ENGAGED TO BE MURDERED (The Wedding Planner Mysteries Book 4) (7 page)

              “The nerve of that woman!”

              Kitty exploded the second Trudy closed the passenger’s side door.

              “What woman?” Trudy asked before following up with a more important question. “Would champagne help?”

              Trudy revealed a bottle of champagne tucked inside a white bag, a token of appreciation for taking her business to Glamorous Gowns.

              Kitty’s fury subsided when she saw the bubbly beverage.

              “Maybe...” she blinked. “Do we have a drinking problem?”

              “It’s a life problem,” Trudy said, dryly. “And drinking helps.”

              “It’s that Sadie Francis! She all but announced she’d plans to bed Sterling! Can you believe it?!”

              Kitty pulled away from the curb, heading north into the center of town where Harry Collins was expecting their arrival to sample cakes at Delectable Desserts.

              “She did not!”

              “She did!” Kitty pressed her mouth into a hard line and shook her head. “Can you believe her? She’s probably Sterling’s prime suspect and she’s mouthing off to me how Sterling was flirting with her at my party.”

              “But he wasn’t,” Trudy assured her.

              It brought some relief. Kitty wouldn’t have known one way or the other. She’d been rushing around that night.

              “You’re sure?”

              Trudy shrugged thoughtfully then nodded. “He wasn’t.”

              “Why would she say that to me?”

              “I said it once and I’ll say it again,” said Trudy. “The woman gives me a bad feeling.”

              “Well, I got a lead,” said Kitty, getting focused about the situation. “I’m going to drop you off with Harry to sample the cakes.”

              “But I don’t want to sample the cakes,” she objected.

              “Yes you do!”

              “I don’t!”

              “You have to!”

              “Do you have any idea how many calories are in a single bite? It’s all sugar and fat and oh God, I’m gaining weight just thinking about it!”

              Kitty glared at her from the driver’s seat.

              “Why can’t you come in and sample them for me?” she begged.

              “Because! I’m getting somewhere with this investigation!” Then it hit her all over again—Sterling in a clean green sweater, new jeans, and
showered
. It had been more than she could bear. “Did I tell you Sterling got there just as I was leaving?”

              “No, is that bad?”

              Kitty tried to swallow her anxiety, but it was a lump in her throat.

              “You don’t think he’s interested in her, do you?”

              “Sterling? No way. Sadie’s not his type. You’re his type.”

              “That’s just it,” said Kitty, slumping behind the wheel. “I’m not. He’s made that clear from day one.”

              “He’s in love with you.”

              “I suppose.”

              “Look, Kitty, let me be perfectly clear. Sadie is no one’s type.”

              “I don’t know about that.”

              “If you don’t know then you’re going to have to take my word for it, because I know for a fact that mean spirited, pierced, menacing women like her are no one’s type.”

              “I hope you’re right,” she sighed as she rolled to a stop in front of Harry’s bakery.

              Trudy looked scared.

              “Oh, you’ll have fun,” said Kitty. “Give yourself a break.”

              “It’s just that the gown fit perfectly,” she stated with trepidation. “One false calorie and it can all be shot to hell.”

              “It doesn’t work like that.” Kitty stared expectantly at her friend. “Trudy?”

              “Yes?”

              “Get out of my car.”

              “Darn it!” Trudy threw her door open.

              “Call me when you’re done.”

              “Will do!”

              Kitty watched Trudy head into Delectable Desserts and give Harry a little hug hello. When it seemed she’d gotten settled with the baker, Kitty pulled out into the street and headed for the Greenwich Harbor.

              Harbor Inn was a small, if not ritzy establishment situated on Pleasant Lane just as the pierced cashier at Adorned had described.

              Clouds thickened overhead, casting darkness over the inn as Kitty pulled her key from the ignition. Gazing out at the freezing water, and noticing the snow had ceased falling, she was suddenly overcome with apprehension. It looked too dark to be three in the afternoon. For as bad a feeling as Sadie had given her, the thought of finding Jimmy Kimball filled her with an even worse feeling.

