Was this private investigator charging by the hour? That way he could get nowhere and get rich at the same time. Meanwhile, Tandy was running everything downstairs. At least, by the sounds of it, business had quieted down. Though that usually didn’t happen until eleven or so…
Marissa lifted her wrist to get a good look at her diamond watch. It was past eleven. And she still had to run home for her wedding dress. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
“Mr. Dirkes, the only part of this investigation I can be any help with is convicting Cash Hudson, and he’s already been arrested.” She pressed her chair back and stood. “If you’re wanting to know about Randon’s relationship with Susan, you’re really going to have to talk to her. You can probably find her at the hospital. As for me, I have a wedding to plan, a business to run, and festival events to oversee.”
The man stood as well. Perhaps his atrocious bowtie was also a symbol of good breeding, and not just bad fashion sense. “Thank you for your time, Miss Alexander. I’ll be in touch if I have any more questions.”
Or if he wanted to repeat all his questions again…
Marissa shook away the negative attitude. She wouldn’t be feeling this way if he’d been as forthcoming with the questions she’d asked him. But apparently he had some kind of confidentiality clause with Cross Enterprises. And it wasn’t like she could help out on the computer hacker side of things. She had trouble enough remembering the password for her phone.
“Best of luck on your investigation.” She shook out her skirt and headed toward the stairs, but before she took a step, one last question snagged her back. She pivoted on the toe of her sandals and stuck one hand on her hip. “If you do discover that Randon planted the virus in Mr. Cross’s computer system, what can you do about it? Can you press charges if he’s in a coma?”
“That.” Mr. Dirkes folded his fleshy hands. “And we can file a lawsuit against his estate.”
Marissa scrunched her nose. If Randon came to, she’d hate to be the one to break the news to him that his estate had to pay thousands of dollars in damages and that he was probably going to jail. Such a penalty made sense, but it was hard to think about when he was still wounded from saving her life. Would Susan stick by him?
Marissa blew out her breath, headed down the stairs, and smacked straight into that same guy who’d fallen on her earlier. Goodness. He was even clumsier than she was. Crazy that Tandy let him toss glass around in their shop.
She caught herself on his arms. “Sorry.”
He held onto her arms and looked into her eyes. Wow. Penetrating gaze.
She bugged her eyes at Tandy who seemed awfully relaxed at a table with her motorcycle boots kicked up on a chair. Did she not think this man’s behavior strange?
The man let go and stepped away so she could pass. “I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you coming. Usually my hearing dog lets me know when people are around, but she’s in the puppy pen at the moment.”
Hearing dog? That fuzzy looking dog with the floppy ears taking a nap with Cocoa was a hearing dog. Which meant Zam couldn’t hear. That’s why he didn’t react very quickly when she skidded across the floor into his shins earlier. He wasn’t clumsy, but she’d need to be extra careful around him.
She shook her head, her dangly earrings brushing against her neck. “It’s all right. I’m just in a hurry.” She trotted forward past Tandy. “You don’t mind if I leave early for my fitting, do you? I need to run home for my dress.”
Tandy motioned to the empty room. “Zam and I can handle it, but if you feel guilty for leaving early, you can always repay me by letting me wear a black bridesmaid dress.”
“Black?” asked Zam. “Black is for funerals.”
“You tell her, Zam.” Marissa laughed and pushed through the door.
Tandy was fine. Better than fine. Whereas Marissa needed to hurry.
She glanced at her watch again. Not only was time ticking by, threatening to make her late, but the timepiece was silver. Mom would never approve of a silver watch with the gold skirt she was wearing.
She drove with one hand, while taking off the watch and blowing out her breath. She could do this. It was only a dress fitting. If only Tandy could get her bridesmaid dress fitted at the same time to be moral support, but then they would have had to close the shop.
Marissa’s phone buzzed from its place in the console. She used to answer every time Mom called, but she’d finally learned to set boundaries. If it was important, Mom would follow up with a text. Otherwise she’d wait to see her at As You Wish Weddings.
