BRIDE and DOOM (The Wedding Planner Mysteries Book 2)

by Jeanine Spooner

  Kitty did what she could to inhale the thick strings of smoke, but they smelled funky and made her cough.

  “At least you hit it off with Michael,” she said, eager to hear about love working out for once.

  “We did!” Trudy exclaimed as she plopped back down into her armchair, ready to dish. “You have to find me another!”

  “Find you another? I thought you liked Michael?”

  “I did,” she said with a smile, getting lost in the memory of him.

  “Well if you like him... I mean... Aren’t you going to keep seeing him?”

  Trudy shrugged. “Men are different after you sleep with them. What can I say, the spark is gone.”

  “Gone? Where did it go?”

  “I don’t pretend to understand men, Kitty, I just accept how they feel.”

  Kitty pondered that a moment then needed some clarity. “You’re saying men don’t like women once they’ve slept with them?” Sterling came to mind.

  “Not really,” Trudy said, dryly, but with ease. “They lose interest. Hey, I don’t blame them. It’s on to the next one!”

  “Christ, Trudy, it was hard to find Michael. Think about how many guys I had to find that you hated before I found a good one.”

  “But now that you know what a good one looks like—for me, that is—it should be easy. So climb back on that horse, girl, and get me a man!”

  Kitty glared at her. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  Trudy seemed satisfied with that, set the sage into an ashtray then plucked her wine off the table. They drank, deep in thought for a long moment, and Kitty reflected on the possibility that what she feared had been her greatest mistake might really be her saving grace. She hadn’t slept with Sterling. That meant there was still a chance.

  Chapter Five

  The summer sun cut through Kitty’s bedroom window the moment it pierced the horizon. She winced at the stark light then rolled to her side hoping to steal five more minutes. Logic prevailed, however. She was awake and knew herself well enough to understand there would be no falling back asleep.

  She lifted up in bed and glanced out her window. The suburban landscape was brightening up. Birds chirped. Tulips eased open. It was the morning of the Maple - Coburn wedding rehearsal. Tonight would be the rehearsal dinner, tomorrow the wedding. Time seemed an ocean she was drowning in. She needed to work fast and work harder, and not in regard to the wedding, which she was thoroughly prepared for.

  With coffee on her brain, Kitty rolled out of bed and snugged her white nightgown down over her rump. It had gotten bunched around her waist, thin cotton twisting around her with every toss and turn. And she padded through the house toward the kitchen.

  She hadn’t gotten so far as to scoop ground coffee into the basket when she heard pounding on her front door. It was barely 6:15 a.m. Who on earth would be out there?

  Too groggy to be concerned with grabbing her robe or otherwise getting decent, she opened her front door and found Erik, bleary eyed and breathing heavily at her front door.

  “Erik! My God, what’s wrong? Come in!” Kitty pulled him inside and a warm summer gust blew in with him before she could close the door.

  Erik wrung his hands and paced around the kitchen islet.

  “They asked me to come to the station for questioning.” He looked ill with worry.

  “But you already spoke to the police,” she pointed out, confused. “Did they find your fingerprints on the candlestick? Oh! I told Sterling anyone could’ve touched those!”

  “No, it’s worse, Kitty.”

  She grabbed his arm to anchor him. “Tell me.”

  “It’s my car,” he started, but got choked up, the stress of it all wrapping his throat like two hands.

  “What about your car?”

  “In the trunk...they found more candlesticks.” He was staring at her, desperate for answers neither of them had.

  “What? That doesn’t make any sense!”

  “I don’t understand it either, but that’s what they said. They found two more candlesticks in my trunk. The exact same kind as the one used on Johnny.”

  Kitty pondered that. “Johnny was the one who borrowed your car.”

  “I know.” He was stumped and dazed.

  “The decorator and I used all the candlesticks she’d ordered. They were along the mantle and one of the bars in the bachelor suite. We knew that night that one had been taken and used to kill Johnny. So why would there be two more in your car?”

