Wedding Takedown Page 6

  “Got it.” Jenny lifted two of the smaller arrangements and went out the back door. Kayla watched her and used the time to stretch. And tried to ignore the warmth that still lingered from Rio’s visit. Rio was like that—he filled whatever space he entered with positive energy. She’d never gotten much out of him about where he was from, or his childhood, but she assumed he came from a loving family since he had so much warmth under his cool cop exterior.

  The silent vibration on her phone alerted her to the shop’s opening time. She made her way to the front of the building, flipping on the lights as she went. The bright blooms inside the shop’s refrigerated display case brought a bit of a smile to her face, even the morning after she’d witnessed a brutal murder.

  Before she had the sound system turned on, the bell over the door announced a customer.

  Gloria Charbonneau. The attractive woman sauntered into the shop as if it was her domain and not Kayla’s.

  “Good morning, Kayla. How are you today?”

  “Good morning to you, too, Gloria.” She forced a smile and didn’t dare call Gloria “Mrs. Charbonneau,” as she’d been rebuffed by Gloria when she’d addressed her as such over the phone.

  “I thought we’d better do an in-person chat rather than another phone conversation. I am so sorry about my call yesterday. I sounded so frantic, didn’t I? But when Cynthia announced she was getting married and threatened to elope to Las Vegas—” Gloria said the words elope and Las Vegas as if they were coated with venom “—I had to make sure that didn’t happen. I mean, if she’s going to elope she should pay homage to her roots and go to Atlantic City, right?” Gloria chortled at her own joke. “No matter now. I’ve calmed her down, and she decided to give us almost two full weeks to plan a nice affair for her.”

  Kayla wanted to point out that it was already Wednesday, and they actually had only a business week to plan.

  “Next weekend is much easier than this weekend would have been, with Passover and Easter at the same time this year.”

  “I thought so. Who wants to compete with the Easter Bunny, after all?” Gloria’s face was perfectly composed as she flitted about the shop, made up with what Kayla suspected was a cosmetics chest full of ultra-expensive lotions, creams and serums. Gloria couldn’t be much older than Kayla but acted as if she was of her husband’s generation. Tony Charbonneau was at least twenty years her senior. As polished as Gloria appeared, Kayla saw the nervous tic over Gloria’s right eye and how tight her hand held her car keys while a wristlet dangled from her arm. No amount of makeup could hide her tension.

  Was she here to find out if Kayla had gone to the barn last night?

  “Your home decor items are precious!” She held up a frog statuette. The green tchotchke contrasted with Gloria’s black clothing. She was decked out in the finest yoga gear and her figure screamed the hours she must spend in the gym. Kayla and she were the same age, but Gloria could pass for much younger.

  Save for her overbearing, overcontrolling manner. That usually took decades to cultivate.

  “I was wondering, did you have a chance to go by the barn last night?” Innocent enough, if not for the tic that continued to twitch over her eye.

  Kayla swallowed. “No, I’m afraid I couldn’t swing it. I plan to go today.” Thank God Rio had told her how to handle this in advance.

  “Great! I mean, I’d hate to have you waste your time. We’ve decided to have the wedding ceremony at our home. We’re getting a minister now, and the vows will be said in our garden. I’m having a tent put in next to the gazebo in case of inclement weather. We’ll have the reception at the same venue as the rehearsal dinner.”

  Kayla surreptitiously bit the inside of her lower lip, a nervous habit she meant to break. Holy crap! Maybe Gloria was involved in the murder. At the very least she knew something. She’d changed the venue that she’d sounded so definite about last night. Before Meredith had been killed.

  Kayla’s cell phone rang and she tried to appear casual as she looked at the caller ID. Rob Owings, owner of the Weddings and More Barn. She sent Gloria a quick glance.

  “I’m so sorry, Gloria, but I have to take this. Why don’t you take a look at my wedding-idea file while I do?”

  “Of course.” Gloria accepted the tablet computer from Kayla without protest.

  “Tap on whichever suits your fancy, and we’ll come up with something together. I’ll be right back.”

