Love, Laughter, and Murder Ever After (The Wedding Planner Mysteries Book 1) Page 10

  “I’m sick of you,” seethed Gerald. “You’ve disgraced yourself, you know that?”

  “You haven’t loved me in years,” she hissed, spitting each word through her teeth, hatefully.

  “That’s your excuse?” He shook her, but she wriggled free. She didn’t get two steps before he grabbed her roughly and whipped her around, taking firm hold. “You expect me to ignore it? To be made a fool of? Is that what you think I’m good for?”

  “I don’t think you’re good for anything,” she snapped. “Don’t act like you didn’t know. You’ve known for years and you did nothing.”

  “You say I haven’t loved you, but the truth is the opposite.” His face was red with rage. “Why didn’t you marry him? Hmm? If he’s who you really wanted!”

  “I couldn’t.” The honesty hit him like a slap in the face and, seeing that, Astrid grinned demonically. “He went from one wife to the next, but I’ve been his one and only true love. I should’ve divorced you years ago so I could be happy.”

  “You might get your wish,” he yelled, shoving her away.

  “That’d be unwise,” she stated with the utmost conviction. “But I won’t stop you. Just tell me where to sign.”

  With that Astrid stomped down the hall. Thinking fast, Kitty rolled away and buried her head in a bushel of flowers just as Astrid passed into the restaurant. When the coast was clear, Kitty let out a sigh and turned back around, but no sooner than she did her heart skipped a beat and she gasped at the sight of Sterling who’d appeared before her.

  “Doll,” he said with a smile. “Still hate me?”

  She urged him back so she could extricate herself from the flower bushel.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked, trying to sound annoyed when in fact her heart was a flutter.

  “I like The Lotus,” he shrugged.

  “Oh please. We booked this restaurant exclusively. No outside customers. You can’t be here.”

  “Then why am I?”

  Arg, the riddles!

  “I just asked you that!”

  Sterling gazed into her eyes and took a step toward her leaving less than a breath’s space between them. His dark eyes caught the light and she realized their color: green. Her gaze drifted up to his gray hair that was styled handsomely, and then traveled down to his lips, the curling grin at the corner, and then finally she realized he was dressed in a gray suit.

  He caught her chin between his fingers and her eyes snapped up to meet his. Her lips parted in anticipation, but of what she didn’t dare imagine.

  “Look at you,” he whispered.

  Enraptured by his tone, the gesture, and the sheer proximity to his strong body, Kitty’s lids grew heavy and she eased forward, rising on her tiptoes, and going with the flow of the moment that was sweeping her away.

  But the second her eyes closed she felt his fingers on her nose.

  Huh?

  Her eyes popped open and she swatted him off.

  “You have pollen all over your nose,” he smiled.

  She was mortified. She could die. As she rushed off around the corner, escaping to the privacy of the ladies’ room, she heard him call after her, “You didn’t think I was going to kiss you, did you?” Then he added under his breath, “Like I need another slap in the face.”

  Focusing on reaming Trudy out was all she could do to keep from crying in embarrassment as she brushed lily pollen from her nose in front of the ladies room mirror.

  “Well, I’ve had a hell of a day!” Kitty exclaimed; a motto she grown accustomed to living by, or perhaps a battle cry that was apt to fall on deaf ears. Kitty collapsed onto Trudy’s couch, the coral ruffles of her dress billowing all around her.

  Trudy was ready with a crisp glass of Chardonnay, but Kitty swiped the bottle from the coffee table instead and took a long swig.

  “That bad, huh?” asked Trudy, scooting in beside her as she balanced two glasses of wine in her fists. She discarded one to the table and then gave Kitty her full attention.

  “Harry’s in jail. I’m getting closer to understanding what happened to Duke and yet the pieces don’t fit. And Sterling never ceases to infuriate me,” she stated, taking stock of her current, insurmountable predicament.

  “I heard about Harry,” said Trudy, taking pause. “Look on the bright side. At least you weren’t arrested for having that poison bottle in your possession. Doesn’t that renew your faith in Sterling?”

