COZY MYSTERY: Wedding Bells & Murder?: A Margie Lauderdale Cozy Mystery (Book 2)

by Liz Turner

  Can’t breathe. She was panicking, her feet kicking out towards her attacker without her mind’s approval. Going to die.

  She gasped, trying to pull in enough air to scream, but nothing happened.

  “The receipt, Margie, you idiot, what did you do with it?”

  Tears slithered hot and angry down her cheeks. It had really been Jacob. She had been right.

  Margie could feel the black edges of unconsciousness burning away her sight. Before the black completely took over her vision, Margie grabbed one of the fallen pens with her good hand, carving the letters “J.R.” into the flooring with all of the strength left in her body.

  If she were found dead, Ray would at least know who did it.

  Jacob growled at her, smacking the pen from her grasp before she could finish the R. The tension disappeared from her neck for a moment as he furiously tried to cover the marks on the floor. Margie gasped, coughing as the air cut into her throat. Her lungs, burning and unhappy, filled gratefully. Tears streamed down her face as her eyes lost focus.

  Get up. Fight back. Scream! Do something! Her mind begged, but she could do nothing. She lay panting on the hardwood floor of the apartment, her breath like broken glass inside of her lungs.

  Die. You’re going to die. The thought welled up like bile in her throat, burning and icy cold. But still she could do nothing. So Margie, frozen and panicked, lay stretched out on the floor, her heart thundering inside of her chest like a caged animal.

  “Oh God,” Jacob said from behind her, his voice trembling.

  A scream. Camelia walked through the door, her lungs at full volume as she screamed into the hallway. Shouting. People opening doors. Margie tried to sit up and failed. Panic, panic, panic. More screaming. The sound of shattered glass. Jacob’s voice. Then silence. Blackness.

  Then finally the sound of voices, calmer, and quieter.

  “Margie, darling. Please say something.” She cracked open her eyes to see the blurry face of Camelia above her.

  Margie, closing her eyes against the wavering world, grimaced. “You didn’t sweep under the couch,” she said, coughing into the hardwood floor.

  Camelia’s laugh was like a bell peeling. “You having your sense of humor intact is certainly a good sign. Come on, sit up. There we go.”

  The world and her stomach turned over a few times, her throat throbbing in time with her heartbeat as she fought to sit up with Camelia’s help. “Good thing Ray wasn’t at the precinct. I dropped off his food and left right away to come home.”

  Margie coughed. “Lucky me.”

  Ray was nearby; when had he gotten here? Margie must have blacked out at some point. How much time did she lose?

  “You feeling alright, Margie?” he said, his hand passing in front of her face.

  “What happened?”

  Ray shook his head. “Jacob hid the receipt in the book himself; he was planning on taking them down to the library tomorrow to shred it most likely. Destroy evidence in a way that would be hard to find. When I got to his house to ask him questions about the receipt, he had already gone out. Kitty told him where the books had gone. I drove right over here, only to find Camelia screaming her lungs out.” Ray touched Camelia’s shoulder with gentle fingers, and she smiled up at him. They touched a little too long, their eyes lingering on each others for several moments.

  They really were in love with each other, weren’t they?

  Margie ruined the moment by coughing in their faces, drawing their attention back to her as she tried to catch her breath. “We need to get you to the hospital, Margie,” Camelia brushed some of Margie’s dark curls from her forehead where they were glued by sweat.

  She didn’t care where they put her, just so long as she could sleep for a week.

  Chapter 15

  The next thing she knew, she was laying down in a bed and starving. The room was too bright to be her bedroom. But she was alive, and that was the most important part. “Could someone perhaps bring me something to eat?” Margie whispered, her voice sounding like it was full of gravel. She coughed, and it seemed to burn the inside of her throat.

  “Oh my goodness, girl!” Camelia nearly fell over herself trying to grab her hands. “I will get you anything in the world that you need. Just tell me and I’ll bring you the moon.”

  Margie tried not to laugh, knowing it would tear her throat to pieces. She was moderately successful. Camelia disappeared for a moment around the corner, perhaps calling for someone to bring her something to eat. Glancing around, Margie found herself in a hospital room. Pastel blues and yellows coated the walls. She lay in a decent-sized bed, her arm hooked up to an array of tubes and machines monitoring everything from her heart rate to her blood pressure. The sickening smell of antiseptics filled the room, clogging her nostrils. The hospital was mostly quiet except for a TV off in the distance, probably keeping a sleepy nurse awake during her overnight shift. A police officer stood by her bed. It was Charlie Gaskins, one of the officers from the night shift. He looked relieved to see her awake and immediately radioed Ray.

  “How are feeling, Margie?” Camelia asked, rubbing Margie’s hands between her own.

  Margie shrugged, unwilling to speak with the pain in her neck. She touched the skin there tentatively, the bruised skin felt like fire against her fingers. It hurt more than Margie could ever remember anything hurting in her life. Margie could tell by the slightly horrified expression on Camelia’s face that is it was bad. It was worse than bad.