Marissa pulled into her driveway and clip-clopped down the sidewalk and up the steps to the front porch of her renovated craftsman style cottage. There was her dress, still hanging in the bay window.
She shoved the key in the lock, ready to grab the gown and hold it high overhead on the way back to her car to keep it from getting dirty. She probably should have put the protective case over it, but she liked admiring its beauty and dreaming about walking down the aisle toward Connor.
Yes. That’s what she needed to think about when overwhelmed by wedding planning sessions with Mom. Connor. She smiled softly, shoved the door open, then gasped in shock.
Splotches of red blood stood out boldly against the shiny white wedding dress.
Red. Blood.
Chapter Seven
Fear clawed its way up Marissa’s spine. Did she want to know where that blood came from? Dare she look around further like the stupid girl who always got herself killed in horror movies? Or should she run away shrieking?
She tightened her grip on the doorknob, ready to slam it shut on any knife-wielding psychos. But the living room remained eerily quiet.
She held her breath and let her eyes travel from one hiding place to the next. No shadows in the kitchen. No movement behind the couch. No feet underneath the curtains on the far wall. But wait. There was a dark smear on the curtain at about waist height. More blood?
Her senses sharpened as if her gaze were the luminol CSI agents used to find blood at crime scenes. Blood on the carpet. Blood on the bookshelves. Though there probably wasn’t enough for her house to be a murder scene.
Something pattered against the wood floor down the hallway.
Marissa jumped. Her heart lurched. She opened her mouth to scream.
A black blur rounded the corner and planted itself in her path. Ranger. Connor’s dog.
She was safe, but she screamed anyway.
Her pulse continued to thrum, as well.
Had someone broken into her house and Ranger attacked, spraying blood in the process?
The visual was more than she could handle. “Come on, Ranger. Come here, boy.”
The dog bounded forward, and as soon as he made it through the front door, she slammed it. Her safe haven was no longer safe.
She raced him down the stairs back to her Jeep Cherokee. Opening the driver’s side, she motioned him in then checked over her shoulder before following.
What was that verse in the Bible about the wicked fleeing though no one pursues but the righteous were as bold as a lion? She did not feel bold. She felt like there was a lion in wait for her.
Ranger turned in two circles before sitting tall on her leather seats. He did all of that before her shaking fingers were able to dial Griffin.
The sheriff answered on the first ring. “What’s wrong, Marissa?”
“There’s blood in my house.” Was there really? It felt so surreal.
Pause. “Are you bleeding?”
“No.” Her eyes darted from the front door to the back gate to the rearview mirror. She pressed the lock button for her car doors. “I came home and found blood spatters everywhere. I was afraid to go in.”
“I’m on my way. Where are you now?”
She twisted to check her blind spots. All clear for the moment. “I’m locked in my car. Should I stay here? Should I drive away?”
“I’m in the neighborhood. Stay right there but don’t hang up. Are you alone?”
&
nbsp; Marissa reached to rub the top of Ranger’s sleek head. “Ranger is with me. Connor wanted his dog to stay at my house last night. I think maybe he caught someone trying to break in.”
“That’s a possibility. Is Ranger okay?”
Marissa ran her hand over the black lab’s back and down his sides. He leaned in and licked her cheek, leaving behind the scent of beef jerky. “I think so. He seems normal.”
“That’s good. I’m glad Connor thought to send him home with you. Maybe we’ll get some DNA and be able to nail this perp.”
Marissa grimaced. She was okay. And though she’d rather not be hiding out in her car with her stained wedding gown in the house, she was glad whoever wanted Randon dead had tried to hurt her, because now the police would have DNA evidence that could lead to his arrest.
Could it be Deputy Romero? He probably would have covered his tracks better.
“Where is your deputy?” she asked, just in case.
“He’s patrolling the car show. With our history of car thieves in the area, we wanted to make sure everyone was safe.”
Marissa rolled her eyes. Carjackings were so last Valentine’s Day.
