ENGAGED TO BE MURDERED (The Wedding Planner Mysteries Book 4) (11 page)

              Sterling stared at Patrick McAlister through a one-way mirror. They’d been at it all night, all day, and both were beginning to wither.

              Patrick sat at the table in the cramped interrogation room. His head was in his hands, as he slumped over the tabletop. He looked sweaty. His tie was crooked and loose around his neck. The length of it draped over the corner of the table. He hadn’t touched the cup of coffee Sterling had brought him, nor the bottle of water. In fact, Patrick had kept his hands in his pockets or combed through his hair. He hadn’t touched a thing since setting foot in the precinct, not a doorknob, not the chair he sat in. He hadn’t even touched Sterling’s Jeep when the detective had tossed him in.

             
Guilty as all hell.

              But the brother hadn’t admitted a thing, not one thing Sterling could use. The love affair with Sadie, though interesting, proved nothing. The love triangle between Trudy and Kimball and Sadie was equally entertaining, and just as useless.

              Sterling was running out of threats, running out of leverage, and worst of all running out of time.

              And yet he wasn’t ready to dive back into the lion’s den. Something about Patrick McAlister wasn’t right, and until he could put his finger on it, Sterling didn’t dare venture back to that table.

              He needed more.

              It wasn’t lost on him that he was often distracted by the similarities between Margie’s tragic murder and the abrupt death of his own mother. Every time he attempted to review the facts of the McAlister case, his wandering thoughts got the best of him, and soon he was lost to the memory of his mother lying face down on the floor.

              It hadn’t been a ring on her finger, but a necklace around her neck.

              And it had taken twenty years for anyone to know that it had been the necklace dipped in poison that had killed her.

              As a boy, he’d accepted the coroner’s ruling. Heart failure. It seemed likely enough. His mother drank and smoked and handed all of her vices down to Sterling.

              It hadn’t been until his own wife had fallen dead that he’d been able to put two and two together.

              His mother’s necklace, which had been removed from her neck and placed into a jewelry box where it remained for decades, was finally wrapped around Charlotte’s neck. Sterling had fastened the clasp. Charlotte had smiled and adored it.

              Thirty minutes later she was dead.

              It was the reason he’d become a detective. With Charlotte in his life, he could’ve easily spent the rest of his law enforcement career as a beat cop, eventually ease into the role of meter maid, and then retire at sixty-five, bored but happy.

              Funny how life worked out.

              The killer had never been found, but in Sterling’s heart of hearts he knew the man was out there. He’d killed two of the most important women in Sterling’s life, and Sterling’s gut told him the man hadn’t left town.

              He wasn’t naive enough to believe the same man had taken Margie’s life. He didn’t think Patrick had been the one to destroy his childhood. They were the same age, after all.

              But the similarities in cases resonated in Sterling’s mind like a dark premonition of death to come.

              There was no one he loved more in this world than Kitty.

             
If anything were to happen to her....

              Well, he couldn’t bear the thought.

              Sterling shook worry from his mind, but a bad taste still lingered in his mouth, as he forced himself into the interrogation room.

              Patrick jumped when he slammed the door and locked eyes with Sterling.

              The man looked scared.

              Good.

              Things were about to get a whole lot scarier.

              “We picked up Sadie Francis moments ago.”

              Sterling let that hang then fed Patrick a frightening implication.

              “She’s in the next room.”

              Patrick’s eyes widened, but he pressed his mouth into a hard line, a declaration he’d say nothing.

              Sterling shrugged casually. “Fine,” he said easily. “I don’t need you to talk. Sadie’ll do the talking for you.”

              “She won’t.”

              “What makes you think that?”

              Again, Patrick refused to speak.

              “Here’s the thing, Patrick. Sadie’s found herself in a real bad spot. Much worse than the one you’re in. So she’s gonna want to cut a deal, and we’ve made things real simple for her. She rolls on you. She can walk out of here Scot free.”

              It was a blatant lie, but Patrick didn’t know that.

              “What’s she going to tell us, Patrick?”

              He shook his head, crossed his arms, and made certain not to touch any of his surroundings, but he was shaking clear as day to Sterling’s trained eye.

              “Well, if you’re not going to tell me what you know then let me tell you what I know,” he went on. “Sadie came into a great deal of cash earlier today.” Sterling leaned over him and stared Patrick down. “It looks like a hefty payment. Now what did she have to do to make that kind of dough?”

              As if an internal alarm had just gone off three hours too late, Sterling glanced at his watch and realized the time.

              “Shit,” he barked backing away and throwing the door open.

              “Wait! Wait!” Patrick yelled. “You can’t believe her! I’ll talk! I’ll talk!”

              But Sterling was already down the hall, pulling his arms through his coat. He thrust the door open and started for his Jeep.

              He’d really messed up this time.

              Worse than he’d ever done.              

              “Kitty!” Sterling pounded on the front door of her little, blue house on Orchard Street. The portico was aglow with twinkling holiday lights, but they did nothing to ease the chill running up his spine. “Kitty! Come on! Let me in!”

