Free To the Grave by Carlene Thompson Page A

fully process the reality of another horrifying shock. As she rose from the couch, wanting the peace and solitude of her bedroom, she realized she should feel nothing except relief that James was safe. Instead, she couldn’t stop thinking about his weird nighttime visit to the cottage where his ex-wife had been murdered. He’d given Catherine a reason, but it sounded flimsy and certainly not like the normal behavior of the James Eastman she knew.
    Why had he really gone there?
    And why had he lied to her about it?
    2
    Patrice Greenlee looked out a sunroom window, her gaze sweeping over the sun-drenched terrace and the rear lawn with its sprawling flagstone patio. Beyond the patio, a seven-foot-tall wall of evergreen shrubbery enclosed a large fishpond. “I hope this weather holds for a week. It’s perfect for our wedding.”
    â€œOur wedding will be in a church. You know, with walls, a roof, a furnace. Why does the weather matter?”
    Patrice turned and looked at her fiancé, Lawrence Blakethorne, sitting at the casual dining table. He lowered his morning paper, smiling at her. She had met him twenty-four years earlier when he’d married her older sister, Abigail, and he’d changed little except for a few wrinkles in his perpetually tanned skin, the silver lacing his thick black hair, and nearly twenty pounds of muscular bulk he’d added to his tall, once-lanky frame. Patrice thought that at fifty Lawrence was even more attractive than he’d been in his youth.
    â€œI’m afraid a lot of people won’t attend because they disapprove of you marrying your sister-in-law,” Patrice said quietly.
    â€œMy former sister-in law. Abigail has been dead for over twelve years. I don’t think as many people disapprove as you think.”
    â€œMy mother would be outraged.”
    â€œI agree. If we’d married when she was around to see it, she would never have given us any peace.”
    â€œIs that why you waited until after she died last year to propose?”
    â€œYes.” Lawrence’s gaze grew distant. “The two of you never had a good relationship. She was never fair to you, but you valued her opinion more than that of almost anyone else. I never understood why. Anyway, she would have hated the idea of us getting married, bitched at you constantly, and ruined your happiness, maybe even our marriage.
    â€œNow she can’t constantly voice her unwanted opinions, Pat,” Lawrence continued. “You don’t have to listen to her, even just to be polite. Your life is entirely your own to do with as you please. As for caring what people think, my own son is honestly pleased for us. He says this should have happened a long time ago.” He looked at her closely. “So what’s really worrying you, honey?”
    Patrice moved away from one window in the dining area and wandered to another in the sitting area at the other end of the room. “Just details. I may be forty, but this is my first wedding and I want everything to be flawless. I want the weather to be perfect; I want people to be fine with our marriage.” She paused and added fretfully, “And silly as it sounds, I’m also worried about the reception. I don’t want to lose people in transit from the church to the Larke Inn.”
    Lawrence threw back his head and laughed. “We’re having an evening wedding and there will be lots of excellent food and liquor at the reception. I doubt if we’ll lose anyone. ” He laid down his newspaper and joined her at the window, resting an arm around her shoulders. “Pat, you’re taking all the fun out of this thing.”
    â€œYou think of our wedding as ‘this thing ’?”
    He groaned and pulled her closer. “Poor choice of words. I’m looking forward to our wedding. ” He lowered his head and kissed her curly ash-blond hair. “I can’t wait until we’re husband and