ENGAGED TO BE MURDERED (The Wedding Planner Mysteries Book 4) Read online

  Kitty nodded in complete understanding.

  “After I broke it off, he went back to her.”

  “Did she ever find out...that you were the other woman?”

  “I don’t know for sure,” said Trudy, ruminating the past as though it pained her. “But women know. We all have a sixth sense for that kind of thing.”

  “We do,” said Kitty, flashing a thought toward Sterling and testing her gut to see if she knew, really sensed whether or not he’d been interested in Sadie. Whether or not something had transpired between them earlier that day at Adorned. But she drew back, still too scared to let herself know.

  “Jimmy and Sadie lasted for a bit, and then she took up with Patrick McAlister.”

  “Did she?!” Kitty was aghast.

  Trudy nodded definitively. “Sadie and Patrick.”

  “Margie has always been close with her brother,” Kitty commented. “I’d never met him, but I’d heard Margie speak of him often.”

  Trudy leveled her gaze on Kitty. “Like oil and water, Sadie and Margie did not mix well.”

  Suddenly, Kitty was trembling with notions. Her heart raced and she couldn’t quite catch her breath.

  “Do you think?” she asked then trailed off before she could formulate the disturbing thought.

  “I wonder,” said Trudy, proving she was still connected closely enough that she could read Kitty’s mind.

  “Patrick killed his own sister so Sadie would be more certain about being with him,” she stated, appalled at the motive, but believing it nonetheless.

  Chapter Ten

  It had been a long night made especially sleepless by the fact that Sterling hadn’t been able to come to her apartment. He’d texted that ,with Patrick in custody, it was imperative he question the man all night since the department technically didn’t have enough on him to make a charge stick. The text message had been factual and cold, not that Sterling was apt to use smiley faces and exclamation points, but hot off the heels of Greer’s implication, reading his words didn’t feel right. She felt like something was terribly wrong.

  Nevertheless, time marched onward. Today would be the wedding rehearsal, and it was only by the skin of her teeth that Kitty had managed to make arrangements and tough decisions with the decorator, who would spend her day getting the reception hall in order then transition to the church, while Trudy, Ronald and the wedding party enjoyed their rehearsal dinner.

  Kitty dragged herself from bed, though the warm morning sun beckoned her to stay, relax, and sleep in. It was certainly an option. The wedding rehearsal was scheduled for the afternoon. But Kitty had some digging to do. If Sterling wasn't able to coax Patrick into admitting guilt, then she’d find evidence... somehow.

  And it was this goal that motivated her to climb into the shower, scrub and lather, and make every effort to get out the door quick and ready to raise hell.

  Kitty placed a brief call to Trudy, as she watched coffee brew and drip into the carafe. By the time the last drop plunked into the dark, aromatic blend, she had confirmed that Trudy was in good spirits. Ronald had come home last night on time and was never the wiser about Trudy’s evening visit with Jimmy Kimball. Trudy assured her that her time with Kimball had only proved that Ronald was the right man for her. Now, more than ever, she was ready to walk down the aisle. She couldn’t wait.

  As Kitty scraped ice and snow from the windshield of her Fiat, she devised a course of action. It wasn’t likely Patrick would admit outright his love affair with Sadie, or Sadie’s love affair with Jimmy Kimball, but that didn’t mean cops weren’t swarming Patrick’s cottage.

  Kitty considered confronting Sadie directly. If Patrick really had killed his own sister to preserve his relationship with the jeweler, it would stand to reason that she knew about it at the very least, or perhaps was in on it.

  What were Sadie’s weaknesses and how could Kitty exploit them?

  There was only one way to find out.

  Kitty started for Adorned. It was early in the morning and Sadie wasn’t known for her punctuality, but if there was evidence to be had, it was certainly stored in the back studio of Sadie’s store, if not at Patrick’s garage workspace. She’d hit one then the other. It was as good a starting point as any.

