Matrimony, Money and Murder

by Cindy Bell

  “No,” he replied flatly.

  “What? Then why did you offer?” Wendy asked with confusion and accepted her credit card back from the clerk.

  “I said I couldn't do it, at least not without your help,” he explained as they walked towards the door of the shop.

  Wendy stopped outside the shop. The sidewalk was scattered with scraps of garbage and broken glass. It was not the nicest place to be, but as she stood next to Brian she was surprised that she felt safe.

  “How can I help?” she asked with a shake of her head. “Everything I've done so far has made things worse.”

  “Well,” he smiled faintly as he squinted through the late morning sun. “You already know who the murderer is.”

  “No, I don't,” Wendy said quickly. “If I did, I wouldn't need your help.”

  “You do,” he insisted and guided her back towards the car. “You just don't realize it. So you and I are going to get to the bottom of this together.”

  “I don't know,” Wendy frowned. “Can I get into trouble by doing this?”

  “No,” he said firmly and opened the car door for her. “I'm going to make sure you stay out of handcuffs, Wendy, understand?”

  Wendy wanted to believe him. The way the corners of his eyes crinkled as he stared so convincingly at her, and the firm grasp he had on the door he held open, made her think that he was being honest. But just because he said he would do his best to help her, didn't mean she wouldn't be locked away for a long time.

  “Thank you,” she finally managed to say. “For helping me.”

  “Don't thank me just yet,” he chuckled a little and closed the door after she had slid inside. As they drove back to Wendy's condo she called Polson to give him her new contact number. She also called Brenda and John to make sure they had her number. She had called so many times in the past that she knew their number off by heart. It went to voicemail.

  “Brenda, this is Wendy I just want you to know I have a new number in case you need to reach me,” she hung up the phone and Brian glanced over at her but didn't say a word. As they neared her condo, Wendy was reminded of how empty it would be. It was strange how Aaron walking away had seemed like such a devastating moment only a day ago, but now all she could think of was her life unfolding inside a jail cell.

  “Do you want me to walk you in?” he offered, jolting her from her thoughts. She hadn't even realized they were parked.

  “No, it's fine,” she replied shyly and released her seat belt.

  “You've been through a lot today,” he said quietly. “I'll find out what I can from the police, and do some digging. But first thing tomorrow you and I need to start digging in your mind. You were Camilla's assistant, you knew everyone she did. You're going to be the one who knows who killed her.”

  “You keep saying that,” Wendy smiled wryly. “I just hope it's true.”

  As she left the car she shuddered a little. A part of her hoped it wasn't true. She didn't want to think that she could have ever laid eyes on anyone that would kill Camilla.

  As she walked up to the condo she was a little surprised to find someone standing in front of her door. She recognized the woman by her perfect hair as she turned to face Wendy.

  “Wendy, right?” Veronica asked as she tilted her head slightly to the side.

  Wendy immediately felt the air getting sucked right out of her lungs. This was Veronica, a woman that Camilla had considered her niece, a woman who had taken over Wendy's job and who had told the police about the argument between Camilla and Wendy two days before. What was she doing outside her house? Whatever it was Wendy didn't think it could be anything good.

  “Yes,” Wendy choked out and took a slight step back. “I'm sorry about Camilla,” she said quickly and looked nervously around to see if anyone else was nearby. She didn't want another argument to unfold that would make her look even worse in the eyes of the law.

  “That's why I'm here,” Veronica said with a slow sigh. “Would you mind getting a drink with me?”

  “Uh, what?” Wendy shifted from one foot to the other and adjusted her purse on her shoulder. She didn't think it would be right to share a drink with Veronica considering that Wendy had just been questioned as a suspect in Camilla's murder, but Veronica didn't seem to think anything of it.

  “Please, I just moved into town, and I don't know anyone else. I really need to talk to someone,” Veronica insisted. “Just one glass of wine and then I'll be out of your hair, I promise,” she looked pleadingly at Wendy.

