ENGAGED TO BE MURDERED (The Wedding Planner Mysteries Book 4) Page 2

  If that was what Sterling thought, then she’d let him think it. It’d be easier than trying to explain that she felt like she was losing her best friend and was sulking and because of it also felt guilt. She should be happy for Trudy, but she wasn’t entirely. And for some strange reason the fact that a portly baker had treated her with an estranged sense of indifference had put her over the edge.

  When he hadn’t heard her response Sterling sighed. “I’ll come.”

  “If it’s too much trouble—”

  “It’s not. I’ll be there. You might want me to change though—”

  “No, I don’t. I’m sure you look fine.”

  “Are you feeling okay?” he asked abruptly.

  If Kitty approved his outfit without even seeing it, she must really be in trouble.

  “Yes, Sterling I’m feeling okay. Just come when you can.”

  “Alright.”

  “Oh! And would you pick up a bottle of whiskey and another of scotch?”

  “Christ, Kitty, just tell me what’s really wrong. You don’t sound like yourself.”

  “Hey, I drink scotch!”

  “That’s a little better,” he chuckled. “If you don’t snap at me at least once during a conversation I start to think you’re deathly ill or planning on leaving me.”

  “Ha. Ha,” she coughed, dryly.

  “Yeah, I’ll pick that up. Anything else?”

  “Ask me what I’m wearing?”

  “Oh, right,” he laughed. “Or else you’ll think I’m not okay.”

  “Sterling!”

  He let his laughter ride out naturally then cleared his throat and deepened it into the territory of mock seduction. “What are you wearing, Doll?”

  Kitty did the same, though a feminine version, saying, “It’s not what I’m wearing, but what isn’t underneath...”

  She heard him moan a little sigh like music to her ears then quickly hung up, beaming a smile.

  That’ll get him here quick, she told herself.

  But soon the smile slipped off her face.

  Her stomach tightened into a knot.

  Kitty had a terrible feeling and this time it didn’t have to do with Trudy or Harry or friendships lost or altered.

  What she was sensing was death in the air.

  Chapter Two

  Happily Ever After was hopping with hopeful singles, mixing and mingling around the various displays, while classical music played lightly as though in support of each flirtatious conversation.

  The overhead lights were dim, though candles burned atop candelabras that had been strategically placed around the store, aiding in the romantic atmosphere.

  Near the storefront windows a dashingly tall gentleman with sandy hair and a festive sweater smiled then introduced himself to a rather nervous looking young woman, who gulped champagne at just the wrong moment. She swallowed hard on a worried laugh and took slightly too long to register that the man had offered her his hand and his name in gesture of being proper about it.

  Kitty cringed for her from across the room, but didn’t look away until it seemed they’d settled into steady conversation.

  Another budding couple had congregated near the stereo and appeared to be making jokes about Kitty’s limited selection of music, which was mostly classical, but also included such random albums as Modest Mouse’s Good News for People Who Love Bad News, the sound track to FernGully, and The Cars self entitled album—all of which had come with her slightly used Fiat.

  Well, at least they were having a good laugh over it. No need to play wing-woman and help the young lady out.

  The table filled with cakes and bouquets was by far the most popular place to perch. Several guests had coupled up and were now engrossed in pleasant conversation.

  For all intents and purposes, this Thursday night was shaping up into a total success and it wasn’t yet six o’clock.

  Which reminded her, how long should it take Sterling to get here? Where is he??

  Kitty wove through the crowd when she spotted Trudy and Ronald just inside the door. The chilly breeze had drawn her attention and when she reached them she offered to take their coats.

  “Great party, Kitty!” said Trudy, working a snow bonnet off her six-inch beehive. That was another change Kitty couldn’t seem to get used to. The deeper in love Trudy fell, the more her beehive shrunk.

  “Come this way!” She called over the oboe solo that now blared through the speakers.

  Kitty turned the volume down a hair as she passed the stereo, though it required slinking between the laughing couple. They quickly sobered up having identified Kitty as the musically disinclined party host. Kitty held her head high, all the while leading Trudy and Ronald toward the cake table.

