A MATCH MADE IN MURDER (The Wedding Planner Mysteries Book 5) (7 page)

              “It wasn’t all my fault this time,” she objected.

              “Yeah, yeah, you owe me. Both of you.”

              The guard worked a number of keys around a large, metal ring. They clanked and jingled until he found the one that would unlock Kitty’s cell. Once he let her out, Kitty fell into Trudy’s warm embrace, and he eventually found the key to Sterling’s cell and let him out.

              “Come on, kids,” said Trudy, running her palm up her beehive to be sure there wasn’t a hair out of place. “Let’s get you home.”

              Kitty and Sterling exchanged a sly glance once Trudy had turned her back, starting for the door. Home was the last place either of them could afford to go, especially if that meant the Harbor Inn.

              Outside, Kitty gave Trudy another hug and Sterling asked what the damage had been. He whistled at her answer, which was in the thousands. Kitty wasn’t entirely sure how reading a police report had impeded Harrison’s investigation, but she trusted Sterling would fill her in on that.

              “Are you sure you don’t want me to come back to the inn with you?” Trudy asked as Sterling opened the passenger’s side door on his Jeep for Kitty. “Ronald can bring dinner. We were planning on ordering from the Good Luck Bar and Restaurant.”

              “She’s exhausted,” Sterling said, declining with a half-truth. “Thanks again.”

              Kitty feigned a smile at Trudy through the window, as Sterling climbed behind the wheel and turned his key in the ignition.

              After he backed out and they watched Trudy drive off, he said, “I don’t understand why Grady didn’t pick up.”

              Kitty was in agreement, but not as concerned. “We need to talk to your dad.”

              Sterling eyed the clock on the dash to figure out where his father would be. It was nearly six in the evening. The sun hadn’t lowered in the sky, but that didn’t mean customers weren’t filtering into his dad’s seedy establishment off the highway. Technically, Steve was supposed to be at the Delamar Hotel. He’d checked in with Grady, not that they were sharing a room. And he wasn’t scheduled to check out until after the wedding. Knowing Steve, he’d want to be in a familiar setting to process Layla’s death and the similarities to his own wife. Nothing weighed more heavily on Steve’s mind than the fact that he hadn’t recognized Mary’s death for what it was: a murder.

              They pulled into the parking lot of the Shimmy Shack and Kitty actually felt Sterling cringe.

              “I don’t know if I want you coming in,” he told her, as he put the car in park so it could idle.

              “I don’t know if I want to come in,” she agreed, eyeing the neon lights that buzzed so loudly she almost couldn’t hear the blasting AC in the Jeep. “Can he come out?” She suggested. “It’s probably too noisy in there to talk anyway.”

              “Let me see,” he said, popping his door open. “Dad gets stubborn when he drinks. I’ll see what I can do.”

              Kitty watched Sterling disappear inside. After a few moments of waiting, she felt her cell buzz through her purse. When she swiped the screen she discovered Sterling had sent a text message, which simply read:
get in here
.

              Kitty killed the engine, flipped off the headlights, then climbed out and locked the Jeep.

              When she passed through the entrance door, booming music struck her, and the lack of light was disorienting. She didn’t notice the bouncer standing just inside until he grabbed her arm and asked to see her ID. Once he’d confirmed she was of age, he started her off toward a second set of doors beyond which the actual club was located. Opening those, the music swelled even louder and felt like a punch to the chest.

              At least it was bright. The exotic dancers seemed to be everywhere, slinking and gyrating and doing things with poles no woman should do. Once the initial distraction wore off, she realized Sterling was sitting at a round table.

              She hurried over and then realized with whom he was sitting.

              Steve Slaughter, to be expected, and Grady, which made sense.

              Then her very own father smiled up at her.

              “Kitty!” He exclaimed, as a pair of panties landed on his head. “Isn’t this wild?!”

              “Like hell I’ll postpone my wedding! Over my dead body!” Kitty cried out over the muffled house music that blared through the walls.

              Steve had led everyone into a private back room inside the Shimmy Shack, and they were supposed to be talking to Steve and only Steve, but somehow the task had gotten away from them. Ernie was tanked on Mai Tai’s and Grady kept steering the conversation into the importance of putting off the wedding, which Kitty would not tolerate.

              “You might need to,” said Grady. He meant well, but it was terribly insulting.

              “Perhaps you could take my dad back out,” Kitty suggested. “We need to talk to Steve.”

              “Ah, sure,” said Grady, though he seemed reluctant to leave her alone with his brother.

              Steve had been out of sorts and still was. He stared off into space and had only sometimes responded and chimed in.

              Grady managed to usher Ernie out of the room and Kitty tried not to laugh at seeing her father behave so youthfully. It was a lot like stepping backward through time, or so Kitty thought. Her father had never been one to party, but if he’d ever tried it—in college perhaps—she was pretty sure that’s what he’d look like, Mai Tai straw dangling through his grin, eyes wide and wild, unwilling to blink or else risk missing the excitement, shirt disheveled, and hair akimbo.

