He deepened the embrace. “These clothes are in the way,” he murmured, raining kisses down her cheek. “Do you think Torrie got in Jill's way?”
Dalton's sexy tone distracted her from his words. “What?”
He drew a corner of her gown off her shoulder and kissed her bared flesh. “I mean, could your friend Jill be glad her sister is out of the picture?”
Marla jerked back. “How could you think that?”
He didn't drop his hands from where he held her. “I saw you fidget when you mentioned the partnership issue.”
Her temples throbbed. “I was wondering who stood to inherit Torrie's share, that's all.”
“You think Jill has something to gain by her sister's death?”
“More likely Torrie's husband Scott is her heir.”
“Depends on what Torrie's will states. She could have left her portion to either one.”
“I'm not privy to that information, nor do I care.” She smiled up at his concerned face. “All I care about right now is this.” Moving her hand, she showed him what she meant.
His breath hitched, and their conversation ended abruptly as he sidestepped her to the bed.
Tomorrow, she'd think about what Jill had whispered to Torrie just before the ceremony.
If you say one word to anyone, you'll be sorry. It'll be the last thing you ever say.
CHAPTER FOUR
* * *
Marla and Dalton lazed in bed the next morning, sharing pillow talk. They faced each other, Marla in her silk nightgown, and Dalton in his boxers. He traced his fingers idly along Marla's arm while she stroked his chest nested with soft hairs.
“The wedding yesterday got me thinking,” Dalton said, his gaze half-lidded.
“Mmm, what about?” Still groggy, she was loath to get out of bed to make coffee.
“You and me. How you've brought me back to life and given me focus again. After Pam died—”
She touched his lips. “Hush. You don't have to say it.”
He brushed her hand aside. “Yes, I do.” His eyes shone with a warm sheen. “We had the dream church wedding. Ten years later I watched her die a slow, agonizing death from cancer. My work is ugly. I see things that make you wonder about the worthiness of the human race. When Pam was alive, I came home to a place where I could find peace. With her gone, our daughter was the only thing that kept me going . . . until I met you.”
“I know,” she said softly, glad she'd made a difference. Her eyes misted as she remembered their early days together, when he refused to discard any item in his house that had belonged to Pam. She'd come to love the man, recognizing his loneliness and helping him to move on.
He wasn't the only one who'd had to adjust. After a tragedy in her past, when Marla was babysitting a toddler and the child drowned in the backyard pool, Marla had vowed never to have children. She couldn't bear to risk the pain of loss. Never mind that the child's parents had told her to take the expected phone call. She'd looked away for mere minutes, and that's all it took for the kid to climb out of her playpen and into the water.
Even though the accident had happened years ago, it seeded Marla with doubts about her own abilities. She had Dalton and his daughter to thank for helping her grow beyond her past mistakes.
“If you stick with me,” she told him, “I don't know how much peace you'll have. I've become a jinx. People around me end up dead.”
Dalton tapped her nose. “That's not what gets you into trouble. You're likely to play amateur sleuth again. Leave the police business to the professionals.”
Sitting upright, she clutched the sheet to her body. “You're the one who asks for my help now.”
“Yeah, but this isn't one of those occasions. I understand you feel bad for Jill and Arnie, but you already have a full plate.”
“Tell me about it. That reminds me, I have to talk to the painter regarding my day spa tomorrow. I'm not happy with his color selection.”
“Speaking of colors, what about our wedding? Have you made a final decision yet?”
“I want to talk to the florist again first. What should we do today? Lie out by the pool?” She'd feel terribly guilty taking the entire day off. But then again, they were at a beach resort and should get their money's worth. “Actually, that's not a bad idea. Let's forget about everything and just relax.”
Dalton's cell phone rang, putting a crimp in their plans. “Hello, Detective Brody.” He stood, his shoulders hunching as he listened. “That is interesting. Thanks for the update.” Clicking off, he regarded Marla from beneath his thick brows. “The knife handle was clean of prints.”
“Meaning?”
“Someone was smart enough to wipe it, or they wore gloves.”
