Engaged in Death (A Wedding Planner Mystery) (7 page)

“What?”

“If I could just get a refund for the damn wedding reception, it would be enough to do some renovations.”

“They still won’t let you out of it?” Rachel gasped.

“Nope.” I retrieved my purse and unfurled the ratty contract I’d been carrying around like a bad luck charm. I spread it out on the ottoman, and Rachel skimmed it page by page.

“I’m no attorney, but this looks pretty iron-clad. You missed the date to cancel the wedding by a week.”

“And they know it. No one at the country club will return my calls.”

“Couldn’t you file a lawsuit to try to get it back?” Rachel squinted harder at the contract, as if she could bully it into releasing me.

“It wouldn’t be successful. Besides, I made it in good faith. I never imagined I wouldn’t be getting married. It’s not the country club’s fault Keith can’t keep it in his pants.” It was the first joke I’d made about Keith, and Rachel erupted into a gale of laughter. I warmed, genuinely thankful I hadn’t married Keith. No matter what happened, I was better off. Heck, maybe in a few months I’d even be laughing about it. But I needed my reception deposit back.

I decided to beg for it in person. So, I left Rachel at Sylvia’s house and walked the mile to the country club. I sat outside the manager’s office, offering his assistant a tight-lipped smile as I tapped my foot on the faded plaid carpet. I wished I’d saved my engagement ring to pawn, as satisfying as it had been to toss it down the street.

“He’s very busy.” The doe-eyed girl blinked her false lashes at me. “Maybe you could leave him a message.”

“I’ll wait. He hasn’t returned any of my calls.”

Her eyes grew big. “You’re the woman who’s been calling about the cancellation?”

“Miss Shepard, what a pleasant surprise.” Mr. Haines, the manager, burst out of his office, white hair greased into place, blinding dentures flashing his trademark grin. He was happy, all right. He had all of my money for a wedding reception that wouldn’t be happening. I cursed myself again for agreeing to pay for it. Keith had purchased that silly ring, and I’d thought I’d have some measure of control over the wedding if the bride’s side of the family, aka me, paid for it. I’d been wrong about that too, since Helene had taken over within hours of our engagement. The last time I’d seen Mr. Haines, he’d nervously brought us a sample of wedding cake to try, and his fear of Helene had been palpable. Today he was doing a poor job of acting contrite as he settled me in a chair facing his desk.

“I’m here to see if you’ll reconsider about the deposit. Perhaps you could find another event to take the place of the reception. I’ll do everything in my power to mitigate this—”

“That won’t be necessary.” His chompers gleamed. “It would be too much of a hardship for us to try to reimburse you. I’m truly sorry about your broken engagement.” He rocked in his leather chair, the springs whining, his face a failed mask of concern. “But you knew this when you made your deposit, Miss Shepard. This is contracts one oh one.” His small, smug smile quivered at the corners of his thin lips.

I’d been to a few events at the Port Quincy Country Club before Helene had strong-armed us into choosing it for the reception. They served the same fare for each event: over-and-undercooked prime rib, stringy chicken and tepid hors d’oeuvres. It wouldn’t be much of a loss to shelve my wedding. But I had signed the contract and, per the cancellation clause, it was too late to get out of it.

“Fine then.” I stood and gathered my bag. I flung it over my shoulder a bit too forcefully, as it crashed into the crystal dish on the edge of his desk, scattering butterscotch candies everywhere like tan Ping-Pong balls. “The reception will go on.”

He blanched, his ruddy face draining to a pale grayish green, as his windfall slipped away. “Don’t you consider it a bit tactless to celebrate that day? The show doesn’t always have to go on.”

“If I’m paying for it, it does. Get ready for a party like you’ve never seen before.”

* * *

I hightailed it back to Thistle Park in record time, anger fueling my legs.

“I guess that didn’t go so well,” Rachel assessed, as I flopped back onto the couch, sweaty and agitated.

“I didn’t get the deposit back, but that’s to be expected.” I filled her in on my unsuccessful showdown with the manger. “Looks like I’ll be planning another wedding—I just need to find a bride to take over the reception in two weeks’ time.” Keith’s suggestion that I become a wedding planner had come to fruition—just not how I’d expected. My fantasy of throwing a wedding in Sylvia’s house, beautifully restored with the money from my deposit, wasn’t going to happen. But if I could find a bride, I’d be throwing her a wedding on the same day I was to be married.

Rachel opened her mouth to say something, then set down her spray bottle, alert. “Someone’s in the backyard.”

I peeled myself off the couch and followed my sister to the back porch.

“Can we help you?” I asked the slight girl lying on her stomach in the backyard.

