Engaged in Murder (Perfect Proposals Mystery)

by Nancy J. Parra

  “But aren’t you a witness or something?” Mom asked.

  “I found the body, but I didn’t see anyone or anything unusual.” I sat back and studied my mom. She had her own small business. Maybe she would appreciate my idea. I’d been thinking about my business plan all weekend. But it would have to pass my parents’ sniff test before I could even consider it. “So, Mom, Warren said I should go into business for myself.”

  “Really? What would you do?” Mom wiped her hands on a dish towel.

  “I’m thinking of event planning in a niche market,” I said and rested my head against the orange-and-yellow-floral-wallpaper-covered wall. She looked at me blankly. “I could do proposal events. Warren said I did a great job helping him plan Felicity’s proposal.”

  “I don’t understand how you can make a living at that,” Mom said carefully. “A gentleman in love buys a ring, takes his lady to a nice restaurant and gets down on one knee. What’s to plan? Speaking of gentlemen, where’s Bobby? It’s not like him not to come to a family dinner—especially when there’s free food.”

  “We broke up.” I reached for a piece of celery.

  “You broke up?” Mom scrunched her brows. “Why? When? Are you okay?”

  “What happened?” Dad asked as he strolled back into the kitchen and pinched a cookie off the dessert tray Mom had on the counter.

  “Pepper and Bobby broke up.” Mom slapped Dad’s hand when he reached for a second cookie. “Dinner’s almost ready.”

  Dad pretended nothing happened and pulled a glass out of the cupboard and filled it with water from the fridge. “It’s about time,” he said. “That guy was a deadbeat.”

  “I thought you liked Bobby,” I said. The celery suddenly tasted like cardboard.

  “Oh, honey, that was high school. We thought you’d lose interest in him when you went away to college.”

  “Why else would we let you go off to DePauw when there are a number of good schools right here in Chicago?” Dad said.

  “But I thought . . .” I frowned and shook my head. “Never mind.”

  “At least you weren’t living with him,” Dad said. He gave me the evil eye. “You weren’t, were you?”

  “No.” I glared back at him. “Bobby likes his own space.”

  “Well, I’m glad you didn’t marry him.” Mom hung the towel on the oven door.

  “Did he break up with you?” Dad asked. “Because if he did, I may have to go teach him a lesson.”

  “No, Dad.” I tried hard not to roll my eyes. “I broke up with him.”

  “That’s my smart girl.” He planted a kiss on my forehead as he headed toward the dining room.

  The front door opened, Felicity and Warren stepped inside, and all talk of me and my love life ended. Mom rushed to greet my sister with a hug and a kiss and squeals. I hugged my waist and smiled at the joy on their faces. Dad shook hands with Warren and patted him on the back.

  “Welcome to the family, son.” Dad had always wanted a boy. Living in a houseful of women, he often felt outnumbered.

  I stepped in and gave my sister a kiss and a hug. Then I hugged Warren. Mom took their coats, putting them on the bed in the front bedroom, and went to the kitchen to serve appetizers.

  Mom and Dad’s living room was classic in design with pale green walls and darker green carpeting. One wall of windows was covered with green and cream patterned drapery. The overstuffed couch sat in front of it. Across from the couch were two stuffed chairs with a tiny table between them. The couch was dark green with bright poppy red pillows.

  Mom had a neutral area rug on top of the carpet to define the space. I would call her decorating taste seventies chic. What really made it were the eagle lamps in a bronze tone.

  “How was your trip?” Dad asked as Felicity and Warren sat down on the couch. “Where’d you go?” Dad took his favorite chair across from them.

  “Oh, it was so wonderful,” Felicity said, her eyes sparkling. “Warren took me to New York City. We stayed in a hotel downtown, went to a Broadway show, and had dinner at this French bistro named Beloit. The next morning we went ring shopping.” Felicity held out her hand to show off a large marquise-cut diamond.