Meanwhile, her future was being destroyed. “My wedding dress has blood on it.”
“Okay…” Quiet. “I’m going to let you call Connor about that after I get there. You doin’ okay?”
She’d have to call Connor and her mom. Marissa dropped her head back, wishing she was safe enough to close her eyes and grieve over the drama her mother was about to put her through for a ruined wedding dress. Instead she checked her perimeter for creepers like Deputy Romero. “I’m fine. Are you close?”
“Turning onto your street now.”
Marissa twisted to watch the cop car roll silently down their street, lights flashing. Did Griffin think he was sneaking up on someone? Like the bad guy was still in her house, oblivious to the fact that she’d come and gone, taking the dog with her? As ludicrous as the idea sounded, a rush of relief flooded up from her toes as Griffin neared.
“I see you. I’m calling Connor now.”
Marissa disconnected and clicked on her contact list while watching the sheriff draw his gun and circle the house. Not a curtain rustled.
The phone rang in her ear.
“Marissa?” Connor’s deep voice could barely be heard over the din of background noise. “I’m at the car show, and I think I need a 1948 Ford F-1 pickup as my wedding gift.”
Marissa frowned at the phone. Connor already had a truck, and it was a lot newer than that. “Do you mind marrying a woman who has blood all over her wedding gown?”
A truck door slammed. The background noise faded. “I’m not following.”
Marissa replayed the sentence in her head. The creepy factor of her situation made Deputy Romero seem normal. She’d try again. “It’s a good thing you let me take Ranger overnight. Someone snuck in, and he caught them.”
“What?” An engine revved. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. I saw the blood and called the sheriff. Ranger and I are sitting in my car right now waiting to see if Griffin finds anyone.”
“Oh.” Connor blew out his breath.
Marissa tilted her head. Connor seemed extremely calm for the news she’d given him.
“You didn’t actually see someone break in?” he asked.
Marissa narrowed her eyes. “Were you hoping I’d be a witness to two crimes? Because the one is more than enough.”
“No. No. Definitely not. I just…” Connor paused. “What kind of blood did you find?”
Marissa shook her head in confusion then focused on Griffin sneaking underneath her windows back to the front porch. “What do you mean ‘what kind’? It was all over the place like Bob Ross dipped his paintbrush in red paint and decided to make happy little blood spatters.”
“That sounds like…”
“What?” Marissa bit her lip. This had happened before?
Connor chuckled. “Oh, honey.”
“What?” Why was he laughing?
“Check Ranger’s tail.”
Marissa eyed the dog. How did the blood in her home have anything to do with Ranger’s tail? She dropped her gaze to his tail. It looked thick and black like normal. “What am I looking for?”
“Blood on the tip.”
Like he’d chased his tail and caught it instead of a perp? That sounded highly unlikely. In all the cute dog videos Marissa had seen online, none of them actually caught their own tail. But, just in case, she reached over and circled her fingers around Ranger’s appendage then ran them along the sleek fur to the tip. Something crusty caught on her skin.
“Ew…”
She lifted the end of Ranger’s tail despite his attempt to wag it away. She never would have found the dull, matted spot if she weren’t looking for it, but there it was.
“I should have warned you.” Connor’s voice attempted to soothe her nerves over the phone line. “Ranger gets Happy Tail Syndrome sometimes. He’ll be wagging so hard that his tail thwacks something and ruptures the skin. Then he keeps wagging and gets blood everywhere. I’ll come pick him up to wrap his tail in a bandage.”
This was a thing? And this dog was going to move into her house after she married Connor? She’d be dealing with blood spatter indefinitely.
She would have to try wrapping Ranger’s tail in bubble wrap. He was supposed to be there to protect her, not ruin her wedding plans. “Happy Tail Syndrome is a horrible name for the bloodbath I’m going to have to clean.”
“I’ll help you.” Connor chuckled again. “Is Griffin still at your house?”