  “All right,” Wendy heard herself answer, though she couldn't figure out why she agreed. The last thing she needed was wine to loosen her emotions even more. But maybe the idea of going back into her empty condo was enough motivation, or the fact that Veronica seemed as if she could really use a friend.

  “Let's go,” Wendy nodded. “I'll meet you at Bally's. Do you know where it is?”

  “Yes, that's fine,” Veronica nodded and walked off to her car. As Wendy walked over to her own vehicle her mind was swimming yet again. Maybe it was a mistake to go for a drink with Veronica, but anything more she could learn about Camilla would probably be helpful, and Veronica probably knew a lot more than Wendy ever did.

  The bar was quiet as it was early afternoon. They found a table near the back door, and the two women looked awkwardly at each other.

  “Thanks for joining me,” Veronica said with a frown.

  “I think you should know that I had nothing to do with Camilla's death,” Wendy said swiftly.

  “What?” Veronica narrowed her eyes. “Of course you didn't. You don't exactly strike me as a killer.”

  Wendy lifted her eyebrows, and wondered what she was lacking that made her look so innocent. Then she wondered why she was offended that no one would think of her as a killer.

  “Well, I just wanted to say something, because I was at the police station today discussing the case,” Wendy explained as the waitress walked over to take their drink orders.

  “Two white wines,” Veronica ordered for them. Wendy didn't complain, she didn't drink often enough to have a preferred drink. As the waitress walked away Veronica looked back at her. “You know I didn't even have many people to call. The cops contacted me first. It's just so odd,” she shook her head. “One day she's giving me a job, the next she's dead.”

  “It's a terrible tragedy,” Wendy said softly as she accepted the white wine from the waitress. Veronica accepted hers as well and then fixed Wendy with a steady stare.

  “Let's be honest about this, shall we?” Veronica asked as she sipped her white wine. “Camilla wasn't exactly a saint to be grieved over.”

  “Excuse me?” Wendy asked with a growing frown. She was sure that she couldn't have heard Veronica correctly.

  “She was a cruel, selfish, and heartless woman,” Veronica declared and then polished off the last of her white wine.

  “How can you say that when she gave you a job?” Wendy asked with a touch of irritation. It was her job she had been given after all.

  “Do you know why she gave me that job?” Veronica asked as she looked across the table at Wendy.

  “Because you're like a niece to her,” Wendy replied hesitantly, she didn't want to offend Veronica by implying she was not qualified for the job, but the truth was, she wasn't.

  “Because she slept with my father, and broke up my parents' marriage,” Veronica corrected her sharply. “She seduced him, because she can't stand my mother having anything she can't have. That's the reason she gave me the job, because she felt guilty, and because she wanted me to move away from my mother, because Camilla wanted me to be closer to her,” she rolled her eyes.

  “Wow,” Wendy murmured and lowered her gaze. She knew that Camilla could be cold, but she had no idea that she would stoop to such levels. “I didn't know that.”

  “Well, not too many people do,” Veronica sighed and ordered another glass of wine. “My mother always covered it up. She would go on and on about what a great person Camilla
was and how generous she had been to our family. But I could tell that she didn't believe it. She was just saying it so the checks would keep rolling in. Camilla would send money to flaunt her wealth, and to appease my mother. Well, my mother was her only friend,” Veronica shrugged and met Wendy's eyes. “So, Camilla didn't get her way for once,” Veronica shook her head and chuckled as another glass of wine was placed in front of her. “Seems a little bit like justice and a little less like tragedy, doesn't it?” she asked with a light wink as she looked up at Wendy.

  Wendy didn't know what to say. As much as she loathed Camilla for the way she had treated her, she also couldn't think of anyone being murdered as justice.

  “I think maybe you've had too much,” Wendy said as she reached for the glass of wine to take it from Veronica.

  “Hey, I can drink as much as I want,” Veronica shot back and snatched the glass before Wendy could take it away. “I'm not the murder suspect here.”