  Erik shrugged at a total loss for an explanation.

  “When did you lend Johnny your car?” she asked, thinking the first priority would have to be distancing Erik from any goings-on his Beemer had been involved in.

  “The night before the car accident and bachelor party,” he supplied. “He said he needed to get a number of errands done.”

  “And I can’t exactly ask him when he’d left the car unlocked and unattended,” she pointed out, frustrated. She fell into deep thought then brightened up. “The only people who knew the decorator and I had rented those candlesticks were her and me, her assistant, and of course the rental store we got them from.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying my list of black vehicles that could’ve sideswiped Johnny just got a heck of a lot shorter.”

  “And that’s a good thing?”

  “I hope so.” she trailed off into acute concentration. “The killer was at the party, but somehow involved in the planning.” Then it hit her. “This is terrifying.” Then something else hit her. “Unless the killer planted them in your trunk after the car accident and after the murder.”

  “Why would they do that?”

  “To frame you.”

  “But why?”

  Kitty locked eyes with Erik. “They want you out of the way, Erik. Out of Mandy’s life so they can have her for themselves. Second best to killing you would be putting you behind bars for the rest of your life.”

  “It’s getting harder and harder to see a way out of this,” Erik said, losing hope.

  “You have to stay positive. You didn’t do it and the police will believe that eventually.”

  “Stay positive? I’m supposed to get to the precinct at eight. They have a right to hold and question me for twelve hours. I can’t be in two places at once, Kitty! How am I supposed to go through with this wedding?”

  “Let me see what I can do.”

  Kitty walked Erik to the door. As she opened it, she gave Erik a big squeeze, rubbing his back and assuring him she’d make this right.

  “What’s this?”

  Startled by a woman’s voice, Kitty jumped, releasing Erik, and found Mandy standing there with her hands on her hips. She looked irate.

  “Mandy! This isn’t what it looks like,” said Kitty, suddenly realizing her white nightgown was much too short and much too thin given the early hour.

  “You don’t come home all night, and then I find you leaving Kitty's house just after sunrise?” she yelled at Erik.

  “Oh, don’t be insane!” he yelled back, dismissing her.

  But all Kitty heard was that he hadn’t gone home all night. What had he been doing?

  “I’m the crazy one?!” she screamed, grabbing her fiancé's arm and dragging him down the walk. “I cannot believe the things you put me through!”

  “I won’t be yelled at first thing in the morning!”

  Kitty watched them climb into Mandy’s Mazda and drive away. What kinds of things had Erik put Mandy through? And who else was of the same opinion?

  She rushed into the house and found her cell on the living room coffee table. Grabbing it and plopping onto the couch, she dialed Sterling.

  Ugh, he’d never be up at this hour! He was probably dead to the world, she thought as she listened to the ring tone blare and blare in her ear.

  “Come on, pick up!”

  On the fifth ring the call went to voicemail so she hung up and redialed. Still no answer.

  Arg! Sterling!


  Time was of the essence, but she couldn’t exactly show up unannounced in her skivvies, so she threw on a mauve summer dress and ballerina flats and brushed her teeth quickly. She’d come back and get properly changed later. For now, she only had to look halfway decent and when she rinsed her mouth and glanced at her reflection, she decided she'd accomplished just that.

  Sterling lived in an old apartment building off Main Street in downtown Greenwich, not far from her store. Realizing that, Kitty kicked herself for not getting properly ready for her day, or at least tossing her work clothes and cocktail dress into her Fiat. It was about to be a very long day.

  She pulled to the curb, killed the engine, and jumped out then hurried over to the glass apartment door between her friend Harry Collins’ bakery, Delectable Desserts, and a flower shop.

  As she approached the glass, she realized the door was propped open with a telephone book so she pushed on it and began climbing the first flight of stairs.

  According to what she’d learned last spring, Sterling lived on the second floor, but she couldn’t remember the apartment number. She’d half a mind to start knocking on doors, but that could be time consuming, not to mention rude given the hour.