  Kitty glared at her then took another long haul of Chardonnay from the bottle. “I never had faith in Sterling,” she said dryly as she nestled the bottle between her thighs. “And why on earth did you set me up with him? That was a total ambush!”

  “You like him!” Trudy argued. “And he likes you!”

  “He likes messing with me,” she countered. “He likes making me look like a fool. That’s about it.”

  “He said you guys had a nice time,” she protested.

  “You talked to him?”

  Trudy shrugged. “I wanted to thank him for taking you out and hear how it went.”

  Kitty studied her friend for a moment and curiosity stirred. “How’d he say it went?”

  “Good,” she said, tone hitching up in a way that indicated Sterling’s impressions of the evening had perhaps been much different.

  “What’d he really say?”

  She sighed into a leveling tone. “He said you were a bit uptight—”

  “The nerve!”

  “Now, Kitty, you have to be honest with yourself,” she interrupted. “Did you have an open mind or were you fighting it?”

  “How can you ask me that? Of course I was fighting it. I was completely thrown off guard. You should’ve warned me.”

  “You wouldn’t have gone.”

  Kitty wasn’t sure if that was true, but the statement had merit.

  “I might have,” she said, keeping her denial strong.

  “I think he really likes you,” said Trudy, anchoring the conversation back to the heart of the matter.

  “Then why is he so off-putting about it?”

  “Handsome men can get away with these things I suppose, but he means well, don’t you think?”

  “I don’t know what to think,” she muttered, taking another swig from the wine bottle. “Let me ask you something,” she said, changing the topic so her blood wouldn’t boil over. “Why would a man give two different women the same gift?”

  Trudy had a think on that, but seemed stumped. “What makes you ask?”

  “Duke von Winkle gave the groom’s mother the same silk scarf he’d given his wife for their anniversary,” she explained. “Why would he do that?”

  Her friend drew in a deep breath then shook her head. “Because he’s an idiot.” She had Kitty’s full attention so she elaborated. “To mitigate jealousy.”

  Kitty considered that. “Duke didn’t want Astrid to be jealous of his relationship with his own wife?”

  They both contemplated that for a beat.

  Then Kitty sprang up in her seat. “He was having an affair!”

  “I think you’re right,” said Trudy, daunted by the love triangle or the fact that such a thing could occur.

  “How did the affair lead to Duke’s death?” she mused then took the notion one step further. “When did it start? And how does it relate to Charlotte von Winkle’s mysterious death twelve years ago?”

  Kitty and Trudy drank their wine in puzzled silence, each knowing the answer was on the tip of their tongues, but too hard to swallow.

  Chapter Thirteen

  It was the day of the wedding.

  The sun was shining. The birds were chirping. The air was filled with love, but a dark cloud hovered over Kitty as she walked with purpose through the arched doorway of the Carlyle F. Barnes Memorial Chapel.

  She’d stopped by the jailhouse to cheer up Harry on her way home from Trudy’s last evening, and witnessing his despair had kept her up the rest of the night. She’d tossed and turned in fits and starts, falling in an
d out of sleep, dipping into murderous nightmares and fighting her way back into consciousness to escape them. She felt exhausted, but the show must go on.

  Kitty hurried through the chapel and on out its back doors where the reception tent had been pitched. The caterer, wait staff, and florists rushed around putting final touches on the area that was a stunning masterpiece of Kitty’s finest work.

  She made a beeline for the coffee cart and poured herself a hot cup, splashed a bit of cream in the brew, and then drank as she marveled at the fruits of her artful labor.

  When would it be her big day? When would all of her dreams come true as they related to love, laughter, and happily ever after? Her heart sunk, heavy with the weight that it was so far in the distance there wasn’t so much as a whisper of true love on her horizon.

  Once she’d ingested enough caffeine to jumpstart her determination, Kitty made the rounds, checking in with each department head to tend to their needs in the uniform effort to get this wedding underway without a hitch.

