Read Weddings Can Be Murder Online

Authors: Connie Shelton

Tags: #romantic suspense, #christmas, #amateur sleuth, #female sleuth, #wedding, #series books, #mystery series, #connie shelton, #charlie parker series, #wedding mysteries

Weddings Can Be Murder (9 page)

BOOK: Weddings Can Be Murder
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“What do you think?” he asked. His blue eyes
crinkled at the corners as he smiled.

“I think the construction business must be
very good.”

He laughed aloud at that. “Just one of my
many endeavors, sweetheart.”

Voices from another room snagged their
attention. A crease marred Al’s smooth forehead for a moment.

“Hold on a minute.” He left her standing
there and crossed the marble floor, his heels clicking solidly. He
pushed open a carved door she’d barely had time to notice, and the
voices grew louder.

A low exchange of words, deep male voices.
Al returned, leaving the door open, and took her elbow.

“Business that can wait,” he murmured,
steering her toward the back of the house and the tall glass doors
with the veranda beyond.

She caught sight of two men in dark suits
emerging from the room where Al had spoken to them. They seemed
large and not especially friendly, but they didn’t say a word as
they exited by the front door.

“Hungry? Let’s eat first, then I’ll give you
a little tour.” He held the wide glass door open, calling to
someone unseen as they walked outside.

A table had been laid with china, linen and
silver, an enormous arrangement of tropical fruit in the center. He
led her to the chair positioned for maximum enjoyment of the view,
while he took the one facing the door.

“Ernestina,” he said to the Hispanic woman
who appeared at Juliette’s side. “We’ll have our lunch now.”

 

* * *

 

“You wouldn’t believe his place,” Juliette
said later, nearly upsetting her wine glass as she described the
afternoon to Carol Ann. Her friend had insisted they meet somewhere
for happy hour the minute they got off work, and this little wine
bar was closest to the bus route.

“Lunch was lobster salad. But, I mean, there
was shrimp and crabmeat in there too, and some kind of herbs or
spices …or something. I can’t even describe it. And the fresh
fruit! And a bread that just practically melted …”

“In other words, you never had anything like
it back in Texas, huh?”

“Oh my god—no. It was amazing.”

“Sounds like something completely fitting
for the way you described the house.”

“It was like some castle in Europe, Carol
Ann. Seriously, seriously fit for a king.”

Carol Ann’s eyes showed a hint of skepticism
as she picked up her wine glass.

“And this guy, your
boss
, is
interested in
you
?”

“Don’t say it like that. He’s just nice.
There was nothing inappropriate or forward about the whole day.”
Except maybe the nagging doubt Sheila had put into her mind, the
remark about how Al came on to all women.

“Come on … he showed me this huge living
room where he said they move the furniture out of the way for
dancing at parties, and there was a dining room with the longest
table you ever saw. And a library—talk about classy books! They all
had leather covers and gold print on the backs.” She left out the
part about the two men who’d come out of that room. “He didn’t even
take me upstairs. If he was making a move on me, don’t you think he
would have wanted me to see the bedrooms. I bet they are totally
swanky.”

“I’m just saying, it would be dumb to get
involved with him. Guys like that just use girls like us. There’s
no future in it.”

“I’m not looking for a future with any man.
Not yet, anyway.”

“We’ve been out of school almost five years,
sweetie. The girls who went to college are already staking out
their men, getting married. The girls who didn’t are married
already and have a kid or two. I’m just thinking it’s time to start
looking around for the guy who’ll be the one, the man you stick
with.”

Juliette drained her glass. What if Al
Proletti did turn out to be the one for her? She could certainly do
worse. But she didn’t say so to Carol Ann.

Chapter 9

 

I stomped into my office the minute the
newscast ended and dialed Ben Ortiz’s number. His secretary said he
was busy but once I gave my name in a none-too-friendly tone, she
managed to put me through.

“What was the purpose of that stupid press
conference if we get this kind of coverage from it?” I demanded the
moment I heard his voice.

“Charlie, settle down. I don’t have to talk
strategy with you. Ron is my client.”

I shouted across the hall for Ron to pick up
the phone.

