didn’t press. “It’s too painful.” Silence again then a deep breath. “I have you now. This is my second chance at happiness. I’m not going to waste it.”

              “Do you feel like you wasted your first marriage?”

              Sterling snorted a laugh. “Nosey as ever.”

              “Sorry.”

              “I don’t know if I wasted it. But I didn’t appreciate it like I will now. When you’re young, you take things for granted. You don’t understand how rare love is until you can’t find it again for years and years.”

              “Sterling?”

              “Yeah?”

              “Why were you on edge earlier?” He said nothing. “When I got home you seemed troubled, more troubled than I’ve ever seen.” She waited for an explanation, but he only stroked her hair. “We can’t keep secrets, not if we want this to work.”

              “It’s nothing. Trust me,” he cooed softly against the top of her head. “Don’t weddings make people act somewhat out of character? The grooms especially?”

              “I suppose you’re right. We haven’t gotten into nearly as many fights as I thought we would.” Kitty lifted up so she could look him in the eye again. “Brides and grooms always fight as their weddings approach.”             

              “Is there much left to do planning wise?” He asked, as he gently urged her back so he could get up.

              He gave Kitty his full attention as he went into the kitchen and grabbed a beer from the refrigerator.

              “Everything’s on schedule,” she assured him then her tone dropped a bit. “I made a to-do list…oh, I should’ve brought it home with me. It’s going to be tricky decorating the yacht—”

              “Why would it need decorating?”

              Sterling tipped his beer back with one hand and worked his slacks down with the other then stepped out of them and let them rest where they lay on the kitchen tiles.

              “Speaking of not getting into a fight.” She eyed the slacks with irritation and he groaned, swiped them off the floor, and tossed them over his shoulder then padded back in his boxer-briefs, causing Kitty to forget his question entirely. “What were we talking about?”

              “I like the yacht as it is.”

              “So no decorations? It’s going to look medieval.”

              “I like that.”

              Kitty widened her eyes.

              “What else?”

              “The cake, the seating arrangement, um... I really need my list.”

              “Ok,” he said, considering. He tipped his beer back. “Cake, vanilla.”

              “That was easy,” she said, dryly. “You’re not going to rattle off a proposed seating chart, are you?”

              “I want Grady at our table, right next to me,” he stated.

              When he didn’t say more, Kitty wondered how seriously he was taking this. Men could be so decisive, but it rarely helped. They acted as if a fast decision was an act of strength when really it was an excuse to avoid weighing options and making hard choices.

              “Thank you, Sterling. That’s very helpful.”

              He beamed a smile having completely missed her sarcasm.

              “I’m going to hit the shower.” He started for the bathroom then turned back with a smirk. “No one died today,” he winked. “That’s a good day in my book.”

              She looked around for some wood to knock on.

              As Sterling showered, Kitty tidied up, changed into a nightgown, and then poured a glass of chilled white wine. There was a nice spring breeze blowing through the open windows, but she felt a bit warm and restless. She took a few sips of her wine.

              Sterling called out that he was turning in, which she acknowledged, listening to him pad up the hall and into the bedroom where soon the lights turned off.

              It was then that she noticed the kitchen window. It was open, but not more than a few inches and its pane looked crooked. She examined it, but not closely, and then attempted to lift it. It seemed stuck. When she eyed it carefully she discovered that the wooden, bottom edge had been damaged and there was a small crack in the glass.

              Had someone forced the window open?

              She peered out, but the glare from the kitchen lights made it impossible to see into the darkness. There were woods out there, public hiking trails that merged into her property, though the residents of Greenwich were generally respectful not to trespass into her yard. If someone had, they certainly wouldn’t attempt to break in for opportunistic reasons. That’s when she realized this had been done intentionally. But why? She had nothing of value here and Sterling was in the habit of carrying his gun on his person. To her knowledge he’d never left it behind in the house.

              Her instincts told her to shut and lock all the windows before bed, but then she reasoned that with Sterling here she’d be safe. So she resolved to shut and lock them tomorrow before leaving the house. Better to be safe than sorry.

              Kitty jumped and a little shriek escaped her when she heard a loud knock on the front door. Her hand slapped to her heart to steady its beat and she forced a deep breath. Whoever was out there knocked again.

              She couldn’t very well ignore it. Both her Fiat and Sterling’s Jeep were out front. They were clearly home. If anything, this was probably a police matter and the precinct couldn’t reach Sterling so they’d had no choice, but even that prospect filled her with dread. The last thing they needed was for Sterling to get sucked into a case.

