My heart went out to Truman. He always got his man, even if a case took decades to solve. If Glenn’s killer had yet to be brought to justice, it wasn’t through any fault of Truman’s. Still, I could see why Alma would need to lay blame somewhere, what with the grief she felt for her husband.
There was one thing I was certain about. I wouldn’t be telling Truman that Alma had tried to personally deputize me to help solve her husband’s murder, as well.
“Is that all you have to tell me?” Truman’s eyes seemed to bore into my soul. He could always tell when I was holding out on him.
“Um, I guess that’s it. Becca and Felicity fought over the dress yesterday, Felicity offered to buy Alma’s Gone with the Wind collection and Alma refused, and Alma asked me to keep my ear to the ground regarding her stolen things. Yup, that’s about it.”
Truman opened his mouth to rejoin when a figure stalked through the shiny maroon maples.
“That’s enough, Mallory. I don’t recall you being on retainer at the police department.” Keith sent me a menacing glare that made me catch my breath. I felt woozy with the realization that just a year ago, I had been in the throes of planning my own elaborate wedding to Keith. He turned to Truman. “I want her out of here.”
Truman opened his mouth to give Keith a piece of his mind when Becca’s voice rang out over the backyard, clear and unwavering. “It looks like a suicide.”
It was entirely possible. Felicity had seemed beyond distraught that she couldn’t have the gown. Maybe she had decided to ruin it for Becca as well, as her last act on this earth.
“Excuse me, but you won’t be making that determination.” Truman left me in the maples as he emerged to face Becca. Keith and I followed suit. Truman kept his eyes on Becca, his gaze stoic. Yet his mouth twitched down in a frown.
Becca hugged her middle and turned her back to the pool. “Felicity tried to ruin everything in my life. She entered the Miss Port Quincy pageant the year after I won and copied my idea for the talent segment. She never had an original idea in her life. I went to college at Duquesne in Pittsburgh, and she transferred there after freshman year. I decided I wanted to go to law school, and she just had to go too. I bet Grandma Alma was right, that Felicity tried to murder her. Maybe Felicity killed herself because of guilt over what she did to Alma.” Keith materialized at Becca’s side and gently tried to shush her, but to no avail. Becca batted his comforting arm away and continued. “Felicity killed herself in my pool in an attempt to ruin my wedding. I’m sure of it. And as God is my witness, she won’t get away with it.”
I wondered idly if Becca knew she had echoed one of Scarlett O’Hara’s famous speeches from the movie and book versions of Gone with the Wind. Truman didn’t look as impressed with Becca’s performance. He studied Becca with a calm intensity. I tried to guess what wheels were turning in his head. My mind went to dark places where I didn’t want it to. Did I dare to think that Becca’s impassioned speech was just a way to throw us off her trail? Was my newest bride also a murderess? There had been real malice in the eyes of both Becca and Felicity as they fought over the gown the day before. Was Becca angry enough to kill Felicity over it?
“I have more questions.” Truman looked at me, Becca, and Keith in turn. “For all of you. If you’d just return to the house, we can begin.”
A screech of tires caused us all to look to the front of the house. A banging could be heard on the front door, and then a man came running around the side of the house to the deck behind. He was reed thin, with an Ichabod Crane frame and thick black glasses beneath a shock of floppy, sandy hair. He wore a dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows, khakis, and moccasins. He appeared to be in his midthirties and moved with quick, precise movements. His eyes scanned the backyard, searching for something. Or someone.
“Where is she? Felicity?”
“And you are?” Truman blocked the view of the pool and placed both hands on his hips.
“Tanner Frost. I’m looking for my fiancée, Felicity Fournier. I just got done teaching my last class of the year. Felicity was supposed to meet me. She never showed, and she didn’t answer her cell. She’d told me she was stopping by here earlier today. What’s with all the police cars? What in the hell is going on?”
“Son—” Truman stopped when Tanner pushed past him to get a better view of the lower level of the deck and the pool.
