He lowered his voice and avoided half of my question. “He replaced a wreath?”
I nodded. What, did he think me a dummy? He’d probably already checked with someone on staff and knew the answer. Heck, Matt likely knew how Rod had been trussed and hoisted. The Granville Falls Police Department may be small but is efficient.
“Give it up, Matt. Your fake surprise doesn’t fly.”
“Never hurts to try.”
The corners of my mouth lifted in response to his contagious grin. “Guess not, but you’re not reeling anything in with that lure. I’ve got nothing to offer.”
Matt’s attention focused over my shoulder.
“I can attest to that. She doesn’t know anything, Officer.” Gray’s voice.
Matt moved to the side and spoke before I could respond to that comment. “Dirk?”
Turning, I saw the detective standing beside Gray.
Dirk nodded. “They can go home.”
I put my hand at the small of my back and pushed. Even with the coffee, delayed shock—or extended stress—had left my bones stiff and muscles sore.
“Remember, call me if you need to leave town,” Dirk ordered. He softened his expression when he glanced at me. “I’ll be getting back with you tomorrow.”
Lucky me.
“Until then, don’t speak with anyone about the case and don’t exchange stories.” Dirk glanced at us. “If you remember anything else, give me a call.” He handed business cards to Gray and me. “Anytime.”
I decided if I remembered anything, I’d wait until morning. No sense getting Katie on my butt for interrupting at the wrong time.
Gray tucked the card into his jacket, patted the pocket and nodded to the detectives. “I’ve got a good memory for detail. If you need verification on Lily’s story, give me a call.” He strode out.
Wait a minute. Had he really just implied I could be guilty?
Shame on me, but for one moment, I pictured Gray hanging above the orchid tree alongside Rod. Not hiding my resulting smirk, I followed, one determined butt kicker.
Chapter Two
I left the exhibit hall on Gray’s heels, but he’d already jumped in his car and gunned down the drive. Good thing. Otherwise there may have been a scene at the scene.
I’d forgotten my coat. I reentered the building and stopped just inside the door. Where had I left my personal items? My brain refused to function, and events caught up to me. I sank onto a bench next to a poinsettia arrangement.
Gray and I had been at odds—a polite term for spitting nails—with each other for several years. I could lie and say I didn’t know the reason, but I’d always been a terrible liar.
When I’d been young and foolish about men, instead of just foolish, I’d thought Gray could be The One. He’d relieved me of my virginity. We shared a pretty special night, I thought, even though the act didn’t feel all that great the first time. The next day, he took off. End of story.
Well, except for the nights I waited for his call, the buckets I’d filled with tears, and my disinclination toward serious dating until Rod came along and trounced me again.
A conversational edge existed when Gray and I encountered each other. That’s a polite Southern phrase for bitching and backbiting. He’d stopped phoning after our one night together, and I’d never had the guts to call him on his behavior. When we did run into each other in town, the lack of resolution left me angry. I wasn’t sure what our past meant to Gray, but we didn’t rub well together.
I hadn’t told Alexa about my lapse with her cousin, but I suspected she knew. When she asked him to participate in the wedding, I chose not to spoil her fantasy Christmas event by refusing to stand up with Gray. Even though I wanted to scream and kick my heels.
Yeah, sometimes I act like a toddler. Feels good, too. Katie says I get that tendency from hanging out with her. I figure emotional immaturity attracted us to each other, though being with Dirk has helped my friend grow.
I went in search of Alexa. Even though the wedding had been cancelled, I still had bridesmaid duties.
The almost bride staggered from the room the cops had taken over for interviews. Alexa gripped Matt’s arm. She did everything with dramatic flair, even being questioned about her fiancé’s murder. Though her eyes were red and swollen and she held a Kleenex to her nose, she looked gorgeous yet fragile.
Shame on me, but I’d seen that look before. Right after she confessed she’d stolen my boyfriend, and was oh, so sorry. I inhaled a deep breath, aware as never before of my unresolved anger.
