BRIDE and DOOM (The Wedding Planner Mysteries Book 2) Page 7

  Who would be that close to the groom?

  It was fast approaching ten-thirty. She needed answers and she needed them now.

  Erik lived with Mandy in the heart of Greenwich in a quaint one-story home on the corner of Orchard and Pine. Kitty found it easily, though she’d never once been to their humble abode. After parking across the street and doing what she could to compose the questions that were racing through her mind, she trotted across the street and slowed up when she hopped on the curb.

  Their home looked more like a dollhouse than a real one. Its white picket fence, cute porch, and brown-shingled roof reminded Kitty of years spent gluing tiny wooden slats together on top of her father’s desk. Her father had grumbled over the construction directions as Kitty forged ahead, determined to build her dream house though it would stand only eight inches tall.

  Kitty pressed the doorbell and listened to it chime faintly within the house. She then stepped back and marveled at the sky as she waited. Big, fluffy clouds floated lazily by against the blue-dome sky. Greenwich was a beautiful town no matter the season, but summer tended to be Kitty’s favorite.

  She turned when she heard the door click open behind her, and met eyes with Erik.

  “Kitty,” he said with much surprise. “Ah, thank you for contacting that detective. But I was about to head in. It’s nearly ten-thirty.”

  “Hold off on that, Erik. We need to talk.”

  He looked concerned, but invited her in. “Mandy’s sleeping upstairs,” he said, implying they’d have to be quiet.

  When they reached the living room, a cozy space decorated much like a winter cabin, Kitty wasted no time to collect the facts head on—no beating around the bush.

  “When we spoke earlier, Erik, you said they found candlesticks in your trunk. But your phrasing was misleading.”

  “I’m sorry?”

  Kitty sat on the couch so Erik would know this wouldn’t be an easy conversation. He sat as well in an adjacent armchair that squeaked every time he shifted as brown leather gave under his weight.

  “Becca gave you those candlesticks.”

  He sighed. “What does that matter?”

  “It might not,” she stated. “But your affair with her certainly does.”

  Erik’s eyes widened. “Excuse me?”

  “Don’t deny it. I spoke to Becca.”

  “She’s lying! I never had an affair with her!”

  “Why would she lie?” Kitty asked, pitying his state. “I don’t care about the affair; I just need to know what happened to the third candlestick. I need to know who you pissed off when you slept with Becca. I need to know everything you’re not telling me or else I can’t help you, Erik. This is serious.”

  “It certainly is,” said Mandy from the doorway.

  “Honey!” Erik exclaimed, springing to his feet. “What did you hear?”

  “Everything!” she screamed. “Becca?! My maid of honor?! How could you?!”

  “I didn’t, Mandy! You have to believe me!”

  Kitty was stunned and her heart immediately sank at having caused this. She felt sick to her stomach and when she raised her eyes to say something to put an end to the screaming between bride and groom, she was met with Sterling’s steely gaze.

  “Let’s go, Erik,” he said, grimly.

  “Wait!” Kitty rushed to Sterling and grabbed his arm. “Not now, please not now!”

  “Good work about the affair,” he said with a grin. “Though it would’ve been a nice touch if you’d kept it private.”

  Mandy threw a vase at Erik, but he ducked and it shattered against the wall.

  “Could’ve spared some fallout, don’t you think?”

  Oh, Sterling was so smug when he saw the opportunity for it!

  “Coburn, let’s go,” Sterling shouted, but Kitty yanked him back then thrust him against the wall and held him there.

  “What do I have to do to prevent this?” she pleaded.

  His hands were on her hips in an instant.

  “Let me do it my way,” he said, but it was too vague to grasp.

  “Do what your way? You can’t take him now! I have to make this right!”

  Sterling pulled her in to show Kitty what he’d meant and soon their lips were pressing, as Mandy screamed and chucked glassware at her cheating fiancé.

  The kiss was long and deep and swept her away until the world faded all around them. Gradually, it ebbed and there was nothing but stillness and breathing and lips held on lips. Kitty could feel his heartbeat against her chest. His warmth enveloped her. She wanted this moment to go on forever. But it couldn’t.

