MURDER at the ALTAR (The Wedding Planner Mysteries Book 3) (4 page)

              “Hello, Ronald,” she scoffed with dry contempt.

              “Kitty! Come in!”

              Ronald, a stocky, bald man whose glasses slunk down his nose as if they were trying to escape, was Trudy’s new boyfriend.
Boyfriend
was putting it mildly. He was more like an appendage, attached to Trudy at the hip and somehow always in her apartment. For the past three weeks whenever she’d seen Trudy, Ronald had been there. When she’d needed advice, Ronald was quick to offer guidance. When she’d needed support, Ronald supplied it. When she needed to vent or complain or bubble up into an all-out rage, it was Ronald who’d looked on in wide-eyed amazement. Trudy had been right beside him, but as far as Kitty was concerned, her best friend had taken a back seat to her beau. And Kitty had had no choice but to keep a lid on her annoyance.

              “Is Trudy here?” she asked, barreling through the apartment and making a beeline for the Chardonnay in the fridge.

              “Of course,” he said, his mild manner grating on her nerves. That was the thing about Ronald. You couldn’t dislike him, not outright anyway, not without coming across as cruel. “She’s just changing.”

              Kitty lumbered to the couch, Chardonnay bottle in one hand, wine glass in the other. What she wouldn’t give for a night with Trudy alone like old times.

              Ronald hurried after her with two more wine glasses and waited patiently as Kitty poured herself a generous glass. When she handed the bottle over, Ronald filled the other glasses and asked, “Is something on your mind?”

              She glared at him, but was met with his bright smile.

              Trudy emerged from behind the Chinese folding screen and tied the sash on the satin robe she wore.

              “How’s it going?” she asked as Kitty strew her limbs, monopolizing the paisley couch.

              “It happened again.”

              Not quite grasping the crisis, Trudy draped her arm around Ronald as she sat on the arm of his chair and took her glass of Chardonnay.

              “Sterling left in the middle of the night?” she guessed.

              “No!
It
happened again!”

              Ronald stared at her blankly and took a dainty, little sip of his wine.

              “The minister dropped dead!” she exclaimed then a miserable, groaning sigh escaped her, which she silenced by gulping her wine.

              “What?” asked Trudy, alarmed.

              “And Sterling all but forbids me to get involved!”

              “I’ll get the sage!” Trudy was on her feet, rushing to find the sage smudge and a box of matches.

              “I think I’m losing it,” Kitty complained.

              “And that usually happens days into the investigation,” noted Trudy, the implication of which was that her friend being driven mad on day one wasn’t a good sign.

              Trudy waved the burning sage around Kitty, who made every effort to breathe the smoke in deeply. She sensed Ronald was trying not to judge. He was polite like that.

              Then it occurred to Kitty that for once in his waddling life, Ronald might actually serve a purpose greater than merely annoying her.

              “You’re a doctor, Ronald,” she began.

              “A cardiologist,” he clarified to refresh her memory.

              “What do you know about pacemakers?”

              “A lot,” he said, not that it was helpful.

              “My minister, Marcus Joseph had a pacemaker, evidently.”

              “Ah, yes, Marc Joseph,” he said with recognition.

              “You know him?” Kitty sat up in attention. “Did you put in his pacemaker?”

              “I have to abide by confidentiality, Kitty, but yes. I did.”

              “Really?” She was intrigued and her mind started racing with what she might be able to get out of him without him violating doctor-patient confidentiality.

              Ronald nodded and sipped his wine.

              “How would someone... say... kill someone with a pacemaker?”

              “Oh Lord, is that what happened?” said Trudy, moving to the couch.

              Kitty nodded. “Not that Sterling would give me any details, but he alluded to the possibility that it was Marcus’ pacemaker that had killed him.” She turned to Ronald. “He’s a homicide detective. See where I’m going with this?”

              Ronald considered the ways in which a person might pull that off then said, “The killer would’ve had to have damaged the device.”

              “How?” she demanded, nearly interrupting him.

              “I suppose one way would be to electrocute the man.”

              “That didn’t happen,” she cut in. “I was right there in the room.”

              “Another would be to place a strong magnet against his chest.”

              “No one placed anything against his chest,” Kitty said, pondering the day’s events. “What if someone had a concealed magnet and got within a few feet of him?” She asked, excitedly.

              “Ah,” he thought. “It would have to be an extremely strong magnet.”

              “How strong?”

              “Well, it’s the size, Kitty. I doubt someone could conceal a magnet strong enough to scramble his pacemaker because it would be the size of a hubcap.”

              Kitty considered that. Marcus had died within minutes of entering the mansion. Maybe he’d been exposed to a magnet before he arrived?

              “How long would it take?” she asked, spitting out her questions as quickly as they came. “Is there a delayed reaction?”