Having your fiancé murdered hours before exchanging vows wasn’t exactly the same situation as an admission to backstabbing. I tamped down my cynicism and headed her way. I’m learning how to be perfect and expect the task will take a long time.
Putting my arm around Alexa’s shoulder, I felt her resistance. Damnation. Did she flirt with Matt within yards of her dead groom’s murder scene?
Just as I had that thought, Alexa relaxed and leaned against me. I dismissed my errant criticism and my anger waned when I felt her shake. Matt noticed too and volunteered to find her a blanket.
I’d agreed to be in the wedding party. Time to suck up and fulfill my responsibilities. I got Alexa seated with hot tea and my sympathy.
Alexa sniffed. “Who would do such a thing to my Roddy?”
Who indeed?
Someone who could lift a six-foot, two-hundred-pound man, hang him on guy wires, and leave without getting caught. Or maybe more than one someone.
“I’m not sure, Alexa. Let the cops figure that out.
“They’re idiots.”
Her anger sounded harsh in the quiet beauty surrounding us. “I’m sure you don’t mean—”
“Oh, yes, I do. Those idiots couldn’t find their shoes without clues. They should call in the state police, or consult with Charlotte.”
“Alexa, you’re upset. Granville Falls P.D. is the best. Dirk and Matt will find whoever did this. You can bet on it.”
“They’d better, or I’ll cause some real problems for those so-called detectives.”
Holding my breath, I counted to ten. Then twenty. Alexa’s lottery win, which remained a sore spot between us, had given her twenty-five million reasons for arrogance. Unfortunately, she could easily cause Dirk and Matt a truckload of trouble in bad publicity alone. I had to do something, if only because I counted Katie a true friend, and I didn’t want her lover, Dirk, hurt by Alexa’s angry backlash. Sadly, I figured Alexa and I wouldn’t remain in contact after her aborted wedding. Over the years, she sometimes chose to make everything my fault. To be honest, I’d blamed her on occasion too.
Dirk emerged from the interview room. He glanced at me then away, his look troubled. My shoulders hunched in response, as if someone pulled my arms behind my back and cuffed me. I checked Dirk’s face again and saw no expression. Must have been my imagination. Exhaling, I deliberately loosened my muscles.
The tall, dark, handsome cop strode our way, stopping close beside me. “Lily, how familiar are you with the set up at the Orchid Conservatory?”
I grew lightheaded and realized I’d forgotten to breathe. Gulping, I shook my head slightly. “What?”
His face remained still but his eyes blazed with intensity. He reminded me of a Gorgon’s portrait I’d seen somewhere.
“How much do you know about the facility?”
“Do you mean could I have strung up Rod because I know where they keep ladders?”
His gaze held me like a wrestler’s winning pin. “Basically, yeah.”
I stood quietly. Without thinking too hard, I realized I knew a lot. I’d been catering at the Conservatory for years and had been present when the maintenance guys operated the lift and electric winches. Shoot. Using those tools, anyone could have strung up Rod. Anyone. The job would have taken some strength and ability to maneuver, but a strong or determined woman could handle the chore. Especially a caterer, one with arms muscled from schlepping heavy bins and trays. Shoot.
He probably saw my answer in my too open face. Damnation. I need training in fixing on a poker face.
“Lily, I’m sorry to say this, but you’ll need to come to the station with us.
Why, oh why, did I have to hear that phrase?
Alexa leaned toward me. “You still think the GFPD is the best, Lily?”
****
Several hours later, my body flopped in the chair like wet spaghetti tested against an Italian cook’s kitchen wall. Someone could have stuck a broken plastic fork in me and I’d still have tested done. I’d decided a murder investigation only entertained on television. Never, not ever, did I want to repeat this experience, assuming I convinced everyone of my innocence.
Matt handed me a cup of hot coffee that would have benefited from a clean pot, fresh water, and no grounds at the bottom of the container. I drank anyway, my stomach rebelling with every sip.
“So, Lily, you hanging in?” Matt smiled, but his eyes held a worried look.
My gaze mirrored his. “Hangin’.” I sipped and ignored my stomach’s flip-flop. “So what’s the word? Can I go home soon?”