  He urged her back, stroked her hair, and said, “I have a bad feeling about us.”

  Chapter Seven

  Sterling had to splash cold water on his face to get her out of his head. It didn’t work as well as he’d thought. He cupped his hands under the pounding faucet for the second time and slapped the puddle onto his face in the men’s room at the Greenwich Police Department. It didn’t wake him up. He was already awake. That kiss had brought him to life. But he’d crossed a major line. One that he had promised himself he wouldn’t. He didn’t know how he was supposed to go on from here. Denying Kitty only worked when he was distant and consistent about it. Now that he’d lowered his guard and shown her that he still wanted her, there’d be no stopping them. It had been a stupid thing to do.

  He grabbed a few paper towels and blotted his face. It had been his fault. He’d been lying to himself that if he came off strong in his desire for her flesh it’d push her away. He’d pegged her for the type of woman who’d never jump into bed, and he was probably right about that. But what he hadn’t foreseen was that she’d be willing to lower expectations to have him. Last spring she’d slapped him when he’d kissed her. This summer her attitude had changed. Why?

  A flutter of excitement stirred deep inside him at the thought he might be able to do whatever he wanted with her, take her, have her his way like all the women before. But the feeling soon twisted in the pit of his stomach, sickening him. Kitty wasn’t the problem. He was. If she let him get what he wanted, it wouldn’t stop after one night. He’d want to be with her. He would change. He wouldn’t recognize himself. Kissing her only reinforced his gut fear.

  And the worst part was that he couldn’t say he minded her nosing into his investigation. It was pesky and annoying and tripped him up and she certainly had a knack for getting under his skin, but every time he saw those brown, choppy locks and big hazel eyes flitting around, he felt his whole body smile.

  He’d had no choice but to take Erik Coburn in for formal questioning, and the one truly silver lining in having done that was that it infuriated Kitty. It risked ruining her budding reputation. The wedding was already in shambles. It didn’t matter that the date was tomorrow, he’d already destroyed it with this one standard formality. Maybe she’d stay mad. Maybe she’d hate him, swear him off for life, and leave him alone.

  He should’ve gone to bed with that Becca girl and should’ve drunk in the taste of her until Kitty was expelled from his system. He hadn’t been feeling like himself. That’s why he’d turned the redhead down, but maybe he’d been coming at this all wrong. He shouldn’t wait to forget Kitty. He should make himself forget, and he resolved to do just that as he ran his palms down the front of his black tee shirt. No matter how many women it would take or how cruel he would have to be to the bubbly wedding planner, he’d do whatever it took to feel like his old self.

  If that was his resolve, then why was Sterling checking the clock as he passed through the precinct on his way to the interview room Erik Coburn was being held in? Why did he note to himself that there were only a few hours before Erik was due at the church for the wedding rehearsal? Why did he care if the guy missed all the events planned for today? Sterling shouldn’t give a second thought to any of that. If Coburn missed his own wedding, Sterling shouldn’t give a crap.

  But he did. He didn’t want to see Kitty disappointed. And wors
e, if Kitty truly believed the man was innocent, it made Sterling question his instinct.

  Christ, he thought. He was coming undone.

  Sterling slammed the door open and caught Erik jumping in his seat. He shut the door just as angrily and slapped a manila folder on the table then leaned over it, fists planted hard on either side.

  “Here’s what I think happened,” Sterling barked, staring daggers into the scared groom’s eyes. “I think you fell accidentally in love with Rebecca Motley. I think you lent your car to Johnny then borrowed Becca’s. You didn’t tell her what you were planning, because maybe she’d stop you, but in the back of your mind you knew you’d cover the cost of repairing the damage to her car as well as your own. Then you tried to run Johnny off the road. When that didn’t work, you clubbed him over the head a candlestick at the party.”

  Erik was petrified, but managed to shake his head then whispered, “No,” through a dry throat.