“Shh.” The girl stuck her hand under the porch. “I almost caught him.”

Rachel and I obeyed her and stood in silence, as if bewitched.

The girl called to something under the porch stairs, sweet and low. Her voice grew louder and more pleading. “Here, little guy. C’
mere
, little kitty.”

The calico was pressed against the now-shut kitchen window, meowing and watching the girl, her tail swishing with impatience.

“Oh no. We didn’t get all of the kittens,” I whispered to Rachel.

The girl glowered at me.

“Sorry.”

A tiny black kitten tottered out from under the porch, toward the girl and the tuna in her hand. At the last second, he realized this was an ambush and scampered left. I reached down and scooped him up as he ran by the porch.

“Gotcha!” I cradled the runt in my arms. The calico meowed louder through the glass, and the girl followed us inside.

“There, little kitty.” I deposited him on the floor with his fluff-ball sibling. The calico cat grabbed her prodigal kitten by the scruff of his neck, dropped him in the box, and began tending to him.

“I was worried about him,” the girl explained, as if it were perfectly natural we’d found her in the backyard playing kitten pied piper. “He always runs off.” She glanced at the apricot kitten. “Now they’re both okay.”

“You’ve been feeding them.” A statement, rather than a question.

The girl stood and faced us, a deep bloom of pink obliterating her freckles. She looked like a little Goth elf. She was about twelve or thirteen and had thin, gangly legs and a heart-shaped face. Her dyed blue-black hair was gathered into a messy ponytail, but her roots were blond, as were her eyebrows. Her skin was so translucent her violet veins showed through, and she had the biggest hazel eyes I’d ever seen, a little Cupid’s-bow mouth, and a changeling manner. She was already a few inches taller than me, which wasn’t a hard feat to attain.

She opened her mouth to reveal magenta-banded braces. “I had to! The mom cat had kittens about two months ago, and she needed food. My dad won’t let me get a cat, and when I told my grandma about the kittens, she promised we could bring them to the animal rescue. Until she changed her mind.” She frowned. “She said I shouldn’t really be coming over here, that it’s dangerous since Miss Sylvia left. But the little black kitten is always wandering off, and I was scared he’d get separated. Besides, I want to be a veterinarian when I grow up, and this is good practice.” She’d started off panicked and apologetic, but by the end of her explanation, she was haughty and sure of her convictions.

“I’m not mad. Thanks for taking care of them.” I tried to get the girl to look me in the eyes.

Finally, she did. “Are you going to keep them?” She fiddled with an earring.

Rachel and I exchanged glances. My mom had refused to let us have a pet during the lean years after our dad left. When she’d married Doug, he’d brought two pugs into our family. Keith hadn’t wanted pets, and our apartment hadn’t allowed them. I’d never had a cat, but I’d always wanted one. I just hadn’t counted on three at once.

But I had already decided to keep them, my heart melting every time the calico diligently tended to the apricot kitten and now its jet sibling.

“Of course we’ll keep them.” I offered the girl a smile. “This is more their home than mine, and”—I shuddered—“I think the calico already took care of that nest of mice in the dining room credenza.”

“Do you promise they’ll be inside cats?” The girl’s pale blond eyebrows, so incongruous with the blue-black hair, tented together over the bridge of her nose in concern.

“I promise.” I suppressed a smile.

The girl’s elfin face relaxed. “When did you guys move in? It’s been empty forever.”

“Last night.” Had she heard about the murder? “I’m Mallory and this is my sister, Rachel.”

“I’m Summer.” She offered a surprisingly firm handshake for someone so young.

I grinned at the incongruity of her sunny name and her dark appearance. With her inky hair, she seemed an unlikely candidate to have that name.

“I’ve never been in the house.” Summer turned around in a slow circle. “What is this room?”

“The butler’s pantry, we think,” Rachel said.

We were in a narrow vestibule connecting the kitchen and the dining room. China, crystal, and boxes of silver cutlery were neatly stacked on shelves reaching up to the ceiling.

Summer’s eyes lit up. “I’ve never seen a butler’s pantry. I used to say hello to Miss Sylvia in her garden, and she’d let me pick flowers. But that was a long time ago. Like, when I was really little. I’m thirteen now. Did you know we’re neighbors? My backyard connects with yours.”

“And you’ve been looking after the cats for how long?”

“She had kittens in May, and I brought her the box. I’m not technically allowed to come over here, but I needed to help her. I sneak—I mean, I come over here every few days.”

I tried not to let her see my smile.

“Do you have any pets?” Rachel asked.

“My dad won’t let me get one,” Summer groaned. “He says he’s allergic, but I don’t believe him.”