              She sensed he was a very dark man.

              Maybe Sterling should know she was here. Deep down she felt calling him would be the right thing to do, but she’d come so far. The fact that she’d stolen away to his precinct and given the six bottles of Sadie’s tincture to Greer without his knowledge had been nothing short of a miracle. And if she wanted to stay in good standing with him, then two things were certain—he could never know she’d set out on her own investigation, and she’d have to swallow her pride and trust him when it came to matters of his own investigative methods, including how he chose to spend his time with that terrible Sadie Francis.

              Accepting those certainties, Kitty snugged her hat over her ears and ventured across the windy boardwalk, her gaze locked on the Harbor Inn, which seemed jarringly out of sorts compared to her trepidation. It was twinkling with holiday lights and looked as warm and aglow as a Thomas Kinkade cottage.

              As soon as she stepped inside, the warm air rich with the scent of pine needles enveloped her, and she breathed a little easier, no longer sure of why she’d been so worried.

              She unbuttoned her peacoat and slipped her hat from her head as she approached the front desk clerk. The inn was quite homey, and the young woman who ran hospitality was seated in a comfy armchair near an oak table, far from the formalities of greater establishments like the Hyatt or Delamar up the way.

              “How do you do? I’m Kitty Sinclair—”

              “Do you have a reservation?” she immediately asked, knowing full well all but one room had been booked and she’d know better than anyone if Kitty had a reservation.

              “No,” Kitty smiled. “I’m hoping to speak with one of your guests, James Kimball. Do you happen to know if he’s here?”

              The young woman, whose name was Annabelle according to the nametag clipped to her chest, smoothed her hand over her blond, frizzy hair and seemed to slip into an effort to recollect.

              “I know he’s checking out today,” she commented. “I don’t recall him leaving as of yet. Let me call up.”

              Kitty wasn’t sure if that would best serve her effort, but she didn’t stop Annabelle from rounding the back of the oak desk and dialing one digit on a chunky phone.

              “Kitty Sinclair you said?”

              “Yes.”

              The woman nodded then concentrated on her phone call.

              “Hi, yes, Mr. Kimball, this is Annabelle at the front desk. I have a guest here to see you.” Annabelle listened intently then covered the mouthpiece and asked, “What is this regarding?”

              “Tell him...” Kitty nearly went blank then blurted out, “Future business. I’m a wedding planner and I like his work.”

              “It’s regarding business,” Annabelle echoed. “That’s right, Kitty Sinclair.”

              The woman hung up and gestured toward the stairs.

              “His room is the last door on the right once you get upstairs.”

              “He isn’t coming down?” she asked, thrown for why a total stranger would want her in his private room.

              “You’re welcome to go up.”

              “I see.”

              Kitty crept up the staircase as though it was a haunted house and anything could jump out and snatch her.

              When she reached the last door on the right she had to take several deep breaths in preparation to knock, but every time it was as though she couldn’t get any air. Sterling nagged her from the back of her mind. She really ought to at least text him so he would know where she was.

              Suddenly, the door sprang inward and Kitty was met with the man she’d observed with Sadie earlier that day in the coffee shop.

              As opposed to being on opposite sides of a coffee shop, when up close and personal with Jimmy Kimball the impression he gave off was much less polished and much more coarse than it had been initially.

              His cheeks were pitted and ruddy and his eyes were dark and flat. Though he wore the same suit she’d seen him in earlier, up close it looked weathered and moth eaten, not crisply pressed as she’d first assumed.

              “Kitty Sinclair?” he confirmed when she hadn’t mustered enough gumption to formally introduce herself. “Of Happily Ever After?”

              “Yes,” she said softly. “So Sadie told you about me?”

              “In so many words,” he shrugged, backing away from the doorway so she could come in.

              Kitty wasn’t sure she wanted to. She glanced longingly over her shoulder and was suddenly struck by the quiet. Annabelle was surely in the foyer, but other than the young clerk Kitty, had no reason to trust anyone else was in the inn.