              “Dad,” Sterling began, though Steve was reluctant to meet his gaze. “We never really talked about what happened when Mom died.”

              If Sterling thought that’d be enough to get his dad taking, it wasn’t, so Kitty tried.

              “The police report said that you gave Mary the necklace in its original box. You said it had been delivered.”

              “It had been.”

              “Can you elaborate on the timeline?” she asked.

              Steve met her gaze. He was clearly unsure of what she was asking.

              “Did you leave the necklace unattended in between receiving the delivery and handing Mary the box?”

              “No.”

              Kitty glanced at Sterling. His father wasn’t exactly offering up full disclosure and she had to wonder why he was holding back.

              “Dad, please. We need to know everything.”

              Steve stared at his vodka tonic on the table and turned it slowly with his thick fingers.

              “I didn’t know what it was or who it was from,” he began. “I assumed Mary had ordered it, but she looked so surprised and delighted when she opened the black box.” He took a deep breath then started again. “It was a Wednesday morning. There was a knock on the door. Mary was just getting up so I answered it and signed for the package with the postman. There was no return address, but the box was clearly for her—had her name on it and everything—so I opened it up with a pair of scissors. There was a ton of bubble wrap inside, but once I got that out I saw a black box. I opened it and saw the necklace. By that point, Mary had the cardboard box in her hand, saw her name, gasped as though she was happy and took the black box from me. This all happened in the span of seconds. She put the necklace on right away. She pressed it lovingly to her chest once she’d clasped it. I never touched it. No one did. I started asking her who’d sent it and what this was all about. But she didn’t have time to respond. She stumbled, fell, choked. I didn’t know what was wrong. She hit the floor and died.”

              “Did you ever get any information on where the necklace had come from? Who sent it? Anything?” Kitty asked on Sterling’s behalf.

              It was clear the story had shocked him. And Kitty was stunned as well. A mystery gift, a woman ecstatic to receive it—it implied Mary perhaps wasn’t faithful. No wonder Steve had never talked about it with Sterling. They both were desperate to remember Mary as the loving wife and mother they’d known her to be, a woman who could do no wrong.

              “Harrison put my suspicions to bed,” said Steve, glaring at his son as though Sterling was guilty by association. “I kept telling the cops Mary died as soon as she put that necklace on, but Harrison repeated over and over again that it was just a coincidence. Then when the coroner got there, he said Mary had died of natural causes. How can you argue with a coroner?”

              Kitty waited patiently while Steve worked his way up to answering her question.

              “All I know is that the necklace is one of a kind. An antique. It was sold at auction here in Greenwich. I didn’t find out who bought it or who sold it or who might’ve handled it. And to this day I have no idea why it was addressed to Mary.”

              “I can work with that,” said Sterling, meeting Kitty’s gaze.

              “Where can we go to dive into those records?” she asked.

              “Nowhere at this hour,” said Sterling. “But we can get started back at the inn.”

              “Let’s get my dad back before he swings from the chandelier,” she suggested, not that there were any chandeliers, but if there was something to swing from, she feared her father would find it, with or without his pants.

              “Dad, can we get you back to the Delamar as well?” Sterling asked.

              Steve shrugged after downing his drink and they headed back into the club for Grady and Ernie.

              Thick as thieves, Grady and Ernie seemed to be conspiring through uproarious laughter. They whispered in each other’s ears and slapped at each other at times, as a striper danced before them trying to get in on their joke that had her mildly confused.

              “All right, you two,” said Sterling, who was also caught off guard by their fast bonding and inside joke. He had too much on his mind to pay them any interest, but Kitty was focused well enough to hustle them to their feet and wrangle their flailing arms as they desperately worked the last of their cash down the stripper’s panties.

              Steve followed them outside, as lost to his thoughts as Sterling.

              “I have my truck,” he told Sterling when he’d gotten his uncle and soon-to-be father-in-law into the back of his Jeep. “I’ll follow you.”

              It took some time driving back to the Delamar. Kitty could barely hear her own thoughts over the radio, which Ernie had insisted be turned up when Elton John’s
Tiny Dancer
came on. Her father had a terrible singing voice, though no one could fault him his enthusiasm.

              Kitty deposited Ernie in his hotel room where Penny looked instantly relieved and also perturbed to find her husband drunk as a skunk.

              “I hope it was worth it,” she chided, but Ernie didn’t seem to grasp her annoyance.

              “Sorry, Mom.”

              “It’s not your fault, dear,” she said on a sigh. “I just hope he can sleep it off in time for the wedding rehearsal tomorrow.”

              “I’m sure he will.” She gave Penny one last smile then shut the door and met Sterling in the lobby. “Did they get in all right?”

              “Yeah,” he said, drained. “Dad is still in shock. It took awhile to hit him, but now that it has, he’s definitely at a loss. Grady got on okay, though. He always was strong and level headed.”