  “Oh, my word.” My mother went breathless at the sight. She handed me the platter she’d brought in from the kitchen and grabbed my sister’s hand. “Pepper, look at this.”

  “Wow,” I said. “It’s lovely.”

  “That had to set you back.” Dad frowned. “You should have saved your money for a down payment on a house.”

  “Actually, there are a couple of things we need to tell you,” Warren said.

  “What kind of things?” Dad narrowed his eyes.

  I had a funny feeling something was up. Seriously, the rock on my sister’s finger had to have cost in the tens of thousands of dollars. How could Warren afford it on an accountant’s salary?

  My thoughts went to the cost of the private jet and the trip. This was Chicago. There was money around and not all of it good. Exactly who did Warren work for?

  Chapter 7

  “Bad things?” Mom asked as she took the tray from me and passed around her famous canapés. I found myself standing in concern as my sister stared lovingly at her fiancé.

  “There’s good news and bad news,” Felicity said, her gaze never leaving Warren’s face.

  “Did you rob a bank or something?” My father joked then his face grew solemn. “Better not have.”

  Warren’s grin widened. “No, no, nothing like that.”

  “Good.” Dad nodded and crossed his arms over his chest.

  “Does it have to do with the dead man at the airport?” I blurted out.

  I noticed a tick in Warren’s jaw at my question.

  “Pepper!” Felicity scolded.

  “It does, doesn’t it?” I went in for the kill. I could always tell when my sister was hiding something, and today’s something had to be a doozy.

  “Actually, that’s the bad news.” Warren patted Felicity’s hand. “We’re late because the police wanted to question us both the minute we got back.”

  “Both of yooze?” Dad’s expression grew concerned. His eyebrows veed and his mouth tightened. “Felicity, tell me you did not let them question you without a lawyer present.”

  “Don’t worry,” Warren said. “I called my lawyers.”

  “You called your lawyers? What does an accountant need with lawyers? Or are they your boss’s lawyers?” I found myself planting my feet wide and putting my fisted hands on my hips. I was ready to punch this guy. How could Felicity say yes to a man who acted so out of character?

  “Warren’s really rich,” Felicity blurted out.

  “What?” Mom and I asked at the same time.

  How could Warren be rich? He didn’t wear fancy clothes. He wore suits from chain department stores. He drove a Volvo, for crying out loud.

  “How can he be rich?” I asked. How well did Felicity know Warren anyway?

  “I have a trust fund,” Warren said. “I’m worth half a billion dollars. My grandfather was an oilman in Texas. My father took his trust money and made a killing in stocks.”

  “Why did we not know this?” Mom asked. “Felicity? Did you know and not tell us?”

  It hit me suddenly that the reason for his large check was because he could afford to pay me. It all seemed so odd. We were comfortably middle class. Our family didn’t know the first thing about trust funds or lawyers or private jets, for that matter.

  “I only found out this weekend,” Felicity said. “The jet is Warren’s private business jet. Daniel and Laura work for Warren.”

  “You own the jet?” I couldn’t believe it. Who owns a jet?

  “I don’t like to talk about my money,” Warren said. “I’ve had some really bad experiences dating women who only saw dollar signs when they looked at me. I
wanted a woman who loved me for me, not for my fortune.” He turned to Felicity. “So when I met Felicity, I told her the truth. I am an accountant—who happens to also have millions in trust.”

  “You lied to her?” Dad growled.

  “No, sir,” Warren said. “I simply left off the part about my trust fund.”

  “Warren studied accounting so that he could best manage his money,” Felicity said. “He runs a charity foundation. He told me about it, but I thought he volunteered there. I had no idea he actually ran it.”

  “You run a charity foundation?” Mom asked and fanned herself. “Oh, my.”

  “The plane is simply one of a number of diverse investments I own. I bought it to help the foundation. I promise you, sir. I will take good care of your daughter. I set out to find someone who loves me for me. I found her.”

