ENGAGED TO BE MURDERED (The Wedding Planner Mysteries Book 4) (10 page)

              “Kitty! Please!” shouted Trudy, grabbing at a silk robe to cover up. “Get out!”

              Kitty was stunned, thoughts working slowly to a head at what was really going on.

              “Please Kitty!”

              “I’m rescuing you?”

              Kitty stared at Trudy over the top of her wine glass. Never had sitting in Trudy’s cozy if not cramped apartment felt so tense, but that’s how Kitty felt, tense, ashamed, concerned, confused—wildly confused. She didn’t know where to begin.

              The wine was a nice gesture. Trudy hadn’t needed to be asked. When they’d stepped through the door and realized Ronald wasn’t home, Trudy had made no qualms about popping a bottle of her best Merlot and getting Kitty situated like old times.

              But this didn’t feel like old times.

              It felt oddly like a bribe, though negotiations had yet to begin.

              Kitty didn’t want to negotiate. She simply wanted to know what in the heck was going on. Trudy had fostered a strong friendship with Margie behind her back. She’d been proposed to, evidently, by a man Kitty had never met or heard of. And in the throes of the most quizzical murder investigation Greenwich had ever seen, her best friend was sneaking off to rendezvous with lovers’ past.

              Who was this woman?

              She only wanted to know, to understand, and to get back on track.

              Trudy was, after all, one of the most important people in Kitty’s life.

              Trudy topped her glass off with the dark wine then stared at it for a moment, smelling the crisp aromas perhaps, or possibly formulating some semblance of an explanation. Surely Trudy had to know Kitty expected one, and a good one at that.

              “I didn’t mean to worry you,” she said, swirling her wine, as she ran her red nails through the outer edge of her prominent beehive. “But I’m getting married... There are loose ends that need tying up...”

              “Tell me about Jimmy Kimball,” Kitty prodded then took a small sip of her wine. She didn’t want to get tipsy. She wanted complete sobriety to wrap her head around the secrets and lies Trudy had been living with.

              “He didn’t do it,” she stated, as though it was a prerequisite that Kitty believe this or else no further discussion could be had. “I know he didn’t.”

              “Never mind that,” Kitty snapped. “Who is he? Why did you keep him a secret?”

              “He was involved at the time. I was ashamed. I loved him, but knew I couldn’t have him. Classic, cliché tale. I know you always want the best for me. I had no way of telling you without you pushing me to cut him loose and I didn’t want to do that, not for a good long while.”

              Trudy drew in a deep, shuddering breath, and then said, “My phone died. I didn’t have my charger. To think all of this could’ve been avoided if only I’d answered your call.”

              Kitty’s heart sank. Trudy was still committed to keeping secrets. The problem hadn’t been that her cell had lost power. The problem was that she’d felt the need to keep secrets in the first place. It was a knife to her heart, a heart already torn open by Sterling’s true motives and profound lack of real love for her.

              “I lost him to her,” said Trudy, offering a mysterious explanation. “Twice.”

              “Lost who? Jimmy?”

              Trudy nodded. “I hated that you’d hired Sadie to work on my ring. Hated it.”

              Kitty kept her gaze trained on Trudy, waiting for more.

              “Jimmy was involved with Sadie when I met him. They were in the midst of one of those tangled, unofficial love affairs that always end badly. If Sadie had known, she’d have attacked me. She’s like that, you know. That’s why I kept it secret. The fewer people who knew, the less of a chance it’d get back to Sadie.”

              “But you know me, I’d never say a thing,” Kitty objected.

              “I know. But hindsight is 20/20 and I was scared.” Trudy uncrossed then crossed her legs in the other direction, pulling a long haul of her wine as she did so. “A few years ago, when I was blind and wrapped up in Jimmy, and he was blind and wrapped up in Sadie, I broke things off with Jimmy. It was one of the hardest things I’d ever done, but I knew I had to. There was no contact for a few months, then out of the blue, he showed up at my door and proposed. It was crazy. I reacted without thinking. I threw my arms around him. I said yes. But when the smoke cleared and I was able to see reason, I broke it off. I told him no. It didn’t feel right. A real relationship, a lasting one, can’t start with a lie. If I’m the woman who stole Jimmy, then I’d spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder and wondering who’d steal him next.”

              Kitty nodded in complete understanding.

              “After I broke it off, he went back to her.”

              “Did she ever find out...that you were the other woman?”

              “I don’t know for sure,” said Trudy, ruminating the past as though it pained her. “But women know. We all have a sixth sense for that kind of thing.”

              “We do,” said Kitty, flashing a thought toward Sterling and testing her gut to see if she knew, really sensed whether or not he’d been interested in Sadie. Whether or not something had transpired between them earlier that day at Adorned. But she drew back, still too scared to let herself know.

              “Jimmy and Sadie lasted for a bit, and then she took up with Patrick McAlister.”

              “Did she?!” Kitty was aghast.

              Trudy nodded definitively. “Sadie and Patrick.”

