With a sigh, I got into my car and started the engine, and with one last glance toward Death by Coffee to make sure Vince hadn’t magically returned, I pulled out and headed for the church.
17
The good news was the church wasn’t on fire. Since Vicki hadn’t given me the details of what kind of disaster to expect, my mind had conjured up all sorts of horrible images and scenarios on the short drive over. I should have realized it wasn’t something so drastic as a fire or anything that would require the police. The top of the church was visible from Death by Coffee, and if something like that had happened, I would have heard the sirens or seen the smoke.
I parked out front and headed for the doors, wondering what could possibly require my immediate attention. The air-conditioning unit might have gone out, or maybe a water line had burst, which would be an inconvenience, but that wouldn’t put much of a damper on the actual wedding.
Inside, I looked around, trying to determine where to go. No one was immediately evident in the church. I’d only ever been upstairs, where the meeting rooms and the main worship room were located. Downstairs contained storage, and I thought they had some sort of dining area down there, though I’d never actually seen it. Normally, I was only ever here in the evening, for the writers’ group meetings I’d stopped coming to.
“Offices then,” I muttered, tromping up the stairs. I’d never seen anyone in the offices before, but I figured if something had indeed happened that required Vicki’s attention, then it was the most likely place to find someone in the know.
Sure enough, as soon as I reached the top of the stairs, I heard voices coming from the office connected to the room where the writers’ group meetings are held. I’d seen the door before, but it had always been closed, the room dark. Now, the lights were on, and two people stood just inside. I headed for the office, concern growing as I neared.
I recognized one of the voices.
Frederick was standing just inside the office door, arms crossed over his chest. He was shaking his head, frowning up a storm. He didn’t see me approach since his back was to me.
“I don’t think it will suffice,” he said to a tall, thin woman who had sharp green eyes and a cute bob of a haircut and was wearing slacks with a button-up blouse. A silver cross hung from her neck on a delicate chain that was practically invisible against her skin.
“It’s not up to you, sir,” she said, and then, spotting me, she asked. “Are you Krissy?”
Frederick turned and his frown turned into a genuine scowl. “Great,” he muttered under his breath.
“I am,” I said, ignoring him. I stepped forward and took the woman’s hand when she offered it. Her grip was dry and firm.
“Elsie Buchannan.” She smiled when my eyes widened. “And yes, I know all about you. John is my husband.”
I knew I was staring, but couldn’t stop. This was Buchannan’s wife? I’d fully expected a scowling, stocky woman, not this lithe, friendly thing. And she was actually pretty. When she smiled, her entire face lit up with a glow that was just this side of heavenly. I didn’t know why I’d expected Buchannan’s wife to be on the unattractive side. Maybe it was because of his often ugly personality or because of some of the questionable rumors Rita had told me about the two of them.
“It’s nice to meet you,” I finally managed. And then, to the point: “Vicki called and asked me to check in for her. Is something wrong?” I glanced at Frederick.
“This venue will not suffice,” he said. “The building is old, and not of sufficient quality to house my daughter’s wedding.”
“I assure you, sir, there is nothing wrong with the building,” Elsie said. “It might be old, but it’s still solid. The air works and the pipes are clean. We just had them replaced three years ago. Your daughter requested the site; we didn’t force her into anything.”
Frederick huffed. “I have the right to change the venue if I see fit.”
“Can we have a moment?” I asked as I slid past him, into the office.
His jaw tightened briefly, but Frederick otherwise complied without complaint. He turned and marched out of the room to look at a painting on the wall that showed the Last Supper from a different angle than what was normally depicted—top down instead of from the front. I remembered reading the plaque beneath it claiming the artist had come from Pine Hills, though she had lived and died well before my time.
I eased the door most of the way closed, just in case Frederick tried to eavesdrop, but not so far I couldn’t keep an eye on him. He glanced my way, scowled some more, and then returned his gaze to the painting.
“Vicki called me to take care of this,” I said, keeping my voice low, though Frederick was far enough away, I doubted he would have understood me even if I’d spoken normally.
“She said she’d send you to speak for her. When he came in and started claiming he had authorization to change the venue, I thought it best to call Ms. Patterson and check instead of taking him at his word.” She shook her head. “I don’t get it. Why would he do something like this?”
“He’s headstrong,” I said, understating it quite a bit. “He wants what’s best for his daughter, but he doesn’t know how to go about it. If he tries to press the issue, don’t let him. Vicki wants the church, and that’s what she’s going to get, no matter what Frederick says.”
“That’s what I thought.” Elsie picked up a pen and wrote something down before facing me again. She tapped the pen on her chin. “I’ve been organizing events for the church for nearly fifteen years now, and I’ve never had anything like this happen before.”
“Frederick is . . . different.” Once more, an understatement, but I didn’t want to talk too bad about him. For as difficult as he could be, he was still Vicki’s dad and she loved him. And despite how poorly he treated me, I didn’t hate the man. He lived a different sort of life from what I was used to, and I had to respect those differences, even if I didn’t like, or agree, with them most of the time.
