Engaged in Murder (Perfect Proposals Mystery) (5 page)

That thought made me realize I had definitely had a bit too much excitement. Besides, my boyfriend, Bobby, was waiting for me at the Naked Truth, a hangout bar close to his apartment. It was time to get out of here.

As I stood, I noticed the two paramedics go by the office window pushing a stretcher with a large black bag on top.

It struck me as incongruous that they basically haul out the body in a big black trash bag. I waited a moment for them to take the body, put it in the ambulance, shut the doors, and leave. It felt too weird to follow the dead guy out—better to give them some space.

By the time I left the hangar, Officer Vandall was deep in conversation with Jeb Donaldson. I picked up my leftover bags and made my way to my car. An unmarked dark sedan was parked near the patrol cars, blocking my car. I sighed, put the bags in the backseat with the remaining palm, and went inside.

Officer Vandall stopped talking when he saw me. “Remember something?” he asked.

Jeb gave me a squinty-eyed look. I figured he was probably angry because I’d interrupted his involvement in the investigation.

“There’s a sedan blocking my car,” I said, playing with my car keys. “Can someone move it?”

“Hold on.” Officer Vandall looked over his shoulder and into the now wide-open doorway to the ladies’ room. I could see the crime scene tech hard at work. There were two men in suits and ties. I didn’t remember seeing them come into the hangar. I imagine they showed up while Officer Vandall questioned me.

“Hey, Murphy, you’re blocking the lady in.”

One of the suits turned to look at us. He was about six feet tall, maybe forty, with thinning gray hair and savvy blue eyes. He had that worn look of a man who saw too much and cared too much. “Move it for me, will you?” He tossed keys toward Officer Vandall.

The officer caught them. “Sure.”

I noticed Murphy studying me. Was he profiling me? I tried not to look guilty, which means I blushed to the roots of my hair and studied him back. He wore an ill-fitting black suit coat, black slacks, a white dress shirt, and a blue tie decorated with yellow Tweety Birds. He was stocky but not fat.

“Come on,” Officer Vandall said. “I’ll let you out. Mr. Donaldson will follow you to the gate.” He turned to Jeb. “Make sure she gets out of here safe.”

“Right.” Jeb sent a short frown in my direction. It was really clear that he didn’t like the fact that he would miss part of the investigation.

I followed both men out of the hangar. “I’m sure I’ll be fine.” I opened my car door. “I’m going to meet my boyfriend. He’ll see I get home safe.”

“I’d feel better if Mr. Donaldson followed you out,” Officer Vandall insisted.

I shrugged and got into my car. A quick glance in the backseat told me that no one was hiding there. A girl had to check—I mean I’ve seen enough slasher movies to know you needed to be sure about these things.

The vanilla scent of the fragrant lei that hung around blue’s rearview mirror mingled with the scent of palm and old car. There was something comforting in the everyday smells. Blue’s seats were warmed by the sun and I let out a deep breath.

It only took a minute for Officer Vandall to move the car. I backed out and left. The palm in my backseat blocked my rear view of the hangar. I was glad to be on my way. I’m an event planner, not a crime-scene junky. Jeb dutifully followed me to the gate, where the kid who had let me in opened it and let me out.

I stepped on the gas as I pulled out onto Milwaukee Avenue. Yes, I drove away as fast as I could. It felt good. A half mile down the road, I slowed my pace enough that I wouldn’t get pulled over. A ticket would be the icing on the cake for this day.

I was wrong. The icing on the cake was finding Bobby and his best friend, Gage, in a booth at the back of the bar near the pool tables. Bobby had that look he got when he had had one too many drinks. I had to unclench my back teeth and smile as I approached the table. “Hi, guys, how’s it going?” I buzzed a kiss on Gage’s cheek and sat down beside Bobby. I kissed Bobby on the mouth, but I wasn’t feeling it. I thought about the way Warren looked at Felicity. Bobby never looked at me like that.

