Murder of a Wedding Belle (8 page)

As she considered the invitation, Skye’s stomach growled, and she said, “Maybe later.”

“Okay.” He chuckled and kissed her on the cheek. “I know a hungry girlfriend is a cranky girlfriend.” He started unbuttoning his shirt as he walked away.

A few seconds later, Skye could hear him humming and moving around in the master bedroom; then the shower came on. Smiling, she busied herself with microwaving the baked beans and heating up the buns. Ten minutes later, Wally appeared just as she was putting the potato salad on the table. He had changed into faded jeans that clung to his muscular thighs and cupped the tight curve of his derrière. A plain white T-shirt stretched across his powerful shoulders.

Skye’s lips parted and the tip of her tongue darted out to moisten them.

His chocolate brown eyes followed the movement, and he gave her a smile that sent her pulse racing. “It’s not too late to change your mind about a shower. There’s still plenty of hot water.”

In her mind, Skye sprinkled the brownies all over his chest and licked them off. Before she could act on her impulse, her stomach growled again. No. Real food first, fantasy dessert later, or maybe just cuddling. They were both exhausted, and the recent murder didn’t exactly set the right mood for lovemaking.

Sadness swept over Skye at the memory of Belle’s death. She hadn’t liked the woman, but no one had the right to take her life. By murdering her, the killer had stolen Belle’s chance to mature, to grow, to become a less selfish person.

Skye thrust out her jaw. Whoever had done it would be sorry. They’d picked the wrong place to commit the crime. Scumble River may seem like a hick town, but it had a terrific police department and a darn good psychological consultant, both of which had a nearly perfect record of bringing murderers to justice.

Wally was looking at her funny, and Skye realized she’d been lost in her thoughts. She shook off her gloominess, grabbed a beer from the refrigerator, and handed it to him, asking, “Ready to eat?”

“I was ready five hours ago.” He sank into a chair.

“Me, too.” She watched him from the corner of her eye as she poured herself a glass of wine. She never tired of looking at him. He was devastatingly handsome and exuded masculinity. Taking a deep breath, she savored the tantalizing scent of his aftershave.

Skye heaped savory barbeque onto a warm roll and took a huge bite. She closed her eyes and nearly moaned as the spicy meat melted in her mouth, then swallowed and brought the sandwich back to her lips. Hearing Wally chuckle, she glanced at him. He had a bemused expression on his face.

Putting down the bun, she demanded, “What? Do I have sauce on my chin?”

“No.” Wally tried to hide his grin. “I just enjoy watching you eat. You have a much more intimate relationship with your dinner than I do.”

“Is that bad?” Was he saying she was a glutton?

“Nope. In fact, it turns me on.”

“Oh.” Skye smiled to herself. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

They ate in silence for a while, but after their initial hunger had been slaked, Skye commented, “I haven’t seen these dishes before. What happened to your grandmother’s Royal Winton china?”

“Dorothy thinks they should only be used for special occasions, so she made me buy these from Wal-Mart.” Wally shook his head. “I’m not sure what she considers a special enough occasion—these are all she ever sets out.”

“She and my mother are so alike.” Skye ate a forkful of potato salad, then added, “Mom won’t even let me have the dishes her grandmother left me until I’m married.”
Oops!
She didn’t want to discuss Wally’s proposal. Hurrying to change the subject, she asked, “So, how’s your dad been?” Carson Boyd had been hospitalized last October after collapsing, and the doctors had never figured out what was wrong with him.

“Fine. When I spoke to him last week, he was thinking of taking a cruise.” Wally took a swig of beer. “I’m not sure what’s up with that. I can’t remember the last time he took a vacation.”

“Maybe he’s met someone,” Skye offered. Wally’s mother had died the year he’d finished college.

“I doubt it.” Wally’s tone was serious. “Remember, I told you, Boyd men mate for life.”

Skye kept her face impassive. Wally’s first wife had left him, so what did his statement mean? Had she been his mate for life and he was making do with Skye? Instead of asking, she said, “Ready for some brownies?”

“I’m stuffed. Maybe later.”

“Me, too.” Skye got to her feet. “Why don’t you go relax while I clean up?”

Wally pushed back from the table and started to clear the table. “We’re both tired. Why should I get to rest and not you?”