She got up, pulled on her underwear, and set about making coffee on their in-room coffee maker. While waiting for it to brew, she opened the blackout drapes. They'd slept late. Morning sunbeams penetrated the room.
“That smacks of premeditation,” Marla said, “but Brody assumed it was a crime of opportunity. The killer couldn't have foreseen the cake knife would be sharp enough to do the job until he'd actually held it.”
“If the cause of death was from chest trauma.”
“You're saying she might have been killed by other means first?” Marla shook her head. “I saw blood. She wouldn't have bled if she'd already been dead.”
“True. Let's say it was a crime of passion,” Dalton said, pacing the floor, “and the bad guy was smart enough to clean the weapon of choice. Did he use a cloth napkin, a handy dish towel, or perchance wear a pair of disposable plastic gloves obtained from the kitchen?”
She held up her hand in a stop signal. “Whoa, you're hurting my brain. I haven't had my caffeine yet.” At the coffee stand, she broke open a condiment package and added sugar and powdered cream to one of the mugs. The smell of freshly brewed java made her mouth water.
“Well, think about it.” He scratched his bristly jaw. “What would you do if you'd just stabbed someone on the spur of the moment, and the knife was still stuck in her? You couldn't risk pulling it out and having blood splatter all over your evening wear. So you leave the knife in but need to wipe the part you'd touched.”
“I'd grab a dinner napkin from a nearby table. I don't think
I'd get a glove from the kitchen first. That might be traceable if the police talked to the cooks.”
“So where did that napkin end up?”
Halfway to putting the filled coffee mug to her lips, Marla paused. “Good question. In the killer's pocket? To trace that, you'd have to contact all the tuxedo rental places or dry cleaners in the tri-county area. Or did the napkin land on another table, where it got picked up and sent to the facility's laundry service?”
“I'd like to take a look at the seating arrangements,” Dalton said. “I suppose Jill has a copy?”
“So does Arnie's mother. But shouldn't you pass these theories on to Brody? It's his investigation, not yours.”
“Right,” he replied a bit too hastily.
She gave him a suspicious glance but didn't pursue the matter, hoping to cast aside the shadows from the previous evening and enjoy their day. She'd like to call Jill, but didn't want to intrude. Despite the tragedy, last evening was her friend's wedding night.
After breakfast in the hotel restaurant, she and Dalton spread their towels by the pool. Some of the other wedding guests had stayed overnight, too, judging from a few familiar faces.
She recognized Alexis, Jill's aunt by marriage, wearing a one-piece swimsuit over her big-boned form. Scrunching her eyes behind a pair of dark sunglasses, Marla watched the older woman. Alexis poised at the deep end of the pool and then dove in with the grace of a practiced diver. Impressed, Marla wished she could swim laps with such little effort.
Dalton sat oblivious at her side, shades propped on his slightly humped nose. “Where should we go for lunch?”
“Lunch? We just finished breakfast.” Typical man to think about his next meal.
&nbs
p; “We could go to South Beach or Lincoln Road.”
“Or we could go home. Did you talk to Brie?”
He nodded. “She's fine. Anita is taking her out to eat after she finishes her homework. And before you ask, Spooks is behaving himself. He likes the new dog treats I bought.”
“Good. Oh look, here comes Alexis.” Marla waved.
Dalton gave a grunt of recognition. “I remember them. Her husband is the wine snob, and she's the workhorse.”
“Dalton, that's not nice.” Marla plastered a friendly smile on her face as Alexis strode over, a towel wrapped around her torso. Her sculpted arms made Marla wonder if she lifted weights for exercise.
“Marla, isn't it?” Alexis said in a throaty voice.
“That's right, and this is Dalton.”
“I haven't seen many people from the wedding party today,” Alexis replied. “Either they're sleeping in, or they left early. That wouldn't surprise me, considering what happened last night.”
Marla tilted her head. “We all had quite a shock. What a terrible tragedy. I feel so bad for Jill.”
Alexis scraped a chair over while Marla shot a glance at Dalton. The corners of his mouth turned down. No doubt he'd rather relax without the encumbrance of company.