              “You caught me packing,” he said, as he tossed a few shirts into his luggage that was resting on the bed.

              “So Sadie brought you on board to help her finish up my client, Trudy Sanders’, engagement ring?”

              He snorted. “Do I look like the kind of man who maintains a professional relationship with Sadie Francis?”

              “Yes?” Kitty quickly revised her response when it was clear she’d offended him. “No, no of course not.” He dropped his momentary offense then tossed a number of balled socks into the luggage. “But you worked on the ring, correct?”

              “Of course. I’ve known Margie for years and she didn’t trust Sadie’s work ethic.”

              “Oh, you’re friends with Margie?”

              “Close friends,” he corrected. “I hesitated to get involved, however, given the history.”

              “Between you and Margie?”

              “No, between me and Trudy.”

              Kitty blinked.

              “You have history with Trudy?” She didn’t mean to sound alarmed, but it was shocking to learn Trudy had been close with a man that Kitty had never heard of.

              “History,” he snorted. “You could say that. I proposed to her once upon a time.”

              “When?” Kitty worked through the shock of it all, but it was having a volatile effect on her. Time seemed to slow down all around her. Her breathing was slow and labored. Thoughts rushed through her mind. Her world was tipping off its axis.

              “A few years back.”

             
Only a few years back? How could Trudy keep something like this from me?

              “She broke my heart, that one.”

              “Is that why you tried to kill her?”

              “I didn’t try to kill anyone,” he snapped, flying into a stark defense.

              Kitty didn’t know whether to trust the fiery glint in his eye as honesty or evidence of a murderous tendency.

              “Then who did?” she pressed.

              “How should I know?”

              "There were only two people working on that engagement ring, you and Sadie. One of you did it, if you’re not working together. You admitted you were close with both Margie and Trudy and you also revealed you have motive to want to hurt Trudy for having broken your heart. What am I supposed to think?”

              “I would never hurt Trudy,” he said, collapsing to the edge of the bed as though his emotions had finally overwhelmed him into a state of exhaustion. “Not intentionally.”

              Kitty eyed him for a long while. The admission that he’d never hurt her
intentionally
gave rise to a grander implication. Perhaps he’d compromised the ring unbeknownst and whoever had set him up hadn’t anticipated Margie’s overzealousness to put the ring on her own finger.

              “Tell me everything,” she instructed, as she lowered into an armchair across from him. “Start from the beginning.”

              “Everything I have to say will only cause you to think I did it, and I didn’t do it.”

              “Jimmy, I’m not the police. I’m not going to twist what you tell me to prove you’re guilty. The more I know the more I can do.”

              Jimmy held her gaze, considering. It was a long deliberation that didn’t result in his sharing his story. Instead, he abruptly got to his feet.

              “I’m leaving town. This isn’t my problem.”

              “You aren’t going to Margie’s funeral?”

              He stopped his effort to chuck a pair of slacks into his suitcase and turned to her with wide eyes.

              “You aren’t going to guilt me into staying.”

              “Just tell me what you know,” she repeated, abandoning all kindness in her tone. “Let’s start with when you first got to town. You said Margie hired you in?”

              “That’s right.”

              “It’s unlikely you’d kill a woman who you’ve known for years and who hired you,” she stated, showing him that she was poised to believe him innocent.

              “She asked me to keep her name out of it.”

              “How do you mean?”

              “She had her opinions about Sadie and thought that if Sadie knew Margie didn’t trust her work, and that was the reason for my coming on board, that Sadie would never go for it. So we had to get Sadie between a rock and a hard place so that when I did show up to offer my services, she’d jump at the help.”

              “How did you and Margie accomplish that?”

              “It wasn’t easy.” Jimmy rubbed his thick hand over his face in reflection. “I sent Margie back to check on the ring. You’d already given it to Sadie and it was reasonable enough to assume she hadn’t started work on it. Margie switched the rings.”

              “Switched them? With what?”