Now that he was done chowing down on moistened kibble, the little black kitten she’d found under the porch twined his way around her ankles. His outsized purr filled the room. This kitten was in love.

“Tell you what, Summer. You can take the kitty home, and if your parents won’t let you keep it, you can bring it right back.” I reached out to give the black kitten a pat.

“It’s just my dad. And my grandpa and grandma. And thanks,” she whispered. “I’ve always wanted a cat.”

“Do you need a box? Or kitten food?”

“Nah. He’ll let me carry him. He’s a he, by the way. And I already have some more of that under my bed.” She gestured to the bag on the floor.

“One more thing, Summer. You weren’t here last night, were you?”
Please let her not have been here when Shane Hartley was murdered
.

“No way.” Summer looked solemn. Her hazel eyes grew as wide as saucers. “I
was
here yesterday, but I left before it got dark. Why?”

I wasn’t quite sure I believed her.

“No reason. You can come over anytime. Just make sure you tell your dad and your grandparents.” I was sure everyone in Port Quincy knew about Shane Hartley’s untimely demise by now, and if her father and grandparents knew she was here, they wouldn’t be too happy.

“I promise.” And with that, she gave us that massive grin, with a bright flash of magenta braces. She began to walk back to her house, cooing to her little kitten as she made her way toward the garden, navigating around the broken angel statues and through the waist-high weeds.

It had been a long day. Tomorrow would be my first day back at work since I’d called off my engagement, learned of Sylvia’s death, inherited a house, and slept through a murder. Rachel and I triple-checked each window and door before we retired for what would be a fitful night of sleep. I woke up every hour, mistaking each creak and sigh from the old house for a murder possibly under way.

Rachel had a similar night’s sleep, judging from the puffy bags she sported beneath her eyes. When I got to Pittsburgh, I started my workday with a trek to the back entrance to avoid running into Keith or Becca Cunningham out front. I’d added myself to Rachel’s auto rental policy and driven the Mini Cooper, parking in a distant lot, not daring to use the subterranean parking shared with Keith’s firm.

I hid in my office most of the day. My best friend, Olivia, brought me lunch, and I scanned the halls each time before I ventured out. I felt other associates’ eyes bore into the back of my head, and trails of whispers, both real and imagined, followed me down the hall. One young first-year, a noted gossip, craned her neck out of her door in anticipation of my visit to the bathroom. She drew her head back in with a little squeak when I came into view.

Thankfully my secretary snapped, “What are you looking at?” as the girl shut her office door.

My cheeks burned. I felt as if I were performing a collegiate walk of shame, but I’d done nothing wrong. I doubted Keith felt the same way one building over.

The day was largely wasted, as I didn’t feel I could fairly bill clients for my distracted, patchy work. I spent more time figuring out how to find a bride to take over my reception than I spent on real work.

Olivia and I brainstormed about my unwanted wedding reception over lunch in my office. I needed to find someone to donate the shindig to in a hurry.

“Why not hold a fund-raiser for a charity?” Olivia suggested. “Or you could try to find someone who can’t afford a wedding.”

“That was my thought too, but how would I go about finding them? Put out an ad in the paper or on Craigslist? Besides, who’d be ready to get married in less than three weeks?”

“That’s just it. You did all the prep work. Everything’s set up. You have all of the favors and decorations. All the country club has to do is prepare the food and drinks and serve them.”

“I guess. The favors are actually at Keith’s apartment, but who’d want my specific wedding, er, Helene’s idea of a wedding? And if I found a bride, how could I quickly customize my reception into a wedding she’d want?”

But it was worth a shot. I turned to my computer and nervously licked my lips, gearing up to write the strangest Craigslist ad ever.

“Free wedding or evening event available at the Port Quincy Country Club, date non-negotiable,” Olivia read over my shoulder.

I typed up the rest of the ad quickly, feeling raw and exposed, even though I hadn’t included my identity. But enough people in Port Quincy had been uninvited to the wedding it wouldn’t be hard to figure out I was the author of the post. And here I was, advertising that my engagement and would-be marriage had blown up in my face. Still, if I could find a bride or a group to use the event space and food, I’d be doing some good and making lemonade out of decidedly sour lemons. I took a deep breath.

“I hope this works.” I closed my eyes and clicked submit.

“Bravo!” Olivia gave me a high five.

I should have felt good about creating the post, but my stomach twisted into a hard, sharp knot.

* * *

The commute back to Port Quincy didn’t help. I jockeyed with other harried country-dwellers eager to get home after a long day in the city, cutting each other off at eighty miles per hour.

“What are you doing here?” It came out kind of brusque, but I couldn’t help myself.