  She’d nearly died.

  Jacob had almost killed her for the evidence she had brought to Ray’s attention. Sighing, Margie stared down at her hands. The one burned one looked worse for wear; the bandages had been removed to let the air heal the wounds. Looks like her battle with Jacob had caused her to rip open all of her blisters. They didn’t hurt, however, so the hospital must have put something on them to numb them. Margie was incredibly thankful for their thoughtfulness.

  “So what happened?”

  Officer Gaskins smiled at down at her. “Jacob ended up running for it. He slipped through Ray’s hands, but they caught him at the train station. Ray asked me to call as soon as you were awake; he needs a statement as soon as possible.”

  Margie shivered. Jacob had proven his own guilt coming after her like that. She closed her eyes. The picture of his face, full of rage and tears streaming down his cheeks, haunted her. He’d looked so...

  Broken.

  Margie almost felt sorry for him.

  Camelia brought back some jello for her, and she ate slowly. It took Ray about twenty minutes to make it into her hospital room, and she was still eating when he arrived.

  “How are you feeling, Margie?” Ray came in holding a tray of coffees and a small container of what smelled like soup. She hoped so; Margie was already tired of eating jello.

  “Like someone just tried to kill me, Ray.”

  Officer Gaskins’ laugh was quickly turned to a cough as Ray glared at him. “Thanks for the heads up, Charlie; here’s coffee. We don’t need you here anymore if you would like to go home.”

  “Sure thing, boss. Thanks.” Charlie saluted Margie with his coffee and headed out.

  Ray pulled out his tape recorder and set it down in front of them on a tray table. He started with the usual “state your name” and “do you know you are being recorded?” nonsense. To Margie, this was old hat; she’d been involved in more police reports than most criminals. She sighed, gingerly touching her bruises.

  “So what happened this evening?”

  So she told him in explicit detail. Camelia got up and left halfway through, her eyes flooding with tears. She ran out of the room without a word, her shoulders shaking.

  “He looked... sad. He had tears coming down his face the whole time. What did he say to you?”

  Ray turned off the recorder. “Jacob claims he didn’t kill Martha, and he never meant to hurt you.”

  “They all say that,” Margie glanced out of the hospital room’s only window;
it was too dark to see anything out there except for the orange glow of the street lamp. “He demanded the receipt. He tried to kill me for it. It was the only piece of solid evidence we have linking him to her.”

  “We searched the house and found the other cufflink matching the one we pulled from Martha’s shoes. He claims he wasn’t even wearing them the day of the wedding, but the evidence is piling up against him.” Ray rubbed his face with his hands. “Kitty is currently on suicide watch; she was hysterical when she found out. Poor girl; they’ve had to sedate her.”

  “Is she here in the hospital?”

  Ray nodded. “She came in shortly after you did.”

  “Can I see her?”

  He shrugged. “I’ll ask the doctor, Margie.”

  She glanced out of the window, a feeling of deep wariness pressing down on her shoulders. But this was something she had to do.

  Margie got dressed as best she could with only one working hand. The other one stung constantly but she ignored the pain. She carefully pulled on her skirt. Everything seemed to take forever, but she finally finished. A bone-deep tiredness forced her to sit down and take a break as the nurse came to unhook her IV. “Thank you. I want to check out tonight if that’s alright.”

  “Of course,” the nurse said, her voice thick with sarcasm. She pushed one of her thick hips to the side, her posture telling Margie exactly what she thought of her plans. “You’re lucky we’re letting you walk down this hallway. Another day or two and then you can go home.”

  “Fine, if you let me go see Kitty, I promise to stick around and let you monitor me.” Margie didn’t feel awful anymore, just tired. She could better deal with fatigue in her own bed. Oh well, the hospital it was.

  The nurse held her good hand as Margie walked down the hall, trying to very carefully drag her fingers of her injured hand through her curls to get back some semblance of order. Ray was standing right outside the doorway and gestured her inside. “She’s awake, Margie, but she’s drugged so speak slowly.”

  “Of course,” Margie was sweating by the time she reached the room, her hands slick against the nurse’s arm. Perhaps she was right in forcing Margie to stay the night.

  But Kitty looked worse than she did, her puffy eyes were red and filled with sorrow. “Oh Margie, everything is awful. Thank you for coming to see me.” There were dark circles under her eyes, and Kitty seemed a little dizzy as she sat up in bed.

  “I just needed to say hello, dear, and let you know that you aren’t alone,” Margie smiled, her face twisted with grief. “I know this must be hard on you.”

  Kitty stared off into the distance, her tears spilling down her cheeks. “I’m so sorry for what Jacob did to you, Margie. I...” she seemed speechless, her whole body trembling. “He’s clearly not well. Please don’t think too poorly of him.”

  Margie coughed, the mention of his name making her throat throb. The nurse, after making sure Margie was settled comfortably in the room’s only chair, left the room. Margie watched her go, wondering if she were making a big mistake.