              “Margie has always been close with her brother,” Kitty commented. “I’d never met him, but I’d heard Margie speak of him often.”

              Trudy leveled her gaze on Kitty. “Like oil and water, Sadie and Margie did not mix well.”

              Suddenly, Kitty was trembling with notions. Her heart raced and she couldn’t quite catch her breath.

              “Do you think?” she asked then trailed off before she could formulate the disturbing thought.

              “I wonder,” said Trudy, proving she was still connected closely enough that she could read Kitty’s mind.

              “Patrick killed his own sister so Sadie would be more certain about being with him,” she stated, appalled at the motive, but believing it nonetheless.

              It had been a long night made especially sleepless by the fact that Sterling hadn’t been able to come to her apartment. He’d texted that ,with Patrick in custody, it was imperative he question the man all night since the department technically didn’t have enough on him to make a charge stick. The text message had been factual and cold, not that Sterling was apt to use smiley faces and exclamation points, but hot off the heels of Greer’s implication, reading his words didn’t feel right. She felt like something was terribly wrong.

              Nevertheless, time marched onward. Today would be the wedding rehearsal, and it was only by the skin of her teeth that Kitty had managed to make arrangements and tough decisions with the decorator, who would spend her day getting the reception hall in order then transition to the church, while Trudy, Ronald and the wedding party enjoyed their rehearsal dinner.

              Kitty dragged herself from bed, though the warm morning sun beckoned her to stay, relax, and sleep in. It was certainly an option. The wedding rehearsal was scheduled for the afternoon. But Kitty had some digging to do. If Sterling wasn't able to coax Patrick into admitting guilt, then she’d find evidence... somehow.

              And it was this goal that motivated her to climb into the shower, scrub and lather, and make every effort to get out the door quick and ready to raise hell.

              Kitty placed a brief call to Trudy, as she watched coffee brew and drip into the carafe. By the time the last drop plunked into the dark, aromatic blend, she had confirmed that Trudy was in good spirits. Ronald had come home last night on time and was never the wiser about Trudy’s evening visit with Jimmy Kimball. Trudy assured her that her time with Kimball had only proved that Ronald was the right man for her. Now, more than ever, she was ready to walk down the aisle. She couldn’t wait.              

              As Kitty scraped ice and snow from the windshield of her Fiat, she devised a course of action. It wasn’t likely Patrick would admit outright his love affair with Sadie, or Sadie’s love affair with Jimmy Kimball, but that didn’t mean cops weren’t swarming Patrick’s cottage.

              Kitty considered confronting Sadie directly. If Patrick really had killed his own sister to preserve his relationship with the jeweler, it would stand to reason that she knew about it at the very least, or perhaps was in on it.

              What were Sadie’s weaknesses and how could Kitty exploit them?

              There was only one way to find out.

              Kitty started for Adorned. It was early in the morning and Sadie wasn’t known for her punctuality, but if there was evidence to be had, it was certainly stored in the back studio of Sadie’s store, if not at Patrick’s garage workspace. She’d hit one then the other. It was as good a starting point as any.

              However, when she pulled up to the curb outside of the jeweler’s shop, the metal gate was still down. She craned her head upright, peering over a snowbank to get a better look inside, while the vents in her Fiat blasted hot air. That’s when she caught movement. As she strained to see, she realized it was Kyle opening up.

              He’d mentioned Sadie was in the habit of coming and going through the back of the store. It was worth a try. She threw her car into gear and drove off, making a right at the first intersection and then another, until she was rolling toward the very back of Adorned.

              It was quiet and the snow had stopped falling. Other than a few cars down the back alley lot, there was only one parked behind Adorned, a beat up and rusted out Chevy truck, which was safe to assume belonged to Kyle.

              Kitty hopped out and started for the back door, avoiding slush puddles and patches of ice that seemed to plague her path. The door was ajar, propped open with a loose brick, so Kitty slipped inside and took a moment to let her eyes adjust to the darkness.

              She tiptoed deeper in and detected rustling then clanging. Probably just Kyle tidying up, she thought.

              When she came to a set of metal shelves that flanked the corridor, Kitty paused, hiding, and then glanced over the top of a large, plastic container.

              Kyle was standing with his back to her, whistling and sweeping scrap metal and dust into a pan. Keeping an eye on him, she managed to glance about the studio. It was a haphazard mess of disorganized metals and gemstones. She spotted a clear, plastic bin of tinctures. What she hoped to find was the original bottle of poison. But how would she find it in such a mess?

              Suddenly, she heard boots stomping in from the back door, as a beam of sunlight cut through the corridor.

              Sadie!

              Panicking, her gaze darted this way and that, up and down, searching and praying for any place she could wedge herself out of sight.

              “Hey, boss!” Kyle shouted from the studio, but Sadie didn’t respond.

              “What do you mean we have a problem?” She sneered.

              Kitty held her breath as the band of sunlight thinned out into darkness, an indication the back door had closed. But a second later, Sadie groaned and flung the door open once again.