  “I think it’s time for the champagne,” Dad said. “I hope you don’t mind that it’s the cheaper stuff.”

  “Warren doesn’t mind.” Felicity patted his knee. “Don’t treat him like he’s any different than us. He’s an accountant who just happens to own a private jet and a couple of homes in Europe.”

  Oh, man, I thought. How could Warren keep a secret as big as this from Felicity?

  “It’s why the police wanted to question us,” Warren said. I watched as he squeezed my sister’s hand. “I’m connected to the airport and the dead man.”

  “You are? How?” I asked and had to restrain myself from yanking my sister away from the suspicious man beside her. “As far as I know, they haven’t released the man’s identity yet.”

  “His name was Randy Stromer,” Warren said. “He worked as a janitor at the airport. Since I own a forty-nine percent share of the airport and rent out hangar four, the police had to question me. It happened on my property.”

  “Why did they question Felicity?” I asked.

  “They were simply covering all their bases. I explained to them that Felicity didn’t know about my ownership in the airport or about who worked there. They were fine with my answer.”

  “Felicity, is this true?” Mom asked. I noted how she wrung her hands. It was a nervous tick she had whenever one of her babies was threatened.

  “Yes, of course, Mama.” Felicity kissed Mom on the cheek. “I’m fine, really. Warren’s lawyers did a great job. The police will have to get a warrant and offer just cause to interview us again.”

  “If it didn’t mean anything, why was it bad news?” Mom asked.

  “When we went to leave, the detective in charge . . . what was his name?”

  “Murphy,” I answered my sister. Everyone looked at me funny. “What? He was the guy at the crime scene.”

  “You found the body, right?” Warren asked me.

  “Yes.” I nodded.

  “Then you know there is no way Felicity or I was involved. Did you tell the police that?”

  “Of course I did,” I answered and crossed my arms in front of me.

  “I’m going to get the champagne.” Mom went back into the kitchen.

  “Are you going to make her sign one of those prenups?” Dad asked while Mom was in the kitchen. “Because we don’t believe in those things.”

  “No, we talked it over.” Warren and Felicity looked at each other with devotion. “Felicity will be my wife. I love her and will support her my entire life no matter what happens.”

  “Good!” Dad slapped Warren on the back. “Again, welcome to the family.”

  “Champagne!” Mom came in with a tray loaded down with her crystal flutes.

  I took my glass after Felicity and Warren. Mom handed Dad his glass and, tucking the tray under her arm, raised hers. “To the happy couple.”

  “Hear, hear!”

  “Cheers!”

  I watched as my family saluted the happy couple. When I took a small sip of my champagne, I noted the starry-eyed look on Felicity’s face and couldn’t help wondering. If Warren had kept something as big as a multimillion-dollar trust fund from my sister, what else was he keeping from her?

  Chapter 8

  “Are you okay with all this?” I asked as I dried the dishes.

  Felicity paused from her washing and sent me this sweet dopey smile. “I simply can’t believe it. I mean, the proposal was out of this world. It was everything I’d ever dreamed it would be.” She plunged her pink-gloved hands back into the sudsy water and pulled out a plate. “Warren tells me you helped him stage the whole event.”

  “I did,” I said. “But I had no idea he had a trust fund or that the airplane belonged to him. He lied to me and told me he was renting it for a good rate because he did some work for the company.”

  “He lied because he wanted to tell me first and he couldn’t tell me until we were engaged.” She wiped the plate with a sponge, rinsed it, and put it in the drainer. “I’m glad he didn’t tell you. I’m glad he told me first. I should have been told first, don’t you think?”

  “I think he should have been honest with you from the start.” I picked up the plate and wiped it with a dish towel. I could hear Mom and Dad and Warren laughing and talking in the front room.