“Dirk’s waiting for a call from the Coroner’s Office.”
“Oh, so he can badger me with questions again?” My voice sounded as bitter as the brew.
“Lily, you know I can’t answer that, but if it helps, I don’t believe you killed anyone.”
I held my sarcasm for a better candidate and smiled, if what felt like a grimace could be called a smile. “Thanks, Matt.”
My stomach turned when the coffee’s aroma hit my nostrils again. Putting down the cup, I rested my chin on my palm. “So, doesn’t look too good for me, does it?”
Matt’s eyes took on the liquid glint of a puppy begging at the table. “I’m sorry, Lily. Doesn’t look good.”
My nerves pushed a shaky laugh from my mouth. “Motive is pretty clear. Rod dated me until he dumped me to marry my friend. Means? I knew about the Orchid Conservatory’s inner workings. Opportunity? I expect someone will figure that out. I’m one lucky woman, hey?”
Matt shook his head. “You need to get a grip, Lily.”
My chin dropped to my chest. “I know, Matt. Believe me, I know.”
I lifted my head. “Why didn’t the Conservatory event planner see him earlier? Why did Gray and I find Rod first?”
Implicit, but not said, a whining why me?
He didn’t answer. “Lily?” Matt’s forehead held a slight frown.
“Yeah?”
“Why did you agree to stand up for Alexa? Last I heard, you two weren’t talking after her lottery win. And then Rod dumped you for Alexa. Suddenly you’re buds again? Causes questions that need answers.”
Ah, the fun of small-town life. Everyone knows and remembers the stuff you’d rather keep private.
“Uh, I figured I needed to let bygones be.”
He nodded, the frown lines smoothed. “Makes sense to me.”
Dirk walked into the small break room. He grabbed a mug and poured in coffee, milk and a boatload of sugar.
Catching my glance, he lifted his eyebrows. “What? This stuff isn’t palatable otherwise.”
I ignored his imminent diabetes threat and straightened. Dirk’s knit eyebrows and tense stance didn’t relieve my fears.
“Any news?” My voice sounded like a newborn mewling kitten.
“Not yet.” He ran his fingers through his badly cut hair. “Look, I need to know where you were last night.”
“Last night? At the rehearsal dinner. The minister and wedding party were scheduled at the Orchid Conservatory for seven o’clock. We had a short run-through then were served a catered dinner. Another caterer, not my staff. I left just before ten.”
“Then what happened?”
“Home. I went home. Why?”
He shot me a direct hazel stare. “The facts will come out soon enough. Vandiver died last night.”
When I’d been home alone with no witnesses. My stomach muscles coiled into knots. I could be screwed.
The look Dirk gave me didn’t inspire confidence. Except for giving me the impression I was almost completely screwed.
“Did any of your neighbors see you when you got home?”
“I doubt it.”
“We’ll check.” He rubbed his forehead with one finger. “Okay, we’re finished for now. Remember not to discuss this case with anyone.”
“And if my alibi doesn’t check out, I’ll hear from you in person, right?”
Dirk and Matt crossed their arms in unison. Neither spoke.
Fudge. No question about being totally screwed.
Chapter Three
A dude in a three-piece suit headed toward me as I made my way from the interrogation room. He wore his light brown hair slicked back, showing off a widow’s peak. Or is that widower’s peak on a guy? Gold rings flashed in the fluorescent lights, and his jacket pocket held a silk handkerchief matching his tie. His highly polished shoes finished off a look whispering big money.
“Ms. Lily Carlson?”
Fudge. Now what?
He held his hand out. “Tom Jenkins, Attorney-at-Law.”
“Mr. Jenkins. Have we met?”
“You’re my new client.”
“I don’t think so.”
He held up one golf-tanned hand, palm out. “Please. Just give me a few minutes.”
I felt my blood pressure drop from stratospheric to high. “Okay, I’ll listen but I know you’re out of my price range.”
He steered me to a badly scratched bench, decorated with initials and crossed out curse words. We sat; I waited.
