But if Cathy’s killer was here, then where was his or her car?
I shut off the engine and listened. There were no screams coming from inside, no sounds of struggle, or someone rifling through drawers—not that I could hear that from inside my car. There wasn’t even the telltale flicker of a television telling me that someone was indeed home.
“Calm down, Krissy,” I said as my heart started hammering. “You’re just paranoid.” I pushed open my car door, but kept my keys in hand. If someone who wasn’t supposed to be there was indeed inside, I wasn’t going to go down easily.
Sticking my car keys between my fingers so I could use them as a weapon if the need arose, I started toward the door, listening for the slightest sound. Once there, I knocked with my free hand, albeit quietly.
A loud crack sounded somewhere far behind me, causing me to jump. A dog started to bark, a deep, vicious sound that had me more anxious than ever.
“Nope,” I said as I started backing slowly toward my car. I wasn’t going to do this, especially not at night. I stepped gently off the front porch, and prepared to make a run for my car, when the front door opened and a weary-looking Gina Patterson peered out at me, glass tumbler in hand.
“It’s you,” she said matter-of-factly. She didn’t seem all that surprised to see me.
It took me a moment to calm my nerves enough to speak. I slipped my keys into my pocket, hoping she hadn’t noticed me holding them like a weapon. Gina already didn’t like me; I didn’t need to give her more reason to think of me as a killer.
“I’m sorry to disturb you so late,” I said. My voice only shook a little, which I counted as a win. Inside, I was still trembling like a leaf. “I was hoping we could talk.”
“About?” She swirled her drink, causing the ice to clink against her glass. She watched it while I spoke, but didn’t take a sip.
“Cathy. The wedding.” And then, in the hopes of easing her mind about me: “How are you holding up?”
Gina sighed and looked up toward the half moon. “What did I ever do to deserve this?” This time, she did take a drink—a large one—before, “You’d better come inside, I guess.” She turned and walked into the house.
The bang from somewhere past the trees came again, putting a little more haste in my step as I followed Gina inside Vicki’s house.
I found her sitting in the living room, sipping from her glass, leaning forward over the coffee table. Old photographs were spread out in front of her. At a glance, I could tell they were all of Vicki, throughout her life, from baby to toddler and on to young adult and adult. Some were headshots. Others candid. She spoke as soon as I entered, as if reflecting.
“I was going to put together a montage for her, you know?” she said, taking another sip from the amber liquid in her glass. “A ‘this is your life’ sort of thing. It seemed like such a good idea when I’d had it, I’d started working on it immediately.”
“You still can,” I said. “Vicki is still getting married to Mason.”
Gina nodded slowly, took another sip. By the looks of her, I was guessing she was on her third or fourth glass. “I suppose. But it won’t be the same. Cathy was going to build a portion of the ceremony around the montage. I have the frame already. It’s in the bedroom, tucked away in the closet where it’ll probably remain. All I’d needed to do was settle on the right photographs to put in it. But now . . .” She shrugged. “It doesn’t feel important.”
I sat down across from her, worried. This didn’t sound like the Gina I knew. “Where’s Frederick?” I asked.
“He left some time ago. I think he might be talking to the police. He didn’t really say before he left.” She glanced at me and frowned, before she returned her gaze to the photographs. “I suppose I should apologize for my accusations the other day. I was truly upset by Cathy’s death and looked for the most obvious answer as to who could have done it. It was wrong of me.”
I wasn’t quite sure how I was the obvious answer, but didn’t press. “Thank you,” I said. It might not be the most genuine apology I’d ever received, but coming from Gina, it was the best I was going to get.
“This is going to put a stain on my reputation,” she said. “Everything I’ve worked for might be gone for good.”
There’s the Gina I know. “You didn’t have anything to do with Cathy’s death,” I reminded her, not that I thought she’d forgotten. I figured it was what she wanted me to say, and since I was hoping to learn something from her, it was best to give her what she wanted.
Gina flashed me a smile before downing the rest of her drink. “I know that, but other people won’t be so understanding. I brought Cathy here in an ill-advised attempt to give something special to my daughter. So, in a way, her death is my fault. Without me, she wouldn’t have been here. If I only would have . . .” She trailed off and glowered at her empty glass as if it were somehow responsible for her misery.
I fidgeted, unsure what to do or say. I wanted to ask Gina about Cathy, about the necklace, but wasn’t sure how to go about it without sending her into another downward spiral of self-pity. Gina didn’t like me; never had. If I said the wrong thing, she would have no qualms about kicking me out of the house, and then would do her best to remove me from Vicki’s life for good.
But sitting there, watching her lament over old photographs and drink herself into a stupor would accomplish nothing. If the police were right, there was a killer on the loose. The answer could be right here, locked in Gina’s brain.
“Do you know why anyone would want to hurt Cathy?” I asked as gently as I could. “I know the police have asked you the same thing, but maybe now, after some time has passed, you’ve thought of something?” The lilt of my voice made it a question.
She gave me a long, hard stare, before, “You’re right; the police have already asked me these questions, as they should.” She paused, and then looked away. “You aren’t the police.”