“Charlie, just settle down,” Ortiz said, his
voice impossibly calm. “These things always happen. Media people
are notorious for sensationalizing everything. They need a story
and they need it to be as tantalizing and salacious as possible. We
can’t stop that. They would do it whether we appeared at a news
conference or not. The important thing is that we’ve got Victoria’s
face up there on every TV screen in the state. With luck, the
national networks will pick it up.”

Luck? My stomach did a flip at the thought
of this pack of lies being spread across the whole country.

“We’re getting Victoria recognized
everywhere. That’s the main thing. Her abductors won’t be able to
keep her hidden. Someone, somewhere will see her. If she’s hurt or
doesn’t remember what happened, at least somebody out there can get
her back to us.”

“Charlie, he’s right,” came Ron’s voice on
the line. “Once Vic is back and we’re together, the wedding will go
forward and this whole story will do a one-eighty. We’ll be
America’s luckiest couple because we found each other again.”

Since that was far more optimism than I’d
heard from my brother in a lot of hours, I let the statement stand
right there. Maybe he was right. We let the attorney go—no doubt
that phone call had just cost another few hundred dollars.

Ron appeared in my doorway. “We’d better eat
something. I’m exhausted and I can hear the frazzle in your
voice.”

“I don’t want to go out. That broadcast is
still too fresh, and I’m afraid I’ll say something Mr. Lawyer won’t
approve of.”

No argument from Ron. I dialed Drake’s cell;
he would have finished the airport run a long time ago and I was a
little surprised I hadn’t already heard from him.

“Hey, hon.” He sounded a little breathless.
“Sorry I didn’t call earlier.”

“Everything okay?” I pictured a last-minute
airline screw-up that sent Paul’s whole family back to our house
for a longer visit.

“It’s great, actually. I just got a call
from Fish and Game and they got approval for an elk count up north.
They want to start at daybreak tomorrow, so I’m packing. I need to
pull pitch by three o’clock.”

“Do you need me to come along?”
Please
not, please not.
Ron needs me plus there is already snow in the
high country and I’d been in on enough game counts already, thank
you. Staring at the ground while the helicopter circles the herd,
trying to count animals that look like black dots on the ground …
well, the tummy tends to go all queasy.

“Nope, I’m good. I’m just throwing my winter
gear into a bag. I’ll head out to the airport in a few, preflight
the ship … I’ll call you right before I take off. Where are you
guys anyway?”

I gave him the short version of the
morning’s events and the fact that we were basically hiding out at
the office.

“Probably wise,” he said. “The news vans
were gone awhile but now they’re back in front of the house.”

“Great. We’ll probably hang out here until
dark. Maybe they’ll give up on us. Look, can you bring Freckles by
the office on your way out?”

Bless him, my hubby is the best. He agreed
without even taking an extra breath.

“I got the gist of it,” Ron said from the
doorway. “I’ve already called Sal’s and ordered a pizza. They said
forty minutes.”

I glanced at my watch, noted the pizza ETA,
and turned on my computer. I might as well get something useful
done since I was stuck. My attempts at accounting entries held my
attention for less time than it took for the pizza guy to drive up.
I answered the door and took the box, which gave off waves of
pepperoni and mushroom.

Ron met me in the kitchen. Drake drove into
our back parking area just as I was rummaging in a cupboard for
extra napkins, and Freckles bounded out of the Jeep.

“Glad you suggested this,” he said, snagging
a slice from the box. “I needed to trade vehicles with you anyway.
Forgot some of my tools are still in my truck.”

Freckles kept her huge brown eyes on each
move of his pizza slice—up and down as he raised it to his mouth.
It dawned on me how movie directors can get a dog to nod yes to a
question. Her focus was total.

Ten minutes later, I sent Drake on his way
with a kiss and a promise to track his flight once he let me know
that he’d taken off. When I walked back from the truck Ron’s
expression was glum.

“Sorry. I wish I knew what to do.” It had to
be excruciating for him to watch Drake and me, happy and safe
together.

He shrugged and balled up his third paper
napkin.

“Want to talk about it? Maybe we can make a
plan.”