              “I’d made an identical ring, but with phony materials. Instead of a diamond, it had a hunk of cut glass. Instead of silver it was made with a comparable metal that won’t yield to anything less than five hundred degrees, which I knew she wouldn’t be able to accommodate. She wouldn’t even try because the Fahrenheit range for silver is much lower. She wouldn’t think to try. So she worked on the ring to no avail for weeks. Then I showed up as though I was going door to door to all the jewelers in the state, offering my expertise.”

              “So while Sadie is trying to work on a dummy ring, Margie had the real one?”

              “She gave it to me. I resized it easily enough. Then we used the same method to get the real ring back into Sadie’s store. Margie shows up wanting to check on it. When she handles it, she switches them.”

              Kitty understood why this explanation didn’t necessarily do Jimmy any favors. The same two people handled the rings, him and Sadie, with the addition of Margie herself, who obviously wouldn’t have laced it with poison, and if she had, she certainly wouldn’t have tried it on that night at the party.

              “Where did you do this work?” Kitty asked. “You’re from out of town. I don’t suppose you travel with your own equipment?”

              “I was using Patrick McAlister’s shop.”

              “Patrick McAlister?” The name sounded familiar.

              “Margie’s brother’s shop.”

              “He’s a jeweler?”

              “A terrible one and no longer practicing.”

              “That explains why Margie didn’t have him do it.” Kitty considered the information. “I’d like to talk to him,” she said, thoughts leaping ahead to the myriad complications that could be caused by siblings and lovers, rivalries and unrequited love, all tangled up and coming to a head over the silly task of melting silver into a slimmer circle.

              Once Jimmy Kimball had jotted down Patrick McAlister’s address, Kitty took it and asked him not to leave town just yet.

              Jimmy sighed, nodded, and admitted he wasn’t actually going to.

              “Margie was a good friend. I won’t leave until after the funeral. But I won’t be staying at the inn here.”

              “Where will you be?”

              “Around.”

              Kitty turned for the door, but had one more question before she left.

              “Do you know of anyone who would want to harm Margie?”

              “You should ask Patrick,” he said darkly. For a second Kitty thought he was incriminating his host, but then he added, “No one knew Margie better than her own brother.”

              Kitty checked her wristwatch as she padded through the snowy sidewalk. Trudy would be wrapping things up with Harry fairly soon, but according to the time, she hadn’t spent as long with Jimmy Kimball as she’d thought.

              As she climbed into her Fiat and started for the police station where Greer, the forensic pathologist should by now have some information for her, Kitty reviewed the tangled pieces to see if any of it added up.

              Trudy had made Kitty aware that her engagement ring was loose, and it had been Kitty who’d contacted Sadie since she was the only jeweler on the block. Sadie had sat on the ring, more or less, not getting any work done, which somehow Margie knew about, even though it had been Kitty who was checking in with Sadie and overseeing the task.

              Which meant that Margie had probably also been checking in—either directly with Sadie or through Trudy—which seemed less likely.

              Knowing Sadie, Margie probably had rubbed her the wrong way.

              In any event, Margie had devised a plan with Jimmy, whom she had a personal relationship with (never mind the complete shock that Trudy had also had an even more personal relationship with Jimmy).
Why?

              Margie had simply been impatient that Sadie would get the ring resized?

              Margie was such a control freak she’d needed her own friend to do the work instead of Sadie?

              Or had there been a rift between Margie and Sadie for other reasons?

              Nevertheless, Margie had involved Jimmy and asked him not to mention her name to Sadie.

              Jimmy had Margie switch the rings. Sadie had gone forward working on a ring that would never yield, while Jimmy worked on the real ring using a workspace provided by Margie’s brother, Patrick.

              In any event, the work had been completed and once again Margie returned to swap the rings.

              If Margie had been determined not to let Sadie know she was in on Jimmy’s sudden appearance, then why had it been Margie who both dropped the fake ring off and then switched it once again with the real one?

              Why not just fire Sadie in the first place and take the business elsewhere?

              The more Kitty thought about it, a vendetta of sorts seemed to be forming between Margie and Sadie.