Skye grinned. Except for the fact that he was older, divorced, and not Catholic—as her mother continually reminded her—Wally was the perfect man.

Fifteen minutes later they settled on the sofa in the living room. The hardwood floor gleamed in the low light of the aquarium—Skye’s gift to Wally on his last birthday—and the deep taupe walls created a warm haven.

“Let’s see if the murder made the local news.” Wally turned on the TV. “I was surprised when you told me Belle’s father was a famous hotelier.”

“Believe me, she never let anyone forget who her dad was.” Skye wiggled into the buttery soft leather couch. “Did you ever get hold of her parents?”

“No. I spoke with dozens of assorted personal assistants and secretaries and housekeepers, but they all claim the Canfields are on their yacht in the Mediterranean and refuse to give me their cell numbers. The employees claim they’ll pass on the message that I need to talk to them about an urgent matter regarding their daughter.” Frustration edged his voice. “That’s one of the reasons I hope the media didn’t get wind of Belle’s death.”

Skye nodded sympathetically.

“I hate cases where famous people are involved. So far we’ve only dealt with minor celebrities, but Canfield Hotels are famous worldwide.”

“Yes, but I don’t think Belle was all that famous. I remember the first time I met her, she was moaning that the paparazzi didn’t pay as much attention to her as they did to Paris Hilton.” Skye patted his arm. “Maybe we’ll catch a break and solve the case before a reporter puts two and two together. After all, who would expect someone like Belle Canfield to be working in Scumble River?”

The news ended and Wally clicked off the TV. “Looks like we dodged the bullet so far.”

“Do you want to talk about the interviews?” Skye turned sideways on the sofa so she could look at Wally without straining her neck. “Or are you too tired?”

“Well, there are other things I’d rather do.” Wally gave Skye a sexy grin. “But it’s probably better if we go over the facts while they’re fresh in both our minds.”

“Okay. Let me get my notes.”

“I’ll grab mine too.”

When they were both resettled on the couch, Skye asked, “Are you thinking that Belle’s murderer is probably connected to the wedding?”

“That’s the most likely scenario. The wedding party and the vendors are the only ones in the area who know her. So, yes, that’s my working theory.”

“Hmm.” Skye chewed her lip. “How about an ex-boyfriend? She was pretty up-front about sleeping around, and I heard her on the phone begging a friend to make some guy give her another chance.”

“What was the friend’s name?” Wally asked.

“Shoot! I don’t remember.” Skye shook her head. “Something cute and girly.” She sighed. “I’ll ask Riley and the other bridesmaids if they know the names of any of Belle’s close friends.”

“Good. Tomorrow, I’ll have Martinez start calling all the people in the vic’s cell phone directory.”

“And whenever I get one of the guys in the wedding party alone, I’ll see if he had a fling with Belle.” Skye made a note, then asked, “So, anyone you talk to a likely suspect or have an alibi?”

“We still don’t have a time of death, but we have narrowed it down a little.” Wally flipped open his notepad and said, “Jesse Larson told Quirk that Belle was at the Brown Bag from seven to ten Saturday night.”

Jesse was the owner of the Brown Bag, a combination liquor store, bar, and banquet hall located across the road from the motor court.

“Was she alone?”

“No. She was with some guy, but Larson didn’t know him. The guy kept his ball cap and sunglasses on the whole time, so Larson could only describe him as big with tattoos.”

“Maybe he’s the ex-boyfriend,” Skye said. “Was there anything else Jesse noticed about him?”

“No. They sat in a dark corner, and she was the one who got their drinks from the bar.”

“Belle bragged about never sleeping alone, but I just can’t picture her hooking up with a local, and there hasn’t been a hint of it in the town rumor mill.” Skye nibbled her thumbnail. “I can’t even think of anyone to question about it.”

“Larson said it was the first time she’d been in the bar. He only knew her because earlier in the month she’d rented the banquet hall for the bridal party’s dance lessons.”

“Did they leave together?”

“Larson wasn’t sure,” Wally answered. “And we haven’t been able to locate anyone who saw her alive after that.”

“So that puts TOD at somewhere between ten p.m. Saturday and shortly before eight a.m. Sunday.” Skye murmured to herself. “Does that eliminate any suspects?”