“Heavens, child, I know,” Alexis said. “It was such a beautiful wedding. Just like Torrie to ruin things. Used to be the other way around, from what I understood.”
Marla's ears perked up. “Meaning?” She scrutinized Alexis's hair with a critical eye. Her auburn tint could use some shine. Copper highlights would do the trick.
“Jillian was the one who caused trouble in her younger days. I'm glad she's turned into a straight arrow. Changed her looks, too.” Alexis waggled her eyebrows. “Got a boob job, bleached her hair. I could use the opposite,” she said, chuckling and lifting her bosom.
“Tell me, how is your husband Eddy related to Jill? I know he's her uncle, but through which parent?” Marla hoped to delve into Jill's background without seeming too nosy.
A thoughtful gleam entered Alexis's expression. “Well, now, let me see.” She tapped her chin. “Sarah and David Barlow were Torrie and Jill's parents. Eddy was Sarah's brother. Jill brought her folks a lot of grief back then, and Eddy kinda feels bad that he didn't step in to help.”
“Is that why Eddy is helping the girls with this property thing?” Marla guessed.
“Uh, huh. That child has a lot of gumption, I have to say. I never thought Jill deserved . . . well, that's water under the bridge. Obviously, she's gone through a lot of changes.”
“Arnie's a good man and a friend of mine. I wouldn't want him to get hurt.”
“Jill will do well by him, and she loves his kids. They'll be fine. It's too bad she and Torrie got dropped that bucket of worms, though. Eddy was just working on an agreement for them. Now Kevin has gotten himself involved.”
“Kevin is their cousin, right?”
“Kevin is Luke's son. He's the other sibling. Luke, Sarah, and Eddy, that's the three of 'em. Can't say much for the other two, but my Eddy has done me proud. You have to come by our place sometime, child, and see our house. We have an extensive cellar, if you're into wine.”
“Where do you live?”
“In Coral Gables. We have our own pool, of course, but I have to get my early morning swim, or I'm ruined for the day.” She gave a trill laugh that sounded oddly like a neighing horse.
Dalton uttered a strangled cough. At Marla's glare, his face puckered and his lips clamped to suppress a grin. Okay, maybe he'd put that unkind image in her head.
“I suppose Torrie's funeral will be in Miami,” Marla said. “Is her home anywhere near yours?”
“Heavens, no. They live in Kendall. Poor Scott. He tries so hard but always seems to be struggling. Or at least, that's my recent impression. They used to be quite well-off.”
“Really? What happened?”
Alexis shrugged. “Beats me. It's probably a good thing they never had kids. Scott's a good-looking guy. He won't be alone for long, although he'll mourn his wife. The man truly loved her.”
“I'd like to attend Torrie's memorial service. Will you give me a call when you get the information?” Marla rummaged in her bag for a business card. “Although, I suppose I could ask Jill. Arnie couldn't take off from work this week, so they're delaying their honeymoon.”
“You don't want to bother the child. She'll be distraught, not that she isn't already. Jillian was positively shaking when I saw her in the ladies' room yesterday. You'd think she'd have been more relaxed with the wedding winding down.”
“What time was this?”
“Oh, I dunno. Sometime after dinner but before she cut the cake. She's a bundle of nerves, that girl. If you ask me, this business with their property is driving her over the edge. She stood there, scrubbing her hands at the sink, muttering to herself. She's got too much on her mind.”
“Such as?” Dalton cut in. Marla recognized his deceptively smooth tone. He could be a sly fox when interrogating suspects. Odds were in their favor that Alexis didn't know his occupation.
“That's for Jillian to say.” Alexis rose. “Are you folks sticking around much longer?”
“Nope, checkout time is eleven o'clock.” Dalton stood, and Marla followed suit. She really wasn't in the mood for sunbathing anyway.
“Aren't you two getting married next?” Alexis wagged her forefinger. “You should consider Philip Canfield if you don't have a wedding decorator. He did a terrific job last night. I just loved the orchids in the centerpieces.”
“The flowers were beautiful, weren't they? Someone told me he works for Falcon Oakwood.”
