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

“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?”

  “We’ll take your word for it.”

  “We? Who’s we?” Kitty expected Greer to name Sterling, but the tightlipped woman kept mum.

  �
�The investigative team.”

  “Are you going to get a warrant? Arrest Sadie? She wasn’t fond of Margie, you know. Not that they knew each other well, but I’m sure Sadie wouldn’t hold back her true feelings if you questioned her.”

  “Sterling’s already questioned her.”

  “Before or after he learned of the poisoned tincture?”

  Greer smiled coolly.

  “Kitty,” she began in a tone so tight it served as a warning. “This is the forth murder committed around your weddings.”

  Kitty blinked and Sterling’s prior concern for her, which he’d voiced during the Marcus Joseph murder, surged to the forefront of her mind.

  “The department has noticed that you can’t seem to keep out of any of these investigations.”

  “That’s because they concern me. I’m only trying to keep the weddings on schedule.”

  “You’re being watched, Kitty.”

  “They can watch all they like. I’m not doing anything wrong. And I certainly haven’t committed any of these crimes.”

  “You aren’t understanding me,” Greer went on, leaning forward in her chair so she wouldn’t be misunderstood. “You’re being watched, closely, by the one man you’d never suspect to be keeping tabs on you.”

  “Sterling?”

  “Are you picking up what I’m putting down?”

  Kitty stared at her and felt her brow knit tightly. “No, I’m not sure I am.”

  “Whether you encourage it or not, people have come to know that if they want to kill, the best place to do it is at one of your weddings.”

  “But that’s insane. I’m the biggest reason the killers are caught.”

  “Is that what you think?”

  Being questioned like this made her unsure, but it had been what she thought...until now.

  “There’s a reason Sterling has inserted himself into your life... personally. He’s under orders.”

  “But-but-” Kitty stammered, as she went flying, the rug having been ripped out from under her. “No,” she murmured. “We’re in a relationship.”

  “You certainly are,” said Greer with a cold smile. “Just not the one you think.”

  Suddenly the room was spinning. Kitty couldn’t get her bearings or her balance. The walls were closing in. Images filled her mind—Sterling dressed well to see Sadie, Sterling refusing to sleep over, Sterling only offering his affection to distract Kitty from meddling in his cases; it all made sense, and the second it did she felt her heart split open.

  Without warning she gasped, keeling over. Greer was shouting something, but she couldn’t hear it. She grabbed Kitty, preventing her from falling and drawing attention to the fact that Kitty felt numb, as though she’d lifted out of her body and was entirely beside herself.

  “He said he loved me,” she mouthed the words, but couldn’t actually hear them.

  Greer looked pained, as though it disturbed her to see Kitty’s frailty, desperation, and perhaps naïveté.

  Kitty shoved the woman off and fell toward the door, caught herself by the doorframe, gasped for air, and thrust herself onward, spilling down the hall. She cried, gulping sobs of panic and confusion, as she staggered to the elevators and slammed to the far wall inside.

  By the time the door closed, she was absolutely swimming in stunned confusion, parts of her not believing Greer, and parts of her knowing the woman was right, and all of her suffering from knee-buckling devastation, while the silent carriage swooped gently down to the ground floor.

  As soon as the elevator released her she raced through the lobby and was met with the freezing, winter chill of falling snow. She didn’t bundle up, didn’t return her hat to her head. She needed the cold to jar her like a slap in the face back into her right mind, because she was so afraid she’d lost it.

  When finally she slid behind the wheel, doors locked, she felt an odd sense of peace. Snow had accumulated on the windshield, masking all the windows around her, and Kitty felt safe except for her disturbed, tortured thoughts.

  Her cell phone was where she’d left it on the passenger’s seat. Her first instinct was to call Trudy for support. She needed to get in touch anyway. Trudy would surely be wrapped up at Delectable Desserts by now. But when she took the device in her hand and saw no flashing lights, and an even worse feeling that the one Greer had given her, swept through.

  Trudy always responded to her texts. A half hour had passed since she’d sent that message. And still there had been no reply.

  Focusing on hearing Trudy’s voice was all she could do to keep her hands from trembling so she dialed urgently, but it only rang and rang then went through to voicemail.

  “Trudy?! It’s Kitty! Where are you? Pick up!”

  Kitty hung up and chucked the cell back to the passenger’s seat then peeled out of the snowy parking lot, wheels spinning manically until the tire treads caught, and her Fiat bucked fast in reverse. She swung around, threw the Fiat into gear, and barreled forward, her gaze locked on the icy road ahead, and Sterling’s betrayal burning a hole in the pit of her stomach.