“Any of the bridal party would have had the opportunity to get to Belle after the attendants’ party. Even the ones staying in Chicago could have stopped by on their way to the hotel or returned to Scumble River later.” Wally shook his head. “The groom claimed he only knew Belle as an employee, and when they were together, they mostly talked about the wedding.”

“I wonder if Nick was ever alone with Belle, or if Riley was always present.” Skye tapped her fingers on her legal pad. “Belle was a gorgeous young woman, and Nick clearly likes them young and beautiful. Or as my mom would put it—he’s a cradle robber.”

“Hey. Give the guy a break,” Wally teased. “Maybe he just prefers generationally different relationships.”

“Tell that to May.” Skye winked. “She’s upset about the few years between us; Nick is nearly twenty years older than Riley.”

Wally cringed and changed the subject. “Can you casually find out from your cousin if Nick and Belle spent any time together without her? It seems like just the kind of topic that would be perfect for a little girl talk.”

“I’ll add that to my list.” Skye chewed the top of her pen. “Okay, how about the twins? Any motive for them?”

“Not that I can come up with. They don’t gain anything by her death, and since they’ve been away at college, they’ve had the least contact with her.”

“True,” Skye agreed. “But I get the feeling they aren’t happy about this marriage. Maybe they thought killing Belle would stop the wedding.”

“That’s quite a stretch.”

“Maybe.” Skye looked up from her notes. “But they’re weird, and I’m keeping an eye on them.”

“How about Nick’s parents? You talked to them?”

“Actually, it’s his dad and his stepmother,” Skye pointed out. “His mother isn’t coming. She’s in some ashram or commune or something and can’t leave. Anyway, Mr. and Mrs. Jordan said they had never met Belle. They seemed fairly uninterested in the whole affair and only flew in so early to take their six-year-old son to the Museum of Science and Industry, Shedd Aquarium, and Adler Planetarium.”

“I take it this Mrs. Jordan is quite a bit younger than Nick’s mother?”

“Like father, like son.” Skye flipped through the pages of her legal pad. “Nick is forty-five, his dad is sixty-eight, and his stepmother, Natasha, is thirty-six.”

“Hmm.” Wally jotted that information down.

“Did Uncle Charlie see anything?”

“No.” Wally grinned. “He was out with a lady friend and stayed overnight at her house. He was just getting back when he heard Iris scream.”

“I see.” Although he’d never married, Skye’s godfather had a reputation as quite a Casanova, so it was no shock to hear he had been otherwise occupied on a Saturday night.

“How about the people you interviewed?”

“The only thing interesting was from Tabitha. She mentioned hearing that a mother of the bride from one of Belle’s previous jobs went after Belle with a cake knife after finding her in flagrante delicto with the woman’s husband. Tabitha didn’t know the name, but you might want to check that out.”

“I’ll ask the vic’s secretary when I call her tomorrow.” Wally wrote briefly on his pad of paper. “But someone would really have to be crazy to travel all the way from California to kill her here. That’s why I’m not too hot on the ex-boyfriend angle.”

“You’re probably right,” Skye agreed. “What did Riley, Anita, and Aunt Dora have to say?”

He summed up his interviews with the trio, concluding, “I’m certain that none of them killed Belle. Now, if she had screwed up the wedding and been murdered afterward, they’d be my prime suspects.”

“Great.” Skye threw a pillow at him. “And you convinced me to take over for her. You know, there are easier ways to get rid of me than having my cousin kill me for ruining her wedding.”

Wally wrinkled his brow in mock concern. “I guess I’ll have to be your bodyguard.” He gave her a smoldering look. “I sure wouldn’t want anything to happen to it.”

“Thanks. Good to know what part of me you’re interested in.” Skye snickered, then got back to business. “There certainly didn’t seem to be any love lost between Belle and the vendors I heard her dealing with this past month.”

“Yeah. They’re first on my list to talk to tomorrow.”

“Shall we do that together?” Skye asked. “I have to speak to them anyway now that I’m in charge.”

“Good idea.” His voice deepened. “Sweetheart, you did a great job today.” He put his hands on her waist and drew her to him. “You did everything right.”

“Really?” Skye curled a piece of her hair around her finger. “That’s so good to hear.” She felt herself start to relax for the first time since finding Belle dead.