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

those kinds of connections. But people had secrets. Marcus was the greatest example of that. And Sterling knew that assuming would get him nowhere.
                  He emailed his photos into the precinct, CC’ing his lieutenant and instructing his partner, to whom the email was addressed, to run down all the auto stores in the area to see who owns, sells, and uses this precise magnet. It’d be good to get a jump on the vendors, while he waited for the serial number to show up, if it hadn’t been filed off prior. That was the gorilla in the room. Was the killer so thorough as to remove all trace? 
                  Like a catchy tune you couldn’t get out of your head, Kitty came to mind, though Sterling was at a total loss as to why. Had he fallen so deep in his affection for her that a metal hunk could easily conjure her image? If so, he was in trouble.
                  That red dress had been insane, and there wasn’t a shadow of a doubt in his mind she’d chosen it for his benefit, or to torture him, or to make him feel moronic for imposing the break between them. She’d succeeded on all fronts. Clever woman, mischievous doll.
                  Why couldn’t he spend the night?
                  The excuse he’d given, his sleep issues, were thin at best. And more and more he’d craved curling up with her. He hadn’t liked leaving in the middle of the night. He’d much rather stay, but he hadn’t been able to let himself.
                  Why was he holding out? He knew he loved her.
                  But something inside him was preventing Sterling from admitting as much. It wasn’t genuine denial. He was honest with himself at least. He’d come to terms with his infatuation-borne love. But he still couldn’t reveal his true feelings to Kitty. If he did, he feared they’d snowball into something so big he wouldn’t be able to control it.
                  Sending her off after she’d given him the biggest break on this case had been an act of pure cruelty. They’d both known it. He’d seen it in her eyes. But in true Kitty form, she’d smiled, thanked him, flashed a bit of skin, and then flitted off to her Fiat in the parking lot. The woman was strong as hell.
                  “Got it!” Yelled the lead forensic pathologist, as he stood bent as a question mark over the magnet.
                  Sterling rushed over, urged him aside and then snapped a few close ups of the serial number. After he slipped his iPhone into his back pocket, he pulled a small note pad from the front of his jeans then a pen and jotted the number down as best he could read it.
                  When he straightened up, he felt eyes on him and quickly turned toward the doorway.
                  Kitty was standing awkwardly in the mouth of the ballroom, but looked like a stunning vision as her red dress swayed over her thighs with the inertia of her silent entrance. She held her head high once their gazes locked and soon Sterling realized she’d brought a party of people with her.
                  “I have a wedding rehearsal here in three days,” she announced. “The bride’s family has foot a tremendous bill reserving this estate, and I intend to stay on schedule.”
                  Sterling grabbed her by the arm and pulled her inside into a quiet corner, but couldn’t stop the decorators from spilling into his crime scene.
                  “You’re killing me with this,” he whisper-yelled, as she tried to yank her arm free.
                  “Facts are facts, Sterling. I have as much a right to be here as you. More in fact. I’m sure the homicide department didn’t lay out fifteen grand to have full reign of the place.”
                  “Are you trying to get back at me for something?”
                  She met