Cinnamon and Sinfulness

by Katherine Hayton

  “But these are for the bride and groom,” the photographer protested. “Apart from me, they should be the first ones to see these images.”

  “Well, today they have the joy of being at least third in line,” Matthewson said without moving a muscle.

  Gwen stared at his hand with a frown. “How about I take them back to the studio and develop them properly? It’ll only take an hour or so to process them properly on the computer.”

  “I don’t need properly. All I’m looking for is to see if you’ve any pictures around the time of the shooting. Now, hand it over, and that’s an order.”

  Gwen conceded and looked regretfully at the camera. “Please be careful with that. My boss’ll kill me if it gets wrecked.” As she followed Derek upstairs to see if her original outfit had dried, Gwen cast another pitiable look back at the camera.

  “I suppose it’s her livelihood,” Holly said in excuse of the protective behavior. “It must be awful to entrust the equipment that pays your rent to a stranger.”

  “I’m not a stranger,” Sergeant Matthewson grumbled. “I’m a qualified police officer with experience in forensic science. I mightn’t be good enough to lift prints from that gun, but I’m more than capable of scrolling through a few images.”

  Crystal caught Holly’s gaze and rolled her eyes, and suddenly Holly had to stare hard at the floor to stop a burst of merriment. She bit her lip and thought of poor Nina, and that dried her laughter right up.

  “Who would own a gun like that?” she asked and nodded at the sealed evidence bag. “I thought that weapons like that had to be locked up at a sports club.”

  “A pistol can be held anywhere so long as there’s an appropriate gun safe,” the sergeant said as he flicked back through the stills on the camera. “We won’t be able to tell if it’s been sold through a legal store until we analyze the serial numbers on the side.”

  Holly peered over it with interest. Now that it was inside a plastic bag rather than under her foot, she felt safer around the weapon. Having never been trained on firearms or raised with them in the home, her curiosity was peaked as well.

  “What would somebody buy this for?” she asked. “Is it something that you’d use for hunting?”

  Sergeant Matthewson barely glanced up before giving her a shake of his head. “Not that. Your first instinct was better, it would mostly be used for target shooting at a gun range, or on private property. A pistol isn’t much use for a lot else. If you’re hunting game, then you’d upgrade to a rifle or a shotgun if you wanted to make a mess.”

  “Are you thinking of taking up shooting?” Crystal asked in a teasing voice. “I think you’d have Mom rolling over in her grave.”

  “I’m just poking my nose in where it doesn’t belong,” Holly admitted. “That’s what I’m good at.”

  Sergeant Matthewson gave a brief laugh, then carefully placed the camera down on the kitchen bench. “Nothing useful there, I’m afraid.”

  “I shouldn’t think so,” Crystal said. “We paid the photographer to focus on us, not on a guest in the back of the ceremony.”

  The sergeant shrugged. “I’ll still need to get copies of all the photos on there. We’ll be trying to piece together everyone who’s at the wedding.”

  Gwen was halfway down the stairs and overheard him. “I’ll be happy to give you as many copies as you like,” she said in a voice full of relief. “In fact, my offer still stands. I can get out of here and develop them for you.”

  “That’s not a bad idea,” Crystal said. “And if you’re happy that Alec or I didn’t shoot anybody, then we can go home and pick up the list of RSVPs to our invitation. If we cross-reference that with the photographs of the service, then you might be able to rule some people in.” She paused for a moment, then added, “Or out.”

  “And if you’re happy that I had nothing to do with it,” Holly said, “then you can let me get home so I can change into dry clothes. You don’t want to know all the places where the fabric is clinging to me.”

  As the sergeant’s hands flew up to cover his ears, Alec turned from where he’d been looking out the window. “Uh, sergeant? Did you leave the PC alone in the marquee? I think you might have a problem.”

  Matthewson walked over to Alec’s side, and his mouth dropped open a second before he began fumbling at the back door.

