Leann Sweeney - A Wedding To Die For

“I can’t tell you what we discussed.”

“This isn’t your case, so why keep secrets?” My voice was hard. The green-eyed monster didn’t want to be contained.

“Any information I have concerning an ongoing investigation is off-limits. This is no exception.”

“Fine. Be that way.” I folded my arms.

He took out another stick of gum while I turned my face to the window. This might be an extra-long ride home.

Lying in bed the next morning, I thought about what happened between Jeff and me last night—our first fight since he and I started getting serious a few months ago. Problem was, he didn’t seem to realize we were having an argument. When we reached my house and I suggested he go on to his own place, he looked at me as if we’d been playing a friendly game of poker and I’d pulled a fifth ace. Then his beeper went off and a double homicide on the southeast side took him away with hardly a good-bye.

So I spent the night with my calico cat, Diva, in the chilly house. She had climbed beneath the quilt at some point and now purred at my feet. I’d recently bought this place, a three bedroom brick-and-stone bungalow near Rice University. It was built in the fifties and needed a new furnace among other things. The steps creaked and the wallpaper looked like something from Archie Bunker’s house, but I loved my new home, loved its smallness compared to the mansion I’d grown up in. Aside from a college dorm room, this was the first time I’d truly been on my own, despite more than thirty years on earth. My late daddy had decided that living in the lap of luxury with him was how he was supposed to take care of his girls. But Daddy had been wrong. He’d been wrong about a lot of things. In the months since I’d learned exactly how wrong, I’d almost forgiven him for his lies.

I laced my fingers behind my neck and thought about Megan, wondered how she was doing and if the loss of her father would mimic mine—a wound that never quite heals. I’d seen a profound sadness in her eyes when I left her house yesterday. It was probably the same look I wore the day Daddy died.

The phone rang and I saw from the Caller ID that it was Kate.

“Traitor,” I said when I picked up.

“I’m sorry I had to leave you there, Abby, but one of my teenage patients attempted suicide, so—”

“Okay. The guilt ball is back in my court. I was just kidding, anyway. Is the kid okay?”

“She’s fine. Her parents are transferring her to a private facility this morning. By the way, Terry and I dropped off your car late last night.”

“Thanks. Might need that today. So Terry helped you with your patient?” Terry Armstrong, also a psychologist, is Kate’s significant other.

“Yes. He met me at the emergency room.”

“You two should go into practice together,” I said.

“Living in the same house is more than enough time spent in each other’s company. Not that I don’t adore him, but there’s such a thing as too much togetherness. So what happened after I left last evening?”

I filled her in, excluding my own issues with one snarly police chief.

“So Megan still wants you to find the birth mother?” she asked, sounding surprised.

“Yes, but I’m consulting with Angel as soon as I can. Should have asked for his help when I came up empty in the first place. I guess pride isn’t so hard to swallow if you chew on it long enough.”

Diva emerged and blinked her amber eyes several times. I rubbed under her chin with my free hand.

“Sure you still want to do this job? Megan’s a sweetheart, but the rest of the family? I don’t know, Abby. Graham smelled like a bar at closing time, Holt kept looking at me like maybe we could get together after they got that inconvenient body out of the way, and the sisters? I think they have serious identity issues.”

“Not all that pretty, huh?”

“Not.”

“Can you tell me about Sylvia?” I asked. “I was holed up in the laundry room with a guy meaner than a rodeo bull and about as talkative. I didn’t see what happened to her.”

“She woke up pretty quick after fainting, but then started crying and carrying on—which is understandable. I heard from one of the paramedics that she got so hysterical they had to give her IV Valium in the ambulance.”

“And she seemed like such a take-charge person. Guess not.”

“You can never predict human behavior, Abby. Especially during times of stress.”

“Okay, Doc. I bow to your superior knowledge.”

She laughed. “And so you should. Seriously, it may simply have been seeing all that blood that got to her. I’m not too good with blood myself. Anyway, I called only to explain why I ran out on you yesterday. Terry’s up and hungry, so before he starts talking about kolaches or doughnuts, I better get some fruit and bran into him. Call me later.”

She hung up. Poor Terry. A man who loved to eat as much as he did had no business getting mixed up with my sister. She juiced everything imaginable, even ears of corn, and bought seeds and nuts and vegetables no ordinary person had ever heard of. But Terry surely had psychoanalyzed himself enough to understand his unconscious motivation to subject himself to torture.

Phone still in hand, I checked the clock. Eight A.M. Angel would be awake. I had his home number on speed dial and he answered on the second ring.

“You get up this early, huh?” he said once we exchanged greetings.

“Not usually. But that last case you gave me has proved tougher than I thought. And now there’s been complications. Any chance we could get together at your office and discuss it?”

“I have a few rules about the office. I never go there on the Lord’s day. You work as long as I have, you can make some rules.”

“Tomorrow, then?” I asked, unable to hide my disappointment. If he helped me out today, gave me some hints on how to start this thing over, I could get busy Monday morning.

“Hey, I didn’t say I don’t work on Sunday, I just avoid my damn office answering machine. Meet me at the pancake house—you know which one. Say, eleven o’clock after Mass?”

“Okay.” I hung up, smiled, and settled back under the covers, Diva purring on my chest. I could sleep for two more hours.

But not five minutes later I heard the doorbell. Who in hell was ringing my doorbell at this hour on a Sunday morning? Unless Jeff forgot his key. Or maybe this visitor was from the Seacliff police and they wanted to discuss something about the murder.

Gosh, I hope it’s not Fielder, I thought, catching a glimpse in the dresser mirror on my way out of the bedroom. With the light-socket hair and dark circles under my eyes, I could have scared a maggot off spoiled meat.

I put on my pink chenille robe and hurried down the stairs, but after looking through the peephole, I stepped back. Damn. I thought I’d permanently parted ways with my aunt Caroline, yet there she was on my doorstep.

She tried knocking and I crossed my arms, considering whether to answer. I hadn’t returned any of her phone calls and was hoping that once I’d moved from the old neighborhood, she couldn’t find me. But Kate still had contact with her, and she’s a whole lot more forgiving than I am. Aunt Caroline probably had an easy time wheedling my new address out of her.

Daddy’s sister, Caroline, and I never got along even before I learned she’d taken money from Daddy to keep silent about my illegal adoption. I mean, her nose is so up in the air she’d drown in a storm. But after I found out about how she’d lied for years, lied out of pure greed, I couldn’t stomach the sight of her.

But now she’d found me, and knowing her, she wouldn’t give up until she had her say.