“I know,” I said. “But this affects Vicki’s wedding. I know members of the police department pretty well.” In some ways, more than I’d like. “If there’s something new you’ve thought of, I could pass it along to them. It’ll keep you out of the news, and put the focus on me.”
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” I wasn’t sure what she meant by that, and she didn’t give me time to consider it before she went on. “I don’t know what I can tell you,” she said. “Cathy was a great person, a real go-getter. She was the best wedding planner in the country, if not the world. She commanded a high price, and the quality was beyond compare. There are people who are bound to be jealous of that.”
Perhaps, but not in Pine Hills. “Did she have any enemies?” I asked. “Did she fight with anyone recently, something that might push someone over the edge?”
Gina started to shake her head, but stopped mid-shake, brow furrowing.
“What is it?” I asked, sitting forward. She had the classic “Something just came to me” look on her face I’d seen hundreds of times before.
“It’s probably nothing.” She didn’t sound convinced.
“Or it might be the reason why she was killed,” I pressed.
“Well . . .” Gina rose, walked into the kitchen to pour herself another drink. She took a long sip before returning to her seat. “Just before the flight here, there was something of an altercation in the airport. It was nothing, really, I assure you—just a minor spat.”
“What kind of altercation?” I asked. I still wasn’t totally sold on Cathy’s death being a murder—which was probably more wishful thinking than anything—but if someone had killed her, I needed to know who might have had a problem with her. Even a minor spat could turn into motive if things got out of hand.
“Yelling, mostly,” Gina said. “It was old news, rehashing things better left forgotten. I mean, why fight over something that happened years ago when there was so much more to look forward to now?”
It was a long way from yelling about past grievances to murder, but it wasn’
t a stretch to think it could happen. I mean, some people held grudges for years, if not lifetimes. “Who did she fight with?” I asked.
“Are you sure it’s relevant?” Gina looked as if she wanted to do anything but tell on one of her friends. “I’m positive they couldn’t have had anything to do with Cathy’s death.” She rubbed at her wrist and refused to meet my eye. She looked worried, like she thought there was a chance someone she knew had killed her favorite wedding planner.
“It might not be,” I said. “But it’s better to know everything, even the little things, than leave something out that could be important. We can let the police decide its relevance.” Not that I would simply drop it, mind you, but she didn’t need to know that.
“If you say so.” She took a long drink from her glass, as if to gather her thoughts. “Sage and Trey Herron used Cathy for their wedding some odd years ago. I don’t know the details, but something went wrong with the whole thing. They still blame her for it, though I’m sure they’re just blowing it out of proportion. Sage tends to think the worst of everyone, and will make things up just to get them into trouble.” She leaned forward. “I imagine she just wanted to get out of paying for Cathy’s services.”
“So, you don’t know what happened?”
She shook her head. “We haven’t been friends that long. They were married before we met, so I wasn’t there to see it firsthand. All I know is that it was early in Cathy’s career, before she became who she is today. You’d have to ask them about what transpired, but as I said, I’m sure it was nothing.”
And I would do just that. “Do you know why Cathy would have your necklace on her when she . . . you know?”
Gina paled slightly, took a large gulp of whatever it was she was drinking. “I have no clue,” she said. “I can’t imagine why she would have it, and to learn it was a fake?” She shook her head. “No, I can’t believe it was my necklace. Mine was the real deal. Someone must have stolen the real thing and made a replica of it for some nefarious reason.”
“Do you think Cathy might have found the replica, realized it was fake, and taken it to show you?” I wasn’t sure how that would have led to her death exactly, not unless she’d found it while the thief was still in the house. She could have made a mistake and confronted him or her about it, not realizing the culprit was capable of murder.
“I suppose she might have,” Gina said. “But that would mean she had gone into my room. Cathy would never do such a thing. She was a respectful person who would never stoop to snooping, even if she thought something was out of place. She would have come to me first.”
“Was the door locked?”
“Why bother?” Gina asked with a dismissive shrug. “No one would invade our privacy like that.” And then, almost under her breath: “It’s Vicki’s room anyway.” As if that mattered.
“Did you ever have the original necklace appraised?” If someone had come after the necklace and killed Cathy for it, knowing the value of the item might help prove motive.
“Of course not.” Gina sounded oddly offended. “I wouldn’t want someone to get their grubby hands on it. Do you know that I heard it from a friend that these appraisers will often steal the real item and replace it with one of lesser value? I wouldn’t risk such an important piece that way.”
There was some pretty unscrupulous people out there, but I doubted there were appraisers running rampant, stealing all the nicest pieces of jewelry to sell on the side. If that was the case, no one would ever use them.
I was out of questions for Gina, but I wasn’t done. If someone really was in the house that night, they might not have been there for the necklace or Cathy. This was Vicki’s house, and if someone had been scoping it out, they would have known she’d barely spent any time here lately. This could all be one of those “wrong place at the wrong time” sort of things. If that was the case, then perhaps there was a clue tucked away somewhere.
“Do you think I could take a look around?” I asked. “I’d like to see where the necklace was kept. I’ve been here before, and could probably tell you if something is missing.”
