by Diane Darcy
She and her friend had beat the police to the garbage-strewn alley, and the man’s face had been uncovered. There’d been no mistaking the fact he was gone, staring up at the sky with cloudy eyes, and a slack expression. She’d heard echoes of the man’s words, almost as if she’d known him in life, known the sound of his voice.
The sense of adventure had quickly melted away, and the two of them stared, only backing off when the police arrived to take the body. She’d been grateful their appearance had snapped her out of the trance she’d been in.
It had been a sobering experience, and one she’d never forgotten.
She was glad William had his arm around her, steadying her. Once again she was happy to get away from a dead body. Could still hear the soft whispers that had resounded about the room. Was she going crazy? She couldn’t stop thinking about it. Him. Whatever it was. He’d been changing into a werewolf?
What. The. Heck.
She wasn’t leaving until she had some answers.
They’d gone down the escalator, across the casino, and up another set of stairs. They entered a large black door marked Security. It opened into a huge area with cubicles, computers, and a lot of busy people.
Large monitors lined one wall and were manned by a lady and three men. There were others, sitting at computers, getting coffee, eating donuts, and all of them glanced up as she and William entered the room.
Was it her imagination, or was everyone, once again, staring at her?
Maybe she was getting paranoid.
Without a word, William walked her through the room toward what could only be the main office, the door formed in the shape of an arch and made out of a rich brown wood.
He entered, pulling her with him, closing the door.
The office was luxurious, with a large desk facing them, rich carpet, and a huge window that overlooked Las Vegas. The Stratosphere Tower rose in the distance, centering her, giving her a sense of place.
“Are ye all right?”
She nodded, but she wasn’t. Not really. And she was glad for his warmth as she felt chilled, dismayed.
She looked around his office, which screamed of wealth, intimidation, and once again felt out of her depth.
She wanted to go home.
But was afraid if she left, called the date a one-off, she’d forever wonder what might have happened between the two of them.
And she’d wonder what happened to the groom as well. Curiosity had a strong grip on her.
“I’m fine. Did you know the victim?” she asked, tilting her head.
He hadn’t taken his gaze off her. “He’s well known around these parts as he vacations here often.”
“I’m sorry.”
He shook his head. “He wasnae a friend of mine, and in fact was no’ well-liked.”
“Are you saying he had a lot of enemies?”
He gave a sharp nod but didn’t elaborate. Maybe he didn’t want to speak ill of the dead.
He hesitated a moment and then said, “I’ve people I’ll need to question. Do ye still wish to accompany me?”
Once again, she considered leaving, but figured if he was willing to let her stay and satisfy her curiosity, and boy, was she curious, then she’d stick it out. “I’m all right. I’ll stay.”
He squeezed her with his arm, and it was only then she realized he still had it wrapped around her.
Instinctively, Lena moved away. She needed some distance. How would this work out? Were they officially still on a date? That was weird to think.
He received a call on his phone, spoke into it, opened the door and held out a hand. “Are ye ready?”
She nodded once and neatly sidestepped his outstretched hand.
She could tell he was disappointed, but all he said was, “Come,” and led the way.
This time they turned right, went through another door, and down a set of stairs. They were back on the main level, and she could hear noise from the casino.
He led her across the lobby where a long line of people snaked around rope barriers as tourists checked in at the long marble front desk.
A lady behind the desk caught her eye. A beautiful woman with pale skin, long dark hair, and lush black lashes. Painted on eyebrows, and wine-red lips only enhanced her look. She’d probably only had to show up to the place to get the job as she definitely looked the part of a beautiful, otherworldly vampire.
The maze of corridors and doors seemed endless, but finally they entered a room where a group of well-dressed people gathered.
It had to be the Brown Room. It looked like an old-fashioned library, with high wooden bookshelves, vases and knickknacks that probably cost more than her annual income, and plush brown furniture and carpet. A ladder was set to slide along one wall, the overall look elegant.
As were the people gathered inside.
As the doors closed, William spoke to one of his men. “Is this everyone?”
“No’ everyone. We’re still rounding up the stragglers, but we’ll find them all.”
A young lady, dressed in a white, beaded, sleeveless dress was crying in the arms of another woman.
A man stepped forward, his flowing white cassock, traditional stole, and tab-collar identifying him as a priest. “What exactly is the meaning of this?”
William ignored him and addressed the room at large. “I suppose ye’ve heard by now that there’s been a death.”
The sobbing woman cried harder, her anguish rising until she started to choke.
“We’re going tae question ye one by one. The sooner started, the sooner finished.”
The crowd started to talk, turning to one another to murmur and discuss.
“Quinn, is there anyone here needing to go first?”
“Perhaps, ye could start with the bride?”
Lena blew out a breath, feeling out of her depth. What, exactly, was she doing here?
Chapter 11
William nodded to Quinn. “Catch me up.”
“First off, the cameras were down.”
They exchanged a look. “Spell?”
“Probably,” Quinn said.