I was in no mood to deal with surprises now I was back at Thistle Park, but Garrett Davies sat on the top step of the porch, with murder in his eyes. A squealing, mewling shoebox pocked with ragged air holes fidgeted beside him, containing what I guessed was one angry kitten. It took a few beats to connect the dots. The fact that Garrett looked delicious in his navy suit didn’t help. His tie was loosened and his top button was undone. He cocked one eyebrow in a question, inviting me to say something. His eyes narrowed.
Summer’s eyes.

“
You’re
Summer’s dad?”

“Yes, Mallory, I’m Summer’s dad. I like to be included in decisions about whether my daughter is allowed to have a pet or not. And since you and my daughter failed to consult me, I’ll let you know belatedly what my decision is. No pets.” He stood and handed me the box. I tore off the top, and the kitten popped his furry jet head out. He blinked in the sunlight and scrabbled out, clinging to my neck.

“It’s okay, buddy.” I rubbed his downy head. “We’ll take you back. You don’t ever have to see this mean man again.”

He began to purr, no worse for wear.

Garrett rolled his eyes. “You sound just like Summer. I’m not mean, just sensible. Summer’s thirteen, and she can barely keep her room clean. How is she going to take care of a cat? Plus, I’m allergic.”

“So I’ve heard. Although . . .”

“What?”

I walked up to Garrett and, before he could refuse, handed him the kitten.

He sighed and accepted the little black ball of fluff. He halfheartedly petted him, getting cat hair on his suit. “It’s okay, Jeeves. You’ll be happier here with your mama cat and fellow kitten.”

I laughed. “Summer named him Jeeves?”

“Yes. She talked nonstop about this place and how you have a butler’s pantry. So he’s Jeeves. But feel free to change it.” Petting the kitten seemed to soften him. “Sorry to dump this on you, but I really can’t have a cat.”

“You seem just fine.” My voice was soft and low. I’d meant that he seemed to deal well with Jeeves, but it came out sounding like I was talking about how hot he was.

“What?” He looked up sharply.

“You’re not sneezing. And look, he’s kneading you, and the scratches aren’t even getting red. I don’t think you’re really allergic.”

Garrett frowned and looked at the little kitten. “I guess not.” He still sounded doubtful. “Come to think of it, my father told me I was allergic every time I asked for a pet growing up. Maybe it was just a tactic.” He smiled briefly. “I still don’t know if Summer can handle a cat. I’m really busy with work, and I can’t saddle my parents with this. It wouldn’t be fair. I’m a single parent, and they do so much for Summer as it is.”

“But she’s already taken care of three cats.” I was secretly pleased he’d affirmed what Summer said yesterday. There was no Mrs. Davies in the picture. “She figured out the cat was going to have kittens, brought her a box to have them in, and made sure they had food and water. She even noticed Jeeves ran away and found him.”

He sighed. “Summer did a good job with them. Now I know where her allowance has been going. I just wish she hadn’t disobeyed her grandparents and me by coming over here. Until Sylvia deeded it to you, it was vacant, and now with Shane Hartley’s murder, it makes me crazy knowing my daughter was here by herself.”

Shane Hartley’s murder had taken over the entire front page of the Port Quincy
Eagle Herald
and even gotten a small mention in the Pittsburgh papers. The articles mentioned Hartley was chief of operations for Lonestar Energy and had left behind a pregnant wife, but they didn’t mention what a divisive figure he’d been in Port Quincy. I was thankful I wasn’t a suspect in print, but it was futile to hope no one would find out. Thistle Park was now infamous. This wouldn’t help when I tried to sell the house.

“Summer wasn’t entirely truthful, but she did help the cats. She wants to be a veterinarian.”

Garrett perked up. “She told you that? Good, because veterinarians don’t usually dye their hair black or purposely dress in rags. I hope she grows out of this phase.”

I smiled. “I’m sure there are some veterinarians with dyed-black hair out there. And you’ve got nothing to worry about. She’s a great kid.”

He stared at me for a second, petting Jeeves, who seemed quite content to be settled in his arms.

“There’s another reason for my visit. I finally found Tabitha Battles’s card. And Zachary Novak’s. Tabitha’s at the historical society and Zach was Sylvia’s real estate agent. If you want to proceed according to Sylvia’s requests, they’d be the people to talk to. Oh, and the number for Sylvia’s handyman, Will Prentiss. He used to cut the grass a few times a year, clean the gutters, and check on the house.”

He cradled Jeeves with his left hand and handed me the two cards and a Post-it note with his right. Our fingers brushed.

The contact flustered me and somehow he dropped the cards. We both bent to pick them up, our movements mirrored.