“Where’ve you been?” Bobby asked as he flagged the waitress and motioned for her to bring another round of drinks.

“I was at the Executive Airport. I discovered a dead guy in the ladies’ room.”

“Wow,” Gage said. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, thanks.” I flashed him a grateful smile.

“What was a guy doing in the girls’ room? Was he wearing a dress?” Bobby winked at Gage.

I rolled my eyes. “No, he was dressed like a guy. I have no idea why he died in there.”

“Do you think he was murdered?” Gage asked.

“The cops acted like it,” I said, and accepted the long-neck beer the waitress put in front of me. “But I didn’t see any obvious evidence.” I shrugged and took a swig of my beer. “I’m no crime-scene expert, but it looked like whoever killed him must have stuffed him in the stall along with a mop and bucket.”

“Do you think they used that mop to clean up the evidence?”

“Gosh, I hadn’t thought of that.” I leaned forward toward Gage. “But it makes sense. I didn’t see any obvious signs of what killed him. But he may have had a gash on the back of his head. He could have bled all over the place, although I didn’t see a blood trail or anything.”

“It’s not like you’re a bloodhound,” Bobby teased. “Although I bet that hair of yours would collect scents like the folds in a bloodhound’s face.” He lifted a handful of strands in his fingers and let it fall. “Too bad you don’t have the sense of smell a dog does. You might have actually been of some help to the cops.” He finished the beer in his bottle with a giant swallow. “You called the cops, right?”

“Yes.” I tried not to sigh. Bobby and I had been dating since high school—eight years. Bobby had been cool back then, a jock on both the football and the baseball teams. Unfortunately Bobby had changed little since he was seventeen. What was cool when I was a teenager was not so cool now.

I looked at Gage. Unlike Bobby, Gage had gone to college and graduated with a business degree. He worked for a large prop house that stored scenery and such from the many local movie shoots and theater productions. I had no idea why he still hung out with Bobby. Maybe it was loyalty. Gage was like that. Once he decided on something, it stuck.

I rested my chin on my fist, elbow on the table, and studied Gage. He had short dark brown hair and must have come straight from work. He wore a pale blue dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His dark blue and white striped tie was loosened. The color reflected the blue of his eyes, which were framed in thick black lashes any redhead would give her eyeteeth for.

He was the opposite of Bobby, who wore a NASCAR T-shirt with a grease stain on the shoulder and worn jeans. Gage glanced up and caught my stare. I straightened and played with the condensation on my bottle. I’m glad it was dim in the bar. No one could see my blush. Gage was taken. He was dating a cute blonde named Emma. Her family was from Lake Forest and had money.

They made a great couple. Unlike me, her hair was always perfect. She was in great shape—thin with large boobs. Her nails and makeup were always done up, and the outfits . . . needless to say, my Target skinny jeans and green sweater didn’t even come close to the quality of her cashmere sweaters and designer slacks.

Not that I wanted to have to worry about always looking put together. I had enough things on my mind. But Gage had good taste in women. Not only was Emma well groomed but she was educated and worked downtown at a fancy marketing firm.

“So what the heck were you doing at the Executive Airport anyway? You get a job out there cleaning toilets?” Bobby snorted as if what he’d said was funny.

I winced. “Felicity got engaged to Warren tonight. He asked me to set up the event for him, remember?”

“No,” Bobby said as the waitress put a fresh beer in front of him. Gage waved off another round. I clung to my nearly full bottle as a clear sign I wasn’t buying more. Beer at a bar cost twice what a homemade margarita did. Warren’s check in my pocket could be put to better use than buying Bobby drinks. “I can’t keep up with what you’re doing . . . not working, though. Find a job yet?”

“No.” I rolled my eyes at Bobby’s inference that I was some kind of deadbeat. Gage gave me a sympathetic look over his half-empty bottle of beer. “Anyway, Warren does accounting work for this company that has a private jet. They let him rent it,” I told Gage since he seemed more interested than Bobby. “I decorated the inside with mementoes of their dating life. Felicity had no idea what was coming until he got down on one knee.” I pressed my hand to my chest. “It was so romantic. We all clapped when she said yes and then they flew off to a romantic destination.”