“If this was happening to anyone else, a
missing loved one, I’d tell them to do everything we’ve already
done. Get flyers out, get media coverage if possible … I just never
knew how it would feel from the inside.”

“What else can we do?” I finally got my
second bite of pizza.

“If I had access to her files, I’d start
looking for names, calling people she’d recently contacted. See if
anyone could tell us something we don’t already know.”

“She told me she’d scheduled most of her
decorating jobs around the wedding and the trip. I don’t recall her
saying there was anyone she needed to tend to until after the
holidays.”

His eyebrows knotted in a way I know so
well, his thinking mode. “She has a couple of shipments coming in,
some tile for a bathroom remodel and drapes or something for
somebody else. But she had talked to Sally about accepting the
packages here at the office, stashing everything in one corner of
the conference room until we got back from our trip. The customers
were not expecting to hear from her. Both had agreed to holding
their completion dates until after the first.”

I pushed the food aside and closed the box.
“None of that sounds even remotely connected.”

“I agree.”

“So, it seems that we’re left with two
possibilities. She was taken forcibly …”

“We would have received a ransom demand by
now,” he argued.

“Or, she had to leave, to escape someone who
came after her.” I didn’t dare mention the idea that not everyone
who is kidnapped is taken for ransom. The thought of Victoria
abducted, probably raped or killed, was too horrible for me to get
my mind around.

Ron massaged the sides of his head, raising
spikes of hair at his temples. “I can’t help but think it’s
something to do with our argument. That she had second thoughts
about the wedding and just had to get away and sort it out.”

“Really? At the press conference you said
this was no runaway bride scenario.”

He sent me a look.

“Okay, I get it. I wouldn’t say to them what
was really on my mind either.” Especially since the police were
already thinking badly of Ron. “So, let’s go over the days before
the wedding and see if we can figure it out.”

“It’s just what I
have
been doing.”
His voice was miserable. “She talked about the plans—cake, flowers,
invitations. I guess that’s the stuff all brides talk about. I
don’t know.”

“Sounds like it to me.”

“What about when you gals were alone? Did
she say anything at all, anything beyond that day’s events?”

I wanted to rub my temples too. I honestly
hadn’t heard Victoria give any clue that she wasn’t a hundred
percent in love with Ron and ready to get married. I told him so,
if for no other reason than to get a trace of a smile to show on
his face.

It didn’t really work.

I went back to my computer but my heart
wasn’t in it and my mind wasn’t on the work. Rather than make a
bunch of mistakes I would have to find and correct later, I decided
to take the dog for a walk. The fresh, chilly air stimulated me and
a plan began to hatch, not one I could tell Ron.

Back at the office, he was on the phone. I
held my breath, hoping for good news. Well, really, any news. When
he hung up I could tell it hadn’t been anything of importance.

“So, what do you want to do?” I asked.
“Tonight, you need to make some decisions. Most of your stuff is at
Vic’s but you can’t go back there yet and your old place is out of
the question. You should sleep at our place for awhile yet.”

I could see him picturing his crummy
apartment, worse now because it was mostly empty. He nodded at my
suggestion.

Drake called to let me know he was heading
north and would be staying the night in the little town of Eagle
Nest. In the background, rotor noise almost obliterated his voice.
I told him Ron would be with me and he wished us luck.

“We both need some rest,” I said to Ron.
“All this has been too much.”

He nodded again, too wrung-out to make
conversation anymore.

“Let’s go home, settle in, ignore the news
people. One of us should call Kent Taylor and find out the status,
if they have any new leads from the hotline.”

“What about Ben Ortiz?”

“I’m not asking permission. I think this
needs to come from family. Make the call.”

Of course there was no real news. Taylor
would have let us know. He did say calls were starting to come in,
but so far none of the leads were specific enough to be of value.
He thanked Ron and told him to take care, which I thought was
nice.

I drove the Jeep home and hustled Ron and
Freckles into the house without a glance toward the vans at the
curb. The temperature had dropped at least ten degrees—good news
for us because it kept the reporters in their vehicles. Inside, I
closed all the drapes. It would be dark soon anyway, and I wanted
lamps on without feeling that the whole world was watching me.

BOOK: Weddings Can Be Murder
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