  However, when she pulled up to the curb outside of the jeweler’s shop, the metal gate was still down. She craned her head upright, peering over a snowbank to get a better look inside, while the vents in her Fiat blasted hot air. That’s when she caught movement. As she strained to see, she realized it was Kyle opening up.

  He’d mentioned Sadie was in the habit of coming and going through the back of the store. It was worth a try. She threw her car into gear and drove off, making a right at the first intersection and then another, until she was rolling toward the very back of Adorned.

  It was quiet and the snow had stopped falling. Other than a few cars down the back alley lot, there was only one parked behind Adorned, a beat up and rusted out Chevy truck, which was safe to assume belonged to Kyle.

  Kitty hopped out and started for the back door, avoiding slush puddles and patches of ice that seemed to plague her path. The door was ajar, propped open with a loose brick, so Kitty slipped inside and took a moment to let her eyes adjust to the darkness.

  She tiptoed deeper in and detected rustling then clanging. Probably just Kyle tidying up, she thought.

  When she came to a set of metal shelves that flanked the corridor, Kitty paused, hiding, and then glanced over the top of a large, plastic container.

  Kyle was standing with his back to her, whistling and sweeping scrap metal and dust into a pan. Keeping an eye on him, she managed to glance about the studio. It was a haphazard mess of disorganized metals and gemstones. She spotted a clear, plastic bin of tinctures. What she hoped to find was the original bottle of poison. But how would she find it in such a mess?

  Suddenly, she heard boots stomping in from the back door, as a beam of sunlight cut through the corridor.

  Sadie!

  Panicking, her gaze darted this way and that, up and down, searching and praying for any place she could wedge herself out of sight.

  “Hey, boss!” Kyle shouted from the studio, but Sadie didn’t respond.

  “What do you mean we have a problem?” She sneered.

  Kitty held her breath as the band of sunlight thinned out into darkness, an indication the back door had closed. But a second later, Sadie groaned and flung the door open once again.

  “Be back soon!” She shouted to Kyle.

  “When?”

  “Whenever,” she grunted.

  Kitty’s Fiat was a distinct vehicle and it was parked conspicuously, not her smartest move. Worse, if Sadie was about to drive off some place and do something out of fear or clever aspirations, Kitty would need to follow her. And it would be difficult going undetected if she drove off directly after Sadie.

  She had no choice but to wait.

  Who would’ve called Sadie?

  Where would she be going?

  Would Patrick have used his one phone call from jail to contact her? And if so, why had he waited until now?

  Muffled through the back wall, Kitty heard the roar of an engine, which gradually faded away.

  Quickly, she padded to the back door, but when she yanked it open, the metal scraped against the doorframe with a deafening screech.

  “Hey!” Kyle shouted, running after her, but she was already skirting through the parking lot.

  She unlocked her Fiat with a loud bleat then jumped in and peeled out.

  “Kitty?” he yelled, half confused, mostly alarmed.

  She didn’t have time to fret. Her gaze locked on Sadie’s taillights, as her vehicle, a black Ford Mustang, rounded the corner and flew down Main Street.

  There was just enough traffic to provide safe cover and not be a nuisance, but when Sadie veered off onto Old Country Road, a seldom-traveled route that led to the ponds up north, she didn’t have much hope of blending into the scenery. Leave
it to Kitty Sinclair to drive a red, Italian car.

  The only saving grace was the bends and curves of the road. Kitty could trail Sadie at about twenty yards and remain more or less hidden by the wintry backdrop of trees and snowbanks.

  But when Kitty expected Sadie to slow down as they approached the ponds, Sadie did the opposite, cutting west and avoiding them all together.

  “Where is she going?” Kitty wondered out loud. “Patrick doesn’t live anywhere near here.”

  She checked the clock on the dash. Considering how far out of town she’d driven, there wasn’t much time before she’d have to head back and make it to the church on time.