  “I’ll be back in a second,” she said, holding their coats. “Feel free to chat up the guests about how you’re wedding planning is going.”

  Trudy looked fatigued by the suggestion, but offered a soldierly smile. After all, that was the purpose of these parties—get the couples together then plant the seed in their minds: plan your wedding with Kitty Sinclair!

  When Kitty returned a few moments later she first scanned the store for Sterling. Knowing him, and of course knowing her, he probably braved the elements to get home and change before showing his face at her party. Ugh, the one time he listened to her! And yet he hadn’t! She’d told him to come directly!

  “Did you tell her about Margie?” Ronald asked Trudy with such excitement that Kitty thought his low riding spectacles might jump off his face.

  “Margie?” Kitty asked with vague recollection, not because Trudy had mentioned the name, but because years back she’d had a falling out with the woman. “Margie McAlister?”

  Kitty knew Trudy had maintained a relationship with Margie and had to remind herself it wasn’t behind Kitty’s back. Trudy was allowed to be friends with whomever she wanted. Kitty couldn’t dictate, and wouldn’t. Though if anyone deserved to be cut out of both their lives, it was Margie.

  Kitty remembered the egregious offense like it was yesterday.

  She’d slaved over a hot stove all morning, trying her damnedest to perfect banana bread muffins that she’d bragged to all her friends she could make. In fact, she’d never made banana bread muffins or any other kind in her life. Kitty wasn’t so much of a baker as a loyal patron to other bakers, but Margie had always had a way of looking down her nose at that. When Kitty had finally produced a mouthwatering batch, she’d brought it to Linda Templeton’s potluck. As soon as she’d stepped in the door, Trudy greeted her, and thank God! To this day she considered Trudy a verifiable witness!

  Linda had told Kitty she’d find serving trays in the kitchen, but on her way there, with Trudy mind you, Margie intercepted, spewing some gossip that Kitty didn’t necessarily care about. Margie offered to take the container of muffins since she was heading into the kitchen and like a fool, Kitty allowed her.

  Moments later, when Kitty and Trudy were hashing out the aftermath of said juicy gossip Margie had thrown their way, she emerged from the kitchen with Kitty’s delicious banana bread muffins on a tray.

  Everyone at the party had turned toward Margie. They’d ooh-ed and aww-ed at the muffins, plucking them off the tray and offering their compliments.

  They’d thought Margie had made the muffins!

  And what had Margie done???

  She said thank you!

  The woman had taken credit for Kitty muffins!

  Kitty snapped out of recalling the nightmare and barked, “What does Margie McAlister have to do with anything?”

  Trudy tried to pull at Ronald’s arm, but he was oblivious and said, “Why, Margie is going to be the maid of honor.”

  Kitty blinked then swallowed then felt a stroke coming on.

  “What?!”

  Trudy’s eyes went wide then rounded with the utmost sympathy, but she was at a stammering loss for words.

  Kitty made a decent effort to compose herself, but mostly because the party had
hushed and all eyes were on her.

  She smiled at the crowd and calmly said, “Please everyone, enjoy the party!” Then she grabbed Trudy’s arm, skin and bones as it was, and dragged her into the corner. “What in God’s name are you telling me?”

  “Oh, Kitty, I’m so sorry. Ronald shouldn’t have spilled the beans like that.”

  “Ronald?! You shouldn’t have asked her to be your maid of honor! What about me?”

  “I’m so sorry, Kitty. I assumed you wouldn’t be available since you’re spending all your time planning the wedding. I mean the maid of honor has a tall list of duties to perform. I’m so sorry,” she repeated desperately. “I honestly thought you would have no way of doing it all.”

  Kitty forced in a deep breath, but it did virtually nothing to calm her.

  “You know she stole those muffins, Trudy!” Kitty huffed and puffed and felt another stroke coming on. “You were my muffin witness! You should’ve never maintained that relationship! I should’ve forbid it! She’s a horrible, horrible woman!”

  “Is it possible you’re overreacting?”