  Willis Mathieu was storming across the back lawn, headed straight from the marquee to his waiting car.

  Chapter Eleven

  “Where do you think you’re going?” the sergeant demanded as he caught up to him. Holly had decided to follow along behind. Since she was still drenched from the rain, it made no difference to her that it was still pouring down.

  “Come on inside,” she called out. From the angry expression on Willis’s face, she thought it might be a better decision to try to mollify the man rather than directly confront him. Especially since he was larger than both her and Matthewson combined. “You’ll feel better if you get out of this rain.”

  Although he didn’t look entirely convinced by her persuasion, Willis spun on his heel and followed along as Holly led the way back inside Brian Masters’ house. When the door was shut again—helped along with a gust of wind that was steadily growing in its ferocity—Matthewson turned his ire on the man.

  “I told everyone in that marquee to stay put. Do you want to explain what you thought you were doing?”

  “Going home.” Willis stalked the few steps over to the couch, then threw his full weight down upon it. “I got sick of people talking about me. Most of them didn’t even have the courtesy to do it behind my back.”

  “Why are they talking about you?” Holly was genuinely puzzled. She didn’t know the man well, apart from to say hello to if they crossed each other’s paths on a walk across town.

  “Well, apparently because I sell the occasional firearm, that makes me the shooter.” Willis clenched his hands together in his lap and scowled down at them. “Stands to reason, doesn’t it? Obviously, if I take tourists out shooting rabbits and possums because they’re pests, it stands to reason that I’d shoot poor Nina dead.”

  He gulped after that last statement and to Holly, it looked as though he was fighting back tears. “Did you know Nina well?”

  “We used to go out a while back,” Willis said. “Before she started working thirty hours out of every twenty-four getting the theater going.” He shrugged. “I guess I always thought that we’d end up back together, once she got the business up on its feet.”

  “I didn’t realize,” Holly said, then when Willis frowned she clarified, “I didn’t know that she worked that hard at the movies. I guess since it’s been going since I got back into town, I just assumed that it was doing okay.”

  “Barely breaking even, from what I understand,” Willis said, then began to gulp for breath again. “If she hadn’t had a silent partner up in Christchurch, I think the whole thing would have fallen over.”

  “She had a business partner?” Sergeant Matthewson said in a sharp voice, tilting his body closer to the sofa. “Do you know their name?”

  Willis shrugged. “She never told me about stuff like that. The business grew to be such a sore point between us that I don’t think she liked to mention that stuff.” He gave a big sigh. “I should’ve been more supportive, I suppose, but I had my own struggles keeping my operation on its feet.”

  “Does it matter?” Holly asked, her sharp eyes following every expression passing across the sergeant’s face.

  “Maybe. Or maybe that’s police business.”

  She sat back, feeling a bit hurt by the snub, and turned to Derek. “Did you find anything dry for us to change into?”

  “Sorry,” he said, getting to his feet. “I got a bit sidetracked.” He walked over to a pile dropped haphazardly on the floor. “Here you go. You can change in the downstairs bathroom. There’re three pairs of sweatpants and tops—none of them matching, I’m afraid.”

  Crystal burst into laughter after he added that
sentence. “Oh, no,” she said in mock-horror. “Now, we won’t be able to go out on the town!”

  As the small group broke into laughter, breaking up the slight tension, the front doorbell rang. Brian ran to answer it, looking pleased with the interruption. Holly picked up a sweatshirt and walked closer to the entrance hall, curious as to who would be knocking on the door in this weather.

  After a moment, Brian gave a laugh of surprise, then popped his head back into the lounge. “Who feels like eating a piping hot spit-roast for two hundred people?”

  He waved the caterers through into the room, and the men looked surprised at the sparsity of people. “Most of the guests are out in the marquee,” Holly explained before they needed to ask. “In fact—” she turned to Brian “—wouldn’t this be better off there?”

  “They’ll get wet.”

