Leann Sweeney - A Wedding To Die For

“Too late. Way too late. And now Roxanne has—” She stopped herself.

“What about Roxanne? Is she feeling as guilty as you do?”

Courtney shook her head vehemently. “I can’t talk about her. I can’t hurt the only person left in the world who loves me.”

“We need to get to the truth,” I said firmly. “For everyone’s sake. Does Roxanne feel as responsible as you do for your father’s death?”

Courtney stopped walking and stared straight ahead, arms limp at her sides.

I came around and stood in front of her. “Do you think Roxanne killed them?”

Courtney closed her eyes and shook her head sadly. “She didn’t know what to do with her anger. She wasn’t like me. I picked the perfect way out. I medicated myself. But Roxy is so... different . She just pretends all the time. Lives in this big fantasy world. And when she found out Dad and Uncle James sent away the guy she loved—and that the jerk went willingly—she got all calm and syrupy. But she had to be pissed off. So pissed off.”

“And you think that’s why she killed them? Over something that happened months ago?”

“I don’t want to believe it, but maybe she had no other way to deal with her anger.”

“So why choose what was supposed to be the happiest day of Megan’s life to settle the score? Don’t you think she cared way too much for Megan to do something like that?”

“Maybe she was jealous of Megan’s happiness?” But Courtney didn’t sound so sure now.

“Then why not kill Megan, or better yet, Travis? Make Megan feel the same loss your sister had felt.”

“That’s ridiculous. She adores Megan.”

“Exactly my point,” I said. “I don’t think she killed anyone. Have you considered the possibility that she was protecting you?”

Courtney’s lids slowly closed and opened. Then I could tell by her eyes that she was putting something together. “She could have had another motive. If she killed them, then I’d have no money for drugs. And the way her mind works, she probably believed that would be a solution to my problem.” She paused, stared into my eyes, then whispered, “Oh my God. What have I done?”

Kate stepped in after my talk with Courtney and took her to her room for another therapy session. Even though I had tried to reassure Courtney that no one knew for certain that Roxanne committed murder to protect her sister, Courtney wasn’t convinced and had started talking about how worthless she was.

Meanwhile, I went out to my car and sat there thinking while Kate stayed behind with the once again agitated Courtney. I’d played my role of the concerned friend at the rehearsal and wedding while all the time Courtney and Roxanne knew I had another agenda. And Travis, the one person Megan wanted to protect the most, knew about me, too—and lied to the police. And what about Sylvia? Was she really in the dark when everyone else seemed to know Megan was searching for her mother?

I inserted the key in the ignition, but the questions kept coming. What about Graham? Had he researched my background because he knew why I was hanging around his niece? And who confronted James in the study that day with a Waterford vase in hand? Was it Laura Montgomery? And did she then get rid of Graham so he could never tell Megan the truth? From what I saw of her last night, she was certainly desperate enough to have committed murder.

So many possibilities, and as much as I hated the idea, I had to tell Fielder what I’d learned. I pulled out of the hospital parking lot wondering where I would begin with the story—and if she’d let me finish talking this time.

When I arrived at the Seacliff Police Station a half hour later, the place was back to normal. Guess the reporters got tired of being stonewalled. Henderson didn’t even hear me come in. He wore a headset and was leaning back in his chair with his eyes closed. And I knew why.

A woman was crying, sounding like a calf calling his mama—a piercing, loud, insistent noise that would have had me wearing headphones, too.

I walked up to Henderson’s desk and poked his shoulder.

He started and nearly fell backward, then hastily took off the headset and said, “What do you want?”

“I need to see her. Now .”

“You sure? Because she is in one foul mood.” He nodded in the direction of the noise. “Ever since that Beadford girl got here last night we’ve been subjected to Roxanne’s special brand of torture. You’d think she’d get tired.”

“Roxanne is making all that racket?” I looked toward the hall where the noise was coming from.

“We’re thinking about calling the county mental health officers to cart her off.”

“All the more reason for me to talk to Fielder.”

“She’s pretty busy. Between rounds with Beadford, she keeps looking at pictures and video from the wedding. I told her she needs to leave it alone for a while, but ever since the preliminary autopsy and forensic reports came in this morning she’s been working nonstop. She’s majorly stressed out.”

“Did you see those reports?” I asked.

“Are you kidding? She doesn’t trust anyone with this case.” Henderson stood. “Come on. Let me take you back there.”

Once we reached Fielder’s office, he rapped on the door. The crying was obviously coming from inside.

He called, “Miss Rose is here to see you, Chief.”

“I’m busy,” came the curt reply.

But then Roxanne spoke. “Abby’s here? My Abby?”

Oh brother. Now I belonged to her.

Fielder said something indecipherable, and then Roxanne shrieked, “I need to talk to her!”

The click of shoes on the wood floor told me Roxanne might just get her wish.

Fielder yanked open the door and stepped aside for me to enter. “If you think you can make her quit crying, you are more than welcome to try.”

Roxanne had been sitting in the chair opposite the desk, but when she saw me, she jumped to her feet and rushed over.

Hugging me so tightly I felt like I was dancing with a grizzly. Roxanne said, “Why doesn’t she put me in jail where I belong? Why, Abby? Why?”

I gripped Roxanne’s forearms, pushed her away, and held her at arm’s length. “Can the three of us talk?”

“I have been talking, but she doesn’t listen,” cried Roxanne.

Sad, but true, I thought. I turned to Fielder, who looked run over, run down, and wrung out.

She said, “Can I release Miss Beadford to you? Otherwise, we might have to commit her. She refuses to leave the premises even though I have told her I have her statement and she’s free to leave.”

“I’ll be glad to take her home if we can discuss her confession first.” This was a bribe, pure and simple, but one I was betting Fielder might accept.

“And why should I do that?” she said wearily. But she turned, walked to her desk, and sat down. She was definitely ready to negotiate.

“I’ve learned a few things about this case in the last few days, things that might interest you,” I said.

Roxanne and I had followed her, and we sat in the two chairs facing Fielder. Roxanne wore Dallas Cowboys sweats and her stringy hair looked like she’d combed it with a dead fish.

“What have you told the chief?” I asked her.

She sniffed and her lower lip trembled. “The truth and nothing but the truth, so help me God. And now I’m going to rot in hell!” She let loose with one of those calf calls, and it was loud enough to rupture my eardrum.

Fielder looked like she might jump across the desk and strangle her.

I gripped Roxanne’s knee and squeezed. “Shut up. No wonder she doesn’t listen. Who could stand that noise?”