  Kitty’s mouth dropped open, appalled, but all she could think to say was “Margie!” as if it were a swear word of the crudest sort. Then she sank into a grumbling state, uttering her nemesis’ name over and over again, while her cheeks flushed red and her eyes went crazy.

  “Maybe you need a drink?” Trudy suggested.

  “Maybe I need a drink? Maybe I need a drink!” The question turned into an offended statement then quickly seemed reasonable once she’d heard herself say it twice. “Maybe I do need a drink.”

  “Here,” said Trudy, offering a fresh glass of champagne.

  But Kitty’s crazed gaze had already darted to the door. Sterling had arrived carrying two bottles of hard liquor like a white knight donning sword and shield.

  Thank God!

  Kitty cut through the crowd and felt her normal coloring come back as their eyes met. Sterling gracefully veered between a tipsy couple and soon their bodies met.

  “Just in time,” Kitty sighed, twisting the cap off the whiskey that was still in Sterling’s hand.

  He stared, eyes widening, as she knocked it back, chugging more whiskey than a war-hardened veteran who’d seen some shit. When she lowered the bottle she burped, feigned an embarrassed smile, an dragged him deeper into the party until they reached the refreshments table where she helped him set the bottles down and subsequently poured him a generous glass of scotch.

  “Should I ask?” he said, brows rising.

  “I’m not Trudy’s maid of honor,” she stated flatly. She felt her eyes turn dead and hoped it was the whiskey and not a symptom of her crushed spirit.

  “Want me to arrest her?”

  She thwacked his arm. “Take this seriously!”

  “I am,” he said, but a chuckle escaped him. “Hey, maybe she’s doing you a favor. You don’t want to burn the candle at both ends, do you?”

  “I’ll burn all the candles if I have to! I'll burn the house down!”

  “Okay,” he retreated. He wasn’t going to win this one. It wasn’t even his battle. Best to surrender to Kitty’s hysterics than to fight them.

  As if the night couldn’t get worse, Margie McAlister floated through the glass door. She was all smiles. The nerve! Even her black curly hair seemed to smile. How dare she be so Irish!

  The only saving grace, if there was one, was that Sadie Francis joined the party at that very moment. If Sadie couldn’t stand Kitty for her perky, girly-girl nature, she’d be sure to detest Margie. Margie put the Oy! in annoying.

  “Gird your muffins!”

  “What the hell are you yammering about?” Sterling asked, grabbing her arm and forcing eye contact.

  Kitty whispered as though it was a dying breath, “She’s a muffin thief.”

  Sterling looked at her as though she’d completely lost her mind.

  “Kitty!” Margie exclaimed, pushing her way in front of Sadie, who’d lurched ahead at the sight of bourbon on the table. “Oh, how long it’s been! You look beautiful.”

  It was certainly a compliment, but Kitty chose to be insulted.

  Margie seemed a bit lost that Kitty was glaring, but Trudy rescued her, weaving her way near.

  “Glad you could make it,” Trudy said easily. “So the whole point is we have to talk up Happily Ever After to the guests, drum up some business—”

  “Plant seeds,” Kitty corrected then added, “Plant them. Don’t try to convince these people you made the seeds from scratch!”

  “Enough Kitty; she gets the point.”

  Margie looked terrified.

  And Sadie had sidled up to Sterling behind them.

  It was more tattoos than Kitty had ever seen under one roof and the sight had her even more agitated. Sadie was laughing it up. About what? And Sterling seemed to be obliging.

  “Sadie!” Kitty called out then waved her over.

  Margie’s terror rose to the level of unbridled panic, watching Sadie—pierced in every region, hair bleached and spiked, leather pants giving way to nothing but her perfectly toned physique—saunter up and place her fists on her dangerously pointy hips.

  “Who’s this?” Sadie snarled just as Kitty had hoped.

  “This is Margie McAlister,” Kitty said, pleased with herself that Sadie looked as though she might devour the plump and bubbly muffin bandit. “The maid of honor.”

  Sadie snorted. “So?”