  For as rattled as she was, Kitty drove slowly and with caution through the heart of Greenwich where the streets couldn’t be plowed quickly enough. The snow had been coming down heavily and accumulating. In most areas it was nearing two feet, but with snowbanks and drifts, the city looked buried in heaps of white.

  She parked at an awkward angle in front of Delectable Desserts just as the sun sank behind the horizon and darkness swept in, bringing with it an icy chill like none she’s ever known.

  Kitty banged loudly on the glass door then pressed her face to it to see through the glare of twinkling lights that lined the awning overhead.

  “Harry! Harry, are you in there?!”

  With her ear to the glass she heard the heavy, labored footsteps of her lifelong friend.

  “Hang on, hang on, I’m coming,” he said, wiping his hands on his soiled apron, huffing and puffing to meet her intensity.

  When he pulled the door inward, Kitty stumbled in, eyes wide with desperation.

  “Is Trudy here? She didn’t answer my call.”

  “Trudy? No, she left quite a while ago.”

  “Left? Where?”

  Harry assessed her state, as she paced up and down and without direction, searching and scanning in a futile effort to find the bride that clearly wasn’t there.

  “Where did she go, Harry?!”

  “I’m not sure. She ate a lot of cake, which gave her a great deal of guilt for reasons I don’t understand. She said she needed to walk it off. Something about calories and sugar and not being able to fit into her wedding gown.”

  Kitty grabbed Harry by his shirt collar and shook him.

  “Which direction?”

  “Is she in danger? Is this about that poor Margie girl?”

  “Harry!” She thrust him to his senses.

  “Alright! Alright! Let me go, you’re scaring me!”

  Kitty feigned a calming breath that only raised her blood pressure like putting a cork on a volcano.

  “I saw her head north up the street, but I didn’t watch her from the door. She simply left after thanking me and I went back to my business.”

  Of course he did. That made sense. It wasn’t his fault.

  And Kitty wasn’t sure if her panic was stemming from the shadow of doubt Greer had cast over her relationship with Sterling, or the fact that even now she couldn’t be sure whether that poisoned ring had been meant for Margie or her beloved best friend.

  “I’m sorry.” She made herself breathe. “I’m sorry. She didn’t answer her phone.”

  “You mentioned,” he said dryly.

  Kitty paced.

  “I have a bad feeling, Harry.”

  “Call Sterling,” he suggested. “He’ll know what to do.”

  He would. But would it amount strictly to eyeing her like a prime suspect in multiple murders? Oh the whole thing was ludicrous!

  Still, he was her only option, so Kitty produc
ed her cell phone and dialed his.

  “Yeah?” he answered, curtly. She could hear officers shouting behind him.

  “It’s Kitty,” she said weakly.

  “I know, what’s up?”

  “I can’t find Trudy.”

  He held his breath.

  “Sterling?”

  “I’m listening.”

  “I’m not meddling. But Trudy was at Delectable Desserts. I dropped her off and was supposed to pick her up, but I’m here now and she isn’t.”

  “Okay.”

  Kitty held her tongue, as rage percolated through her.

  “Don’t treat me like just anyone, Sterling. Don’t tell me I have to wait seventy-two hours before you’ll take this seriously.”

  “What makes you think something’s wrong? She’s about to get married. Maybe she needed some time and space to herself?”

  “With a murder investigation going on? I don’t think so. Not when we both know that poisoned ring very well could’ve been intended for her.”

  “What can I do about it?”

  “Look, I’m not meddling,” she stated, as much to convince Sterling as herself. “But I happen to know there was a third party who worked on her ring, James Kimball. He goes by Jimmy. And a few years back, he proposed to Trudy. I’m just connecting dots.”

  Silence on the other end as Sterling absorbed the dark conclusion Kitty had already jumped to.

  “Where are you?”

  “I told you! I’m at Harry’s!”

  “Okay.”

  “Okay, what?!”

  She met eyes with Harry, who looked pitiful out of empathy or sympathy or perhaps embarrassment.

  “Ok, sit tight. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  Finally, she sighed with genuine relief, but when she hung up the phone the unnerving rift between them sprung a new fault, wider and more volatile than ever.

  “Sterling will be here soon,” she told Harry. “Do you mind if I stay?”

  “Not at all.” He sounded exhausted. Harry had been through this before and Lord knew it wasn’t Kitty’s first rodeo. She’d always regarded her involvement in these murders with a humorous sense of gumption, even when Sterling had pointed out the bizarre coincidence that death had been following her from wedding to wedding. But ever since Greer had put it so plainly, Kitty had been feeling the eyes of the law glaring at her from dark corners every which way she turned. Even now.