“That he is.” She smiled. “John says the same thing about you, you know?”
“We’ve had our, uh, differences.” To put it mildly.
She laughed. “So I’ve heard. Despite what you might think, he doesn’t hate you. He’s actually impressed with you, with how you handle yourself. I know he doesn’t like showing it, but he thinks you’ve got a good head on your shoulders and appreciates your hard work.”
“Really?” I was genuinely surprised. While his cold shoulder toward me had thawed considerably since we’d first met, he still acted as if he trusted me about as far as he could throw me. “I would never have guessed.”
“He does wish you’d stay out of the way of his duties, but that’s the cop in him talking. He’s always been big on letting the police do their jobs, even in a small town like this, where that job includes saving kittens caught in drains more often than theft or murder.”
“He’s a good cop,” I said, and I meant it. We might not always get along, but John Buchannan knew what he was doing. I just wished, sometimes, he wouldn’t be so gung-ho about dropping blame at my feet.
“That he is.” She glanced past me, toward Frederick. “I’m not sure how I’m going to convince him there’s nothing I can do for him. The venue decision is Ms. Patterson’s call. She’s already signed the papers.”
“I’ll take care of it,” I said.
“Are you sure? I’m pretty sure I can handle him if he tries to play alpha male.” Something came into her eye then, a strength that made me realize John Buchannan might not be the toughest member of his family.
“I am. I’m used to dealing with Frederick.” Though I was pretty out of practice. I’d barely seen him since Vicki had moved away from California shortly before I’d made my own move. It had been years now. As far as I knew, he’d grown twice as stubborn in the interim.
Still, I thought I could deal with him without causing too much trouble. He might insult me, might give me looks that would kill any lesser woman, but he wouldn�
��t actually hurt me.
Unless he’s the one who killed Cathy.
I squashed the thought before it could take root in my brain. The Pattersons were a lot of things, but they weren’t killers.
“Thank you,” Elsie said. “I’ll call Ms. Patterson and let her know everything is under control.”
Steeling myself for what was to come, I shook Elsie’s hand once more, and then turned to face Vicki’s father.
Frederick was no longer at the painting, but was now standing by a bookshelf at the back of the room, perusing the titles. He turned as I approached, already scowling. “I suppose you went against my wishes, and refused to consider a change,” he said.
“Vicki wants to have the ceremony here,” I said, refusing to let his condescending tone get to me. “There aren’t many better places in town to hold a wedding, to be honest. While the church is old, there’s a history here. She likes it, and I think she should get what she wants, don’t you?”
He stared at me a long moment before saying, “I suppose there’s little I can do about it, especially if what you say is true. I haven’t seen enough of this town to know if anywhere else would be more suitable for what she deserves.”
I blinked, surprised. I’d expected to argue with him for a good half an hour before I got him to concede, even a little. “Okay,” I said, not quite sure where to go from there. “Good.”
“It’s just so damn frustrating,” he said. “Gina and I are stressed, thanks to Cathy’s demise. We want everything to be perfect for Vicki, yet it all seems to be going wrong.” He glanced around the room. “When I walked in here, all I could see were the faults.”
“Just because there are faults doesn’t mean it’s not good enough. She likes it here. The place has character.” And yeah, there might be a few water spots on the ceiling, and maybe the stairs creak a bit too much, but that didn’t detract from it in any way. In fact, I liked it all the better for it.
“I know.” His shoulders sagged. “If you had children, you would understand, perhaps. When she was growing up, I imagined what her wedding would be like. There’d be thousands of guests, an outdoor ceremony with flowers blooming all around her.” He spread his hands helplessly. “I feel as if I’ve failed her.”
“She’s happy,” I said. “This is what she wants.”
“I suppose it must be.” He said it like he couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to have a wedding here, let alone live here. “It’s just not what I wanted for her.”
“Sometimes, you’ve got to let your children make up their own minds about what it is they want.”
He gave me a startled look, like he hadn’t expected anything remotely philosophical coming from my mouth. Honestly, I hadn’t either; it had just sort of popped out.
“You’re right, of course.” He grimaced as if the words tasted bad. “I’ll let Gina know.”
“Great.” I probably should have left it at that, and walked away. My job here was done, and Vicki’s wedding could go on as planned.
But the murder was still unsolved. If anyone would know more about the suspects, Frederick would. And I had him right here, alone, without anyone else around to influence what he says.
“So, who do you think did it?” I asked, leaning against the wall, crossing my arms. I was trying to act casual and relaxed, but I was all nerves inside.
Frederick’s eyes narrowed, as if he was trying to decide if I was attempting to trick him into something. “Did what?”
“Killed Cathy,” I said. “The police think it might have something to do with the fake necklace found in her possession.”
“I don’t know anything about that,” Frederick said. “I’m sure it’s some sort of mistake. That necklace was most definitely real.” He paused, brow furrowed. “I suppose if someone tried to replace the real one with the counterfeit, she might have tried to stop them. Cathy was the kind of woman who cared about her friends.” He said it like he didn’t think I knew what that meant.