              “Be back soon!” She shouted to Kyle.

              “When?”

              “Whenever,” she grunted.

              Kitty’s Fiat was a distinct vehicle and it was parked conspicuously, not her smartest move. Worse, if Sadie was about to drive off some place and do something out of fear or clever aspirations, Kitty would need to follow her. And it would be difficult going undetected if she drove off directly after Sadie.

              She had no choice but to wait.

              Who would’ve called Sadie?

              Where would she be going?

              Would Patrick have used his one phone call from jail to contact her? And if so, why had he waited until now?

              Muffled through the back wall, Kitty heard the roar of an engine, which gradually faded away.

              Quickly, she padded to the back door, but when she yanked it open, the metal scraped against the doorframe with a deafening screech.

              “Hey!” Kyle shouted, running after her, but she was already skirting through the parking lot.

              She unlocked her Fiat with a loud
bleat
then jumped in and peeled out.

              “Kitty?” he yelled, half confused, mostly alarmed.

              She didn’t have time to fret. Her gaze locked on Sadie’s taillights, as her vehicle, a black Ford Mustang, rounded the corner and flew down Main Street.

              There was just enough traffic to provide safe cover and not be a nuisance, but when Sadie veered off onto Old Country Road, a seldom-traveled route that led to the ponds up north, she didn’t have much hope of blending into the scenery. Leave it to Kitty Sinclair to drive a red, Italian car.

              The only saving grace was the bends and curves of the road. Kitty could trail Sadie at about twenty yards and remain more or less hidden by the wintry backdrop of trees and snowbanks.

              But when Kitty expected Sadie to slow down as they approached the ponds, Sadie did the opposite, cutting west and avoiding them all together.

              “Where is she going?” Kitty wondered out loud. “Patrick doesn’t live anywhere near here.”

              She checked the clock on the dash. Considering how far out of town she’d driven, there wasn’t much time before she’d have to head back and make it to the church on time.

              With luck on her side, Sadie’s Mustang came to a crawl where a fork in the road divided Connecticut from New York State. Kitty squeezed the brakes to remain out of sight. Through the snow-laden trees, she spotted an idling car. Its headlights were brightly glaring, but there was no mistaking the vehicle’s make and model, a blue Toyota Yaris sedan. Most distinguishing was its license plate, the vanity kind that boasted clever wording:
M0N-Y-KNG

              Sadie pulled her black Mustang up to the blue sedan so that the driver’s side windows aligned. Words were exchanged, though Kitty couldn’t hear a thing. The sun’s bright glare reflected off the sedan’s front windshield, concealing the driver, but when a hand reached out, Kitty observed that it was in fact a man.

              The man handed Sadie a brown paper bag then rolled up his window, pulled a U-turn around her Mustang, and drove off, while Sadie idled, reviewing the contents of the bag, Kitty supposed.

              Kitty jumped with a start when her cell vibrated against her chest. Glancing at it with an aim to keep her eyes on Sadie, she realized it was Trudy calling.

              “Where are you?!”

              It took Kitty a second to get her bearings. Her gaze shot to the dash. She had at least a half hour to get to the church.

              “I’ll be on time.”

              “Not for Margie’s funeral, you won’t,” Trudy chided. “This is really embarrassing! You need to get over here now!”

              She had completely forgotten.

              “Alright! Alright! I got...tied up! I’ll be there as soon as I can!”

              Kitty was dying to know what was in that brown, paper bag. Who was that man? Did this transaction have anything to do with Margie’s death, or was Kitty in danger of completely losing her mind?

              There was no time to stick around and find out. She backed carefully around then started off for Greenwich, hoping that the puzzle pieces would soon fit, and the dark picture surrounding Margie McAlister’s murder would become crystal clear.

              The service for Margie at the Saint Christopher Presbyterian Church on Pine Street was short and sweet. Trudy had many kind words to say. Ronald looked stoic, yet conflicted, dressed in his best suit for the rehearsal dinner. What should be a triumphant day was starting off bittersweet.

              When the procession filtered out of the church into the wintry afternoon, the snow once again began to fall.

              Trudy offered condolences to Margie’s parents, who seemed distraught. Not only had their only daughter died, but their only son hadn’t been able to make it. The possibility that one sibling had killed the other was simply too much for them to bear. And for Kitty it was hard to watch.

              She glanced out at the parking lot and her heart skipped a beat.

             
M0N-Y-KNG.

              The blue sedan!

              Her heart was in her throat as she turned left then right, scanning the crowd, hoping that the driver would break from the fray for his Yaris and reveal himself.

              “We don’t want to be late,” said Trudy, taking Kitty by the arm.

              “Huh?”

              “For the rehearsal,” she stated then eyed Kitty carefully. “What’s gotten into you?”

              “Oh, nothing, nothing,” she murmured.

              As Trudy led Kitty toward their cars, which were parked side by side, Kitty stared at the blue sedan.

             
M0N-Y-KNG, who are you?