  Kitty dialed up Sterling again and pressed her ear to the first apartment door she came to, hoping like hell he’d left the ringer on instead of putting his cell on vibrate.

  She couldn’t hear anything except for a TV blaring the morning news.

  There was no way Sterling would be up this early watching TV.

  She moved on to the next apartment, dialed his cell again, and pressed her ear to the door.

  She couldn’t tell if her brain was playing tricks on her, but she thought she heard a faint ringing coming from deep within the apartment. It sounded thin and tinny the way cell phones often did.

  She knocked, and then pounded on the door.

  “Sterling! Wake up!”

  Then she listened.

  Silence.

  She lifted her cell to her ear and heard Sterling’s canned voice trying to be funny about leaving a message after the tone.

  Ugh!

  She hung up and dialed again, and then something occurred to her.

  Kitty put her hand on the doorknob and turned.

  It popped right open.

  “Such a reckless man,” she mumbled, entering quietly and closing the door behind her.

  It occurred to her that if this wasn’t Sterling’s apartment, she’d have a lot of awkward explaining to do. Well, she’d cross that bridge if she ever came to it.

  As she crept deeper inside, she saw a mess of discarded clothes—a black tee, weathered jeans, a dark leather belt, and a gun in a holster on the coffee table. She definitely had the right place.

  The apartment wasn’t large and it became clear that his bedroom was up the hall on the left so she ventured, stepping softly. Her heart was in her throat.

  Maybe she should’ve brought coffee?

  Sterling was asleep on his back, stretched out like a starfish in the middle of a queen-size bed. A thin blue sheet was lain across his lap in messy bunches, but left his chest and legs exposed. It was stuffy in here, hot. Kitty noted a fan was aimed at him from the nightstand, but there was no air conditioner. How did he survive the long, humid summers?

  “Psst! Sterling!” She whisper-yelled from the doorway. “Psst!”

  Dead to the world, indeed.

  She tiptoed to the windows and drew the blinds open. Sunlight poured into the room, brightening every inch of the disheveled mess of clothes that covered the floor, but more importantly Sterling’s face.

  He cringed and groaned then threw his arm over his eyes.

  “Oh, for Pete’s sake!” Kitty padded over to his bed and began tapping then shoving his shoulder. “Would you wake up?!”

  At the sound of her stern tone, he whipped his arm down and his eyes popped open with a jolt. When their eyes locked she could tell sleep was slow to leave him and it took a second to place where he must be if she was here. He scrambled upright until he was leaning against the headboard, but the issue of the bedsheet had escaped him.

  Kitty cleared her throat loudly and kept her eyes on the ceiling until he covered himself. When she returned her gaze, Sterling was grinning. His head had tipped to one side. He looked her up and down.

  “Come here,” he said in a soft tone, raspy with sleep.

  “Oh, please! That’s not why I’m here!” she snapped backing away.

  “Why are you here?” he asked in the same dreamy voice.

  “You can’t bring Erik in for questioning today!” she demanded. “We have a big day at the Delamar planned! The wedding rehearsal then the rehearsal dinner, and it’ll all be ruined if Erik isn’t there!”

  Sterling ran both hands through his gray hair that was full of cowlicks, but the gesture only drew Kitty’s attention to his flexing biceps and not his frustration at her pushy nature. Then he squinted up at her, dark eyes straining to meet hers.

  “You’re backlit,” he pointed out, glancing down to rest his eyes from the glare. “Would you sit down so I can see you?”

  Kitty looked around for a chair, but there wasn’t one. She had no options except for the bed, so she lowered to its edge, keeping as far from Sterling as possible.

  “I don’t see why you need to talk to Erik again. He didn’t do it!” She tore into a strong defense.

  “Evidence shows otherwise,” he shrugged.

  He’d placed his hand dangerously close to Kitty’s leg and it distracted her.

  “The candlesticks in the back of his BMW? Johnny was the one who had Erik’s car. Erik had nothing to do with those!”