              But the real kicker was the ever-present dilemma—was the poisoned ring meant for Margie or Trudy?

              If there was a vendetta between Sadie and Margie, and Sadie found out about the conniving plan Margie and Jimmy had devised, then Kitty could see the rowdy jeweler getting back at Margie. But the gamble that Margie would put the engagement ring on her own finger had been a big one. Was Sadie that great a risk taker? Or did she know Margie well enough to bet the bubbly maid of honor would slip the ring onto her own finger?

              There was so much that Kitty simply didn’t know.

              And if she was going to find out more, she’d have to do it without Trudy.

              Quickly, Kitty composed a text to her best friend checking in and also mentioning that she’d swing by in a half hour. She hit send then tossed her cell to the passenger’s seat as she pressed on the accelerator determined to get to Greer as soon as possible and hoping like hell the forensic pathologist would have something for her she could use.

              She rolled to a stop in the precinct parking lot, and through the whipping windshield wipers watched officers trickle in and out of its entrance. In her concentration, she hadn’t noticed Trudy had not texted her back. All she could think was that she couldn’t run into Sterling and Greer better not have spilled the beans.

              She realized no amount of waiting and watching would guarantee he wasn’t inside or on his way, so she climbed out, locked her Fiat, and quickly padded through the packed snow.

              Greer Daly’s office was located on the third floor. Sterling’s desk was on the ground floor where most of the action took place if not in the jail cells down below.

              Committed to going undetected, Kitty slipped through the glass entrance doors and scurried to the elevator banks at the far end of the lobby. She kept her head down and eyes away from the homicide floor that spanned the left side. Just as she reached the cars, one opened and she slunk in then pressed the button for the third floor several times as though that’d help the doors close faster.

              It wasn’t until she was stepping onto the quiet third floor landing that she breathed a heavy sigh of relief.

              Greer Daly was an odd woman. Kitty figured you’d have to be to dedicate your life to analyzing trace evidence in often isolating work environments. A frail woman in her early forties with raven-black hair, Greer had a discerning if not handsome set of eyes that seemed to seldom blink.

              Kitty had first met Greer on accident when she’d forced the ladies’ room door open, having assumed it to be full of stalls. It wasn’t, but rather it was designed to accommodate one woman at a time. Greer had appeared both astonished and amused at Kitty’s relentlessness that ultimately resulted in the doorknob springing loose in its frame.

              Greer stared at her, not in disgust, but with curiosity and then stated, “Some people knock.”

              Kitty had been mortified and never again did she dare use that bathroom or any others at the precinct when visiting Sterling for lunch or at the end of his shift.

              Since then, whenever Greer had crossed Kitty’s path, she’d been forthright announcing her intention to use the ladies’ room undisturbed and would that be alright with Kitty?

              Dropping the tinctures off with Greer had been no small feat for Kitty. She’d had to swallow her pride and laugh at herself when Greer resonated the same stale humor she’d been exercising for the past few months.

              Kitty knocked on the pathologist’s door, though it was open a crack, and then poked her head through. Greer was seated at her desk in profile to Kitty. She turned her head but not her eyes as though she only need get a sense of who was calling.

              “Ladies’ room is up the hall,” she chided.

              “Hilarious,” Kitty said, dryly. “May I come in?”

              “Haven’t you already?”

              It was true. Kitty made every effort not to feel embarrassed, stomped the moist snow from the tops of her heeled boots, and stepped deeper in, being sure to close the door behind her in case Sterling had occasion to come through the hall.

              “Did you find anything unusual about those tinctures I’d dropped off?”

              Greer met her gaze and stared at her in such a way that Kitty wondered if she’d somehow gotten herself in trouble.

              “In fact, we did.” Greer swiveled her chair to face Kitty, which Kitty took as an invitation to approach the desk. "The bottle of rose oil contained high levels of the same poison found in Margie McAlister’s system."

              Kitty was enthralled. “And you understand the tinctures came from Sadie Francis’ studio workspace in the back of Adorned, her store?”