  Wendy's jaw clenched in reaction to those words. She stood up from the table.

  “I had nothing to do with Camilla’s death, Veronica,” she said sternly.

  “That's too bad, because if you had,” Veronica smirked as she took another gulp from the glass. “I would have bought you another drink.”

  Wendy frowned as she walked away from the table. Veronica was harboring so much animosity towards Camilla. Was it possible that she had taken the opportunity to finally punish her for her sins?

  Wendy glanced back over her shoulder uneasily and saw that Veronica had ordered yet another glass of wine. Was it possible that Veronica carried such a bitterness inside of her that it had driven her to kill Camilla?

  Chapter Five

  As Wendy waited for Brian to arrive she poured herself a glass of water. She added a few ice cubes which clinked against the side of her glass, disrupting the silence in the apartment. It brought up a reminder of Aaron's absence. She hadn't really had time to process it. She sighed as she carried the glass of water into the living room. She had already laid out a notebook, some pens, and her laptop on the coffee table. She was determined to make some progress on figuring out who had committed the murder.

  Time was ticking, and Wendy knew that she was still the main focus of the investigation. She checked her phone and saw that it had been an hour since she had texted Brian. She frowned and dialed his number. It rang several times. Then she heard it ringing just outside her door. She walked over to it and opened it to find Brian standing there with the phone in his one hand and a bag of Chinese food in the other.

  “Honey chicken?” he offered with that slight smile that reminded Wendy of a cat that always landed on its feet.

  “I'm about to go to prison for murder,” Wendy said with impatience. “I really don't care about Chinese food.”

  “You should,” he said as he walked into the condo. “They don't serve honey chicken in prison.”

  Wendy stared at him incredulously as he sidled over to the living room and set the bag down on the coffee table. When he glanced up to find her still standing there, staring at him, he cracked a half-smile.

  “I'm joking. I stopped in to talk to the people at the restaurant because Camilla's credit card information showed it was the last purchase she made. Since I was there, I thought I'd pick us up some dinner,” he paused a moment as Wendy reluctantly stepped closer. “Don't think for a second that I'm not taking this seriously,” he said, his entire demeanor shifting from playful and charming to one of complete determination.

  “Did you find out anything of interest at the restaurant?” Wendy asked and walked into the kitchen to get them some drinks.

  “I found out that Camilla bought a dinner for two at seven pm, so about three hours before her death, she was either binge eating or sharing a meal with someone,” he said as he sat down on the couch and accepted the glass of water she brought him.

  “Camilla never binged on anything,” Wendy said with a slight roll of her eyes. “She counted her calories right down to the breath mint.”

  “Wow,” he shook his head and furrowed a brow. “That's something I'll never understand.”

  “Well, be glad you don't have to,” Wendy replied with a light smile.

  “Wait, what was that?” he asked and stared at her intently.

  “What was what?” she asked in return, a little confused.

  “Was that a smile I just saw, or did you just have an itch?” he raised his eyebrows and smiled broadly, turning his charm right back on.

  “I'm sorry, I wasn't aware that someone being accused of murder should be cheerful,” Wendy pointed out but she couldn't help smiling again, and this time wider.

  “I know you're under a lot of stress,” he replied soothingly and handed her an egg roll. “But whether you're smiling or frowning won't change anything. We're going to get this figured out, you just have to trust me.”

  “But I barely know you,” Wendy reminded him and then bit into the egg roll.

  “That can change,” he said quietly and when he looked up at her again his expression had shifted into a more sincere one. “I want to help you, Wendy. But to do that, you're going to have to relax, and let me find out what you've got hidden in that mind of yours.”

  “I know you think I know who the killer is, but I just don't see how that's possible,” Wendy frowned and stared down at the glossy chicken in the container before her. She really did love honey chicken.

  “Eat first,” he suggested. “It's easier to pick a well-fed brain.”