  “He had good reasons not to tell me.” Felicity shrugged. “I don’t think I would have even dated him had I known.” She paused and leaned against the counter, dampening the towel she had pinned around her waist. “The whole weekend was so incredible. He told me right after we took off. The flight was smooth and everything was perfect. He took my hand and confessed everything. When we landed in New York, there was a stretch limo waiting to pick us up.” She shook her head. “We stayed in this incredible hotel and ordered room service. He took me for a carriage ride around Central Park. The next day we toured museums and that night he took me to see a Broadway musical. Then we went to dinner at a swanky restaurant that had floor-to-ceiling windows. Pepper, you could look out over the skyline.” She sighed. “It was like being on top of the world.”

  I cringed inwardly at her joy. I hoped that my suspicions were groundless. For Felicity’s sake . . . she deserved the best in a relationship. So did I, for that matter.

  “Felicity, we need to plan your engagement party,” Mom said as she entered the room. “You could have Pepper plan the event for you. She’s thinking of opening her own event-planning business.”

  “You are?” Felicity asked me as she put the last dish in the drainer and removed her pink rubber gloves.

  “It was Warren’s idea,” I said. “Of course, start-up money is always an issue, my being out of work and all.”

  “I don’t see why you can’t move back home,” my father said from the kitchen doorway. “It’s silly for you to keep that tiny apartment when you are unemployed. You should come home until you get back on your feet. Right, dear?”

  “Yes, of course,” my mother said. “I could even divide the music room and you could have your own office for your event planning.”

  I swallowed my horror at their invitation. It’d taken me so long to get out on my own. The last thing I wanted was to live with my parents when I was thirty. “Gee, thanks, Dad, thanks, Mom, but my apartment isn’t that expensive and it’s near the mall. So I’ll have access to more ideas and materials.”

  “What’s going on?” Warren stood behind Dad.

  “Pepper’s going to open her own event-planning business,” Felicity said and took the towel off her waist. “Isn’t that great?”

  “Fantastic,” Warren said. His blue eyes twinkled.

  “Thanks, I had good inspiration,” I said.

  “Speaking of inspiration, let’s talk about your engagement party,” Mom said. We all adjourned to the living room.

  “We are going to wait on the engagement party,” Felicity said, her gaze never leaving Warren. He put his arm around her waist and nodded.

  “Why would you do that?” Mom asked as we all sat.

 
“It’s only until after the investigation,” Warren said.

  Felicity put her hand on his knee. “We felt it was in poor taste to party while they investigate that poor man’s murder.”

  “It’s simply better to wait until after the police have made an arrest,” Warren added. “Don’t you agree?”

  “Makes sense,” Dad said

  “Fine.” Mom leaned forward and clasped her hands. “How long do you think they will be investigating?”

  “I have no idea.” Felicity frowned as if she hadn’t quite thought that part through.

  It struck me that murder investigations could take years. My next thought was worse. What if after five or more years, they determined Warren had something to do with the murder? Felicity would already be married and possibly even have children.

  Something had to be done about that.

  “You don’t want to wait too long to announce your engagement, do you?” Mom had that hopeful look in her eyes.

  Felicity looked at Warren. “No, not really.”

  “If I had it my way, I would have screamed it from the rooftops on Friday.” Warren raised their joined hands and kissed her knuckles. “But seriously, the man had a family. How can we put on an appropriate party when he is lying in the morgue?”

  “I suppose that’s true.” Mom sat back and did not hide her disappointment. “I’ll have to ask my friend Doris what the proper waiting period is for something like this.”

  “Yes, do. Doris knows more than Miss Manners sometimes.” Felicity’s gaze brightened. “In the meantime, we could plan the party, couldn’t we?”

  “I don’t see why not,” Warren said. “Pepper, what do you think? Would you consider planning the event?”

  “Yes, Pepper, please?”

  “Okay,” I agreed. After all, Warren had given me the idea to start my own business. The least I could do was plan my sister’s engagement party. In fact, that might make a great package deal—proposal and engagement. After all, I would know what the bride-to-be wanted, wouldn’t I?