  “So will anybody trying to come into the house and eat,” Holly pointed out. “Besides, I’m sure they’d be grateful for the distraction since they’re trapped out there on the sergeant’s say-so.”

  “Would you rather have a murderer wandering around the streets?” Matthewson said with a frown. “Because that’s the alternative.”

  “Shouldn’t you be getting back there anyway?” Holly asked in her sweetest voice. “I’m sure that Graham would be grateful for the extra help.”

  “I’m just waiting for reinforcements to arrive,” the sergeant said. “We weren’t expecting anything like this to happen today. Would you rather I tried to cram you all into the police station?”

  “I’d rather nobody had been shot, and we were enjoying the reception,” Crystal interrupted.

  Although her sister’s voice was steady, Holly felt an immediate pang of guilt. They didn’t have much money spare to spend on the wedding, but she’d hoped through the generosity of the community that she’d be able to arrange a day for Crystal to remember. Now, it seemed more likely it would be a day that nobody would ever forget.

  “The rain’s easing,” Derek said from his position close to the window. “If we wanted to take the food out there, or invite the guests back into the house, now’s the time.”

  “I don’t want to go back out there and have them whispering about me,” Willis immediately said. “Neither do I want them all to come in here and start their gossip.”

  Sergeant Matthewson held his hand up. “Right. Whoever is in the house now, you’re staying put, understood?” He turned a baleful glance at Willis. “And that means no getting in a huff and walking out to your car. I’m going back across to the marquee, and I’ll escort the caterers across there to keep the guests happy.” He nodded to Brian Masters who returned the gesture with a short bow. “If anyone leaves the house, I want you to call me immediately.”

  “Will do,” Brian said with the relaxed air of someone used to being in charge.

  “Wait a minute,” Willis stood up and moved over to the sergeant. “What if we have somewhere to be? How long is all this going to take?”

  Gwen stepped forward with the same look of concern on her face. “Yeah. I’d quite like to get going before too long as well.”

  While Matthewson stared daggers at Willis, Crystal did the same to the photographer. “Exactly where else did you have to be?” she asked after a tense pause. “Since I’m paying you for the whole day?”

  “Not to take pictures under these circumstances, you’re not,” Gwen replied with a nonchalant shrug. “And if I’m not taking photos, then you’re not paying me for anything. I can’t make a wedding album out of a murder scene.”

  “Cool it,” Matthewson said and held a finger up in warning to Gwen. “And you can take some lovely photos inside this place. It’s as big as a palace.”

  Gwen gestured at Crystal and Alec who were still dripping onto the lounge room carpet.

  “It doesn’t matter what they’re wearing or if they’re wet,” the sergeant responded in a testy voice. “It matters how happy they look to be hitched to each other. That’s all.”

  Holly gave a short laugh of agreement, then frowned at Willis who had one finger sticking out, touching against the plastic evidence bag containing the gun. “What are you doing?”

  Willis looked over to Sergeant Matthewson. “Is it okay if I take the gun out of this bag and get a look at the serial number? I might’ve sold this one to somebody in town.”

  “You might have, or you did?”

  Again, Willis touched his finger to the bag. “I won’t know until I can scrape the mud off the number. Guns all look the same.”

  “But you’ve sold this model?” the sergeant persisted. When Willis nodded, he followed up, “Recently?”

  “Within the past year, I guess,” Willis answered. “If it’s the one I’m thinking of, then the person got their license renewed a month ago, so call it seven.”

  Matthewson stared at the gun with a frown. “If we pull the caked mud off it, we might lose the chance for fingerprints.”

  Holly gasped. “You think you can get fingerprints off that, even now?”

  “They can do wonders down at the lab. It’s not as though it’s been burned or dumped in oil. A bit of a sluice and any prints should come up nicely if the perp weren’t wearing gloves.” He turned his stare back to Willis. “Why don’t you just tell me the name, and I’ll add it to the list of clues?”