“Okay, so premeditated. Talk to the witches. See if they sold the spell here, but I’d lay odds against it. Who do I need tae talk to first? ”
“That’s the bride, Christina Tuckerman, and her mother, Claire Tuckerman, over there.” He pointed at the woman who comforted a sobbing young lady. The girl wore a thin, shimmering wedding gown that left her arms exposed.
“And that there,” Quinn nodded at another girl, a short, slender fae with scraped-back blonde hair and amber eyes, “is Georgina Baldwin, the cake decorator. We’ve no’ been able to get hold of Nora Harcourt, the florist, nor Lindsay Edgington, the maid of honor, as of yet.”
Quinn gestured toward a group in the back. “The men in white are with the caterer, Jasmine Russey, the woman with the dark hair. Then there’s Father Alderman, and over there is the photographer, Marcus Peters.” Quinn pointed to a man at the side of the room, camera lifted, snapping pictures.
Why would he want to capture this on camera? Guilty mayhap? Souvenirs for a murderer to gloat over later?
“The rest are all the wedding guests we could locate. We just got the official list.”
“Good work. I assume ye’re trying to find the florist, maid of honor and any hotel staff working with the wedding party? As well as the rest of the guests?”
“We’re on it,” said Quinn.
Lena tentatively asked, “Shouldn’t we be calling the police?”
William stared at her for a long moment. Had Lena been sheltered to that extent? He was starting to think her family was dangerously overprotective. “Lass, as always, we police our own.” She should know that. That she didn’t … well, they’d discuss it later.
“All right.” William addressed the room at large once more. “I suppose ye’ve already heard that a Mr. Creighton Cameron is the victim.”
The blonde bride sobbed louder into her mother’s shoulder while her mot
her, equally blonde, shot daggers at William as if he’d had something to do with the deed.
William looked around the room, staring hard at each person in turn. “I’d like someone to step forward and tell me what they know about the business.”
The sandy-haired cameraman snorted.
“Have ye something to say, then?”
“No, it’s just that from the sounds of things, it was murder.”
“And how would ye know that?”
“Sorry, Boss,” Caleb said. “The news spread.”
“So the guy was murdered,” the man continued. “It sounded like you were asking the murderer to come forward. I just thought that was funny.”
“Marcus Peters, correct?”
The man nodded.
“What do ye know of Cameron?”
He shrugged, smirking slightly. “Only that he was the most unpleasant man I’ve ever worked for, so I can’t say his murder is much of a surprise.”
“Is that an admission of guilt?”
Another snort. “As if. I was hired, I’ve been paid, and I can ignore rude behavior. It kind of comes with the territory.”
A young woman, short, slender, and with a blue-green color to her eyes that identified her as a member of the Fae, raised her hand. Her hair was pulled back tightly into a braid, and she wore a white cap and apron.
William jerked his chin at her. “And ye are?”
“Georgina Baldwin. I’m the cake decorator. How long are we going to be here?”
“Until I release ye. Did ye supply the knife as well as the cake?”
She nodded. “I did. Are you saying he was stabbed with my knife?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying. He was stabbed in the heart with a pure silver knife.”
The woman swallowed. “Miss Tuckerman ordered it.”
“She ordered a silver knife for the cake of a werewolf?”
“No!” The bride straightened, pulling from her mother’s arms. She’d been sobbing her heart out, but it didn’t escape William’s notice that her eyes weren’t red. And there wasn’t a tear in sight.
“I did no such thing!” Christina, a southern accent thickened by anger, looked more outraged than heartbroken. “I didn’t even order my own dress, or flowers! That’s what we hire professionals for! What would I care about a stupid knife!”
Mrs. Tuckerman patted her knee. “I ordered the knife. A stainless steel one.”
“I’ll be having a look at the order.”
Mrs. Tuckerman scowled. “Go ahead. Even if I did somehow, unknowingly, supply a pure silver knife, that doesn’t mean either of us stabbed him with it.”
“What am I doing here?” A curvy brunette asked. “I’m just the caterer. I had nothing to do with any of this. I was bringing in the food from my van when I heard about the groom.”
William drew in a breath. “We’ll get this all sorted. None of ye are tae leave until I give express permission.”
He turned to his men. “Caleb, interview the guests and find out what ye can. Cut loose anyone unlikely to have been involved.”
“Quinn, I’ll start with the wedding party and anyone hired to help. Bring in the bride and her mother.”
Amid much grumbling he opened the door, guided Lena out, and left Quinn to gather up the Tuckermans, which he did in short order.
The stark interrogation room consisted of a table and chairs. When he had Lena at his side, and the ladies settled across the table, he asked, “Who is your alpha?”
“Malcolm Bruce,” Claire Tuckerman answered with a southern accent.
“So ye’re from Atlanta?”
They both nodded.
“Can ye shed any light on the murder?”
Claire reached out to clasp her daughter’s hand. “I truly can’t believe you’re doin’ this right now. My daughter just lost the love of her life, and here we are, bein’ questioned like common criminals! How dare you?”
If Christina had been truly upset, then William might have practiced a little more restraint, but as it was, he was losing patience. He flooded the room with his power. “Did either of ye murder Creighton Cameron?”
