Dying To Marry (23 page)

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Authors: Janelle Taylor

BOOK: Dying To Marry
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But the damage had been done. The boy had tried to apologize again the next day, but Flea wouldn't come to the door.
On her way to visit Flea the day after the party, Holly had seen the beautiful yellow dress and scarf in the trash bin in front of Flea's house. She'd wanted to take the dress out and clean it and save it, but she'd left it there. Lizzie and Gayle had come over, too, and Flea had cried for hours. Then that Monday, at school, she'd said she was over it, that she wasn't going to think about it anymore, and she'd never brought it up again. She'd also never gone to another dance again. A few times before, she'd gone solo when at least one of her friends was solo, too.
A scream shook Holly from her memories.
“Lizzie!” Gayle shouted.
The three friends jumped up and raced up the stairs into Lizzie's bedroom.
Lizzie was on her knees, holding her wedding gown.
What was left of it.
The beautiful dress was slashed. And across the bodice, in Magic Marker, was written:
Whores don't wear white
.
“Whoever slashed the dress came into the Lizzie's house last night or early this morning,” Holly told Jake as she paced back and forth in his office. “How is the psycho getting past the security guards? I don't understand this!”
“Holly, sit down,” Jake said. “You've got to calm down. I understand why you're so upset and rightly so, but I need you calm.”
She took a deep breath and sat down. “I just don't get it. Who is behind this? And why can't we find them? Why aren't there any clues? Why?”
“Because it's an inside job,” he said without thinking.
Her eyes opened wide. “Inside job? Meaning Pru?”
“Meaning any one with easy access to Lizzie. Anyone who's able to slip in undetected.”
“But how is anyone able to slip in undetected?” Holly asked. “The security guards have completely failed us. Whoever it is is slipping right past everyone!”
Including me,
he thought, frustrated. This case wasn't making any sense.
He'd painstakingly conducted handwriting analyses of the major suspects—no matches. He'd even analyzed Lizzie's friends' handwriting, Dylan's, his own, to check if the psycho was clever enough to frame someone in Lizzie's circle.
No matches.
Damn.
He was ninety-nine percent sure they could cross off Arianna Miller and Jimmy Morgan unless they had accomplices. He'd tailed them both for the last two nights, and neither had gone near Lizzie's home. Last night, when Lizzie's dress must have been slashed, Jimmy was at the arcade at the pizza parlor, and Arianna had been making out with two different men at a party to which Jake had also been invited; he'd gone because he knew Arianna would be there and he wanted to watch her every move. During the hours that someone could have sneaked into Lizzie's house and slashed the dress, Arianna was straddling a wealthy businessman in the front seat of his Mercedes on Lover's Lane. It was past midnight when Jake saw her removing her shirt and bra and then bouncing up and down with a smile, her hands in the man's hair.
Hey, at least she's not holding her breath for me,
he'd thought. He'd tailed the car until Arianna was safely back at her apartment. He watched the man and Arianna embrace as they said their good-byes. Jake had had the feeling that this was a relationship and not a one-night stand or just a pickup. But the guy was probably married—otherwise why would he sneak around and do it in the car?
He shared all this with Holly. “But if it's not Arianna and Jimmy, and it's not Bobby, and it's not Mrs. Dunhill, then who?” she asked.
“Well, unless it's you, Gayle or Felicia,” Jake said, “I'm afraid to say I don't have any idea. I've been stumped by cases before, but this is one of the toughest.”
Holly sat back and seemed to be taking it all in. “Jake, what do you think of the fact that Dylan and his groomsmen haven't been threatened or attacked? Only Lizzie and her bridal party are being hurt.”
“I've thought about that,” Jake said. “But that brings us back to Jimmy Morgan and Pru and Arianna. Jimmy wants Dylan and me to have time for him again, so he figures by scaring Lizzie and you out of town, he gets us back. He doesn't get what he wants by hurting Dylan or me.”
“Do you think it's Jimmy?” Holly asked.
“He has a motive,” Jake said. “And he was there in the park with you fifteen minutes before you were attacked. Trying to hurt a stray cat doesn't bode well for him, either. But I saw him at the pizza parlor during the time that Lizzie's dress was shredded. As for our other suspects,” Jake said, “Arianna, Mrs. Dunhill, and Bobby Jones all have alibis for at least three of the incidents.”