  Kayla moved to the far rear of the shop, where she could keep an eye on Gloria but still have some privacy.

  “Kayla here.”

  “Kayla, it’s Rob.”

  “I know.”

  “Oh, you have a customer. Look, I’m not sure if you know what happened at the barn last night—did you ever make it out there?”

  “I drove by and saw the police cars. I found out someone had died from one of the SVPD and decided to go home. I didn’t call you because I knew the police would have to be in touch with you. I didn’t want to interfere.” Lying was easier than people claimed, she decided. Still, it stung that she couldn’t be open with Rob.

  “I’m so glad you weren’t there, Kayla. Someone was murdered.” Static on the line indicated he was probably moving about as he spoke. “I know I’m being selfish but it’d kill my business if the news got out. It’s going to hit the papers soon enough, but I don’t need the town gossip mill going over it before that even happens.” Rob’s shaky inhalation wasn’t like him. “Anyway, I wanted to give you a heads-up that the mayor’s wife’s assistant just called and canceled the venue. She didn’t seem to know anything about last night, only said that they’d decided to move the ceremony to their home. I’m sure she’ll be in touch with you soon.”

  “Thanks for letting me know, Rob.” She couldn’t say anything more.

  “I’m sure we’ll get to work together again soon, Kayla. Without all of this craziness.”

  “I’m sure we will, too.”

  “Just answer me this, Kayla—you got there after that woman was killed, right? Or did you see something?”

  Chills ran down her spine and across her forearms. Rob’s prying wasn’t unusual for him; he was a friendly guy. But after Rio’s warnings, she felt ambushed.

  “No, as I said, I saw the cops and after I talked to a friend from SVPD, someone I recognized, I went home.” Her exhaustion was paying off in that her voice didn’t waver.

  Rob breathed an audible sigh. “I’m sure glad of that. You could have been hurt—you never know about people, do you?”

  “No, no, you don’t. Thanks for letting me know, Rob,” she said again. “I have to go, I have a customer standing in front of me.”

  “Understand. I’ll be in touch.”

  Kayla stared at Gloria as the woman’s perfectly manicured fingers tapped through wedding photos, but her mind was on Rob. His shape was a little round, his voice was low and gravelly—like the murderer’s, from what she’d heard and seen in the darkness. But it hadn’t been Rob—Rob didn’t have a mean bone in his body.

  “Do you see anything you like?”

  Gloria smiled, her expression so practiced that Kayla wondered if she did mirror exercises.

  “These are all very sweet, but I have my own ideas. Can you come with me to the house?”

  “Sure. Let’s set up an appointment. You said you want to have the wedding next week, on Saturday?”

  “Yes. Thank goodness I calmed Cynthia down and she agreed to give me one more week to plan.”

  “Why don’t we set up a time when she can be there, too?”

  Gloria’s eyes widened. “That’s a little difficult. She’s in her last semester of law school and is taking a weekend to get married before her exams. It’s a lot to ask her to drive back and forth for the planning.”

  “She must be very smart to be able to take the time from her studies to get married before she finishes.”

  Gloria shrugged. “The bar exam is the hard test, I’m told. Not the law school finals.”

  K
ayla didn’t argue, but personally thought getting married during any kind of final exam would be difficult at best.

  “When can I stop by?”

  “In two hours? I’ll provide lunch.”

  “Thank you. I’ll be there.”

  * * *

  “Hi, Daddy.”

  “Hi, sweetheart. How’s my girl?” Mayor Tony Charbonneau stood to greet his daughter. Cynthia was a full head shorter than her father, but her face was a feminine mirror of his, albeit far more attractive.

  Rio watched the affectionate display with the detachment that years of police work had given him. Nothing was ever as good as it seemed. Rio’s own father had been killed in Mexico, working as a DEA agent to take down a dangerous drug cartel. Rio wanted to believe every father was as honest and self-sacrificing as his own, but he knew from his work that was not the case.

