A MATCH MADE IN MURDER (The Wedding Planner Mysteries Book 5)

by Jeanine Spooner

  “But he can’t have what’s dead,” he objected, desperate to shoot holes in the professor’s theories. Faulty logic was just that and a waste of time to boot.

  “What he wants is to replace these people,” he clarified. “He wants to be needed. He wants to be able to be there for you, because they aren’t.”

  “Tell me where you were for all three murders,” Sterling demanded.

  Hollister smiled easily then sipped his whiskey. “Certainly,” he said. “But it’ll take some time. I’ll have to dig out my old calendars.”

  “You do that.” Sterling had had enough and got out of the bungalow as fast as possible. “There’s something not right about that guy,” he said when Kitty stepped outside and joined him.

  “Take a breath,” she suggested.

  Sterling hadn’t realized he’d been heaving. He felt hot, more so than the weather could’ve caused. He felt just about ready to explode. Kitty guided him down the walk and when they reached his Jeep there was enough distance between him and Hollister’s nonsense that he found he was able to breathe normally.

  “The killer had access to the necklace,” she began. “Let’s think this through. Your dad gets the necklace, right? Then he gives it to your mother. The killer had to have laced poison onto it in-between those two events. Who had access?”

  Sterling couldn’t think straight.

  “Hollister?” She questioned. “Was he such a close family friend that he could’ve gotten into your house and had time to do that?”

  Her point was a good one. It was unlikely.

  “Then the necklace is in your possession until you gave it to Charlotte. Trace amounts of poison killed her.”

  “Or the killer knew where it was and laced it with poison again.”

  “Which would mean you probably indicated to the killer that you were planning on giving it to Charlotte. Did you tell anyone?”

  Sterling rubbed his forehead. “It was so long ago.”

  “Ok,” she said, easing off the pressure. “The same person was able to get the necklace out of the police evidence room—”

  “Police storage,” he corrected. “Which has virtually no security.”

  “Fine,” she said, working with him. “So who had access to your childhood house, the house you shared with Charlotte, and also the police storage unit?”

  Sterling thought so hard his head hurt. Then he shook his head.

  “I can tell someone came to mind, Sterling, just tell me.”

  “It’s not the right fit,” he said.

  “Just say it.”

  Sterling’s voice hitched in his throat so he swallowed hard and tried again.

  “My lieutenant,” he stated regretfully. “Harrison.”

  Kitty stared at him.

  “But it’s not a perfect fit. Harrison didn’t know my dad or mom. But he could’ve gotten into my house. I’d told almost everyone in the department I was going to give the necklace to Charlotte that night at dinner. Harrison had never met you. He could’ve easily confused Layla for you. And he’d easily have access to police storage.”

  “Why would he want to hurt you?”

  “Honestly?” Sterling sighed. “There are so many reasons...”

  Chapter Seven

  Kitty kept her eyes on Sterling as he rolled to a stop in the precinct parking lot. He was clearly dreading this. He’d been close with Harrison his entire career. If it were the case that his longtime friend and superior had killed off the women around him, it would be a very hard pill to swallow.

  They’d devised the best place to start would be to find out if Harrison had any connection to Mary when Sterling was eight.

  The calmer life that Steve had hinted at during dinner the night prior had revolved around fundraising for the local precinct and fire department. So even though Sterling was too close to Harrison to see it, it was apparent from Kitty’s perspective that Harrison could’ve been quite close to Steve and Mary. Just how close was precisely what they were hoping to discover.

  Kitty didn’t want to press the possibility that Mary could’ve been unfaithful during her marriage, but it didn’t take a rocket scientist to know that a lot of murders stemmed from jealousies and love triangles. That had certainly been the case in her experience.

  Sterling held the door. Kitty passed through, stepping out of the hot afternoon sun and into the cool station house, which was teeming with rookies fresh out of the academy. She let Sterling lead the way across the homicide floor where Harrison was barking at two detectives, frustrated they’d botched something critical. He shouted insults using so many code terms it sounded like a foreign language.