  With luck on her side, Sadie’s Mustang came to a crawl where a fork in the road divided Connecticut from New York State. Kitty squeezed the brakes to remain out of sight. Through the snow-laden trees, she spotted an idling car. Its headlights were brightly glaring, but there was no mistaking the vehicle’s make and model, a blue Toyota Yaris sedan. Most distinguishing was its license plate, the vanity kind that boasted clever wording: M0N-Y-KNG

  Sadie pulled her black Mustang up to the blue sedan so that the driver’s side windows aligned. Words were exchanged, though Kitty couldn’t hear a thing. The sun’s bright glare reflected off the sedan’s front windshield, concealing the driver, but when a hand reached out, Kitty observed that it was in fact a man.

  The man handed Sadie a brown paper bag then rolled up his window, pulled a U-turn around her Mustang, and drove off, while Sadie idled, reviewing the contents of the bag, Kitty supposed.

  Kitty jumped with a start when her cell vibrated against her chest. Glancing at it with an aim to keep her eyes on Sadie, she realized it was Trudy calling.

  “Where are you?!”

  It took Kitty a second to get her bearings. Her gaze shot to the dash. She had at least a half hour to get to the church.

  “I’ll be on time.”

  “Not for Margie’s funeral, you won’t,” Trudy chided. “This is really embarrassing! You need to get over here now!”

  She had completely forgotten.

  “Alright! Alright! I got...tied up! I’ll be there as soon as I can!”

  Kitty was dying to know what was in that brown, paper bag. Who was that man? Did this transaction have anything to do with Margie’s death, or was Kitty in danger of completely losing her mind?

  There was no time to stick around and find out. She backed carefully around then started off for Greenwich, hoping that the puzzle pieces would soon fit, and the dark picture surrounding Margie McAlister’s murder would become crystal clear.

  The service for Margie at the Saint Christopher Presbyterian Church on Pine Street was short and sweet. Trudy had many kind words to say. Ronald looked stoic, yet conflicted, dressed in his best suit for the rehearsal dinner. What should be a triumphant day was starting off bittersweet.

  When the procession filtered out of the church into the wintry afternoon, the snow once again began to fall.

  Trudy offered condolences to Margie’s parents, who seemed distraught. Not only had their only daughter died, but their only son hadn’t been able to make it. The possibility that one sibling had killed the other was simply too much for them to bear. And for Kitty it was hard to watch.

  She glanced out at the parking lot and her heart skipped a beat.

  M0N-Y-KNG.

  The blue sedan!

  Her heart was in her throat as she turned left then right, scanning the crowd, hoping that the driver would break from the fray for his Yaris and reveal himself.

  “We don’t want to be late,” said Trudy, taking Kitty by the arm.

  “Huh?”

  “For the rehearsal,” she stated then eyed Kitty carefully. “What’s gotten into you?”

  “Oh, nothing, nothing,” she murmured.

  As Trudy led Kitty toward their cars, which were parked side by side, Kitty stared at the blue sedan.

  M0N-Y-KNG, who are you?

  Chapter Eleven

  Sterling stared at Patrick McAlister through a one-way mirror. They’d been at it all night, all day, and both were beginning to wither.

  Patrick sat at the table in the cramped interrogation room. His head was in his hands, as he slumped over the tabletop. He looked sweaty. His tie was crooked and loose around his neck. The length of it draped over the corner of the table. He hadn’t touched the cup of coffee Sterling had brought him, nor the bottle of water. In fact, Patrick had kept his hands in his pockets or combed through his hair. He hadn’t touched a thing since setting foot in the precinct, not a doorknob, not the chair he sat in. He hadn’t even touched Sterling’s Jeep when the detective had tossed him in.

  Guilty as all hell.

  But the brother hadn’t admitted a thing, not one thing Sterling could use. The love affair with Sadie, though interesting, proved nothing. The love triangle between Trudy and Kimball and Sadie was equally entertaining, and just as useless.

  Sterling was running out of threats, running out of leverage, and worst of all running out of time.

  And yet he wasn’t ready to dive back into the lion’s den. Something about Patrick McAlister wasn’t right, and until he could put his finger on it, Sterling didn’t dare venture back to that table.

  He needed more.

