Free 'Til Death Do Us Part by Kate White

your best man?”
    “Yes. In fact, Peyton had this idea that the two of you might connect. He’s still available, by the way.”
    Trip had laid it on thick the day of the wedding, at least until he realized I was registering no interest. He was by some standards an attractive guy, but so intense that it was unpleasant to talk to him.
    “Thanks, but I’m seeing someone right now.”
    David leaned toward me and did that ridiculously affected thing of kissing me on not just one cheek but both. His cologne smelled citrusy, an odd choice for a winter day.
    “Terrific,” he said distractedly, clearly anxious to be gone. “Good to see you, Bailey, despite the circumstances.”
    “You, too.”
    When he reached the door of the kitchen, he stopped and turned back to me.
    “I know this has been very stressful for you, but try to put it behind you now. As I said, it’s just an awful chain of events.”
    “Maybe. But I’m not entirely convinced. I’m going to check out a few things on my own and try to determine once and for all what’s going on.”
    He stared at me, his expression pensive. “Be careful. This is not a town that appreciates people asking lots of questions.”
    Was that just an observation he wanted to share, or did he mean it as some kind of warning? Well, I certainly wasn’t going to be intimidated by the country club set.
    “Three women are dead,” I said. “And I need to know what happened.”
    He shrugged his shoulders and left. After the door had swung behind him, I quickly finished my croissant and gulped down half a cup of coffee. It was time to be on my way.
    I found my coat in the hall closet and did another search of the ground floor, looking for Clara so I could tell her I was leaving. I finally stumbled on her in the sunroom, talking to a maid who was in the process of washing windows with a squeegee.
    “I’d like to go up to say good-bye to Peyton,” I told her.
    Her expression turned fretful, as if I’d just announced that I’d tracked tar on the front hall carpet.
    “Oh, Mrs. Slavin is sleeping,” she said. “I don’t think we should disturb her. Maybe you could call her later?”
    I nodded and tore a page from my composition book, scribbling a farewell note to Peyton. Clara accepted it and led me to the door. I had the feeling she suspected that I’d sneak upstairs to Peyton’s room if she turned her back on me for even a second.
    David must have stepped outside just moments before I did, because when I emerged from the house into the frosty morning air, I found him tossing his leather briefcase into the trunk of a silver Mercedes. Trip was at the wheel, his dark hair slicked back along the sides as if he hadn’t bothered drying it after his shower. He was ten years younger than David, though his craggy features made him appear over forty. As I stepped off the stoop of the house, David slipped into the passenger seat on the far side of the car and Trip lowered his car window.
    “Well, if it isn’t Bailey Weggins,” he said, training his dark blue eyes on me. There was a nick on the left side of his chin where he’d obviously cut himself shaving. “It’s Trip, by the way. Trip Furland.”
    “Of course. How’s it going?”
    “Not bad. That’s terrible news about Ashley. Were you two friends?”
    “I just knew her from the wedding.”
    “Well, I’d better not keep the boss waiting.”
    A memory came to me then, unbidden. The night before the wedding, when we were preparing to rehearse in the church, the maid of honor and bridesmaids had been ushered into a room along the side of the church to wait for our cue. As we entered, we heard voices on the other side of an old wooden folding screen that had been used to divide the room. It was David and Trip. They had obviously been sent into the room from another entrance. At first they spoke in hushed tones, and then their voices rose in anger. A few of us glanced at one another with questioning looks, wondering if we should