  “No?” Sterling challenged. “Don’t lie to me.”

  “Why would I kill Johnny? Why would I want him dead?” His lip started quivering in grief over his friend’s untimely death or out of terrified guilt, Sterling couldn’t be sure. “He was my best friend.”

  “You wanted him dead because you were having an affair.”

  “That doesn’t make sense!” he yelled.

  “I’m not finished.” Sterling paused to stare him down, really rattle him and it worked. “You started the affair because you knew Johnny had taken up with Mandy.”

  “He what?” Erik was stunned. “No, no, I don’t believe that. She’d never do that to me.”

  “You did it to her.”

  “I didn’t! I’m telling you, Becca is out of her mind!”

  “You and Mandy were at each other’s throats that night. You’d never hurt her, but you would stop her from making the same mistake over and over again, with him, so you killed him.”

  Erik folded his arms and refused Sterling eye contact.

  “I want to speak with Kitty Sinclair.”

  Sterling cocked his head at that. “Don’t you mean a lawyer?”

  “Kitty.”

  “I’m not sure it works like that.”

  “Then make it work like that.”

  “Who would kill Johnny if not you?” he pressed.

  “No one,” he stated, which gave Sterling pause. If the guy was agreeing with him, what could he argue? “The killer wanted me dead not Johnny.”

  Kitty had mentioned similar, but who would be that stupid to take a swing at the wrong guy twice?

  “If you weren’t sleeping with Becca, then why did she give you those candlesticks?”

  Erik’s eyes widened. “She didn’t.”

  “Who did?”

  “What does it matter? So there’s a candlestick missing from my set, it wasn’t the murder weapon! You already know the sixth candle from the mantle was the one used on Johnny.”

  “Who, Erik?”

  He pressed his mouth into a hard line, refusing to say.

  “Tell me who!”

  But Erik had turned to stone. He wasn’t talking.

  Sterling glanced at his watch. He was running out of time. Quickly, he flung the door open then slammed it and paced to his desk. He was far too agitated to sit. He balled his hand around the phone and dialed.

  “It’s me.”

  “Who?” asked Kitty.

  Sterling rolled his eyes. “You think I want to be calling you?”

  She recognized his tone. “Sterling? Sterling! You better have him back in a half hour!”

  Demanding little...he couldn’t find a word other than doll so he stopped himself.

  “Why would Becca lie to you?” he asked point blank.

  “So you don’t think Erik did it?” she was excited.

  “Would you calm down and answer the question?”

  “Becca has it in for me. It was her vehicle that sideswiped Johnny. She wanted to throw suspicion in any direction except her own, I’d guess.”

  “Sounds like she’s covering for the killer,” he mused.

  “So you don’t think he did it!”

  “Stop trying to guess what I’m thinking. If the affair was legit, then Erik seems guilty. If it wasn’t, then I don’t know.”

  “What do you need me to do?” Her tone was serious, willing. Visions of her draped across his bed came to mind.

  Damn it!

  He sighed. “Where are you?”

  “I’m with Mandy, at the house still. Trying to undo what I did, so to speak.”

  “Is it working?” He didn’t need to know. He was just curious.

  She let out a breathy sigh. “Well, it doesn’t help that Erik’s probably getting arrested.”

  “I don’t want you alone with Mandy,” he said sternly with no further explanation.

  “What? Why?” Then it hit her. “You can’t possibly think she had something to do with all this! What is wrong with you?!”

  “Becca and her are close. Becca would’ve lent her car and covered for her.”

  “You dolt! I was with Mandy when Johnny got into that accident!”

  “Did you just call me a dolt?”

  “You’re wasting time!”

  “I think this is much bigger than impulsive murder. It was clearly premeditated and I think it took a lot more than one person to pull off.” Sterling kicked himself. He shouldn’t be telling her any of this. “Where is she now?”

  “Mandy? She’s in the bathroom, but she won’t be there long. Why?”

  “I need you to look around for that candlestick—”

  “Oh! For Pete’s sake! What is that going to do?”