              Reluctantly, she started for the door. Sterling was already snoring. It crossed her mind to grab the derringer pistol he’d insisted she have with her always, and then she thought it ridiculous and opened the door.

              “Kitty!”

              It was her cousin, Layla.

              “My God! You’re here! What are you doing here?” Kitty released her from the giant hug she’d trapped Layla in and ushered her inside.

              “I couldn’t wait to see you! I hope you don’t mind. I know it’s late.”

              “Not at all! Please come in! Sterling’s asleep, but I have wine.”

              “I felt terrible missing the dinner,” she said, following Kitty into the kitchen where Kitty grabbed the bottle of white from the counter and an extra glass. “I was exhausted. Now I’m wide awake. It’ll be days before I shake this jetlag.”

              Kitty poured her a glass when they sat on the couch then had a good long look at her cousin as she sipped. They hadn’t seen each other in years and the moment was a bit surreal, but Layla looked the same as ever, brown hair that hung just above her shoulders, big hazel eyes not unlike Kitty’s, a button nose and curvy figure that boasted the family resemblance.

              “How did you get here?”

              “I have a rental for the week,” she said, taking another sip of her wine. “This is really good.”

              “Riesling.”

              “God, it’s so good to be back. And I’m so happy for you. You’re successful and now you’re getting married.”

              Kitty took a moment to really absorb the compliment. She didn’t often do that—slow down enough to recognize she really had done well for herself. The perfectionist in her always pushed her to do more, do it better, and never repeat the same mistakes.

              “I’ve kept up with the local papers,” she went on. “The online editions.” Layla shook her head with concern. “I was so worried about you, Kitty. All those murders.”

              Attempting to assure her cousin, she said, “I was never in danger. And I have Sterling now.”

              “No, I know.” Layla was acting as though she didn’t want to alarm her cousin by admitting how worried she’d been, but downplaying it only made her anxiety more obvious. “If anything, I was nervous for you emotionally. That can’t be easy. And I read what people in town were calling you. It must have been hard.”

              “It was,” she admitted. “But all that is behind me…behind us. Sterling and I haven’t had a murder since last winter.”

              “At Trudy’s wedding,” she supplied.

              “That’s right.”

              “That must have been horrifying.”

              Kitty drew in a deep breath hoping this conversation would veer into a more pleasant topic.

              “The reality is that if Mr. Von Winkle hadn’t been killed at my first wedding, I never would’ve met Sterling,” she concluded.

              “That is a silver lining, I suppose.”

              Sterling appeared in the hall and leaned against the wall when he reached the living room. Thank God he had the good sense to put on sweatpants, but he hadn’t been keen on wearing a shirt.

              “Holy hotness,” Layla said, snorting out a sip of wine then laughing.

              “Did we wake you?” Kitty asked Sterling.

              “It’s fine.”

              “This is my cousin, Layla.”

              Layla hopped off the couch and gave him a hug that seemed to fully embrace his nude upper half. She lingered a bit, which Kitty found comical more than anything else, then returned to the couch.

              “You guys look a lot alike,” said Sterling. “Has anyone ever told you that?”

              Kitty and Layla exchanged a look then burst out laughing.

              “Only everyone,” said Layla.

              “When we were growing up people thought we were twins,” Kitty tacked on.

              “I can see that about you,” he stated. “You’re more tan, though.”

              “I’ve been in New Zealand,” said Layla.

              “I don’t want you to get suddenly tired on the road,” said Kitty before she addressed Sterling. “What if she sleeps over?”

              “Sure,” he shrugged.

              “The couch pulls out into a bed,” Kitty told her. “It’s very comfortable.”

              “Great, that gives us a chance to catch up.”

              “All right, ladies,” he said, shoving off for the bedroom. “Have fun.”

              “Night!” Layla said enthusiastically. When she heard the bedroom door close she mentioned, “That’s a good-looking man you got there.”

              Kitty’s brows shot up in complete agreement. “Don’t I know it.”

              Three hours and two bottles of wine later, they’d caught up on every area of each other’s lives from Layla’s beach life on the southern coast of New Zealand to her digs to all the ways in which her boss annoyed her; Kitty shared about her rocky road to romance with Sterling, all the challenges of running her own business, and she even detailed the blow-by-blow that occurred during dinner earlier that night.