  When Harrison took a breath, Sterling got his attention with a curt nod.

  “A word?” he asked.

  Kitty felt suddenly unsure whether she should sit in on their conversation. The precinct in general was an intimidating place, but the idea of leaning into one of the lieutenants to see if he might have been involved in a triple homicide was downright terrifying.

  “Kitty?” Sterling asked over his shoulder when he realized she wasn’t trailing behind them.

  “Go on ahead,” she waved. “I’ll wait in the lobby.”

  Sterling cocked his head at that then followed Harrison into his office where the blinds had already been drawn shut.

  Kitty milled back through the homicide floor and yielded to every officer and detective that crossed her path.

  She considered herself a strong investigator. She’d solved cases. She had a way of drawing information out of people. Sure, she often chased red herrings, but as luck would have it, those dead ends had led to promising leads. However, it was only when she was in the presence of highly trained detectives that she realized she could never do this job. It was brutal. It aged a person. It was a hard life.

  She should be planning her wedding right now. She should be standing on the bow of the William Wallace yacht and fantasizing about the big day, not puttering around a police station speculating on how her fiancé could possibly be the link between three murders.

  When she reached the lobby, she felt eyes on her and discovered Greer, one of the leading forensic pathologists, was staring at her. Ever since Greer had implied that Sterling was only dating Kitty because she was some kind of person of interest thanks to the murders that had been stacking up around her, let’s just say Kitty wasn’t Greer’s biggest fan.

  Greer pushed a button on the vending machine and a can of coke dropped down. She cracked it open, holding the can away from her pantsuit in case it sprayed, and then took a sip.

  “I heard,” she stated, as she sauntered casually over. Her tone was equally devoid of apology as it was accusation, but that didn’t mean Kitty lowered her guard.

  “If you think I had something to do with my cousin’s murder—”

  “I don’t.”

  It took a second to shift gears away from being combative, but Kitty managed as soon as it really did register that Greer had a shred of sympathy mixed in with the curiosity that flared behind her eyes.

  “You don’t?” Kitty asked to be certain Greer wouldn’t turn on her.

  Greer shook her head, knocked back her coke, and led her down the hall until they were standing at the mouth of the bustling homicide floor.

  “Word in the department is that the necklace was meant for you.”

  Word traveled fast. Kitty wondered who was responsible for that.

  “Given the timeline, the killer has to be older. I’d say in his fifties or sixties unless he was a delinquent in some way as a child, but even then it’s hard to imagine a young person having the savvy to poison a necklace.”

  “Sterling’s talking to Harrison right now,” Kitty explained, but Greer didn’t get it at first.

  She stared at the closed blinds that walled off the lieutenant's office.

  “How long have you known him?”

  “Harrison?” she asked, meeting Kitty’s gaze, an air of surprise arching her tone. “When I starte
d with the precinct he’d already been here for nearly five years.”

  Greer wasn’t that much older than Sterling, but her perspective as an outsider could prove useful.

  “Did you get a sense of his dynamic with Steve, Sterling’s father?”

  Greer frowned, thinking. “They weren’t friendly, but as far as I know they didn’t really know each other.”

  “Steve used to do fundraising for the precinct,” Kitty offered, hoping that would jar her memory in some way.

  “Before my time.” Greer took another sip of her coke. “He’s shown up here a few times over the years, but again, I can’t say that there was anything strange about it.”

  “Sterling mentioned that he’d given Harrison plenty of reasons to come after him.”

  “He did?” Greer seemed impressed by this, but Kitty couldn’t tell if it was because it was out of Sterling’s character to imply he could’ve done anything to deserve this or because he had actually done something in the first place. Then Greer snorted a laugh that was equally hard to read. “Sterling’s gone off the grid a few times.”

  “Gone off the grid?”