  “Just thought you’d like to meet,” Kitty smiled then shot Sterling a mischievous glance. He held her gaze, but only to clue her in to the fact that he was still convinced she’d lost her damn mind.

  “Oh, Sadie, did you bring the ring?” Kitty asked.

  Trudy’s eyes lit up at once and she exchanged an excited look with Ronald.

  “Yeah,” she said, producing a black ring box from between her muscular boobs.

  When she extended the box, Margie intercepted it, popped it open, marveled—though Trudy looked a bit put off by the interruption—and then that horrible Margie McAlister had the audacity to slide the engagement ring onto her own finger!

  If ever Trudy needed proof the woman was a total abomination, this was it!

  “I love it!” said Margie. “Aww! It's perfect!”

  Through clenched teeth, Kitty sneered, “Someone would actually have to like you first.” But no one heard.

  “Margie, Hun, please,” said Trudy, implying she’d like her ring now.

  Margie swooned, but this time not in a good way. Her knees buckled and she gasped then quickly righted herself.

  “Margie?” Trudy asked, suddenly concerned.

  Probably drank too much, Kitty thought. Irish lush.

  She swooned again, stumbled forwards then in the effort to regain her balance overcompensated and tripped back.

  Kitty noticed her eyes roll up into her head and then, just like that, Margie fell straight backward, hitting the floor like a sack of potatoes.

  While Trudy shrieked and Sadie looked on mildly entertained, Sterling leapt to action and careened through the guests who’d swallowed Margie. He pushed them away, then immediately began checking her vitals, and at times shaking her.

  Kitty inched in, horrified, and two thoughts crept into her head.

  The first was that she could not believe this was happening, again.

  And the second? Who better than Margie?

  With an ill glint in his eyes, Sterling met her gaze.

  “She’s dead.”

  Chapter Three

  The silence in Happily Ever After was deafening once the gasps and screams ceased, but that wasn’t as bad as what came out of their mouths next.

  Wedding planner? Wedding killer!

  Kitty Sinclair is becoming an urban legend!

  I’d never let her plan my wedding! You never know who’s going to die!

  Every time someone uttered a snide remark, Kitty whipped toward the voice, but too late to tell who’d said it. Her heart sank and yet
she was furious, and growing more so by the second.

  Sterling rose to his feet, which Trudy took as an indication she could go to Margie. Tears filled her eyes and her lips quavered in shock that soon gave way to incredible grief.

  Margie didn’t deserve this, Kitty thought, then she grimaced at her initial reaction. She shouldn’t have been pleased. How on earth could she have felt that way?

  Sterling didn’t let Trudy get close to the body. He held her back gently then wrapped his arms around her in a comforting embrace, which Ronald soon took over.

  For all the crimes he’d worked as a cop then a detective, Kitty wondered how many actual deaths he’d witnessed. His green eyes were dark and cold, deep set under a knit brow, and his mouth pressed into a hard line as if to keep his drink down. He didn’t look at Kitty, but stared at poor Margie, at times shaking his head, but the sentiment was so subtle she almost didn’t catch it.

  Finally, he stalked around the body, a passive way of getting all the guests to step back, creating room and also perhaps to try and see this from a new angle. His expression gradually turned steely, as though he was shifting from his initial turmoil into the productive, discerning, calculating investigator Kitty had come to know him as.

  “Call 9-1-1,” he told her in a solemn tone when he returned to Kitty.

  She nodded obediently, pulling her cell from her purse, and then asked, “Should I ask the guests to leave?”

  Sterling didn’t seem to have an answer and Kitty remembered the Maple - Coburn bachelor party where Sterling had held the guests until the local cops had collected everyone’s information. Her store was small, and unlike the bachelor party, where Johnny Gibbons’ body had been sealed off in the coatroom, here Margie was exposed for all to see. She hoped she wouldn’t have to put her guests through that no matter how cruel some of their comments had been.

  “Sterling?”

  “No,” he said softly. “Is there another room they can wait in?”

  At a loss she muttered, “No, there isn’t.”

  “It’s too cold outside,” he noted. “Damn.”