  It wasn’t lost on him that he was often distracted by the similarities between Margie’s tragic murder and the abrupt death of his own mother. Every time he attempted to review the facts of the McAlister case, his wandering thoughts got the best of him, and soon he was lost to the memory of his mother lying face down on the floor.

  It hadn’t been a ring on her finger, but a necklace around her neck.

  And it had taken twenty years for anyone to know that it had been the necklace dipped in poison that had killed her.

  As a boy, he’d accepted the coroner’s ruling. Heart failure. It seemed likely enough. His mother drank and smoked and handed all of her vices down to Sterling.

  It hadn’t been until his own wife had fallen dead that he’d been able to put two and two together.

  His mother’s necklace, which had been removed from her neck and placed into a jewelry box where it remained for decades, was finally wrapped around Charlotte’s neck. Sterling had fastened the clasp. Charlotte had smiled and adored it.

  Thirty minutes later she was dead.

  It was the reason he’d become a detective. With Charlotte in his life, he could’ve easily spent the rest of his law enforcement career as a beat cop, eventually ease into the role of meter maid, and then retire at sixty-five, bored but happy.

  Funny how life worked out.

  The killer had never been found, but in Sterling’s heart of hearts he knew the man was out there. He’d killed two of the most important women in Sterling’s life, and Sterling’s gut told him the man hadn’t left town.

  He wasn’t naive enough to believe the same man had taken Margie’s life. He didn’t think Patrick had been the one to destroy his childhood. They were the same age, after all.

  But the similarities in cases resonated in Sterling’s mind like a dark premonition of death to come.

  There was no one he loved more in this world than Kitty.

  If anything were to happen to her....

  Well, he couldn’t bear the thought.

  Sterling shook worry from his mind, but a bad taste still lingered in his mouth, as he forced himself into the interrogation room.

  Patrick jumped when he slammed the door and locked eyes with Sterling.

  The man looked scared.

  Good.

  Things were about to get a whole lot scarier.

  “We picked up Sadie Francis moments ago.”

  Sterling let that hang then fed Patrick a frightening implication.

  “She’s in the next room.”

  Patrick’s eyes widened, but he pressed his mouth into a hard line, a declaration he’d say nothing.

  Sterling shrugged casually. “Fine,” he said easily. “I don’t need you to talk. Sadie�
�ll do the talking for you.”

  “She won’t.”

  “What makes you think that?”

  Again, Patrick refused to speak.

  “Here’s the thing, Patrick. Sadie’s found herself in a real bad spot. Much worse than the one you’re in. So she’s gonna want to cut a deal, and we’ve made things real simple for her. She rolls on you. She can walk out of here Scot free.”

  It was a blatant lie, but Patrick didn’t know that.

  “What’s she going to tell us, Patrick?”

  He shook his head, crossed his arms, and made certain not to touch any of his surroundings, but he was shaking clear as day to Sterling’s trained eye.

  “Well, if you’re not going to tell me what you know then let me tell you what I know,” he went on. “Sadie came into a great deal of cash earlier today.” Sterling leaned over him and stared Patrick down. “It looks like a hefty payment. Now what did she have to do to make that kind of dough?”

  As if an internal alarm had just gone off three hours too late, Sterling glanced at his watch and realized the time.

  “Shit,” he barked backing away and throwing the door open.

  “Wait! Wait!” Patrick yelled. “You can’t believe her! I’ll talk! I’ll talk!”

  But Sterling was already down the hall, pulling his arms through his coat. He thrust the door open and started for his Jeep.

  He’d really messed up this time.

  Worse than he’d ever done.

  “Kitty!” Sterling pounded on the front door of her little, blue house on Orchard Street. The portico was aglow with twinkling holiday lights, but they did nothing to ease the chill running up his spine. “Kitty! Come on! Let me in!”

  He glanced over his shoulder at her red Fiat that was parked strangely, her bumper jutting into a snowbank as though she’d skidded to a precarious stop.

  “Kitty, your car’s out front! I know you’re in there! I’m sorry!”

  The overhead light flipped off then the holiday lights went dark.