  “He attacked me because your mother Martha and he were having an affair,” Margie said bluntly. Ray, who was still outside the door, made a noise under his breath.

  Kitty’s fists twisted up in her sheets. “That’s not true, Margie.”

  “Is it not? Isn’t that why you asked me to take those books of your mother’s?”

  Anger filled up the silvery blue of her eyes, darkening them. “Don’t say things like that, Margie. My mother... My husband would never do that to me.”

  Margie prayed she wasn’t making a mistake. “Isn’t that why you framed him for her murder? To get back at them for having an affair behind your back?”

  “How dare you!” she cried. “Get out, Margie, get out!”

  “Your husband was wearing a short sleeved dress shirt under his jacket the day of the wedding; he had no cufflinks on, but somehow one ended up in Martha’s shoes, and one ended up in his dresser. He also was crying the day of the wedding when we found Martha’s body. Now, why do you think that would be?”

  Rage filled up Kitty’s whole body until she shook with it. “It isn’t true, Jacob loved me! He wasn’t going to leave me; he wasn’t. He wasn’t. My mother deserved what she got.”

  “You learned to tie sailing knots during all of those summers on the lake with your father. The same knot you tied around your mother’s neck to hang her up in the closet.”

  “That woman deserved to die. How dare she come back into my life and ruin it? Ruin it like she did when she left me alone with Father all those years ago. She brought this on herself.”

  That, it seemed, was enough for Ray. He stepped into the hospital room, his face grave and silent. “Kitty, you have the right to remain silent.”

  Kitty swiped at him when he came closer, her pretty face twisted with rage. She was screeching at the top of her lungs, drawing a crowd. Ray managed to get the handcuffs around her wrists before he continued with her rights.

  “So I strung her up,” she yelled, her eyes wild, “and I told Jacob that you had taken the books where he hid the receipt for the jewelry he bought his whore.” She laughed, violently, her eyes wide with madness. “I knew you would find it, Margie. You’re just so smart aren’t you?”

  Margie stayed in her chair under the barrage of insults that Kitty spat at her, her face impassive. “Smarter than you, my dear.”

  Kitty’s screams faded into the distance as Ray, and another on-duty cop dragged her down the hallway.

  Chapter 16

  Margie leaned back on the warmth of the police car’s hood; the wind was freezing today, and she was not looking forward to winter. If this fall was any indication of the weather from here on out, she was not looking forward to it. She dreamed of tropical places with sandy beaches and warm waters. Places where it never got cold or snowed.

  She sighed, looking over at Ray. His face was all screwed up, his eyes hesitant. “Are you sure, Margie?”

  “Absolutely. Pressing charges against Jacob would be cruel. He was being manipulated by Kitty; we all were. It would make her win. Besides, he agreed to talk to someone about his anger issues. I don’t think he’ll hurt anyone else.” Margie looked down at her boots, frowning. “He thought I was going to turn him into the police for murdering Martha, who he was actually in love with. He was only marrying Kitty because his family expected it of him.”

  Ray nodded. “If you’re sure.”

  “I think it will be okay, Ray.”

  Frowning, Ray sipped at his coffee. “Well, if you won’t let me convince you otherwise, there’s nothing more to say about it.”

  Margie grinned. “I think you know I won’t change my mind.”

  He made a noise at her in the back of his throat. “So, I have something to show you. I want your honest opinion, okay?”

  “Scout’s honor,” Margie said, holding up three fingers. He laughed and fished around in his pocket, holding out a small box to her. She opened it with tentative fingers, already pretty sure that she knew what she was holding. The ring was small, but it glittered in the sunlight, a shimmering diamond in a sea of silver and rubies. It was unique and stunning. And so very Camelia. Margie felt tears prick the edges of her eyes, a smile pulling at the edges of her lips. “Why, this is so very sudden of you, Ray.”

  He hit her on the shoulder as she batted her eyelashes, swiping the box from her hands and pocketing it again before anyone on the street could see it.

  “Do you think she'll...”

  Margie laughed. “It’s beautiful, and I believe she’ll say yes.”

  Ray’s shoulders unknotted almost immediately, the tenseness dissipating so quickly, it was like it was never there. “I love her.”

  “I know. I’m glad,” she said, grinning stupidly. “Too bad I’ll be down a roommate.”

  Rolling his eyes, Ray patted her shoulder. “I think you’ll be able to manage, Ms. Chef-to-be.”

  “I hope so,” Margie stood up. “Well, I s
hould get ready for work. Can you drive me home?”

  Ray obliged, chatting to her about his plans for the proposal as he went. Margie just sat back and listened, content. It was nice to know that when Margie headed back to school, Camelia would have someone to look after her. He dropped her off at the front door, and Margie wished him luck.

  “Thank you, Margie. I owe you one.”

  “You owe me a million by now, Ray,” Margie said, closing the car door behind herself before he could retort.