  Wendy smiled a little at his comment. His boisterous personality was beginning to rub off on her. She found herself really smiling again for the first time in what seemed like a lifetime, but was only a few days. As she ate her honey chicken, she kept glancing over at him. The slope of his jaw and the curve of his chin made his profile very handsome.

  “So, what made you become a private investigator?” Wendy abruptly asked. She felt as if he knew so much about her, while she knew nothing about him. Sitting beside him in her living room, sharing Chinese food, it just didn't seem right to have no idea of who he was.

  “Honestly, I wanted to be a cop,” he explained with a shy shrug before picking up his egg roll and taking a bite.

  “And?” Wendy asked, as it appeared he had no intention of continuing to speak.

  “Well, there was one problem,” he offered her a rakish grin, his eyes mischievous as he looked at her.

  “What was that?” Wendy asked intrigued by what might have been his stumbling block.

  “Cops have to play by the rules,” he explained with a short laugh. “The first time I was expected to drop and give twenty, I walked right out of the academy,” he lowered his voice a little. “I don't deal well with authority.”

  “Oh,” Wendy's eyes widened as he took another bite of his egg roll. As laid back and sarcastic as he seemed to be, she was beginning to sense that he might be a bit of a loose cannon. If that was the case she wasn't sure if she should be relying on him to solve the murder. “But don't you think a little order, some uniform rules, are important?” she asked.

  “Not when it comes to guilt and innocence,” he said firmly and laid down his chopsticks. He turned on the couch so he could face her. “I've seen quite a few people go free on a technicality, or go to jail on invalid evidence. I knew as a police officer there wasn't much I could do about that, but as a private investigator I could do a lot more.”

  “That makes sense,” Wendy nodded cautiously. “I guess you've seen quite a lot so far,” she added as she studied him. He appeared to be in his early thirties.

  “I have,” he agreed. “But you're the first person I volunteered to help. Usually my clients come looking for me.”

  “But I can’t afford to pay you at the moment,” Wendy said apologetically. “I will when I can, though.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” he replied dismissively

  “I just can't believe all of this is happening,” Wendy said sadly as she sat back on the couch.

/>   “As much as I'd like to tell you that you can ignore all of this and it will go away, that's not going to happen…” his words were interrupted by Wendy's new cell phone ringing.

  Wendy glanced at her phone to find that it was Brenda calling her. She picked it up quickly.

  “Hi, Wendy?” Brenda asked anxiously. “I wasn't sure if this was your new number or not.”

  “It is,” Wendy replied warmly. “How are you?”

  “Well, honestly, I'm falling apart,” Brenda confessed and Wendy could hear the tears in her voice. “I know this is incredibly selfish of me after what happened to Camilla, but you are the only one who knows just how I want everything at the wedding, and the wedding is on Sunday, and I…”

  “Brenda, take a deep breath,” Wendy coaxed her. Brian shifted on the couch and glanced over at her with concern.

  Wendy could hear Brenda taking a deep breath and then exhaling into the phone.

  “Wendy, will you please help me?” Brenda begged.

  “Of course, I will,” Wendy assured her. “Let's meet first thing in the morning, okay?”

  “Oh, really? Oh, thank you so much, Wendy!” Brenda gushed into the phone. “You have no idea how relieved I am. Are you sure?”

  “Yes, you're going to have the wedding of your dreams, Brenda, I promise you,” as soon as the words left Wendy's lips she regretted speaking them. How could she promise Brenda the wedding of her dreams when she might be in jail by Sunday?

  “Everything okay?” Brian asked as he met her eyes.

  “I think so,” Wendy sighed. “I just have to find a way to make this wedding work.”

  “Well, before you can do that, we need to figure out who killed Camilla,” he reminded her.

  “The only person that comes to mind is Veronica,” she nodded her head thoughtfully. She had already explained to him what she had said over the drink they had together. “But why would she be so open about her hatred if she killed her?”