  Especially with Tony Charbonneau, who oozed slick politician the way a Bengal tiger stalking its prey oozed predator.

  “Who are you?” Cynthia spotted Rio only after she’d stepped back from her father’s embrace.

  “Detective Rio Ortega, Silver Valley PD.” He watched her open expression with the ferocity of a cornered badger. He gave her points for maintaining her composure, however, as she held her hand out to him.

  “Cynthia Charbonneau.” He took her hand and noted that her grip was firm and practiced. As if she knew how to shake a man’s hand. Not all women did. “I suppose you’re here because of what happened to poor Meredith?” She looked from Rio to her father, her concern...proper. As expected.

  “Yes, Detective Ortega was just finishing up, weren’t you?”

  “Actually, no. If you don’t mind I’d like to continue to ask you a few more questions, and also ask Cynthia some if that’s okay, Mayor.”

  Tony Charbonneau’s throat turned red and the flush crept up his heavy jowls, but he kept his smile pleasant, his demeanor casual. “Of course.” He motioned to the chairs in front of his desk. “Why don’t you sit down for a bit, Detective?”

  Rio didn’t miss the gibe. He’d refused to sit earlier, preferring to stay on his feet around the man who’d gotten into office only because of what Rio believed was a political attack on the former mayor that had removed her from office posthaste. The special election had worked in Mayor Charbonneau’s favor, too. Many people had questioned the election results, but after an intense investigation there’d been no evidence of wrongdoing with the election, so no charges had been filed. The only charges filed were against the former mayor, Amelia Donner, who was looking at three to five years in a white-collar holding facility if she lost her case. The case against her was being championed by an attorney directly tied to the former cult. Rio hoped the pressure SVPD was putting on the former cult members would reveal a way to clear Mayor Donner’s name.

  “Cynthia, when did you come back in from law school?”

  “Yesterday, before noon. It’s only a twenty minute drive from Carlisle. I’m in the Penn State law program at Dickinson College. I have an apartment there.”

  “Do you have friends who were with you at school before you left?”

  “Yes. We were studying for our finals in the library for the past few weeks, and we’ve started to prepare our study schedules for the bar. We’ll only have three months to study after graduation.”

  “And you have contacts I may question about this?”

  “Of course, but is that really necessary?”

  “I’m conducting a murder investigation. Every question is necessary. Mayor, when did you see Cynthia last?”

  Tony’s head drew back and his brows rose. “What, do you mean when she got home? I guess it was after work, wasn’t it, honey?”

  “Yes, but you were late because you were answering police questions.”

  “Yes, that’s right.”

  “Cynthia, who was the first person to see you when you got back into town?”

  “My stepmother, Gloria. She was in the shower when I came in, early yesterday morning. I stayed downstairs and made a pot of coffee, which we shared when she came downstairs a while later.”

  “Did the housekeeper or your mother’s personal assistant see you?”

  “Once they arrived for work, yes, but I got in very early.”

  “I guess that’s student life—burning the candle at both ends. So you studied until late and then drove to Silver Valley early. You got up at what, four o’clock?”

  “I’ve always been an early riser, Detective Ortega.” She’d sure been through law school. Quick on her feet, sure of herself. He didn’t begrudge her that but her alibi wasn’t sitting well with him. He revealed nothing to either her or her father.

  “And, Mayor, approximately what time did you see Cynthia? Please be as specific as possible.”

  “It would have had to been around six thirty or so, when I came home. Gloria was out at her spinning class at the gym. We ordered pizza and started in on a six-pack of Yuengling.” The mayor grinned. “We love to drink locally brewed beer wherever we live, and it’s our favorite. Our father-daughter thing.”

  If Rio wasn’t a detective he’d be taken in by the happy-family shtick. He wouldn’t see the two very similar political animals in front of him. Tony was a hardened politician who’d been drummed out of New Jersey for his nefarious dealings in local politics, a point that had come up during the mayoral race two months ago. But accounts of his history hadn’t gained traction if his landslide victory was to be believed. Rio didn’t doubt for one instant that the election results had been tampered with, but he wasn’t an expert in such matters. He was looking for a murderer.