“Ms. Carlson, I’ve been retained on your behalf regarding the murder of Roderick Vandiver.”
“I don’t need a lawyer. I didn’t kill him.”
Attorney Jenkins’s face remained impassive, as if he’d heard protests all day. He probably did. Had Alexa hired him for me? After all, even though we hadn’t been close friends for months, maybe she’d decided to give me an early Christmas gift. Not to mention I wouldn’t have been anywhere near the Orchid Conservatory if she hadn’t asked me to be in her wedding.
“I don’t even know you. Who paid you a retainer? Alexa?”
His slight pause almost didn’t register, but my senses were in hyper-overdrive.
“Sorry, I’ve been asked to keep the identity of your benefactor confidential.”
“So you can’t tell me who I’ll be in debt to for the rest of my life?”
He shook his head.
“Why should I accept your help?”
“I’m the top criminal defense lawyer in the Charlotte area.” He thought for a moment. “Actually, in the Southeast.”
“Oh. Okay then.” I didn’t say more. His ego didn’t need my pumping.
“Ms. Carlson, we need to plan a defense strategy and look at options.”
“Options.”
“Yes. Should your case go south, I’ll plea bargain.” He noticed the look on my face and backtracked. “We’ll talk about that later.”
Had I gotten a defense lawyer or someone determined to railroad me? And which of my friends thought me capable of murder and therefore needing a defense lawyer?
“Mr. Jenkins, I’ve had a long, tough day. Do you mind if we meet another time? I have to get home and let my dog out.” He didn’t need to know my dog died four months ago. I still missed her, now more than ever.
“Ms. Carlson, the sooner we talk, the quicker I can spin the press and mount a defense.”
I felt my anger build. “I’m innocent.”
“Of course you are. Can you prove it?”
My open face gave him the answer.
“Come to my office tomorrow morning, nine o’clock.” He handed me a thick, embossed business card. “I’ll call in my top investigator.”
“The police are checking my alibi.”
“Doesn’t hurt to have someone else looking.”
Jenkins placed a hand on my shoulder. “Ms. Carlson, Lily. Don’t worry. We�
��ll work hard on your behalf.” He squeezed my upper arm and left me standing in the hall.
I owed someone big time. No one I knew had either the big money defense lawyer connections or the funds to retain one. Except for Alexa.
****
I walked into my home at ten o’clock, knowing I wouldn’t see Alice, my tail wagging rescue mutt. Too bad I couldn’t call her back for one last face-licking, fur-petting session. I doubled that wish when I saw my answering machine blinking non-stop. Fudge.
Usually I dial in from my cell for messages, but well, I couldn’t have handled one more chore today. Ten messages. Double fudge with caramel.
My shaky finger hit the play button. Yep, word had gotten out fast. My client for tomorrow wanted to know if I’d cater or if she should cancel. The next three calls were from her also. I stopped listening and dialed the client, assuring her the event would be well covered.
Then I called my assistant and gave her the job details. If something happened to me before the event—like an arrest—she could take over. God knows I’d need the money to pay off mega-lawyer. Or rather Alexa, as she’d hired the guy.
The answering machine still blinked. I didn’t want to listen empty handed, so I opened a bottle of Grenache and filled a glass. Reinforced, I hit the play button.
Two telemarketing calls, a wrong number, and half a glass of wine later, I felt relaxed and in charge. Perhaps that’s why the last three messages hit me harder than expected. Three client cancellations, all for late December.
The losses wouldn’t have been so bad, but I counted on the jobs to get me through January, a traditionally slow time for my business. Worse, my biggest upcoming job client’s message was a snippy, “I don’t do business with murderers” followed by a hang up. Well, sweetie, what makes you think I do?
Slumping into my favorite overstuffed chair, I dropped my chin to my chest. Hadn’t taken the small-town hotline long to besmirch my name. Worse, the snippy customer didn’t even live in town but obviously had friends in Granville Falls.
Unless the story had hit television already. In that case, viewers from the surrounding area up to Charlotte probably thought me a real skank.
Death Under the Mistletoe Page 2