              He glanced over his shoulder at her red Fiat that was parked strangely, her bumper jutting into a snowbank as though she’d skidded to a precarious stop.

              “Kitty, your car’s out front! I know you’re in there! I’m sorry!”

              The overhead light flipped off then the holiday lights went dark.

              “Ok! I deserve that! I’m sorry! Would you let me explain?”

              “I know you don’t want to be here so you might as well leave!” she shouted through the door, tone strained and quavering as though she’d been fighting back tears all night.

              “Of course I want to be here!”

              “I had to sit at that table alone all night! This wasn’t just any rehearsal dinner, Sterling! This time it was important!”

              “How many times can I say I’m sorry?! Time got away from me, that’s all! Don’t take it personally!”

              He could hear her huff in astonishment behind the door then it popped open. At least she was consistent. Nothing flushed Kitty out like some good, old fashioned insults. He was glad he hadn’t needed to go so far as to tell her to calm down, though the offensive instruction was still locked and loaded on the tip of his tongue.

              She stared up at him, big hazel eyes furiously dark.

              “I was questioning Patrick,” he explained.

              “Was it worth it?” she challenged, her lower lip trembling in such a way he wished he could kiss it.

              He sighed. “No.”

              “So you missed the entire dinner for nothing?” She snorted in disgust then shook her head. “Get off my porch.”

              He slammed his palm against the door as she tried to shut it, which caused Kitty to widen her eyes, appalled.

              “You don’t really want me to go away. Come on, I know you.”

              “But do I know you?”

              “What’s that supposed to mean? Of course you know me!”

              She was looking at him as though he were a stranger. It didn’t feel good, not one bit.

              “I recovered the tinctures from Sadie and linked the source of poison,” she stated, holding her index finger up.

             
Good, she’s going to count through all the ways in which she’d meddled.

              “I exposed Sadie’s dealings with Jimmy Kimball,” she went on, holding her middle finger then graduated to her ring finger. “I uncovered Trudy’s affair with Kimball, not that that helps directly, but it’s more than you came up with.”

              “True,” he offered without identifying which aspect he agreed with.

              “I even found out Sadie and Patrick were involved romantically.” She lingered on her pinky finger then moved to her other hand. “And most importantly, I saw a curious exchange! I’d tell you about it, but you don’t deserve to know!”

              “What do you want, Kitty? A medal? I already gave you a gun!”

              “I don’t want your gun!”

              “Good! Because I need it back!”

              “Oh, is that why you’re here?” She snorted. “It all makes sense now!”

              Kitty stomped through the living room to retrieve his derringer, he assumed, so he took the opportunity to follow her inside and stake his claim and where he most wanted to be tonight—in her bed.

              “Here,” she said, thrusting the gun at him.

              “Whoa! Careful with that thing. It’s loaded.”

              “Is it? Ha! I’m shocked you trusted me that much!”

              Sterling slid the derringer down the back of his jeans then shook his coat off and tossed it to a nearby chair.

              “What’s gotten into you, seriously?”

              Kitty fell silent. Whatever was eating her, she couldn’t go there, at least not now.

              “The wedding’s tomorrow,” she stated in an affirming tone devoid of the strong emotions she surely felt. “I expect you to be there.”

              “I will.”

              “I expect to have a pleasant time for Trudy’s sake,” she added.

              “Agreed.”

              She held her head high, but didn’t meet his gaze. “Then after I think we need to talk.”

              “Talk?”

              “Don’t act like you didn’t see this coming,” she warned. “At the reception. We’ll talk.”

              Sterling absorbed the demand and subtly nodded. He wanted to insist he spend the night, but he knew she wouldn’t let him.

              He drank in the sight of her one last time then turned for the door.

              When he reached it, he said, “You’re important to me.”

              But Kitty didn’t waver.

              He left with a hole in his heart.

              Trudy was a vision.

              Kitty glanced up at her best friend, as she kneeled at the lacy hem of her gown, fluffing and straightening the white satin ruffles that cascaded down Trudy’s slim figure. Trudy scrutinized her appearance in the full-length mirrors angled around her.

              “Gorgeous,” said Kitty on a breath.

              And it was true. Even Trudy’s twelve-inch beehive was meticulously adorned with white lilies, sparkling gems, and a dove. That’s right, a real live dove. It was the only thing that made Kitty nervous. Would the songbird fly off? Would it poo in Trudy’s hair? There was just no telling.

              Trudy wasn’t at all concerned. If anything was amiss that day it was the fact that her ring finger was bare.

              Kitty had made every effort with Sterling, Greer, and the entire homicide department to recover Trudy’s engagement ring, but it was locked away deep in the evidence chamber, stowed for the day Margie’s killer would be brought to justice.

              If ever that day were to come.

              Kitty rose to her feet and worked her way around to the back of Trudy’s gown. The train was quite long, layers of lace secured with white thread that wove pearls and rhinestones in swirling patterns.

              The bridal room was cozy. Plush, pink lounge chairs and loveseats spanned its walls in appealing contrast to the dark, mahogany furniture.