              “No, I don’t believe so. Once a magnet gets within range the pacemaker would scramble and short out, then it could take between twenty seconds and three minutes for the heart to give out on its own since the assistance has been destroyed.”

              “That narrows it down to the people who were in that ballroom,” she said, thinking out loud. “Who was standing nearest Marcus?”

              Trudy and Ronald exchanged a confused look then returned their gaze to Kitty.

              “Hun, did you say Sterling forbids you to get involved?” Trudy’s attempt to breathe reason into her friend only irritated Kitty. “Maybe we need more sage.”

              “I don’t need more sage!” Kitty exclaimed as she jumped to her feet, Chardonnay splashing all around. She chugged the last of it then slammed the glass on the coffee table. “What I need is to figure this out!”

              Kitty tore through the apartment and was out the door in a jiffy, racking her brain for whether or not Home Depot would be open at this hour.

              Sterling dropped his keys on the kitchen counter then opened the refrigerator, but it was as though his eyes weren’t really seeing what was there. The last thing he wanted was another bump in the road with Kitty. Things had been going well for the most part, though he wasn’t ignorant to the many disappointments he’d caused her—spending the full night together being the biggest bone of contention at this point. Still, she’d been doing a good job of being understanding. She’d been working with his many quirks, giving him distance when he needed it and remaining unresentful—a major feat for most women who preferred to fester their grudges until it strained the relationship into ending. He wanted to hand it to her for stepping up to the plate over and over again. Did he have to be so final about it? Did he really have to put his foot down?

              He grabbed a beer from the door and slammed the fridge shut. He was angry. Of course he’d rather be at Kitty’s right now.

              Had his argument sounded reasonable? He had a million ways to justify that it had. She should understand they both wanted the same thing, to keep this relationship going. And he didn’t see how he could if she nosed into his investigation. But at the same time, he knew Kitty. She nosed into things. That’s what she did. It had been the only reason they’d gotten together in the first place.

              Sterling realized that by asking her to stay out of it, he’d inadvertently asked her to change who she was. He kicked himself for the gross double standard and hoped like hell she wouldn’t pick up on it and rub it in his face. Maybe he hadn’t been reasonable. Maybe he’d been unfair. But he was between a rock and a hard place, his career at odds with his personal life. What was he supposed to do?

              He sat on his couch and cracked his beer open but didn’t drink it. Instead he pulled his cell from his jeans pocket and stared at it. He wanted to call her, get her over here at least for a few hours, but she wouldn’t like it. He knew it killed her every time he’d asked her to leave.

              Oh God, and he’d suggested they go on a break. Who was he really punishing here? Only himself.

              Sterling tried to reason this out, but he was coming up short. He needed to get her off of his mind. Lifting the can to his mouth, he made himself chug the beer then lit a cigarette and turned on the TV. But he couldn’t concentrate on the college basketball game that was playing. He muted it, drank more, and sucked his cigarette down to the filter, all the while failing to get Kitty Sinclair out of his head.

              He shouldn’t have told her about the pacemaker.

              At least he’d gotten himself out of La Luna before he could divulge what he knew about Marcus Joseph. He’d been a man leading a double life. He had enemies. There’d been other attempts on his life. Sterling had spent the greater part of the afternoon reviewing the restraining order Joseph had taken out against his acquaintance—a person who had been in that ballroom—a dark history that made Sterling shocked the man would agree to officiate a wedding that would put him in close proximity to the very person he feared most in this world.

              As he ran through the bullet points, Kitty crept from the back to the forefront of his mind. She wasn’t going to let this go. Whatever he knew she’d eventually find out. And the frustrating fact of the matter was that she had access to his prime suspect. It would only be a matter of time before she put together who that was and did her own poking around. Could he stop her? What could he give her to make her back off and let him do his job his way?

              He could give her the one thing she wanted most: him.

              Sterling dialed her cell number and pressed his phone to his ear. She didn’t pick up. His heart melted for her when he heard her soft, melodic voice come through as her outgoing message played.

              “Hey, it’s me. I want you to come over. Call me?”

              He hung up and tossed the cell to the coffee table.

              For all the fears he had about Kitty changing him into a man he didn’t recognize, the fact of the matter was that she already had. There was no undoing it. There was no turning back. All he could do was make it work. If he lost her, if this was a deal breaker for her and she walked away because of it, he’d never forgive himself. That’s when the unthinkable struck him clear as a bell.

              Sterling was in love.

              Kitty woke up with a pang of remorse. She’d never ignored his call before. She’d always gotten back to Sterling as soon as she realized he’d reached out. Why hadn’t she answered?

              Pride, maybe.

              She wasn’t about to let him dictate the relationship.

              The fact that he thought he could control what she did or didn’t do rubbed her the wrong way. She’d have an equal relationship or none at all.

              It wasn’t lost on her that she was being strategic about this. She didn’t actually want to break up with him. She wanted the opposite, all things considered.