“And Pru?”
“She's been tougher to trail,” Jake said. “In the past three days, I lost sight of her twice. I was tailing her, and it's like she disappeared.”
“Disappeared?”
“I can't make sense of what happened,” Jake said. “I followed her as she walked along Troutville Plaza. She went into a store and then never came out.”
“I don't understand.”
“I don't, either,” Jake said. “The store was crowded, and maybe I missed her leaving, but I don't think so. That happened twice. Right before you came, I saw her just sitting down to lunch in the Troutville Café. I'd like to tail her when she leaves.”
“Can I help?” Holly asked.
Jake nodded. “I'll need an extra set of eyes for Pru.”
She offered a grim smile. “Jake, I'm just going to throw this out there. It doesn't mean anything, okay? I'm just thinking out loud.”
“What?” he asked. “Go ahead.”
She hesitated, then said, “Is there any chance, any at all, that Dylan Dunhill could possibly be behind all this?”
Jake let out a deep breath. “As much as it's pained me, I have considered him. He's like a brother to me, Holly, but I've run him through the mind mill of suspects. He's had alibis for several incidents. I really don't think it's him. In fact, I know so. He loves Lizzie like mad.”
She nodded. “I think so, too.” Tears came to her eyes, and they slid down her cheeks.
“Holly?” he asked gently, coming around his desk. He knelt beside her. “Are you all right?”
“Jake, I'm so scared,” she said. “For Lizzie, for everyone.”
Me, too
, he thought. He took her hand and held it and they stayed that way for longer than either intended.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Pru Dunhill looked left, then right, seemed satisfied that no one was paying her any attention, and then walked into Wanda's Wig Salon.
Jake and Holly, sitting low in Jake's parked car across the street, stared at each other. Holly's mouth dropped open.
“Why would a woman with gorgeous, long, thick blond hair need a wig?” Holly asked, narrowing her eyes. “Unless she wanted to be in disguise.”
“Let's just keep our eyes peeled on that store,” Jake said. “Don't take your eyes off the door. That's how I lost her the last two times.”
No one entered or left for over ten minutes. Finally, a woman came out. She had long, curly brown hair and black sunglasses.
“Jake,” Holly said, sitting up, “That's Pru! I recognize her shoes. She went in wearing knee-high black boots with laces up the back, and that woman is wearing those boots.”
“You're right,” Jake said. “The hair and outfit are totally different, though.”
Pru had gone in looking the way she always did, in a very expensive designer outfit. Now, she had wild hair—the brown wig—and she wore a tight red shirt and a denim miniskirt. There was even a tattoo on her thigh, just above her knee.
“Does Pru Dunhill have a tattoo?” Holly asked, incredulous.
“Not that I know of,” Jake said.
“Well, she's going through an awful lot to alter her appearance,” Holly said. “And my guess is that's because she's about to do something awful to Lizzie or one of us and doesn't want to be caught!”
“It is suspicious,” Jake agreed. “I have a feeling she's going to meet her mystery man. Let's follow her.”
Jake and Holly got out of the car and trailed Pru down Troutville Plaza from across the wide boulevard. They watched Pru stop dead in her tracks and suddenly turn to face a store window. She was staring at a display of drugstore items on sale.
“What the—” Holly began. “Why is Pru so interested in dishwashing liquid all of a sudden?”
“Look who's coming up the street,” Jake said, gesturing.
Mrs. Dunhill, walking Louis, her butler a few paces behind, was headed right for Pru. Pru seemed to be holding her breath. Mrs. Dunhill passed right by her own daughter.
Pru turned around as her mother passed by and let out a deep breath. Then she continued walking, picking up her pace.
“Jake, she's headed Down Hill!”
“She seems to be,” Jake said, frowning. “Holly,” he added. “I think you should head to Lizzie's and let me handle this.”
“No,” she said. “We're in this together.”
“Holly, I have no idea what we're walking into.”
“That's why I'm not letting you walk into it alone,” she said.
“You were always very stubborn,” he tossed back.
“Takes one to know one,” she retorted.
“Okay, now I know we're back in high school.”
“Is she going into the auto body shop?” Holly asked. “She's heading straight for it.”
“Without a car,” Jake said. “Interesting.”