              When Kitty glanced out the window she realized snow was fluttering down in big fluffy flakes. A winter wonderland wedding, indeed.

              “Champagne?” Kitty asked, offering Trudy a flute on the silver tray she now lifted.

              “Why not?” said Trudy, plucking a glass. “I’m zipped up. I doubt I’ll rip a seam.”

              “That’s the spirit!”

              Kitty helped herself as well, while Trudy turned this way and that, taking one long last look at her gown. Then she stepped off the low stool she’d been standing on and joined Kitty at the window.

              “I can’t believe I’m getting married,” she mused, sipping her champagne.

             
I can’t believe there’s a killer out there,
thought Kitty, who said no such thing, but smiled at her friend.

              “Ronald’s a good man.”

              Trudy raised her brows at that. “I always thought you hated him.”

              “Ronald? Who could hate Ronald?”

              “You know what I mean.”

              “I think it’s healthy to be annoyed by the man who’s stealing your best friend.”

              “He hasn’t stolen me, Kitty.”

              “No, I know. I will miss our alone time, though.”

              “We’ll still have time alone.”

              “I hope so.”

              Trudy held her gaze until Kitty glanced out the window. It certainly was beautiful out. She loved watching men and women in fancy attire walking swiftly through the falling snow.

              Sterling had yet to arrive. She knew he would. She was planning on ending it to salvage her dignity. The last thing she wanted was to be with a man who didn’t love her and was using the relationship as a guise to watch her every move, as if she could’ve possibly had anything to do with the murders. She snorted then forced a cough so Trudy wouldn’t ask her what she was thinking.

              Yes, Sterling would be here. Whenever Kitty faced a potentially painful conversation the universe rarely stood in her way.

              There came a tap at the door. Trudy was quick to open it revealing the makeup artist on the other side. The young woman smiled, lifted her carrier, and asked, “How about a little touch up?”

              Kitty returned her gaze to the window. It was so lovely out there. She could stare at the landscape for hours.

              As she watched the snow fall, she thought about the irony of the
M0N-Y-KNG
. The man boasting he was the king of money according to his license plate had handed Sadie a brown paper bag. It had looked like a brick, no doubt cash inside. How brazen, she thought.

              “Nice of Margie’s husband to come, don’t you think?” asked Trudy from her chair, as the makeup artist fought her moving lips to blot gloss across her mouth.

              “Huh?”

              “Her husband,” she repeated. “He drove up for the funeral. And he’s here. Or he will be.”

              “I didn’t know Margie was married,” said Kitty. “She didn’t have a ring on her finger. That’s why she put on yours.”

              “Right, right—ex-husband,” she said, correcting herself. “But they never did extricate themselves fully from that tumultuous relationship.”

              From the corner of her eye, Kitty spotted the blue Toyota Yaris sedan creep into the parking lot and her heart skipped a beat.
He's here!

              “Oh!” Trudy exclaimed. “Oh! Dear God! Why?”

              Kitty, hesitant to tear herself away from the window, desperate to see the man's identity, had no choice but to rush to Trudy’s side where she discovered Trudy had spilled her champagne down the front of her gown.

              “It’ll come out!” she assured her.

              “Will it?!”

              “Yes! Don’t panic!”

              “But the ceremony is supposed to start in ten minutes! How will it dry?!”

              “You have a hair dryer?” Kitty asked the makeup girl, who glared at her.

              “The hair girl has a hair dryer,” she said in a flat tone.

              “I’m the hair girl!” Exclaimed Trudy. “Oh for the love of God!”

              “Would you calm down! You'll startle the dove on your head!”

              "Oh my!" Trudy shrieked, holding very still.

              Kitty rushed to the door. “I’ll be back with a towel and some seltzer,” she explained. “Don’t go anywhere.”

              “Where would I go?” Trudy sunk her head in her hands then the makeup girl snapped at her about smudging her blush. “Bring the sage!”

              But Kitty missed the request. She was already halfway out the door, scanning the guests as she went, trying to identify anyone who looked like he might be a money king.

              When she spilled onto the wintery steps and spotted the blue sedan the driver had long since emerged.

              He was somewhere in the church. And Kitty was hell bent on finding him before Trudy and Ronald walked down the aisle.

              Suddenly, inspiration struck.

              Kitty padded back into the church and tried to stay calm as she tore up the aisle, purple patent leather heels tapping over red carpet, until she reached the pulpit where the podium sat, microphone propped proudly upright atop.

              She tapped the mic a few times and said, “Excuse me.” Then cleared her throat as the crowd hushed in the pews.

              “This is a courtesy announcement to inform the driver of a blue Toyota Yaris sedan that your lights are on.”

              Kitty stared at the crowd, breath held, heart racing, searching, hoping, and praying that the killer would rush out of the church to save his car battery from draining.

              Sure enough, at the very back of the church, a man worked his way between guests and disappeared into the foyer.

              And Kitty flew from the pulpit in hot pursuit.

              She had him!

              And she’d let nothing stand in her way.