  “So you think Johnny put them there? The very weapon used to kill him? Come on, Doll, you’re smarter than that.”

  “I don’t think Johnny put them there, no. But I don’t think Johnny was supposed to get killed.”

  Sterling cocked his head at that and shot her a sideways glance.

  “I think someone’s out to get Erik,” she stated with her nose in the air. “They failed at killing him so they’re framing him, and you’re playing right into their trap!”

  “I’m not playing into anything,” he said, leaning forward and sliding his hand over the sheet until his fingertips were met with her thin, mauve dress, and her warm thigh underneath.

  Kitty’s breath hitched in her throat, as she stared at his advance, his subtle, sneaky advance that he could easily dismiss as unintended. She told herself to cross her legs so he wouldn’t be touching her, but for some reason she remained.

  Then she asked in a soft, nearly trembling voice, “Do you want me or not?”

  Tension sprang between them that turned suddenly electric when Sterling’s expression shifted with dark interest.

  “I want you in a way you wouldn’t like,” he said in a low, deep tone that matched her softness. “And you want me in a way I wouldn’t like.” Then he shrugged and leaned back against the headboard. “As soon as I solve this case, I’m gone.”

  It was like a knife to her heart. Her eyes suddenly stung with tears, but she blinked them away before they could appear glassy. She wouldn’t let him see her upset. She refused to admit she cared.

  Kitty sprang to her feet and declared, “Erik didn’t put those candlesticks in the trunk of his car and he didn’t kill his best friend.”

  “Prove it,” he challenged.

  “Oh, I intend to.” Her hands were on her hips and she glared down at him. “Push your questioning back a few days.”

  He snorted a laugh. “Bring me something I can use before eight o’clock when Erik’s supposed to come in and he won’t have to.”

  “Eleven,” she countered.

  “Ten.”

  Darn it! “Ten thirty.”

  “You’re lucky I’m negotiating with you,” he pointed out.

  “Three hours isn’t much time,” she chided as though she could make him feel bad.

  “You amuse me,” he said, turnin
g on her with sudden interest. “It’s a shame you’re not my type.”

  “It’s a shame you’re hell bent on lying to yourself.”

  Kitty tossed her hair and stalked toward the door then turned.

  “Why are you so certain Erik put those candlesticks in his trunk if the car was in Johnny’s possession?”

  Sterling held her gaze for a long moment then said, “Rebecca Motley saw him.”

  It took every ounce of patience Kitty had not to fly into a hysterical rage. She pressed her mouth into a furious line instead so as not to utter one word then padded off through his apartment and left without glancing back.

  Chapter Six

  Oh, that Becca Motley was too much!

  Kitty was still fuming when she rolled up to the valet in front of the Delamar Hotel. The ten-minute drive to the harbor had done little to calm her nerves, and it seemed her mind was racing with worry over when and how and why Becca had told Sterling such a wild tale.

  She’d seen Erik place those candlesticks in his trunk? Kitty doubted that, but why would Becca envy Erik if in fact envy had been the primary motivator for the tragically misguided attempts to take Erik’s life? What did Becca stand to gain by ending or ruining Erik’s life?

  It was true Kitty wouldn’t put much past Becca Motley, but Becca generally sought to steal men, not destroy their lives.

  Kitty hopped out of her Fiat as the valet, a college-aged kid, whose flashy jewelry and Latino swagger made her wonder if parking cars was a front for darker means. His eyes were clear, however, and he smiled easily as he reached for her keys.

  “What’s your name?” she asked. “I’m Kitty Sinclair, a wedding planner.”

  The valet shot her a sidelong glance as though no one had ever bothered to learn his name before.

  “Paco,” he said, cautiously.

  “Paco,” she echoed, being sure to pronounce it correctly. “Yes, I recall seeing you here over the past few weeks.”

  “There isn’t a problem, ma’am, is there?” He was nervous. Of course misplaced items were often blamed on the valet.

  “No, not at all, but I’m wondering if you can help me with something.”