Marissa looked out the windshield with a sulk. She watched Griffin bust through her front door like he was taking down a cartel. Should she tell him now about Ranger’s ailment or let him finish his search?
Griffin held his gun in front of him as he scanned her living room. She’d wait. It wasn’t like she needed to hurry to her fitting now. Not with a dress covered in blood.
“Your dress is covered in blood!”
The wedding planner Mom hired sure was a master of the obvious. Marissa would love to make a blonde joke about her, but their hair colors were identical. Not to mention their height, weight, and turned up noses. The only difference was that the owner of As You Wish Weddings wore silver shoes to match her silver watch.
Mom floated over, looking all Christie Brinkley-ish. “Marissa, what did you do this time?”
Marissa turned to hang the dress on the front of a full-length oval mirror with scrollwork trim in the bedazzled studio. Funny how this kind of excess used to seem normal to her. As did Mom’s contempt. “Connor’s dog had Happy Tail Syndrome.”
Moria gasped. The woman even sounded like her. “Connor saw your dress?”
Mom crossed her arms and tapped the pointy toe of her designer heels.
“No.” Not that Connor seeing her dress was Marissa’s biggest concern at the moment. “Connor wanted Ranger to sleep over at my house to protect me because I’m a witness to the attempted murder of Randon Evans.”
Mom looked away in disapproval. “Of course you are.”
What did that mean?
The wedding planner placed a hand on Marissa’s wrist. It was probably supposed to feel comforting, but it only felt cold. The woman even shivered a little. If she was that chilly, why didn’t she turn down the air conditioning or put on a sweater? “Don’t worry. I’ve removed worse dress stains. Stay right here.”
Moria strode from the room, leaving Marissa to face Mom alone.
As Mom didn’t seem to care about the threat on her life, Marissa busied herself by retrieving the latest wedding magazine from her handbag. “I’ll show you the bridesmaid dresses I’ve decided on.”
Mom took a seat on a brocade chaise lounge, crossed her legs, and laced her fingers together over the top knee. “You still refuse to have my brother’s daughters be part of the ceremony? They’re very affluent, you know.”
Affluent was one word for the twins. “The on
ly reason they’d want to be in my wedding would be in hope of me falling off the stage so they could make fun of me on social media like they did at the Miss Ohio pageant.”
“Simply don’t fall off this time.”
Mom made it sound so easy. “I’m not going to have a stage since the wedding is on Connor’s farm, and I’d hate to make Alex and Andrea travel all the way from Chicago only to be disappointed.”
Mom wrinkled her nose like she could smell the cows in the barn. “Still set on the farm idea, are you?”
Marissa flipped through her magazine to change the subject. Not that Mom was going to approve of the dresses when she didn’t approve of the venue. “There.” She pointed to the halter dress with full, knee-length skirt.
Mom barely glanced at the page before directing all the force of her scorn Marissa’s way. “It’s black.”
Marissa shook her head. She should have known to explain first. Even she scorned the idea of black bridesmaid dresses. “I want to order it in teal. I’m thinking teal dresses will really make the sunflowers pop.”
“Sunflowers? That’s so provincial. You haven’t already spoken with Flower Girls yet, have you? Where is Moria when I need her?”
“Sunflowers will be bright and—”
“You really think that goth business partner of yours is going to want to carry something bright, let alone wear teal?” Mom stood and fanned her face. “Moria?”
Marissa rolled her eyes when Mom wasn’t looking. She’d known this was going to be tough, but there was no reason to bring her business partner into it. “Tandy’s not goth. More like…”
“Urban pirate,” Moria finished for her, heels clicking against the shiny teak flooring.
Marissa’s lips twitched at the image. “I was going to say biker babe.”
“I can see that too.” Moria nodded then knelt in front of the dress with a bottle of hydrogen peroxide and a Q-tip. “Sorry that took so long. I had to track down our first aid kit.”
Mom pressed her lips together. “Well, this is an emergency. Not to mention the fact that Marissa wants to use sunflowers. Have you discussed her flower options with her yet?”
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