“What the heck is going on?” Holly asked, doubting that Pru Dunhill would enter an auto body shop even if she were driving a car in need of work.
“Let's go in,” Jake said.
Troutville's Auto Body Shop was a large operation. Jake held open the door for Holly, and they waited in front of the reception desk for the woman sitting there to finish her telephone conversation.
“Could you hold on, hon,” she said into the phone, then placed it against her chest. “Yeah?” she asked.
“Did you see a brown-haired woman come in just a minute ago?”
“A brunette?” the receptionist asked. “There's a brown-haired guy who works here.”
“No,” Holly said, “A brown-haired woman. Long, curly brown hair, wearing a skirt and high heeled, knee-high boots. You couldn't possibly have missed her.”
The young woman wrinkled her face at Holly. “Well I must be blind, then, because I didn't see her. No brown-haired woman came in here.”
“But we just saw her walk right through that very door,” Jake said, pointing at the glass doorway.
“Look, I gotta finish this call,” the woman said. “If you need a car fixed, let me know. Otherwise, I can't help ya.” With that, the young woman went back to her call.
And Jake and Holly went back to scratching their heads.
How could Pru Dunhill, in a getup like that, not be noticed? And more, how had she managed to vanish into thin air?
 
After a half hour of hanging around outside the auto body shop, waiting for the woman formerly known as Pru to make an appearance, Jake leaned against a tree and let out a long breath.
“I know that Pru is a smart cookie,” he said, “but when she begins to outsmart me—or you, actually, one of the smartest people at Troutville High—something is seriously wrong.”
Holly smiled. “Don't worry, Jake. It's not that Pru's smart; it's that she's shrewd. There's a difference.”
“Maybe so, but her shrewdness has us loitering in front of an auto body shop.”
Holly glanced at her watch. “Let's go get something to eat and talk this out. Between the two of us, we'll figure out what game Pru is playing. And we'll beat her at it.”
Jake's stomach rumbled at the mere mention of food. “No wonder I can't figure out how the most visible woman in Troutville disappeared into thin air. I'm starving.”
Holly laughed. “C'mon. Let's go have burgers at the best burger joint in Troutville.”
Jake grinned and led the way across the street to Morrow's Pub, where in addition to two frosty sodas, the most delicious hamburgers in Troutville and a basket of golden onion rings, they received hugs from Holly's Aunt Louise.
“Aunt Louise,” Holly said, “Have you noticed a flashy young woman with long, curly brown hair around here lately? Perhaps with a tall, muscular guy wearing a cap?”
Louise refilled their mugs from a pitcher of soda. “Funny you ask. A couple of weeks ago I did see a flashy gal with long
blond
hair with a guy wearing a cap. And then just a few days ago, I saw a brunette with the same guy.”
Jake and Holly exchangd glances. “You saw the same guy with a blonde? Are you sure?” Jake asked.
“Very sure,” Louise said. “I was about to walk inside the pub when I noticed a young couple walking down to the railroad tracks. A woman with beautiful, long blond hair, white-blond, like Pru Dunhill's.”
Holly almost gasped. “Pru Dunhill? Was it her?”
“I don't know,” Louise said. “The couple wasn't facing me. But I don't think it was Pru. I mean, why in the world would Pru Dunhill be walking along the railroad tracks Down Hill with a mechanic from the auto body shop next door?”
Jake and Holly looked at each other. “How do you know it was a mechanic? Jake asked, sitting on the edge of his seat. “And which one was it?”
Louise shook her head. “Can't tell you which guy it was—as I said, the blonde and the guy were facing away from me, but I know it was a mechanic because I recognized the dark blue jumpsuit and the cap.”
The cap! Jake thought. Pru's mystery man at the reunion had been wearing a cap.
“Tall guy?” Holly asked, clearly thinking the same thing. “Muscular?”
Louise nodded.
“Were they arguing?” Jake asked. “Could you tell anything from their body language?”
“If they were arguing,” Louise said, “I didn't hear. They were too far away, almost by the tracks when I spotted them. From their body language, I wouldn't say they seemed friendly. Well, maybe the blonde. She touched his arm a couple of times, and he sort of pulled away. I don't know—maybe they were arguing.”
“And then you saw the same guy a few days ago with a brunette?” Holly asked.