              Kitty wondered what he'd wanted last night, but then stopped herself from making excuses for him. She wasn’t about to fantasize about Sterling confessing his love for her, or him recanting his declaration that they were on a break—his decision not hers.

              She reminded herself that Sterling was a man and probably only wanted one thing.

             
I want you to come over.

              No reading between the lines required.

              She knew exactly what he’d wanted, and it wasn’t to apologize or admit that she’d helped him in two other cases. His interest in her wasn’t deeper than the width of the two sheets he’d probably hoped to get her between. She’d been right to ignore his call. She needed to be strong and accept his decision. It didn’t mean things were over. It only meant they wouldn’t see each other until the case was solved. Well, that gave her all the motivation in the world. She’d solve it. End of discussion.

              She hopped in the shower and lathered up then washed that man right out of her hair, scrubbing and shaving and turning the hot water faucet up further and further until the heat consumed her and Sterling was gone from her mind.

              As she wrapped a towel around her, she longed for Trudy’s couch. What a way to add insult to injury, she thought. Ronald had stolen her best friend. She let the animosity build in her heart as a means to ensure Sterling wouldn’t creep in. Yes, she couldn’t stand Trudy’s new boyfriend. He was the absolute worst.

             
Go with that
, she told herself.

              But did she despise Ronald, or was she really jealous of their relationship? Ronald had declared his interest in Trudy right off the bat. Exclusivity had been discussed a week in. He had no problem introducing her as his girlfriend. He liked spending the night. Trudy had the luxury of waking up in his arms. And there Kitty was, fighting for a man who refused to carry any weight, exercising her patience every time he slipped out of bed in the middle of the night because he couldn’t bear to spend it with her, hoping and praying he’d come around. And for what? To be ordered to stay out of his cases? They concerned her!

              She stopped herself from going down that road since it’d only get her worked up and angry. Maybe the break would be a good thing.

              She couldn’t wait to discover the killer and rub it in Sterling’s face.

              Payback was a hell of a motivator.

              When she rifled through her closet and Sterling came to mind she didn’t beat herself up over it. Instead, she chose the sexiest dress she could find and fantasized about running into him. She’d ignore him. She’d make him sweat. Maybe she’d flirt with the nearest guy and get him thinking. She admitted this wasn’t her most mature fantasy, but she was enjoying it, as she slipped into a slinky, red dress, which wasn’t meant to be worn unless the sun had gone down.

              Kitty styled her hair into a voluminous puff then solidified the shape using half a can of hair spray. Thank you, Trudy! She took painstaking measures to give her eyes dramatic shape with shadows and eyeliner and then drew red lipstick over her mouth until her pout was pure perfection.

              Oh, Sterling could eat his heart out! 

              She made it out to her Fiat, hips swaying and red heels clicking over asphalt, as her black purse hung heavy with the weight of the strongest magnets Home Depot had had for sale.

              Gretchen Downey and David Cartwright lived in a condo on the Greenwich harbor not far from the Delamar hotel where Mandy Maple and Erik Coburn had suffered the strangest bachelor-bachelorette party in the history of all such debaucheries.

              Kitty pressed the buzzer, as the autumn sun warmed her skin. It was hot today, a throwback to early August, and she hoped things would cool in five days time when the lovebirds tied the knot. For all the luxury the mansion had to offer, it was much too big for the few AC units it contained to really cool the place off, and the last thing Kitty needed was for the guests to feel parched and faint.

              “Kitty?” Gretchen’s voice came through the intercom and the mere mention of her name helped her realized a camera was shooting down on her.

              She looked up at it and smiled.

              “I’d like to go over a few things in light of Marcus’ tragic death,” she stated.

              Then the door buzzed, announcing Gretchen had unlocked it from six floors above. Kitty yanked the glass door open and padded through the tiled lobby to the elevator banks.

              When one of the cars opened, Kitty motioned to enter, but her purse magnetized to the doorway. She gasped then glanced over her shoulder to be sure the doorman hadn’t taken notice. He hadn't, thank God, so she pulled, heaving and tugging and muscling her purse off the metal door. Once it was free, she held her purse against her chest tightly so it couldn’t whip from her grasp and magnetize to anything else.

              She’d bought two magnets at Home Depot last night, one north and the other south, since she couldn’t be sure which polarity could’ve scrambled Marcus’ pacemaker. Whether it was good news or bad, the two magnets where clamped together in her purse, north and south pulls joining tightly. She made a mental note to steer clear and keep her distance from any metal appliances in Gretchen’s home, then realized that might be a tall order.

              Gretchen opened the door the moment Kitty knocked.

              “Kitty, come in. David isn’t home, but I’m more than happy to go over any details with you.”