  When it seemed all stations were a go, she circled back through the chapel, her headset clasped tightly around her head, and took up her post under the chapel portico where the morning sun kissed her perfectly rosy face. She worked an endearing smile across her face in the next moment and reminded herself today would be her greatest accomplishment to date. This was her first wedding as a self-made woman. It would put Happily Ever After on the map. And all she had to do was make certain that every detail went exactly according to plan.

  It’d be no small feat, but Kitty was ready. And the second her confidence settled strongly in her gut, the first of dozens of guest cars began rolling up to the chapel entrance.

  Show time!

  That’s when she saw him, a coiffed mop of gray hair standing out from the sudden crowd of guests. His eyes pierced through the bodies, his green gaze landing on Kitty without mistake. He wore a dark suit that erred on the side of steel blue. It hugged him like a glove, arm muscles better defined by the suit’s lines, thighs strong, and legs long in the tailoring. He walked with swagger, the thin black tie he wore pressed taut down his broad chest, and his polished dress shoes reflected the morning sun. Sterling was a vision that took her breath away, and for once Kitty didn’t feel the need to question why he was here. She was just glad he’d come.

  Tearing her gaze away from their locked eye contact was one of the hardest things Kitty had ever done, but she managed in order to greet Roxanne von Winkle, as the bride’s stepmother approached the entrance.

  “You look beautiful, Roxanne.”

  The woman smiled grimly, placed a demure hand on the silk scarf around her neck, and then passed through into the chapel.

  Astrid and Gerald came up the stone steps next, the tension between them palpable, but Kitty made a solid effort to break it.

  “You both look lovely,” she offered, though the compliment didn’t quite land. Gerald seemed to grumble some kind of an objection that Astrid shook her head at, but soon they too disappeared through the grand archway merging with the wealth of guests inside.

  Sterling squeezed himself between a wall of guests and appeared before her.

  “Look at you,” he said, taking her hand.

  She felt her breathing turn to shallow sips, as he lifted her hand to his lips and kissed the back of it. When he released her she wished he hadn’t, but the way he looked her up and down sent a fresh flutter of excitement rolling through her chest and down her tummy until the whole of her felt warm and trembling, a result far better than his hand on hers. She was glad she’d chosen to wear the clingy number she had.

  “I can’t wait to see Barbie and Ken all dressed up. I think my niece has those exact dolls, wedding Barbie with a bouquet, groom Ken with a sense of impending doom his life will be forever ruined.”

  She shot him a quizzical glance.

  “Contessa and Charles,” he clarified. “You don’t think they look like Ken and Barbie?”

  “I hadn’t thought of that,” she mumbled. Oh, goodness she was tongue-tied. “I suppose they do.”

  “I like your headset,” he mused. “You look like a conspicuous federal agent.”

  “I do not,” she said, brushing off the compliment—if it was one.

  His responding expression told her it hadn’t been.

  Whoops!

  “Aren’t you going to ask me why I’m here?” he asked.

  She smiled. “No, I'm not.”

  Sterling smirked at that, held her gaze a moment longer, and then walked through the doorway. It was only then that Kitty began breathing.

  Was that awkward or was that good? She debated. It could go either way. And as she analyzed, the dark cloud of her restless mind rolled back in, glooming the otherwise charmed exchange she’d had with Detective Sterling Slaughter.

  Seeing that the guests had thinned greatly, she ushered the stragglers inside and closed the grand chapel doors. The light shifted from natural to candlelit as she did and soon Kitty was rushing off toward the bridal chamber to check on her most valued, albeit only, client.

  She didn’t make it that far, however.

  As she passed an alcove tucked deeply into the hall, a white, yippy poodle stole her attention.

  Oh, Bernard!

  She took a step then realized that Gerald Astoria was standing with the dog and playfully ruffling it up. Beyond them sat an urn of poor Duke von Winkle’s ashes, which Kitty had arranged the night prior. The urn had a cloth handle she’d fashioned herself that would make carrying the thing down the aisle a simple task for the empty-headed canine.

  Because she sensed he was about to do something very private, Kitty slipped into the shadows as Gerald turned to the urn.

  And he did.