  “Mayor, I need you to stay in town for the next few weeks. Cynthia, I’ll need to be able to contact you at any time. I know you have to go back to school before the wedding, and that’s fine, since you’re close enough in Carlisle.”

  “You think you’ll have the murderer by then?” he asked.

  “I have law school to finish! I can’t be disturbed when I’m studying.”

  Both Charbonneaus spoke in rapid-fire sentences and Rio held up his hands. “Sorry, folks, it’s standard procedure during a murder investigation.”

  “We’re not suspects. How can you ask us to stay?”

  “You are both persons of interest. You, Mayor, because Meredith worked for you and you were the last person to see her alive, right here in this office.” He pointed at Cynthia. “Your timing for coming home from law school is questionable. You understand, it’s just protocol.”

  Tony recovered a beat sooner than his daughter.

  “We’re here to give you whatever you need, Detective. Meredith was a good worker, even if she had some personal problems.”

  “What kind of problems?”

  “She was a little obsessive. Her record keeping, for instance—she kept asking me to purchase more computer servers for storage space. The last time I saw her I had to tell her to stop worrying about making copies of everything and just do her job as my assistant.”

  “My dad means that he thought she might have some OCD,” Cynthia said, and Rio thought it was a good effort at trying to cover for her father’s slip. One thing Rio knew about criminals was that they often overcompensated for their guilt. Tony had no reason to tell him about Meredith’s mental issue unless he was trying to deflect Rio’s attention.

  “OCD?”

  “Obsessive-compulsive disorder. It makes sense as she was so incredibly organized. I wish I had a little of that myself.” Cynthia’s quick laugh was hollow and completely inappropriate, Rio thought.

  “Are you saying that Meredith’s mental state might have brought about her murder?”

  “No, not at all.”

  “Of course not!”

  Again, father and daughter spoke over one another.

  “That’s good to hear, because for a minute it sounded to me as if you were discounting the brutal, vicious way Meredith was murdered.”

  He felt the anger of two intelligent people boring into him. Nothin
g he hadn’t experienced before, but what he hadn’t felt in quite a while, not since he’d taken down a drug ring three years ago, was the sense of pure hatred he felt from the mayor and his daughter. As if Rio was the enemy.

  Interesting.

  CHAPTER 7

  Kayla was happy to be able to drive with the windows down. The unseasonably warm air swept through the van’s front seat. She’d texted Rio to let him know she was going to her appointment with Gloria, since she’d promised to keep him informed of her contact with the Charbonneaus.

  What she wasn’t going to tell him was that she was planning to do some investigating of her own. When Keith was charged with negligence, she’d learned to hold her suspicious thoughts and hunches close while she acted on them. And it was always easier to ask for forgiveness than permission.

  Keith had found his calling as a firefighter and risen to the top of his game when he’d been promoted to chief years ahead of his contemporaries. He’d helped get an aging firefighting squad in shape and provided Silver Valley with one of the best teams in the state. That was why the blow dealt to his career last Christmas still had him, and all of SVFD, reeling. He’d been blamed for the fire that had been started by a psychopathic killer, all because his crew hadn’t found the accelerant before the Christmas service. Kayla was shocked when he told her he was being investigated for other crimes he hadn’t committed, including not getting the churchgoers out of the burning building fast enough.

  Someone wanted Keith out of SVFD. The more she thought about it, the more she suspected that maybe the same person or persons wanted to dismantle SVFD entirely. Not unlike what had happened to Mayor Donner. It certainly seemed that someone was trying to tear apart the solid community Silver Valley had been only six months ago.

  As she pulled to a stop at a light in the center of downtown Silver Valley, she took a moment to take in the budding trees. The forsythia had already burst forth and the lilac trees were almost in full bloom. Silver Valley had such a small-town feel, but the population of over twenty thousand afforded it all the conveniences of a sprawling suburban community. Without the traffic and, usually, without the kind of crime she’d stumbled upon last night.