              “Let’s get back to the inn,” she suggested, as if there was anything else they could do. “You brought your computer, right?”

              Sterling nodded. “How are we supposed to get through the rehearsal and manage to figure out who’s done this?”

              She glared at him as if to say
don’t you dare
.

              “I’m not saying we should put off the wedding, but...” he trailed off, realizing that was exactly what he was suggesting.

              Kitty started for the Jeep and didn’t look back when Sterling lingered in the lobby, unsure of where they would go from here.

              The night air was cool. Kitty glanced up and watched the stars twinkling in the sky. There was a full moon and it would’ve looked beautiful except that its presence alluded to chaos she feared was coming.

              By the time they got back to the inn, Sterling’s ambition had dried up. He seemed pained and defeated. He hadn’t said a word the entire drive. Knowing Kitty would ask him if he didn’t press onward, he booted up his laptop when he reached the desk and logged into the Police Database then started the shower.

              “You can use this field to search through any of the Greenwich records,” he told her as he stripped off his tee shirt. “I’d try the local auctions. I don’t know how far back the county records go.” When he stepped out of his pants he added, “I gotta shower.”

              “You still want to get married, don’t you?” she asked, though it terrified her to ask. Sterling had been gradually falling into a heightened state of anxiety, but it hadn’t been until this very moment that she noticed his eyes looked dull. He wasn’t looking at her with the sparkle of love that was usually there. He was thoroughly consumed by fear and trepidation.

              He sighed, leaning against the bathroom doorframe.

              “There’s no point in putting it off,” he stated with the kind of hesitancy that told her if it were up to him and only him he probably would postpone.

              “But you
want
to,” she clarified.              

              “I want to marry you, Kitty. I wouldn’t have proposed if I didn’t feel that way about you. But with your cousin’s murder, and all this tying back to my mom, my wife... I don’t know how to focus on two major life-altering things at the same time. And solving this case... I can’t help it. I’m consumed.”

              Kitty absorbed his honestly and admitted she was consumed as well.

              She sat down at the desk and faced the computer. Sterling disappeared into the bathroom and eased under the shower spray, which was a comforting sound given the unfamiliar setting.

              It took a great deal of hunting through the database, but eventually Kitty found the county records for seized property auctions, which she cross referenced with the month and year Mary had died along with narrowing the search down to jewelry sold at auction.

              Like magic the screen filled with a photo of the necklace she’d seen around Layla’s neck.

              Excited, she scrolled down past the image and began skim reading the information posted. She was specifically looking for the name of the buyer, but it wasn’t coming up.

              “Auctioneer’s name,” she mumbled. “Paid cash. Valued over eight thousand dollars.” She read the entire page twice, but the buyer wasn’t noted. Why would that be?

              Clearly the killer had anticipated this very moment.

              If she couldn’t find out who had bought the item based on reading this page alone, maybe she could eliminate some of the suspects Sterling and her had agreed on.

              The necklace had been bought five days before Mary clasped it around her neck, hastening her untimely death. Kitty made a note of the date of purchase on the Harbor Inn’s note pad that was resting on the corner of the desk. Then she quickly opened a new browser window within the Police Database, plugged in the date then typed Matt Harrison.

              Two records came up. One was a police report and the other was a news article, both outlined Harrison’s whereabouts the afternoon of the auction.

              Apparently, a huge warehouse fire had broken out on the northern edge of Greenwich. Once the fire department contained the flames, the chief suspected arson and contacted the sheriff who sent Harrison out to take a full report. When Harrison arrived, he noticed movement toward the back of the warehouse, which resulted in Harrison aiding the rescue of a victim the fire department had overlooked prior. He was deemed a hero.

              Kitty sat back in the chair and considered this information.

              As oddly as Harrison had acted all afternoon, and as downright antagonistic he’d been to throw her and Sterling in jail, her gut told her he hadn’t been involved in Mary’s murder. He really had been at the warehouse fire that day.

              She found it momentarily interesting that the warehouse fire, as an event, joined both the fire and police departments. Steve Slaughter came to mind.

              His was the next name she plugged into the database to learn his whereabouts on the afternoon of the auction.

              She felt a brief twinge of guilt as she did this, however. Steve was clearly distraught, and if he’d had the motive and wherewithal to poison his own wife by such diabolical methods, then he probably deserved an Academy Award for fooling his closest friends and family all these years. But she told herself it was better to be safe than sorry. She would have to be thorough. She’d leave no stone unturned.

              As she waited for the program to scan through its millions of files and produce Steve’s records, if there were any, Kitty thought back to that time in Steve’s life. He’d been working in the fundraising office. Mary had died on a Wednesday. The auction had occurred on a Friday in the afternoon. Even before the database came up with one record, Kitty knew there was no way Steve could’ve been at that auction unless he’d called in sick or hadn’t shown up for work.