Both women stood to cries of, “No!” and, “How dare you!”
“Sit down, the both of ye. Now!”
Looking skittish, panicked, they did so.
“Do you know anyone with a grudge against your fiancé?” Lena spoke up for the first time, her voice calm, surprising William.
“Tis a good question,” he praised.
She flushed but continued to look at the two women as they settled once more.
Christina glanced at her mother, who nodded. “If you must know, I am holdin’ a grudge,” Christina said. “Last night, he cheated on me with my own maid of honor!” Her voice rose passionately. “I found out about it today, but I did not kill him!”
“Where were ye today?” William was quick to insert.
The girl looked mutinous, but finally answered. “I was in my hotel room, with my mother, tryin’ to decide whether to go through with the weddin’ or not.”
Claire, eyes hot with anger, agreed. “We were never apart, even as we got ready, and we didn’t murder him.”
He focused on Christina. “At any point in that decision-making process, did ye decide to kill yer fiancé? Perhaps hire someone?”
“Absolutely not! In fact, I decided to marry him, generally make his life a misery, and take all of his money in a divorce.”
Lena laughed, then quickly slapped a hand over her mouth.
William bit back his own smile, not over what the bride had said, but over Lena’s reaction. “Is there anything else ye need tae tell me?”
“No.”
“Nae? Is there anyone that ye suspect might have killed him?”
The bride pressed her lips together, then drew in a breath. “Oh, I know who did it.”
“Do ye plan to share that information with me?”
Christina ducked her head at William’s tone. “I’d love to say it was my maid of honor, but it was probably the florist. She used to date him, and I found out from the caterer that she really hated his guts. So why would she do all the plants and flowers at my weddin’?”
William’s lip curled. “Mayhap she wished to rip him off too? Get a little of her own back?”
When the bride looked at William indignantly, he simply shrugged. “Twas yer own motivation. Why would it no’ be hers, as well?”
Christina glared. “If you do your job correctly, you’ll see I’m right in the end.”
Christina couldn’t hold his gaze and dropped her own.
Claire stood. “Can we go now?”
“We’ve no’ discussed yer own motivation yet, Mrs. Tuckerman.”
Her mouth fell open. “My motivation?”
“Have ye helped with the planning of yer daughter’s wedding?”
“Of course, I have.”
“To have yer future son-in-law cheat on the day before the wedding? Threaten the event ye worked so hard to put together, and yer plans for yer daughter’s future? That didnae bother ye at all?”
“Of course, it bothered me. Which is why I helped my daughter plan a way to rip off the good-for-nothin’ louse.”
“Fair enough. Is there anything else ye wish tae tell me?”
“No.”
Christina, shook her head.
As far as he could sense, both women had been honest. “Ye can go now, but no’ far. I’ll expect ye to stay here at The Hemlock until this business is done.”
With a frosty look from the mother and a mutinous one from the daughter, the two of them left.
William turned to Lena. “Sorry, about that. I wasnae planning a take-yer-girlfriend-to-work day, but it looks as if that’s how it turned out.”
“Your girlfriend?”
He bit his lip, and watched her reaction.
At least she wasn’t running screaming from the room or anything. “A man can hope, can he no’?”
Lena blushed and looked aw
ay. But, her lips curved in the smallest of smiles, and he released the breath he’d been holding.
“Are ye up for another interview?”
Her smile widened. “I wouldn’t miss it.”
Chapter 12
The next person to be interviewed was the caterer.
Quinn, one of William’s men, brought her in, just as Lena was trying to think of something to say. There was definitely an attraction between them, and it warmed her to realize he seemed almost hopeful. It was sweet.
He wasn’t so sweet with their next suspect.
William looked down at the piece of paper Quinn handed over and then barked at the beautiful girl before him. “Ye’re Jasmine Russey? Ye were tae cater the wedding?”
“Yes, to both.” The girl was gorgeous with caramel-colored skin, dark brown eyes, and curly black hair pulled into a ponytail. She had her hands folded in front of her white caterer’s outfit. William offered her a seat.
She sat, clasped her hands on the tabletop, and leaned back in her chair. She looked calm, cool and collected, and frankly, Lena couldn’t see her killing anyone.
“Ye knew the groom, Creighton Cameron?”
“Of course, I did. I was in charge of the dinner that was to be served after the wedding.” The girl’s eyes flashed, and her voice was cool to the point of being cold. “He asked for me specifically, said he didn’t want The Hemlock in charge of the food.”
Maybe first impressions were mistaken. This girl could totally gut someone.
“I’m asking if ye knew him on a personal basis. Did ye have a connection at any time with Mr. Creighton Cameron?”
The girl hesitated a long moment before giving a curt nod. “I did years ago, but it ended amicably.”
“How so?”
“As in we decided we weren’t meant to be in each other’s lives, and broke off the relationship. Obviously, we remained friends. Why would I cater his wedding otherwise?”
“Why indeed.” William leaned back. “Lena, don’t you find it strange that Mr. Cameron hired so many ex-girlfriends to put on his wedding?”
“I do, actually.”