Free MURDER at the ALTAR (The Wedding Planner Mysteries Book 3) by Jeanine Spooner

offer us the details and requirements so Christopher can decide if he can commit?” Kip suggested, but not kindly.
                  Why is he so curt about all this? It had been his idea to bring Christopher in. Why is he acting inconvenienced?
                  “Well,” Kitty began, bucking up. “The wedding is in four days, so we’d need you in three days time for the wedding rehearsal. We’ll rehearse at the mansion, as I’m sure Kip mentioned.”
                  Kip glared at her, causing her to stutter through her next point.
                  “We generally reserve three hours for the rehearsal with a number of bathroom and snack breaks throughout. Are you comfortable running the rehearsal? Have you officiated many weddings?”
                  Christopher shot Kip a sly look then shrugged at Kitty.
                  “Sure,” he said, sounding remarkably Italian.
                  Kitty wondered if he’d offed anyone recently—he was that Italian.
                  “How do you two know each other?” she asked, suddenly curious.
                  “We’re business associates,” he said, picking a piece of lint off the arm of his suit.
                  It was just vague enough to raise questions.
                  “At the casino?” she pressed.
                  “What’s it matter?” asked Kip.
                  Sensing his rising irritation, Kitty said, “You know, I don’t mean for this to be an inconvenience, Mr. Cartwright. You really don’t need to be here if it’s a bother.”
                  Kip said nothing and stalked around the floral display as though it was more interesting than Kitty’s suggestion.
                  “I think we’re all in shock over Marcus’ death,” she offered as a means to excuse Kip’s rude and bizarre attitude.
                  “That guy,” he snorted. “Gretchen always sees the best in people and not what’s really there.”
                  “How do you mean?” she asked, rounding the floral display so that she was facing him, while Christopher hung his head, becoming invested in the wedding cake table. He began flipping through one of the binders as though that’d be enough to give them privacy.
                  “Marcus...” he trailed off, shaking his head in disgust. “He was a schemer.”
                  She furrowed her brow at that. If she could convey her confusion perhaps he’d elaborate.
                  But Kip didn’t. Instead, he thumbed a rose then sighed and turned to Christopher. “Get the details. We’ll talk.”
                  And with that, Kip passed through the glass door and disappeared down the sidewalk.
                  “You’ll have to excuse him,” said Christopher, tossing the cake vendor binder on its display. “Marcus screwed him.”
                  “Did he?” she asked, intrigued. “How?”
                  “At the casino,” he supplied. “He counted cards.”
                  “Counted cards? Like Rain Man? As in cheated?”
                  He gave her an affirming raise of his left brow. “Wouldn’t admit it, of course. They never do.”
                  Kitty remembered Gretchen’s mention of Marcus owing bad people money and wondered if the bride had any clue her soon to be father-in-law could’ve been among them.
                  “I take it you work at Kip’s casino?”
                  “In security,” he clarified. “I helped him catch the guy.”
                  “When was this?”
                  “Months back. We banned Marcus. It was all we could do.”
                  “So Gretchen happened to be friends with a guy who