Shear Murder (27 page)

He lunged, the blade slashing through the air. Ducking sideways, she elbowed his arm out of the way. Then she charged up the aisle in the opposite direction to the main entrance. If she could reach the bend ahead, she'd come down the row on the other side.

Grunting, he darted after her. She kicked a planter into the path, tripping him. She gained a few feet before he caught up, hooking her by the wrist. Struggling to free herself, she bit back a sob when he brought the knife within range of her abdomen. Would he stab her there, or slice between her ribs? The blade looked to be several inches long, with a serrated edge. Her breath came in short, panting gasps as she sought to remember her self-defense lessons.

“Torrie snagged me at the wedding.” He grasped her tightly, pulling back his lips in a feral grin and looking nothing like the fop he pretended to be. “She said that unless I shared some of my profits with her, she'd alert the customs people to my shipments. She'd have made a hell of an investigative journalist. Too bad she was stuck doing a fashion column.”

He appeared willing to talk, so Marla pressed her advantage. “So you told her no, and she got angry?”

“I lied and said sure, I made enough so that I could give her a cut. Then I asked her to take the cake knife I'd forgotten and put it on the table inside. I'd figure out a way to deal with her later.”

“So what happened? Did Rachel catch you talking together?”

“Who?”

“Rachel, a waitress at the affair. She worked as an intern at Torrie's office and had disguised herself as a temp hire.”

“I don't know who you're talking about. All I know is that Torrie grabbed the cake knife and walked away. I followed her to make sure she didn't mess up my decorations.”

“And then you found her in the hallway, didn't you? With the knife in her chest. Was she still alive?”

His face contorted at the memory. “She tried to speak to me as I bent over her. But this was an opportunity I couldn't resist. Someone else would get the blame, so I twisted the knife until her last breath left her lips.”

“Wasn't she bleeding? Didn't you get blood on your clothes?”

“Only on my shirt. I buttoned my jacket until I could get back to the van to change. I always show up in work clothes and change into my formal outfit before guests arrive.”

“Why didn't you leave her in the corridor? You took a risk shoving her under the cake table. Someone in the ballroom might have seen you.”

“I heard footsteps and panicked. I needed to get rid of the body before her blood stained the carpet. The door was right in front of me. I opened it and no one was around. All it took was a few seconds.”

“How did you wipe the knife handle clean? There weren't any prints.”

His glance dropped to his hand holding the dagger. “The seats at the table closest to the door were empty. Guests must have been out on the dance floor. I took a water glass and rinsed my hands, holding them over the centerpiece. Then I wet a napkin, crouched down, and wiped off the knife handle that was still lodged in Torrie's chest. I made sure to wipe off the door handle on both sides, too. Anyone looking my way would have thought I was just fussing with the decorations.”

“Where did you put the soiled napkin?”

He gave a proud grin. “Inside the flower arrangement on Leanne's table, after wrapping it inside another clean cloth. I told her to take the centerpiece home. I'd accidentally spilled some red wine inside and the alcohol would kill the flowers. She should discard the entire vase. The little lamb was happy to comply.”

“And then where did you go?” Marla asked, aware he liked to brag about his accomplishments. “Into the banquet hall, or through the side door into the park?”

Canfield waved the knife. “I was afraid someone would see me in the corridor so I slipped into the crowd in the ballroom until I could go outside to change.” He hesitated, confusion clouding his expression. “What I don't understand is why Jill confessed. Tell me how much she knows, and I'll make your death quick.”

Marla slipped a hand behind her and grasped a heavy pot holding some kind of spiny cactus. “I told you about Rachel, the waitress, who was really an intern in Torrie's office. She was Jill's estranged stepdaughter. Torrie meant to bring them together as a wedding gift to her sister. But Rachel jumped the gun to get a glimpse of Jill beforehand.”

“What's your point?” His face twisted with impatience.

“Torrie was furious when she spotted the girl at the wedding. They argued in the hallway. Somehow the cake knife became embedded in Torrie's chest. Rachel ran away, afraid she'd killed her mentor. I gather this is where you came along.”