“Phil helps Falcon obtain his orchid specimens. Are you into plants, Marla? I can't abide the things. Too much trouble.”
Marla gave an empathic smile. “I have a black thumb myself. Plants wilt if they come near me.”
Alexis sighed. “I'd better trot off and nudge Eddy awake. Nice chatting with you people.”
“You hear?” Dalton poked Marla after Alexis left. “She has to trot off and nudge Eddy. What did I tell you?”
“Give it up, Dalton. I'm more interested in hearing what she has to say about Jill.”
“Interesting remark she made about Jill washing her hands. Almost reminds me of Lady Macbeth.”
She glared at him. “I trust Jill, but there are things about her we don't know. If it's something she hasn't told Arnie, that's not a good way to start a marriage.”
On their way indoors, Dalton hummed a classic Disney tune. “Not your business, oh no,” he sang, “but if I know you, you'll know what to do, and it won't be making stew.”
“So now you're a poet like my neighbor, Moss? Come on, aren't you the least bit curious?”
“Curious, yes. But not enough to take time out from my job, wedding planning, and packing to move into our new house in less than a month. And that reminds me. I need to talk to you about which toilets to order.”
Her mouth dropped open. “I'm concerned about Torrie's murder, and your mind is in the toilet? Really, Dalton. What's happened to you?”
Marla had little time to think about the case on Monday, when she met her mother, Anita, and almost mother-in-law, Kate, to show them the facility at Queen Palm Country Club and review the menu. For the cocktail hour, she and Dalton had chosen a mixture of live stations manned by chefs, various hors d'oeuvres laid out buffet-style, and waitresses circulating with hot specialties. Maybe she'd gone overboard. She wanted their opinions.
“It's impressive as far as banquet halls go,” Kate said, as they walked through the parking lot after their appointment. “The view of the golf course is lovely, but I'm afraid the space for the cocktails will be cramped. It's too bad that other section is already booked.”
“I'm glad you cut out the turkey station,” Anita countered, raking her short, layered white hair. Her fingernails flashed with bright red polish, a color that would look garish on Kate. “That was totally unnecessary. I still thi
nk you could have negotiated a better price on the liquor.”
Although younger, Kate colored her hair an attractive auburn that complemented her fair complexion. Dalton's mother had liked how Marla feathered her hair about her face while on their cruise aboard the Tropical Sun. Kate had gotten her hairdresser in Maine to maintain the style.
“I told you cost wouldn't be an issue,” Kate said. “John and I are very willing to pitch in.”
“Actually,” Anita retorted, “the kids could use any money saved for more important things, like better window treatments in their new house. All they get are those standard white blinds. Drapes are so much more insulating.”
Yeah, as well as being dust magnets.
“Thanks for your generous offer, Kate, but you've got your own investment in a condo to consider.” Marla dug out her car keys from her purse.
“You're right, but we're still willing to contribute.” Kate rustled in her handbag for a tissue and wiped her face. “Whew. Is it always this hot in November? Maybe we should stay in Maine until December next year.”
Marla unlocked the car doors and slid into her seat. “We're supposed to get a cold front tonight. That counts as our change of seasons. It should be refreshingly drier in the morning.”
“How is your house hunting going?” Anita asked Kate. She sat on the passenger side, while Kate folded into the rear.
“I like the condo we're renting,” Kate said, “but it's too expensive to buy, especially with all the other bargains out there. We're taking our time. Insurance is the other issue. Homeowners policies in South Florida are wickedly expensive.”
“Tell me about it.” Marla started the engine. Soon she'd be paying insurance on two places—her townhouse, which she hoped to rent out, plus their new residence. Not to mention property taxes. Ma was right. She should pare back the wedding costs to save money for future expenses.
“What's next on the list?” Kate fastened her seat belt as Marla drove toward the exit.
“The florist. I want to show you his sample arrangements.” This was the first day she'd been able to get both of the elder women together. Previously, she'd made the rounds with Dalton to sign the contracts and make their basic choices. “Then we'll go to the bridal shop to look at dresses.”
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