“Ow!” I cried out as our skulls connected.

“I’m so sorry.” Garrett set Jeeves on the porch and cradled my forehead in his hands. “Stand still.”

Stars flashed and I felt a bit woozy, but he held me upright. His large hands rifled gently through my hair, undoing my bun, my hair slipping through his fingers. Then he stopped and inhaled sharply.

“Yup, you’re going to have a giant bump.” He tipped my chin up, peering intently into my eyes. He smelled of spearmint and oranges, and I held fast to his arm to keep from swooning. “You can see, right?”

I nodded, looking down. I had to break the intensity of his gaze. “Can you?”

“Oh, yes.” His voice was husky.

I reached up and touched the top of his head, making him wince. “You’ll have a bump too. I’m such a klutz.” It was true. I had always been a bit ungainly, and since moving into Sylvia’s house, I had the bruises to prove it. I was always running into heavy pieces of furniture and tripping over threadbare rugs. Tears began to form in my eyes from the pain throbbing in my head.

“It’s my fault.” He brushed away a drop that had made its way to the tip of my chin.

“Hello there,” Rachel purred, opening the front door. “I thought I heard someone out here.” Her eyes went wide when she saw us standing so close. She picked up Jeeves and nestled the kitten by her chest, which was on full display, peeking out of a red tank top I recognized as mine, and a plaid bra, mine as well. It wasn’t meant to be a push-up, but that’s what happened when you put D cups in a B-cup bra.

“Are you bringing the kitten back?” She looked at Garrett with interest, probably putting two and two together as I had and realizing he was Summer’s father.

Garrett and I jumped back, releasing each other.

“Actually, I’m taking Jeeves home.” He picked up the box from the porch. “Mallory made a good case. Summer will be ecstatic. It’s about time she got a pet.”

I laughed and could have hugged him. I shook my aching head, as if clearing water out of my ears.
Whoa, what? I just got out of a six-year relationship with a man I was about to marry.

He took Jeeves from Rachel, seemingly immune to her charms. “Have a great night, ladies.” He gently deposited the kitten in the box and closed the lid. He headed for the backyard connecting the properties, following the same meandering path Summer had, whistling a tune.

Rachel peered at Garrett’s retreating form with a look of confusion. She wasn’t used to men being impervious to her seduction techniques. She wheeled around to stare at me. “Wow, Mallory, that man is totally smitten.”

“What?” I emerged from a private reverie, my hand on my head.

Rachel smirked. “And it looks like you are too.”

* * *

That night, I had vivid dreams, but instead of murder on the front lawn, they involved naughty things with a certain neighbor, Garrett Davies. I woke up hot and flushed. I felt a bit different. In the grogginess of early morning, I couldn’t put my finger on it. By the time I descended the grand staircase to grab some breakfast, I’d pinpointed the change in my mood. I felt optimistic. A smidge less bleak.

But I swore off men
. Especially lawyers. Especially from Port Quincy, Pennsylvania.
Look what it brought me last time.
Nothing but pain and recrimination. I wasn’t even finished mourning my engagement to Keith. What were the five stages of grief? I was stuck on the anger stage. The “strangle Keith” part and the “slash Becca Cunningham’s tires” part. Still, Garrett Davies made me smile and, for now, that was enough.

“You seem better.”

I loaded a bagel into the Sputnik-era chrome toaster. I smiled at my sister. She was playing with the orange kitten on the worn black and white checked floor, waving a feathered toy. The kitten was going nuts while the calico looked on.

“I do feel a little better.”

“You know, it’s never too early. I think you need to start getting back in the swing of things.” She looked up as the kitten leaped through the air. “Maybe with Garrett Davies.”

My smile vanished. Was I that transparent, or did Rachel have some kind of psychic sister superpower?

“I’m not rebounding with Garrett Davies after a broken engagement and a six-year relationship!” My face grew warm, and I picked up the kitten and nuzzled her, hiding my cheeks, which were probably glowing crimson.

“So my hunch was right.” Rachel nodded sagely. “You like him so much you don’t want to ruin it by making it a rebound.”

“He’s a jerk, and he’s our neighbor, and there are about ten thousand other reasons I can come up with why I wouldn’t date him.” But he had taken back Jeeves, so he wasn’t truly a jerk. And he did have meltingly beautiful hazel eyes.

“We’ll see.” Rachel’s mouth curved into a simper.

“Have a good day, Rach.”

I drove off for Pittsburgh, waiting for the dread to build. It was my second day back to work, and although I’d managed to avoid Keith and Becca yesterday, it was only a matter of time before I ran into the cheater and his accomplice.