I figured Gina would balk at the idea, but instead, she waved a hand toward the stairs. “You know the way, I suppose.” She took another long drink and slumped on the couch, eyes going distant.
I thanked her, though I’m not so sure she heard me, and hurried to the stairs before she could change her mind. Gina must’ve been really into her drink because normally, she would have thrown me out at the merest suggestion I poke around where she was staying. It might be Vicki’s house, but right then, it was Gina’s territory.
I made straight for Vicki’s room, figuring it would be the best place to start since that was apparently where they’d kept the necklace. Sure enough, sitting on the vanity was the empty black box. It was closed, but as soon as I touched it to open it, I could tell nothing was inside. Whether a thief had stolen it, or Gina had misplaced it, the necklace was indeed gone.
I glanced around the room, but nothing else appeared out of place. The bed was a large four-poster. Next to it sat a cat bed I knew Trouble rarely used. He didn’t like the feel of the fabric on his fur and would fight against it if you tried to put him in it. Most of Vicki’s private items were missing, but that was to be expected since her parents were staying in the room and she’d been spending most of her evenings with Mason. Resting against the wall near the closet were a stack of suitcases that had clearly come from California, thanks to the tags on them.
This isn’t going to be as easy as I thought. With Vicki moving out, it was hard to tell what might have been moved.
I wasn’t about to go through drawers or anything, so I returned to the vanity and the black box. I was surprised it hadn’t been taken in for evidence. The police might have already checked it for prints, but if not, they’d likely be obscured by now. Between Gina and Frederick, and now me, it was unlikely it would be of much use in their investigation.
A pair of expensive-looking earrings lay next to the box. A jewelry box I didn’t recognize sat pressed against the mirror. I opened it up to find the kind of jewelry Gina wore inside, all loops and dangles and shiny baubles.
Had this been here when Cathy was killed? If so, it made it seem pretty unlikely a thief was the culprit. Even without the necklace, they could have earned a pretty tidy sum from the gold and diamonds inside Gina’s jewelry box. I couldn’t imagine someone breaking in, replacing the real necklace with a fake, and ignoring such a trove of treasures.
Then again, if the thief knew about Gina’s necklace and had taken the time to have a forgery made, then it was likely they’d planned on making it appear as if nothing was taken at all. Stealing the rest of her jewelry would be counterproductive if they were trying to mask the real theft.
It did make me wonder, could Lyric truly be the culprit? She was the only one, outside of Gina, who seemed to care about the necklace.
Or was I following the wrong clue, one planted by the killer to throw off the cops, perhaps?
I closed the box and left the bedroom, not quite sure I knew what to think. I made a cursory check through the other rooms, but if something was missing, I had no idea what it could be. I hadn’t realized how much of Vicki’s stuff had already been moved out.
The front door opened as I came back downstairs, and Frederick entered. He paused when he saw me, looking startled, and then he turned to his wife, who was tottering to her feet.
“What are you doing here?” Frederick asked, eyes going to the stairs behind me. His mouth pulled into a tight frown.
“Gina said it was okay to take a quick look around,” I said, glancing at her. She was nodding, but I don’t think it was because she was confirming my statement. “I heard you and Gina recently landed roles in a movie?” I asked, remembering what Lyric had said.
Frederick’s face cleared up as he smiled. “We did. The parts are small, but it very well might be the one to propel us forward, into the limelight.”
“Lyric sai
d she was hoping to land one of the lead roles. Do you think you’ll be able to help her out with that?”
“She should learn to do things for herself once in a while,” Gina said.
“Now, dear . . .”
“No, she’s always wanting someone else to do everything for her. Just because she’s built like a supermodel doesn’t mean everyone should treat her any better than the rest of us.”
They stared at each other, Frederick looking like he wanted her to stop talking, Gina looking ready for a fight. I decided not to press any further, lest I become the focus of her wrath.
“I’ll get out of your hair,” I said before anyone could say anything more. “Thank you for talking with me,” I told Gina. “Frederick.” I nodded to him.
He stepped aside when I made for the door. As it closed behind me, I heard him say, “You really shouldn’t be talking about our friends that way.” If he said anything more, or if Gina responded, it was lost behind the wood.
With my head practically spinning from the little I’d learned from Gina, and the implications of what I’d learned about Lyric, I got into my car and pointed myself for home.
11
I woke up to the smell of pancakes.
Living on my own, I’d forgotten how nice it was to have someone around to cook for me every morning. Dad didn’t believe in cereal or bagels for breakfast, but preferred to go all out, every day. Back when he was writing full time, he’d sometimes forget about lunch or dinner, but breakfast was the one meal he never missed.
I stepped out into the hall, waved to Laura, who was sitting on the couch petting Misfit, and then headed to my room to grab a change of clothes. Next came my shower. Even with Dad making a heavenly breakfast, I couldn’t cancel my plans so I could sit and eat with him.
Once I was ready for the day, I joined Dad in the kitchen. He was just finishing up some freshly squeezed orange juice. He must have picked oranges up from the store at some point, because I didn’t have any on hand.
“Hey, Buttercup.” He gave me a once-over. “Do you have time for breakfast before you go?”
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