Free 'Til Death Do Us Part by Kate White Page B

the wrong answer might earn her a penalty.
    “Her roommate said she seemed worried about something.”
    She thought for a moment, her brow wrinkling again.
    “She did seem sort of worried—or maybe it was just that her mind seemed to be on something else. She took meds for depression, you know? I mean, that’s what ended up causing her death. I just thought maybe she was in kind of a down period.”
    “You don’t recall her saying anything that would explain her mood?”
    “No—but my mind is in such a jumble right now. Can I think about it?”
    “Sure, that would be great,” I said. I handed her a business card and told her to contact me if she thought of anything.
    I thanked her for her help, and after reviewing with her the directions to downtown Greenwich, I took off. Once in town I had to stop twice for directions in order to locate the street I was looking for. I spent another ten minutes trying to find a parking space.
    The Bliss Weddings office was on the second floor of a well-kept two-story building. I tried the door, only to find it locked. But after rapping several times, I picked up the sounds of someone moving across the floor in my direction. The door swung open and I was surprised to discover Megan Bliss standing there herself. She was in her late thirties, I guessed, and no more than five feet two, though with her thick raven hair, high heels, and nubby white wool suit, she seemed to take up more than her share of space. I caught an annoyed, “this morning is starting to work my last nerve” expression on her face that quickly turned into a beaming smile. It was clear that she had just mistaken me for a bride-to-be.
    “Oh, you’re early,” she said as chirpy as a chickadee. “I was just preparing for our meeting this morning. Please come in.”
    I stepped first into a small reception area, and then she led me through to a large office, which looked more like a living room. There was a couch and coffee table, an armchair, and a round conference table with chairs. The entire room was done in what the
Gloss
decorating editor might describe as champagne color. It was a sort of blushed beige that gleamed.
    “It was lovely of the Hubbels to recommend me,” she said, gesturing for me to take a seat. “Is your mother not going to join us after all?”
    “Actually I’m not planning a wedding. My name’s Bailey Weggins, and I was a bridesmaid in Peyton Cross’s wedding. I was hoping to talk to you for a few minutes.”
    The annoyed look returned with a vengeance.
    “I have a new client coming in just a few minutes. That’s who I thought you were.” As she stared at me, I could tell she was mentally clicking through the Rolodex in her mind, trying to recall me from the wedding.
    “This will only take a minute,” I said, smiling. “And it’s important. Did you hear about Ashley Hanes’s death?”
    She nodded, still wary, and I went on to explain what had happened to both Robin and Jamie. Her blue eyes widened with each detail I revealed, and it was clear that the other deaths were all news to her.
    “How perfectly awful,” she said finally. “But I don’t see how you think
I
could help. The wedding was last April.”
    “You were very involved in everything that happened that weekend. I was wondering if you saw anything out of the ordinary. Perhaps it’s something that didn’t seem strange then, but now, with hindsight . . .”
    “There was
nothing
ordinary about that wedding.”
    “I realize it was all very special, but what I’m wondering is whether—”
    “I’m not talking about how special it was. I’m talking about all the—how shall I say this? We faced enormous
challenges
working with a bride like Peyton Cross.”
    “I imagine she wanted it all to be perfect.”
    She sank into the couch, and I took the armchair across from her.
    “Perfect? She wanted
beyond
perfection.”
    “That
must
have been tough.”
    “It’s not that I’m unfamiliar with difficult brides,”