  “On cases,” she clarified. “He’s ignored commands. Harrison got radio silence. And Sterling either bent or broke laws to take down the bad guy or get a confession. Sterling’s probably cost this department more in legal fees than he even makes salary-wise. He’s an expensive detective to protect.”

  It didn’t surprise her, intrigued her certainly, but it was no motive for Harrison to anonymously torment her fiancé for decades.

  “That’s what he’s doing in there?” she marveled. “Confronting Harrison on the possibility he killed his mother, wife, and your cousin?” Greer snorted another laugh. “The man has some serious balls.”

  “You have access to police reports, right?” Kitty asked, suddenly struck by an idea.

  “If they’re logged in our database.”

  “Sterling’s probably going to be awhile,” Kitty surmised. “Do you think I could get a copy of the police report from Mary Slaughter’s death?”

  Greer held her breath considering. “I’m not sure homicide would’ve written one up. Wasn’t Mary’s death ruled as natural?”

  “It was,” she stated. “But still, there has to be something.”

  “Well, it’s not from our department, but I can see if I can pull it up. Follow me.”

  Greer led Kitty up to her office where she shut the door and pulled up the archives on her computer.

  “Grab a chair,” Greer suggested when Kitty leaned over her to see the screen.

  Greer typed away, as Kitty got situated beside her.

  “Here it is,” she said, scrolling up and down the document so fast Kitty couldn’t read it. “It was written up. Messy handwriting. And whoever scanned it into the database did a poor job.”

  “It’s fine,” Kitty said, getting annoyed and a bit dizzy from all the scrolling. “Just keep it at the top and give me a minute.”

  Kitty skimmed the document, skipping over words that were written so badly they were eligible. She understood enough to get the basic gist, and then came to the section detailing Steve Slaughter’s statement.

  “What’s that word?” she asked Greer when it was clear one unusually messy section seemed promising.

  Greer squinted, leaning in close to the monitor.

  “Delivered.”

  Needing a second opinion, Kitty asked, “So this sentence says, There was no need to unwrap the necklace. It had been delivered in a black box, which I gave to Mary.”

  Greer read the sentence twice through before confirming.

  “Why was the responding officer asking about the necklace?”

  Once again, Greer took to speed scrolling through the police report and concluded. “It was an unusual detail. Mary had died in her nightgown, but was wearing an expensive antique necklace.” Greer shrugged. “The officer did a good job of recording all the details.”

  “It seems to me like the responders had their suspicions about the cause of death.”

  Greer met her gaze. “And Harrison shut them up?”

  Kitty studied her expression. Greer looked stunned, though doubts crept into her eyes as if she didn’t want to believe it.

  “I’d never met Harrison,” Kitty supplied. “He could’ve easily confused my cousin for me.”

  Greer pressed her mouth into a hard line, convinced.

  “What do you think you’re doing?”

  The loud voice made Kitty jump and turn in her chair, and the second she had, Harrison grabbed her arm and yanked her up.

  “You were warned about her,” he barked at Greer, whose mouth had dropped open with speechlessness. “Impeding an investigation,” he stated into Kitty’s ear as he dragged her out of the office. “You just earned yourself a night in a cell.”

  “What?! Why?”

  Answering wasn’t necessary. He’d already told her.

  “How many times do you have to be told not to meddle?” he challenged as he threw the secured door open that separated the hall from the jail.

  Harrison forced her down the row of cells.

  “Where’s Sterling?” she demanded. “I want to talk to my fiancé!”

  “Trust me, sweetheart. You’re about to.”

  He tossed her into one of the cells then locked the door, as Kitty realized Sterling was gripping the bars in the cell next to hers.

  “I told you, Sterling,” he went on. “You can’t work this case. You directly disobeyed my orders and dragged her into it.”

  Harrison looked disgusted with both of them, but Kitty took this over the top dramatic display as evidence of his guilt. When he stalked down the corridor and passed through the secured door, Kitty rushed to Sterling and placed her hands over his.