“Oh my God. It’s her. Felicity!” Tanner raced down the short flight of steps and stood before the water, tugging at his hair. “I’ve got to get her out of there.” He reached for the body in the pool before Truman and Faith dragged him from the edge, where he fought like a tiger before succumbing to racking sobs. Truman led him back up the stairs and into the house, where Tanner limply fell into an ecru armchair covered in embroidered seashells. Keith and Becca claimed a peach couch across the room, staring at Tanner with suspicion-laden eyes. I hovered near the door, wondering when I could make an escape.
“What made you think you’d find Felicity here?” Truman was kind but ever watchful as he questioned Tanner.
“She got a text this morning inviting her to buy a wedding dress.” Tanner was so distraught he appeared almost catatonic. It was no wonder; he’d barely had time to process his fiancée Felicity was gone for good. “She was beside herself with excitement.”
Becca opened her mouth across the room. “That’s not—”
“Stop.” Truman held up his hand and his look brooked no wiggle room as he silenced Becca. “Go on, Tanner.”
“She left my house to come here and buy the dress at the same time I left to teach class.”
“So you’re a teacher?” Truman slipped out a small notebook and scribbled something in the shorthand he’d perfected for interviewing.
Tanner seemed to bristle. “I’m a professor. At Quincy College, in the history department. This was my last class of the year.”
“So you finished class. And then what?” Truman was patient, ignoring Tanner’s affronted attitude.
“Felicity and I had a lunch date. She didn’t show. She didn’t answer my texts, and I got worried. Recently—” Tanner stopped talking, as if remembering something. His hollow cheeks glowed with a fast, creeping blush. “I was just worried about her, and because I knew she was supposed to stop by for the dress, I thought I’d see if she was still here. Her Jag was out front, and so were all the flashing police cars.” He turned his head to look out the window at an unfortunate moment. Faith and the technician were removing Felicity’s body from the pool, the heavy gown making the work ungainly and difficult. Tears began to silently stream down Tanner’s face. I made myself useful and found him a box of tissues.
“I didn’t sell her the dress.” Becca could stand it no longer and stood from her perch on the couch. “I didn’t even offer.”
Tanner shook his head, as if clearing water from his ears. “Yes, you did. I was there when Felicity got the text. She even showed it to me. Felicity was surprised you’d changed your mind and decided she was more deserving of the dress, but she figured you’d just come to your senses.”
Becca snorted, any sympathy she had for Tanner seemingly gone. “That’s preposterous. I did no such thing.”
Tanner’s tears stopped in midroll and he narrowed his eyes. “I bet her phone is still in her car. I’m going to get it and show you.”
“No one’s touching a thing in Felicity’s car,” Truman intoned. “It’s evidence now.”
But Tanner was just getting started. “You probably lured her here, Becca Cunningham. You promised her the dress to get her on your turf, and then you murdered her. You’ve been jealous of Felicity your whole life, and you couldn’t stand that she was engaged and happy. How could you?” Tanner stood and began pacing the kitchen.
Helene chose that moment to emerge from the upstairs portion of the house, her senses keenly picking up on the fact that someone had just accused Becca of murder. I could see the nefarious wheels turning in Helene’s head, and wondered h
ow she’d use this theory to her advantage.
“Now let’s just settle down, everyone.” Truman’s voice boomed, and no one said another word. It was an uneasy standoff between Becca in the living room and Tanner in the kitchen, walking nervous circles around the behemoth island. It was like being stuck in a cage with lions and tigers marauding around. Tensions were too high.
“And you hadn’t had any disagreements with your fiancée lately?” Truman put away his notebook and turned to observe Tanner.
“Of course not!” Tanner’s denial came out as a squeak. “We just got engaged two nights ago. This was supposed to be the happiest time of my life, and Felicity’s. We were going to get married at the end of the summer. We were making plans.” His eyes grew far away and his voice turned wistful. “We were going to get married right here in town. At Thistle Park. Then honeymoon in Venice. And now she’s gone.”
Say what?
“When were you marrying at Thistle Park?” I’d blurted out the question before I could stop myself, earning a withering glare from Truman.