  But it wasn’t pleasant, and certainly not a gesture of mourning or grief.

  Gerald Astoria spit into it.

  Kitty was utterly appalled.

  Her mouth flew open and she nearly gasped, but what occurred to her next kept her silent.

  She had an epiphany.

  She knew exactly what had happened to Duke von Winkle!

  Without hesitation she pressed the side of her headset.

  “Ceremony to begin in T-minus seven minutes!” she announced.

  She had just enough time.

  First she barreled through the hall and then barged into the groom’s chambers.

  “Charles! Don’t move!” she ordered as the very startled groom jumped to face her.

  She was gone before his eyes hit the door. As she scurried further down the hall, she forced a lid on her excitement and then ducked into the bridal chamber where Roxanne and Astrid were glaring at each other over the task of fastening Contessa’s veil in place.

  “Everyone, to the groom’s chamber!”

  “Not a chance!” Contessa objected. “It’s bad luck to see the groom before the wedding!”

  “It was bad luck that your father was poisoned,” Kitty countered with gumption. “The rest is necessary fallout, just go!”

  Leaving the door wide open, Kitty bounced at an awkward pace into the chapel and paused to scan the crowd for Sterling.

  As if magnetism connected them, their eyes locked at once, and Kitty waved him over.

  “I know who killed Duke von Winkle!” she exclaimed, pulling him through the archway and into the hall.

  “How would you—”

  “This way!”

  With his jacket sleeve balled in her fist, Kitty dragged Sterling up the hall then shouted at Gerald when she passed the alcove.

  “This way Mr. Astoria! Come quick!”

  The man was at their heels, though he had no idea what all the commotion was about.

  Kitty hooked into the groom’s chamber then released Sterling and waited for Gerald to pass through before she closed the door and locked it.

  “The individual responsible for poisoning Duke von Winkle is in this very room,” she said confidently, as she stalked around the circle, eyeing each one intensely to instil
l fear and wonder. “I know what happened and I know why.”

  Contessa gasped and Charles threw his arm around his bride and held her close.

  “Who?” she asked, eyes wide and mouth gaping.

  “Wouldn’t you like to know?” said Kitty, relishing the impending victory. “I think we all would.”

  Sterling would’ve rolled his eyes if he weren’t eating up Kitty’s bizarre performance. He was just as intrigued as everyone else was, though he also knew who the killer was.

  “The rift started many years ago,” she began. “Twelve to be exact. It was the silk scarves that clued me, the fact that Astrid owns the exact same one as Roxanne.”

  The mothers exchanged a spiteful glance then returned their gaze to Kitty.

  “Duke was a ladies’ man,” she went on. “He had many loved-filled years with Charlotte, but he was also plagued with a wandering eye that often landed on Astrid.”

  The woman shrank, embarrassed.

  “But it wasn’t Astrid who poisoned Duke von Winkle!” Kitty exclaimed, and then paused for dramatic effect. “It was Gerald!”

  There were gasps all around except for Sterling who was smirking and Gerald whose blood was boiling. His face flushed red, but he pressed his mouth into a hard line, unwilling to confirm or deny the accusation.

  “How did he do it?” She glanced from face to face and went on. “Well, the same way Astrid did.”

  “What?!” she exclaimed. “How dare you?!”

  “Twelve years ago, Astrid’s jealousy of Charlotte was too much to bear. Yes, she was happily married to Gerald, but she’d also taken up a sordid love affair with Duke—one that never ended. She poisoned Charlotte one evening. The effects were slow, and it wasn’t until the following morning that she was found dead in her bathtub—discovered by Charles no less.”

  Charles and Contessa exchanged a horrified look.

  “Did Gerald know of the affair? The murder? Was he oblivious? I can’t say,” Kitty continued. “But it was this wedding that became the straw that broke the camel’s back. Suddenly, Gerald and Duke were in close quarters. The affair with Astrid was not only under his nose, but right in front of his eyes. He couldn’t take it. He found the very same bottle of poison his wife had used years prior and sprinkled it onto the cake sample, the lemon custard, that he knew only Duke would eat.”