  “We can’t be in here all night! I have a ton to do on the wedding!”

  “We won’t be,” he said in a steely tone, as his gaze locked on the door Harrison had vanished behind.

  “What happened? What did you say to tick him off?”

  Sterling widened his eyes at her. “I guess he didn’t like being accused of three murders.”

  Kitty sank a bit. It had been a silly question.

  “Did you know the necklace had been delivered to your dad? He hadn’t even taken it out of the black box it had arrived in, only the packaging, the cardboard box.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I read his statement to the police up in Greer’s office,” she explained. “Sterling, Harrison had been on the scene. I think the responding officers thought the necklace was fishy, but Harrison steered them away from suspicion. Now he has us in jail? He’s obviously trying to cover his tracks.”

  Sterling mulled that over.

  “We have to talk to your dad,” she went on.

  “What we have to do is get out of here,” he sighed. “Grady didn’t pick up.”

  “So you already used your one phone call? When do I get mine?”

  “Don’t worry. I’m friends with half the guards down here. They let me make another call.”

  “So who’s bailing us out?”

  As if the very question had conjured her, Trudy passed through the secured door, led by one of the guards.

  “Never a dull moment in the life of Kitty Sinclair,” she said with a wry smile and a shake of her head.

  “It wasn’t all my fault this time,” she objected.

  “Yeah, yeah, you owe me. Both of you.”

  The guard worked a number of keys around a large, metal ring. They clanked and jingled until he found the one that would unlock Kitty’s cell. Once he let her out, Kitty fell into Trudy’s warm embrace, and he eventually found the key to Sterling’s cell and let him out.

  “Come on, kids,” said Trudy, running her palm up her beehive to be sure there wasn’t a hair out of place. “Let’s get you home.”

  Kitty and Sterling exchanged a sly glance once Trudy had turned her back, starting for the door. Home was the last place either of
them could afford to go, especially if that meant the Harbor Inn.

  Outside, Kitty gave Trudy another hug and Sterling asked what the damage had been. He whistled at her answer, which was in the thousands. Kitty wasn’t entirely sure how reading a police report had impeded Harrison’s investigation, but she trusted Sterling would fill her in on that.

  “Are you sure you don’t want me to come back to the inn with you?” Trudy asked as Sterling opened the passenger’s side door on his Jeep for Kitty. “Ronald can bring dinner. We were planning on ordering from the Good Luck Bar and Restaurant.”

  “She’s exhausted,” Sterling said, declining with a half-truth. “Thanks again.”

  Kitty feigned a smile at Trudy through the window, as Sterling climbed behind the wheel and turned his key in the ignition.

  After he backed out and they watched Trudy drive off, he said, “I don’t understand why Grady didn’t pick up.”

  Kitty was in agreement, but not as concerned. “We need to talk to your dad.”

  Sterling eyed the clock on the dash to figure out where his father would be. It was nearly six in the evening. The sun hadn’t lowered in the sky, but that didn’t mean customers weren’t filtering into his dad’s seedy establishment off the highway. Technically, Steve was supposed to be at the Delamar Hotel. He’d checked in with Grady, not that they were sharing a room. And he wasn’t scheduled to check out until after the wedding. Knowing Steve, he’d want to be in a familiar setting to process Layla’s death and the similarities to his own wife. Nothing weighed more heavily on Steve’s mind than the fact that he hadn’t recognized Mary’s death for what it was: a murder.

  They pulled into the parking lot of the Shimmy Shack and Kitty actually felt Sterling cringe.

  “I don’t know if I want you coming in,” he told her, as he put the car in park so it could idle.

  “I don’t know if I want to come in,” she agreed, eyeing the neon lights that buzzed so loudly she almost couldn’t hear the blasting AC in the Jeep. “Can he come out?” She suggested. “It’s probably too noisy in there to talk anyway.”

  “Let me see,” he said, popping his door open. “Dad gets stubborn when he drinks. I’ll see what I can do.”