  “Look in her bedroom closet, in all the closets. Try her car. Look everywhere.”

  “She’s in the bathroom! Not going through a TSA security checkpoint!”

  “Just do it!”

  Kitty grumbled. “You better hope she’s going number two.”

  It wasn’t an image Sterling wanted in his mind.

  He listened as Kitty padded off. She was breathing heavily into the receiver, which conjured a much better image for Sterling. He was tempted to ask what she was wearing, but if he wanted to get up to his old tricks, he’d have to pick a different woman.

  “Nothing in the bedroom closet,” she whispered.

  “Try under the bed,” he ordered.

  “Bossy!”

  “Just do it.”

  He heard her grunt faintly, probably getting on her knees to look. Kitty on her knees...now that’d be a sight...

  “Nope, it’s clean.”

  Sterling heard Mandy shout her name in the background.

  “Just a minute!” Kitty called out then added. “Want to pop that wine and meet me outside on the back patio?!”

  “Ugh, Ok,” Mandy called.

  Silence.

  “Kitty?” He asked when he thought the call had been dropped.

  “Shh!” she snapped. “I’m checking the hallway closet.”

  He held his breath then heard a few boxes clatter to the floor.

  “Oops.”

  “What? What happened?”

  She said nothing, but he could hear her rummaging around.

  “My God,” she gasped.

  “What? Kitty, what did you find? The candlestick?” His heart was in his throat.

  “No,” she said, as she flipped through something. “Oh, my God.”

  “What!” He was listening with every fiber of his being—heart pounding, breath held, palms turning slick with sweat. “Kitty, talk to me.”

  “It’s—”

  Sterling heard Kitty gasp again, but the sentiment was entirely different.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” said Mandy in the distance. Her tone was dark and steely. Sterling’s stomach clenched, but he could do nothing but listen.

  “I, uh, I was, uh, looking for something blue!”

  “No you weren’t,” she sneered. “Who are you talking to?”

  It was difficult for h
im to hear. She must’ve lowered her cell to her side.

  “No one,” she giggled. “I was using the flashlight function.”

  “Stop lying!”

  Then Sterling heard pounding footsteps and Kitty squealed.

  “Kitty!” He screamed.

  Kitty called out for his benefit. “Sterling! I found a whole box of—”

  The cell struck the floor and the call cut out.

  That’s when Sterling knew Erik wasn’t the killer.

  It was Mandy.

  Chapter Eight

  As gorgeous as she was, the way Mandy was holding the candlestick—eyes dark and fiery, her face twitching with rage—Kitty was sure she wouldn’t make it out of this alive.

  “Oh good,” Kitty said through a trembling smile, thinking that the best way to survive would be to play dumb and make light of her transgression. “You found the candlestick.”

  Mandy glanced down at the candlestick then her gaze snapped up to Kitty. “I thought someone had broken in. What are you doing with that box?”

  Kitty glanced down at the open shoebox in her hands, the stacks of glossy photographs inside. “Well...” she began, hoping a lie good enough to get her out of this would come to mind. “Well, nothing really. I got sidetracked. I apologize. The box fell accidentally.”

  “Put it back,” she ordered.

  Showing her cooperation, Kitty immediately slid the box onto the top shelf then tidied up the other fallen items: a broom and dust pan, a winter coat, an old sneaker. She closed the closet door.

  “Some things are private,” Mandy stated.

  “Yes, I understand, I’m so sorry.”

  Mandy set the candlestick on the hallway table and it was then that Kitty sighed in immense relief.

  Mandy did as well. She burst into tears, hands covering her angelic face. Kitty furrowed her brow, feeling suddenly awkward about comforting the woman who’d nearly clubbed her.

  “I’m so stressed out,” she cried. “I didn’t mean to scare you, Kitty.”

  “There, there,” she said, giving Mandy a little pat on the shoulder.

  “I didn’t kill Johnny!” she exclaimed. Mandy straightened up and wiped under her eyes to catch the running mascara, but it did no good. She looked like a woodland creature—a wily raccoon.