Were those sirens she heard in the distance? Dalton must have summoned backup, but why hadn't he come to her aid? Had something happened to him?

She talked faster, hoping to keep Canfield distracted. “In case you're not familiar with Jill's history, her marriage to Arnie was the second time around for her. She didn't want him to know and with good reason. She'd been married very young to an older man with a daughter.”

“This girl Rachel?”

She noted the calculating gleam in his eye, as though he were assessing this new threat. Rachel would know she had left Torrie alive and that she hadn't been the one to push her under the table.

“Jill grew very fond of the girl but less so of her husband, who turned out to be a drunken abuser. She was afraid he'd harm the child, so Jill ran off with her.”

“Plucky thing, eh?”

“Her husband didn't think so.” Marla's palms grew slippery with sweat. “He accused her of kidnapping his daughter. Jill got caught, arrested, and the girl was placed in foster care. That's the last they saw of each other until Torrie came into the picture.”

Canfield raised his eyebrows. “How so?”

“Torrie and Scott were the ones who bailed Jill out of trouble, but only on the condition that Jill divorce the man and leave the child behind.”

“So Jill was indebted to her sister.”

“Who never let her forget it. Jill feared Torrie would say something to Arnie about her past mistakes, but she didn't realize Torrie really wanted to make amends.”

“You're kidding, right? Torrie liked to cause friction between people, not dissolve it.”

“This was different. Torrie always wanted to have children but wasn't able to conceive. The property issue was bringing her closer to her sister for the first time in years, and she wanted to give Jill a wedding gift that would break the ice between them for good.”

“Get to the point. How much does Jill know?” His hand tightened on his weapon, while his hard gaze dropped to her midsection.

“Wait, you'll understand in a minute. Jill had always longed after the stepdaughter she'd abandoned. Meanwhile, Torrie began volunteering for the foster care program, making inquiries as to the girl's whereabouts.”

“So Torrie found Rachel?”

Marla nodded. “Torrie contacted Rachel and told her how much Jill missed her and that it was her fault they'd been separated. She offered Rachel a job at the magazine as her intern while Rachel got up the nerve to meet Jill again. It would have to be after the wedding. Jill still hadn't told Arnie about her first marriage.”

“So what happened to make Jill confess? She met the kid, who told her what happened with Torrie?”

“Right. Jill figured Rachel had killed Torrie, who must have bled to death after Rachel fled the scene. At least it would look that way to the police. She didn't want to lose the daughter she'd just rediscovered.”

“So Jill didn't even think about someone else coming along, finishing what Rachel had started, and hiding the body?”

“We were looking for that napkin, because we figured the killer wiped his prints clean. Even if it wasn't Rachel who made the killing blow, she'd be questioned by the cops. Jill wanted to spare her that trauma.”

A relieved grunt escaped his lips. “Good, so they don't know anything about me, right?”

The sirens had stopped. Marla glanced toward the exit, praying help was on its way and worried about Dalton's silence. She only needed to divert Canfield a few more minutes. “I'm not aware of how much the cops suspect. How about Hally? Why did her life have to end?”

“She shared an office with Torrie and got wise to my import business. Damn nosy females. Just like you.” His muscles tensing, he raised the knife.

Sensing the thrust that was about to come, Marla jammed the ceramic pot into his solar plexus. With a howl of rage, he bent over, his grip on her wrist loosening.

She twisted herself free, turned, and ran. Branches and vines stung her face as she charged blindly forward. She'd made it into the greenhouse nearest the exit when a large force collided with her from behind.

Crying out, she toppled to the ground, almost smacking her chin on the coiled green hose. Canfield leapt on her, his knee pressing into her spine. Screaming, Marla bucked, trying to throw him off. He grabbed her hair, yanking her head back with one hand while his other hand gripped the knife.

Good Lord, he's going to slit my throat.

Heavy footsteps sounded outside then crashed into the greenhouse. “Philip, stop!” yelled Falcon Oakwood, waving a gun. “You don't want to do that.”

The florist hesitated, while Marla prayed silently. Cold steel pricked her skin, sending shivers through her body.

“Come on, Phil, we can talk about this. I don't need any more bad publicity for my park.”