“Yes, and it was strange because I saw them in almost exactly the same place, down by the tracks, almost hidden from view. I saw them for only a moment, though, before they disappeared around the bend.” Louise smiled. “Hey! Is this official private investigator business?”
“Just might be,” Jake said.
Two businessmen entered the pub, and Louise excused herself to lead them to a table.
Jake leaned back in his chair. “Well, at least we now know we're not crazy—we did see Pru walk into the auto body shop. And now we know why—her mystery man works there.”
“Okay, so we're not crazy, but I, for one, am more confused than ever!” Holly said. “We saw Pru as Pru, not in disguise, at the reunion with the mechanic—at least, we're pretty sure it was him, from Aunt Louise's description of him. They were arguing. Then, Aunt Louise saw them a few weeks ago, and this time, Pru was trying to get friendly and the mechanic wasn't buying. Then Louise sees Pru in disguise as the brunette with the mechanic just a few days ago, but she couldn't tell if they were arguing or not.” Holly let out a breath. “What the heck is going on? Who is this mechanic? And how do he and Pru know each other?”
Jake polished off the rest of his burger. “And how do he and the brunette know each other? Does the mechanic know it's Pru in disguise?”
Holly shrugged. “Okay, let's try some possibilities. Let's say that Pru wanted to hurt Lizzie and her friends and needed a hired thug. I could see her going to a Down Hill guy and offering a pot-load of money to do her dirty work.”
“But would a Down Hill guy hurt Lizzie Morrow? Lizzie's loved Down Hill. She works in Morrow's, where everyone knows her. It doesn't add up.”
“Especially a mechanic who works at the shop across the street from Morrow's,” Holly added.
Jake took a sip of soda. “And, where does the disguise fit in? Why is Pru meeting the mechanic as herself and in disguise, as well?”
Holly shrugged. “I don't get it.”
“Okay,” Jake said. “Let's say that Pru isn't our culprit. Let's say she didn't hire this mechanic to scare Lizzie out of marrying Dylan. What reason would she have for arguing with him? What could their relationship be?”
“Well, we can discount romance,” Holly said.
“Although, our lady did protest a bit too much,” Jake reminded her. “Remember how vehemently she denied that she was dating anyone?”
“That's true,” Holly said. “But you don't really believe Pru Dunhill would be dating a mechanic, let alone one from Down Hill!”
“The odds are a million to one,” Jake agreed. “And, anyway, when we saw them at the reunion, they were anything but lovey-dovey. And when your aunt saw them, same thing.”
“So what is their relationship?” Holly asked. “No matter how I try to figure it out, I come up with nothing.”
“Me, too,” Jake said. “Think your Aunt Louise would mind getting involved in some official private investigator business?” Jake asked.
“I'm sure she'd be thrilled,” Holly replied. “What are you thinking?”
“Louise could go over, tell that prize of a receptionist that she'd like one of the mechanics to have a look at her car, that it's making a funny sound. And that one of the guys did some work on her car last year and he was so good she'd love to have him work on her car again, but she forgot his name, could she take a peek at the mechanics; she'd know him right away.”
“Good idea,” Holly said. “We'd get an ID and his name.”
Jake nodded. “Mystery man no more. And perhaps I'll do a little undercover interviewing of our guy and see what I can get out of him. Something along the lines of, ‘You lucky devil, I've seen you around town with not one, but
two
Troutville lovelies.'”
“Pru as herself. Pru in disguise. Same guy.” Holly shook her head. “Arg! What is her game?”
“We'll find out, Hol,” Jake assured her, pulling some bills from his wallet. “I promise you that.” Without thinking, he laid his hand atop hers, startled for a moment by how soft hers was.
“Jake Boone, you'd better not be thinking of paying for that lunch,” Louise gently scolded. “You know your money is no good in here.” Louise's gaze stopped on their hands, and Jake could tell she tried to hide her smile.
Holly slipped her hand away, but not before she acknowledged how very good it felt to have his warm, strong hand on hers.
 
Later that night, as Jake and Holly were parked outside the Dunhill Mansion in a rented car, hoping, praying, waiting for Pru to make an appearance so that they could trail her again, Holly found herself staring at Jake's hand, resting on the wheel. The same hand that had rested on her own just hours earlier.

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