“August. Felicity called and booked the date less than an hour after we got engaged.” Tanner’s laugh was tinged with aching sadness. “She was so excited, she started planning right away.”
I had the grace to silently question Truman whether to go on with an imploring look. He nodded his permission, and I spoke again.
“I’m the owner of the B and B, and the wedding planner. I’ll have to check when I return home, but I’m almost positive Felicity didn’t book a wedding for August. In fact, I didn’t speak to her at all about the matter.”
Each weekend from now until October was spoken for. Several weekends this summer would hold weddings on Friday evenings, in addition to the usual Saturday. There was no way I would have been able to accommodate Felicity Fournier and Tanner Frost for a late summer wedding. He had to have been mistaken.
Tanner furiously shook his head. “That’s impossible. I was there when she made the call and spoke with you. Just like I saw the text from Becca.” He ran his hands through his floppy hair, and the speed of his pacing increased. “What’s with you people? I know what I saw and heard. Is this all some kind of cruel joke? Are you trying to gaslight me?”
“I’ll double check my messages,” I promised lamely. I’d obviously upset Tanner, and that was not my intention, especially in his current state. “There’s a possibility Felicity spoke to someone else besides me.” I’d confer with Rachel when I finally got the heck out of this house of horrors, but I was willing to bet Felicity hadn’t talked to my sister either. Even with the blur of new events we’d taken on, Rachel and I had insisted on keeping meticulous records.
“I don’t have to take this from all of you.” Tanner made a dash for the back deck and pushed open the glass doors.
My heart went out to the obviously and understandably agitated man. It hurt just watching him take in his fiancée, now retrieved from the pool, lying beside the water in the gorgeous but now-ruined gown.
We all wordlessly followed Tanner out and perched at the top of the deck, except for Helene, who stood quiet counsel from the kitchen window.
“Son, you can’t touch her.” Truman stood behind Tanner, who just stared at his fiancée. I didn’t think Truman had to warn him.
Tanner’s face registered acute shock as his gaze strayed to Felicity’s left hand. He took in a sharp breath, and then reached for her hand.
“Tanner, you can’t—”
He was trying with all his might to remove his fiancée’s engagement ring. Becca, Keith, and I stood in horror as Truman and Faith pulled Tanner back.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“That sounds intense.” My boyfriend Garrett pulled me closer on the porch swing. I sank my head into his shoulder, my hand resting on his chest. The soothing thrum of his heart beating against my hand worked to calm my racing mind. The day’s events played on a frenetic loop in my memory. Truman had released me from Keith and Becca’s house by midafternoon, and I’d rushed home.
The pressure and heat of the day had given way to cool, crisp night with the setting of the sun. Garrett and I sat on the porch swing in the gloaming, the sky an ever-deepening velvety blue behind the silhouette of Port Quincy. Garrett had popped over to lend an ear and share a cup of coffee. His was decaf, but mine was fully turbocharged, caffeinated java. It wasn’t my first choice, as my nerves were a jangly mess. But I had to go over plans for a baby shower that was scheduled for the next day, and I needed to be alert after the adrenaline crash wore off.
“How’s Summer doing in L.A.?” I changed the subject to something happier. I missed Garrett’s fourteen-year-old daughter and couldn’t wait to see her upon her return from her trip.
“She’s having a fantastic time. She’s been on set with Adrienne nearly every day, and they’ve taken some trips to the beach and to the mountains.” Garrett smiled wistfully. Summer’s mother, and Garrett’s one-time, long-ago flame was the director of a newly revamped, popular wedding reality show that yours truly had once been featured on.
“Summer’s flying back with her mother in three days.” A grin lit up his handsome face. “This is the longest I’ve been away from her, and it’ll be wonderful to have her back in Port Quincy. Just in time for your Mother’s Day tea.”
I winced as Garrett reminded me of yet another event we’d taken on. “All of Rachel’s plans to expand the business seemed like a great idea.” Before the murder of Felicity Fournier and the attempted murder of Alma Cunningham. “I’m excited to host more things here, but it would be nice for things to go back to normal too.”
