Free Just Murdered by Elaine Viets Page A

your car,” Lisa said.
    Everyone in the room stared at her. Last night Jason, her sometime escort, had humiliated her. Today she was getting her revenge. “I heard Kiki tell the chauffeur to go on without her after the rehearsal dinner because you would take her home.”
    Jason’s voice was a knife. “Here’s what I heard: You went home alone. Nobody wants a bitch like you.”
    “Quiet! Both of you,” the father of the bride said. “Nobody talks to the police without a lawyer. I’ve called in some favors. Friends of mine in the legal community are on their way.”
    Now Helen understood Brendan’s frantic cell phone calls.
    Lisa was outraged. “You’re getting lawyers for the wedding party? Do you want your wife’s killer to get away?”
    “Ex-wife,” he corrected. “And our kind are not killers.”
    Helen suddenly realized the offer of attorneys did not extend to the help. The staff was being set up to take the rap. One makeup artist turned so pale her foundation looked like a beige mask.
    Helen began edging toward the door. She would run if she was going to be a scapegoat.
    “Where are you going?” Brendan snapped his cell phone shut.
    “I need some air,” Helen said. “I feel faint.”
    “Open a window, somebody,” Brendan commanded. “You! Sit down and put your head between your knees.”
    And kiss my rear end good-bye, Helen thought. They’re going to pin this on me for sure. She felt trapped. There was no way she could make it to the door.
    “I know you. You had the fight with my wife last night,” Brendan said.
    “Ex-wife,” Helen said. “Everybody had a fight with her last night, including you.”
    “But your fight was special,” Brendan said. “She threatened to fire you. You killed her to keep your job.”
    Helen laughed, although she was so frightened it sounded wobbly. “You think I killed her for six-seventy an hour? I’d make more money stamping license plates in prison. At least there my living expenses would be covered.”
    She thought it was a good bluff. Now she attacked. “I can always get another low-paying job. But what about you? Kiki was after your last nickel. The cops will check your bank records and see you’re headed for bankruptcy and Kiki was demanding more money each day. I heard her.”
    Brendan’s eyebrows shot up. Helen knew she’d scored. She tried another thrust. “And your daughter had a few fights with her mother.” As soon as she said that, Helen knew she’d made a mistake.
    “You leave my daughter out of this.” Brendan’s voice was low and dangerous. His face was a weird wine red. Brendan didn’t love Desiree, but he wouldn’t let an inferior attack anything that was his.
    “Shut up,” Desiree shouted. “Everyone shut up.”
    Helen could hear the sirens now, howling like lost souls outside the church.
    “The Sunnysea police are here.” Amy was never afraid to state the obvious. “And a bunch of gray guys are getting out of Beemers. Are those the lawyers?”
    Brendan looked out the window. “Yes,” he said. “Now remember, everyone. No talking unless the lawyers say it’s okay.”
    But it was much too late for that.

Chapter 8

    “Listen here, Detective, I know Bob Cambridge. Do you know who he is?”
    Brendan, the father of the bride, was swollen with self-importance. He looked like a lovesick frog.
    Detective Janet Smith neatly deflated him. “The person you really need to know is me. I’m the detective in charge of this investigation. Senator Bob Cambridge trusts me to get the job done right.”
    Detective Smith whipped out her cell phone. “But if you’d like to talk with him, I can call his private number right now.”
    Brendan did not take her phone. He backed away slightly and ran his hands through his hair. Helen saw he had a small bald spot.
    “No, no, that’s not necessary.”
    “Good. Then take off your shoes. We need them for comparison to the shoe prints we’ll find at the crime scene. We’ll be using an