“They flew off to a romantic destination,” Bobby mocked and then took a swig of his beer. “Who does that?”

“Warren, I suppose,” I answered. It was times like this when I wondered why we were still together. Complacency, I guessed. Maybe we were both too lazy to move on. I mean, after eight years, I felt as if I’d invested a lot of time in Bobby. I kept waiting for the confident, competent Bobby from high school to come back. I think for Bobby, I was just the girl who was here. He didn’t have to do anything—not even listen to me tell him where I was going.

I had tried for years to get him to go out into the world. I’d dragged him to event after event that I had planned and worried over, trying to amuse him. But he preferred to either be here at the bar playing pool and getting drunk or home in front of the TV drinking beer. Either way I was an afterthought. Like an appendage, I was simply there.

The realization hit me like a bolt out of the blue. I could live alone and still not be heard, but then there might be space for someone else in my life. I mean, there had to be more guys like Gage out there, didn’t there?

“What are you pouting about?” Bobby scowled at me.

“I’m not pouting.” I frowned at him. “I was just thinking how I want something like that.”

“To be flown away for a weekend?” Gage asked.

“No,” I sighed. “To have someone who cares enough to make things special for me.”

It was then that I looked at Bobby. Really looked at him. I think that was the truth of it—I wanted him to care enough to make something special for me. Deep in my heart of hearts, I knew he never would.

Bobby got a little surly when he saw me looking through him. “Is that what’s been bugging you lately?” he asked, missing the point entirely. “You want me to propose?”

“Oh, gosh no.” I shook my head. It was so strange; I’d been waiting for years for Bobby to propose, but after seeing Warren look at Felicity, I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t imagine marrying a man who looked at me as a pain in the bum. That was the look Bobby gave me right then.

“Right.” Bobby narrowed his eyes. “You’ve been hinting at it for years, and now your sister is engaged. You’ll really start hounding me.”

“No, really,” I protested. “I don’t want you to propose.”

He sneered at me. “Good because you’re nuts if you think I’m going to get down on one knee in this place.” He waved his beer bottle at the sticky, filthy, peanut-shell-encrusted floor.

“I don’t want you to get down on one knee,” I said as clearly as I could. For such a long time I had hoped that he would propose. That he would think to ask my sister or my friends what I would want—a sunset picnic by a lake. He never did ask, and now I could see he never would.

“Good.” He took a swig of his drink. “So I suppose you want to then.”

“Want to what?” I could hear the horror in my voice.

“Get married,” he said with a snarl.

Looking at the disdain rolling off him, I realized I had invested far too much of my time in a man who didn’t love me.

“No,” I said as firmly as I could. “I want to break up.” I got up and walked out. There was a rush of relief. I realized suddenly that I would be okay on my own. Far better than to be stuck with a man who spent all his free hours in a dingy bar, playing pool and listening to out-of-date tunes on the jukebox.

After all, I’d discovered a dead body. I’d called the cops. After that there wasn’t much that could faze me—certainly not the sound of Bob Seger singing “Against the Wind.” How old was that song anyway? The music was as old as the bar.

The night air was cool as I shoved the door open. The scent was crisp and clean and free of stale beer and musty peanuts. I really was going to be okay. I had not only discovered a body, but I’d put together a romantic proposal personalized for Felicity.

Maybe Warren was right. Maybe I could start my own business. He’d even given me enough seed money to live on for six months. I would be foolish not to try.

First thing tomorrow I would make up business cards. When Felicity and Warren got back, I would ask them both to hand them out to clients or friends. Surely if there was one considerate, caring man like Warren, there had to be two.

At least that was what I would stake my life on for the next six months.

My heart felt light. I took another deep breath of fresh air. For the first time in a long time, I felt as if I was on the right path. Maybe, just maybe, I could make something out of the ruins of my life.