“Any idea who might have wanted Gina’s necklace?” I asked, not wanting to mention Lyric’s name up front. She believed it was hers, so she was the most likely suspect when it came to a theft, but murder? I wasn’t so sure.
Frederick frowned, eyes darting from side to side as if looking for an escape. It was clear he didn’t want to accuse one of his friends, but I could tell he had someone in mind.
“If you think you know something, it might be a good idea to tell someone now, before the police wonder why you withheld the information,” I prodded.
“Tell who? You?” He chuckled. “What good could that possibly do?”
“It could take away any guilt you might feel about ratting on one of your friends,” I said. “Tell me and if I think it’s important to the investigation, I can tell the police in your stead. I’m good friends with a few people on the force.” Or at least, I used to be. Paul still liked me, but I wasn’t so sure about everyone else lately. “Tell me and I’ll be the one turning them in, not you. It limits your culpability.”
He gave me another surprised look. Apparently, he had assumed I didn’t know many big words. “Lyric believes the necklace should belong to her,” he said, slowly, as if it pained him to say it.
I nodded, and motioned for him to go on. I already knew that.
“She’s had words with Gina about it on more than one occasion. I was surprised when she decided to come along for the wedding, to be honest.”
I wasn’t. I thought about telling him Lyric’s real motive for coming, but decided that was for her to do, not me. “Do you think she could have tried to steal it?”
“I don’t think she would do something like that on her own,” he said. “Lyric likes to delegate.” He smiled, somewhat fondly. “If she can get someone else to do something for her, she will. Usually, she has no problem finding some poor sap to run all her errands for her.”
Theft and possible murder were a long way from an errand, but what did I know? She was a beautiful woman who someday might hit it big in acting. A lot of people would do anything for someone like that. “So, you think she might have hired someone to steal the necklace for her?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. She could have. But if I were to look at anyone specifically, I’d look at her suitor.”
My mind immediately went back to when we’d gathered at Death by Coffee that first time, and the man who’d stared at her like he adored her. “Vince?” I wondered aloud. He’d stood right beside Lyric during the introductions, hadn’t even noticed when attention turned his way. He’d looked at her like he would do anything for her. Did that mean he’d be willing to steal for her?
Frederick gave me an odd look. “No, not Vince. Jacques. He’s called on her a few times in the past, and from what I’ve heard, he’s been seen with her a few times here already.”
“You think Jacques Kenway might have attempted to steal the necklace for Lyric?” I asked, before following it up with, “Isn’t he related to you?”
Frederick chuckled, though it wasn’t an amused sound. “Distantly related. At least, that’s what he says. I’m not sure we’ve ever actually found a real connection between us. I think he wants to feel a part of something since he doesn’t have a family of his own.”
Could it be that easy? Lyric had wanted that necklace for years. Could she have gone to Jacques for help, and he’d then made up some story about being related to the Pattersons, just so he could get close to them so he could steal the necklace for her? It sounded a tad convoluted, but these were actors we were dealing with here. As far as I knew, he’d done the same sort of thing in a movie and decided to give it a try in real life.
“I should get back to Gina,” Frederick said, cutting into my thoughts. “Tell Vicki the venue will suffice.” He turned and walked away without waiting for me to respond.
I wanted to ask him more questions about Jacques and Lyric, but I let him go. I now had two top suspects, and thankfully, they weren’t Gina and Frederick Patterson. That was a win in my boo
k, since I’d been starting to wonder about them.
The only question was, how could I get Lyric or Jacques to admit it?
Of course, I doubted they ever would, not without evidence they couldn’t explain away.
Okay then, so where would I get that evidence?
If Lyric and Jacques had indeed stolen the necklace, and Cathy had been found with the replica they’d replaced it with, then that meant one of them would have the real one. If I found it on one of them, then that would be proof they’d had something to do with her death, right?
It wasn’t perfect, but it was as close as I was going to get without having them break down and confess.
It looked like I was going to have to talk to Lyric again. And this time, I wasn’t going to leave until I got some answers.
18
I made a quick stop at Death by Coffee to make sure Lena and Jeff were handling things okay, and I shot Vicki a quick couple of texts telling her about Robert’s request and my thoughts on Beth before I made my way toward Ted and Bettfast. The smart thing to do would be to call Paul and tell him everything I’d learned, but I wasn’t totally convinced Lyric and Jacques were the culprits. I figured if I asked Lyric directly—with someone else around, of course—I’d see something in her eye that would tell me whether or not she’d had anything to do with Cathy’s death. I doubted she’d admit to it directly.
And, of course, if I could take a peek into her room, all the better.
Doubts ran through me as I pulled into the lot. What had made me think I’d be able to spot a lie in the first place? Lyric was an actress. She might not be a good one, or have ever been in any big movies, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t fool someone like me, especially when her freedom could be on the line.
But what else was I going to do? I couldn’t simply drop it, not when I felt like I was getting closer to the truth.
I got out of my car and made my way into Ted and Bettfast, determined not to let anything get in my way.
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