I shivered as the sun finally finished its journey beneath the horizon. I tried to train my thoughts on something more cheerful. “Tomorrow is Whitney’s baby shower.” I perked up at the thought. Whitney was one of my former brides, and Becca’s cousin. “We’ll be celebrating a new life.”
Garrett hugged me closer, and we sat in companionable silence. But my racing mind wouldn’t settle. I wondered about what Rachel had said when she’d teased about an impending engagement. I could detect no new undercurrents in my relationship with Garrett. He still thrilled me with his flashing hazel eyes and his sexy smile. He was my rock. But we’d settled into a comfortable rhythm. Things were fine just the way they were. Maybe Rachel was wrong about an engagement. Why should we change things just because we’d been dating for nearly a year? Especially in light of the fact it was just a year ago I’d been engaged to another man. I questioned myself frequently about what I’d ever seen in Keith. I’d finally come around to trust my judgment in the men department since I’d found Garrett. But that didn’t mean I needed to move on to a new phase just to please friends and family who expected us to get engaged.
A police sedan pulled into the long driveway and broke my serious train of thought. I had enjoyed a cup of coffee with my boyfriend before I was to receive a private grilling from his father. Truman advanced up the brick path, his face pulled and tired. Despite his father’s weariness, Garrett was nearly the spitting image of Truman. I had a preview of what my boyfriend would look like in twenty years’ time.
“I’d better go.” Garrett graced my lips with a tender kiss and bade me and his father goodbye. The hazy, warm feelings he instilled in me evaporated as I got a new cup of coffee for Truman and returned to sit in a wicker chair facing him. I set down a tray with shaking hands and winced as Truman flicked on the bright front-porch light. I’m sure he wanted to study my expressions as we talked. We started our genteel coffee service, but this was anything but a social call. My heart began to pound as I prepared to rehash the day’s events.
Truman cut to the chase. “Did Felicity Fournier ever contact you about having her wedding here?”
“Nope. I checked my voicemail and the answering machine for the landline. Rachel checked her messages too. I’m certain she never called and talked to anyone here about her wedding.”
“Tanner seemed pretty certain she had.” Truman wasn’t accusatory, ju
st stating the facts.
“Could she have talked to someone who purported to be me?” The thought was disturbing. “Or maybe Tanner and Felicity got confused, and she spoke to another venue.” There had to be some simple explanation.
“Or Felicity just wanted him to think she’d talked to you about booking their wedding.” Truman’s statement hung in the air between us.
“But why would she do that? What would be the point?” It was a shame we couldn’t just ask her.
“Let’s backtrack. What happened with that dress? Describe the altercation in the Silver Bells bridal shop. I want to hear it from you before I get Bev Mitchell’s amped-up version.”
I smiled at his rueful description of Bev. I’m sure she’d already spread her version of what had happened all over town, lighting up cell phones with the tale. I gave Truman what I hoped was a succinct and accurate recounting of the melee in Silver Bells. He took notes in his shorthand and stopped to observe my face as I talked.
“Oh, and there’s one other thing. Two women were arguing in a dressing room.”
“There was another argument, one separate from Felicity and Becca?” Truman leaned in.
“Well, I don’t know if I’d call it an argument. There were raised voices, at least two women. And one of them left the dressing room. It was Felicity.” I felt my face fall. “I don’t know who the second woman was, and I wasn’t watching the dressing room to see her leave.” I wished I’d made note of the other woman. It seemed important now.
“That’s okay, Mallory.” Truman’s face turned kind. “You observed and remembered a lot. This will help me greatly.”
I relaxed and settled back into my wicker chair, drawing a sweater closer around me. Something was picking at the back of my brain.
“Tanner said Felicity received a text from Becca offering to sell her the dress after all. That just doesn’t seem right after their fight over the dress. There’s no way Becca would be willing to sell it, and she didn’t mention anything to me about it either.”
Gown with the Wind Page 9