  “How about you get a warrant, first.” Willis stared back at him. “I’m fine with telling you the name if you can give me the serial number, but I’d be in hot water with the privacy commissioner if I just handed a name out based on that.” He jerked his head down at the gun.

  “What if you just tell me if the person you sold that to is out in the marquee at the moment?”

  Matthewson gave it his best try, but Willis just blanked him, shaking his head. “Not unless I know for sure it’s the gun I sold.”

  “Fine.” The sergeant gave an exaggerated sigh. “I’ll get the station to start on the paperwork for a warrant. Even if the lab can pull something, they’ll need a couple of days, and we don’t have that much time.”

  “You know where I’ll be when you get it signed off.” Willis backed away from the bench and took his seat back on the sofa. “Right here.”

  “At least have it ready for me,” the sergeant said. “I don’t think it’ll take too long to get approved if we can nab the judge on the weekend.”

  “If you’ve got a computer handy, then I’ll get it all set up,” Willis said. He seemed pleased to be able to meet Matthewson halfway.

  “There’s a laptop upstairs you can use,” Derek said as he jumped to his feet. “I’ll go grab it for you.”

  “Pop your photographs from the wedding on there, as well, while we’re at it,” Matthewson told Gwen. “That way, if you do leave later, we’ll have copies for reference.”

  “I thought you’d already looked through them and found nothing of interest.”

  Matthewson ignored her surliness to talk to the room in general. “Who knows what will be of interest in another hour? It’s a murder investigation. The point is to gather as much evidence as we can and then find out what’s relevant. Your help would be appreciated.”

  With that sentiment hanging in the air, the sergeant led the way out the back door and returned to the marquee, caterers in tow.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Well, we’ve got the rest of the food still in here,” Brian Masters said, clapping his hands together. “I propose that we set up a feast for the bride and groom. Name your choices, and I’ll put together a plate.”

  Crystal looked down at her dripping wet wedding gown and gave a rueful laugh. “I might need to take Derek up on his offer of sweats before I can even think about eating. This dress is not getting any drier.”

  “I’ve probably got a sweater you can put over the top as well,” Brian said as Crystal shivered. “It’ll get you nice and warm.”

  “We should have Gwen take a couple of pictures before we do that,” Alec said, the first he’d spoken in a long while. “It’ll
be a lovely treat for the wedding album. Bride and groom get caught out in the rain.”

  “I’m not really in the mood for more photographs,” Crystal said with a shrug. She stood stiffly while Alec put his arms around her, then relented into his embrace.

  “Think of the fun times we’ll have in years to come when everyone asks to see our wedding album.”

  “As they do,” Crystal said in a slightly mocking tone. “Why, every time I visit a married couples house, I ask to see their wedding photos.”

  “Well, it’ll be something for us to look back over and laugh at when we’re old and gray,” Alec countered. “And if visitors don’t ask to see our album, we can always surprise them and pull it out anyway.”

  “I don’t want you pulling out any surprises while we have guests,” Crystal said, returning to her previous good humor. She gave a cheeky laugh. “It’s not polite, you know.”

  “How about I get out of your way?” Willis offered, getting up from the couch. He turned to Derek. “Do you have that computer you mentioned? I’ll search for those records the sergeant’s getting a warrant for on my cloud service.”

  “Sure thing.” Derek led him out of the room while Holly followed a few steps, looking for Gwen.

  “I don’t suppose either of you saw where our intrepid photographer got to?”

  “She headed for the bathroom again,” Derek said, pointing down the hall.

  Holly thanked him as he continued on upstairs and made her way along to the door he’d pointed to. Mittens the cat came out of the laundry room while she tapped a light knock to announce her presence. “Hey, you,” she called out in a cooing voice. “Long time, no see.”

  Mittens made an immediate beeline for her ankles, rubbing the soft side of his neck up against her. The warmth and softness just drew Holly’s attention to the fact that she was cold and wet. As soon as Gwen vacated the bathroom and took some last photos, then she’d happily take her place and pull on some warm sweats.