              Cautious for any metal that might be in her path, Kitty stepped carefully after Gretchen down the hard wood hallway until they reached the expansive living room, which had a Buddhist feel: minimalist black leather furniture surrounded by Bonsai trees and Onyx sculptures of the Guru in meditative repose.

              Kitty took a seat on the leather couch when Gretchen indicated she ought to have a seat.

              “Can I offer you anything? Water? Coffee? Wine—”

              “I’ll have wine,” she cut in with no sense of shame. It was barely ten in the morning, but a little loosening up would do the wedding planner wonders in terms of making her bold enough to ask questions she had no business knowing. “Riesling if you’ve got it.”

              Gretchen smirked at that and mentioned she just might, and then returned a few moments later with a bottle and two glasses.

              As she poured, Kitty made a mental review of the best way to bring this conversation to a head without revealing her ulterior motive.

              “How are you holding up?”

              Gretchen sighed and handed her a glass, which Kitty nursed in her lap, though she wanted to knock it back.

              “I’m in shock,” she said, shaking her head and falling into a daze of sorts. “Did the police discover anything about the tea?”

              Kitty froze and tried not to laugh at herself.
My God, mouse droppings.
She’d been way off.

              “Forgive me for that,” she said. “My concerns were misplaced. Have you given any thought to Kip’s suggestion about Christopher Marlowe?”

              “Ugh,” said Gretchen, drinking her wine, which gave Kitty permission to do the same.
Finally!
“It’s so hard for me to think about replacing Marcus. But sure, Christopher sounds fine. Why not? I’m not about to be choosy.”

             
Wow, she really was in shock
.

              Suddenly and without warning, a metal-rimmed ashtray that was resting on the coffee table in front of Kitty flew off and magnetized to her purse with a
thunk
!

              Kitty wrestled it off, as Gretchen looked on with alarmed confusion.

              “Here you are,” said Kitty, handing her the ashtray. She then cut in with a question so Gretchen wouldn’t have a chance to ask what in the hell just happened. “Did you know Marcus was in poor health?”

              Gretchen turned cross, which made Kitty’s heart skip a beat. She hadn’t meant to offend the bride.

              “His health was fine,” Gretchen corrected. “Are you referring to his pacemaker?”

              “It would seem the device malfunctioned,” said Kitty, attempting to explain the line she’d crossed. “Tragic.”

              Gretchen turned momentarily dark and glared at her.

              “Marcus was a mysterious man,” she said, easing into her take on the matter. “I was close with him. We’d known each other for many years, but he had his secrets.”

              Kitty leaned in hoping she’d divulge all that she knew.

              “He’d gotten involved with the wrong people,” she went on. “Not that he said that to me outright, but when you know someone, you start to understand when they're on edge. They have little tells, you know? They fidget. They get snippy at you in a way that you just know it isn’t about you.”

              “What do you think he was doing? What had he gotten involved in? Do you know?” Kitty didn’t mean to press, but she couldn’t help it, all notions that Gretchen could’ve been the killer flying from her thoughts.

              Gretchen drew in a deep breath then let it out on a long shuttering exhale. “I can’t say for sure, but I know he owed money. To people, that is. To very bad people.”

              “He said that?”

              “Well, no. Not in so many words. But I’d seen him panicked and scrambling for cash on more than one occasion. A person doesn’t act like that because they miss a credit card payment. They act the way Marcus had when they’re terrified someone’s going to break their kneecaps.”

              “Did you tell the police?”

              “Tell them what? It’s not like I have proof of anything. Besides, I’ve seen enough cop dramas on TV to know that when a person suggests reasons a man was killed all they’re really doing is casting suspicion on themselves.”

              She had a point.

              But the only person that could’ve killed Marcus with a magnet had to have been in that ballroom. What bad person could also be a member of the immediate families?

              “Was he close with anyone besides you?”

              “Who knows,” said Gretchen, sounding defeated.

              “Anyone in your family? Or David’s?”

              “Excuse me?” she snapped, offended. “Are you insinuating that someone in our families did this?”

              “No! Not at all!”

              “Really? Because that’s what it sounds like.”

              “Gretchen, I’m sorry. This is puzzling. I shouldn’t have asked that.”

              “You’re damn right you shouldn’t have asked that.”

             
Why is she getting so defensive?
Kitty wondered.

              “I’ll get in touch with Kip and reach out to Christopher to officiate,” Kitty suggested, rising to her feet. “That’s all I needed to discuss.”

              “And you couldn’t do this over the phone?” Gretchen was suspicious. It wasn’t Kitty’s finest hour, that’s for sure.

              She smiled anyway and made her way across the living room when she spotted Gretchen’s purse resting on the stand where a large Onyx Buddha sat.

             
Now or never
, she reminded herself.

              As she passed Gretchen’s purse, she held her own out to see if there was a magnetic pull, despite the fact that the bride was at her heels seeing her out.

              But there was no pull. None at all.