Canfield cursed aloud. “You have just as much to hide as I do. She knows everything.”

“I don't care. When Leanne told me what you'd had her do, I figured it out. I'm losing my wife, Phil, and I've realized she matters to me more than anything. You're not going to take her from me.”

“Oh, yeah? And what will Mummy say when her precious son goes to jail for building this place on contaminated land?”

“Let me handle things my way. Get off her.” Falcon aimed his weapon. “Her boyfriend is outside. I tranked him but he'd already called the cops. They'll be here any minute.”

Falcon had tranquilized Dalton like one of the animals he hunted? Rage surged through her.

“Come one step closer, and I'll kill her.” Canfield's arm tensed.

“No, you won't, or you'll deal with me next.”

“You're making a mistake. You should want this.” Canfield's hand inched away while he talked.

Marla took advantage, twisted her head, and chomped her teeth into his flesh until she tasted blood.

“You bitch!”

He sprang back, giving her the chance she needed. She scrambled to her feet and fled in Falcon's direction, blocking his aim at her assailant. She bumped his arm as she brushed past, making the gun drop from his fingers.

With a growl, Canfield launched himself at the park's owner. Ceramic pots crashed to the floor as they fought.

Outside in the bright sunlight, Marla raced toward Dalton's still form on the ground. She sank to her knees, feeling for his pulse. Her heart soared when she detected a steady beat. Thank goodness, he'd be okay. And so would she. People sprinted toward them from a distance.

“Over here,” she yelled.

Something warm trickled down her neck. Her fingers, touching it, came away stained with crimson.

“Are you all right, Miss?” the first officer on the scene asked, while other men in uniforms rushed inside the greenhouse.

“I'll be okay. This is my fiancé. He's been drugged. Please take care of him.”

Her head swam dizzily, and then the lights went out.

“So tell us what happened after the cops arrived,” Tally said at the Friday evening rehearsal dinner.

Brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, Marla regarded her best friend. She blinked wearily. Last night her bridesmaids, with the exception of Brianna, had taken her to a lounge on South Beach with some exotic male dancers. Blood rushed to her face at the memory.

“I passed out. Later, I learned that in their struggle, Falcon accidentally stabbed Philip Canfield with his own knife. It was a fatal wound.” Marla didn't say aloud that she felt it a fitting end for the florist. His demise reflected Torrie's tragic death.

“How did Falcon know you'd be there?” Kate asked from across the table.

Marla felt a swell of warmth toward her. She'd done a bang-up job in arranging this dinner party.

“Leanne told him. At the last minute, she had misgivings and confessed to her husband that she and Philip were lovers. Her plan was to leave Falcon, move in with the florist, and go back to school. She'd trusted Canfield, and as a result she believed he murdered two women, and I might be next.”

“Canfield did all this to protect his orchid-smuggling business?” Brianna chimed in.

“That's right. Leanne had been so starved for affection from her husband who doted on his mother and his plants that she'd fallen for Philip's advances. Out of spite, she told Torrie what she knew about Falcon's dealings. She wasn't as naïve as he assumed. Leanne gathered information so she'd have leverage for a divorce.”

“So Leanne told Philip Canfield that she'd confided in Torrie?” Tally regarded her with rounded eyes. “Didn't she suspect him when Torrie was killed?”

“She thought her husband might be guilty. But when she considered why Canfield wanted to meet me at Orchid Isle, she put two and two together and told Falcon. For his part, Falcon realized he'd better take action or his marriage would fall apart. He really does love Leanne.”

“That man should go to jail.” A muscle twitched in Dalton's jaw. “We're lucky his company didn't use Chinese drywall for our development, but other homeowner associations have filed suit against him. Not to mention building his park on a former toxic waste site.”

Marla gave him a wan smile. “He's promised to take any necessary remedial actions. He really wants to win Leanne back. He's told his mother she has to move and will even take down those animal heads around the house to please his wife.”

“Sounds like he's ready to change,” Anita intoned. At her side, Roger nodded, his mouth too full for him to speak. He'd emptied the bread basket before anyone else had a second chance.