A Wedding To Die For

I took one of the chairs facing her. “Graham Beadford called me while I was in Jamaica. He wanted to talk to me—what were his words?—about a matter of mutual interest or something similarly vague.”

“Really?” That piece of news perked her up.

“Don’t get excited. I have no clue why. When I couldn’t reach him, I asked Courtney where to find him. She directed me to the hotel last night. I was too late.”

“What time did you arrive?” She picked up a red rubber band and began stretching it one way and then another.

“Maybe eight o’clock? I’m not really sure.”

“Cops just love unsure witnesses.” She had the rubber band on her wrist now and took to snapping it against her skin. “Take me through what happened from when you arrived until you were struck.”

I detailed the events starting with seeing Courtney and Roxanne at the visitation.

Snap snap snap went the band against her flesh. “So you didn’t see who hit you with the door?”

“I saw a black pant leg. Can’t even remember the shoes. But whoever did this crime had to be strong enough to push Mr. Beadford over that railing.”

“Not if Beadford was drunk,” she said.

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” I replied.

She smiled a little. Seemed she liked being right. “And you have no idea what Graham Beadford might have wanted to talk to you about?”

“Wish I knew.” Though I had developed a few theories, I wasn’t willing to part with them until I sat Megan down and explained them to her first.

“Could Beadford have wanted money?” More rubber band snapping.

“Seems logical. At the reception he practically asked me for a job at a computer company I used to manage.”

“Is that so?” she said.

“And I’ve just found out his house was repossessed. He needed money,” I said.

“He wanted to work for you?”

“I don’t know. From the way he phrased it when he called me in Jamaica, I didn’t get the impression he was looking for employment.” More likely he was hoping to sell information, I thought.

“Okay, why else would he call you? Did he come on to you at the reception? Did he want a date or something?”

I wanted to laugh. “Definitely no come-ons involved.”

She stretched the elastic hard and twisted it, letting out a frustrated sigh. “What’s your best guess on what he did want?”

“The only thing he could have provided that would interest me was information on Megan’s adoption—and that means he had to have known I was working for her.”

“So maybe he did know.”

“Who told him?” I asked.

“Whoever knew about your little assignment.”

“My little assignment?” I said.

“Okay, your job,” she conceded. “Who knew besides Megan?”

“My sister... and Jeff... and—” I stopped myself, not wanting to offer up the other name. Travis knew. And had lied to me about his part in getting Megan to hire me.

“And who?” She leaned toward me, her tired eyes now bright with interest, the elastic forgotten and dangling from her thin wrist.

“Travis,” I said. “Travis knew.”

She sat back in her chair and folded her arms across her chest. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”

“But why would Travis tell Graham about Megan’s adoption search? And how would that information lead to Graham’s death?”

“Maybe Travis didn’t intentionally tell him anything,” she said, squinting in thought.

I could see where she was headed, because if Travis let it slip to Graham about what I was doing, and Graham threatened to tell Sylvia about Megan’s hunt for her birth mother, that would make a tragic situation at the Beadford house all the more difficult. Travis would have eagerly played the white knight to protect Megan from more stress. And I could see myself doing the same thing.

“So you’re thinking Graham may have hit up Travis for money when he couldn’t reach me?” I asked.

“You, Travis and Megan did not want Sylvia to know about this birth mother search, right?” she said.

“Yes, but an unemployed college student wouldn’t have much to pay a blackmailer,” I said.

“That’s why Graham tried to hit you up first,” she said with a smug smile.

“And when Travis didn’t have the cash to shut Graham up, he pushed him off the balcony? That’s the puniest motive for murder I’ve ever heard. It’s not like Sylvia wouldn’t find out what I’ve been doing some other way—a possibility I’ve mentioned to Megan myself.”

She twisted the rubber band on her wrist so hard her hand started to darken. Her mind was working on something—something that made her drop any interest in me because she said, “I’m finished with you for now, Ms. Rose.”

“Thanks. Best news I’ve had all day.” I rose and walked out. I’d been prepared to tell her about Jamaica, about the woman at the wedding and what her presence might mean, but I was tired of Fielder’s attitude. Besides, she’d be calling me again once she grew a few new brain cells.

16

I left through the back entrance of the police station and managed to get to my car before any reporters noticed me. I checked around for a white Taurus, but if Blythe Donnelly had followed me here, I didn’t spot her. My guess was, she was probably shadowing Megan anyway.

I sat behind the wheel feeling guilty about inadvertently casting suspicion on my client’s husband. I needed to fix this. So how? By casting suspicion on the birth mother Megan so wanted to find? It was a lesser of two evils dilemma, and I decided Donnelly was a mystery I needed to solve now more than ever. And if I intended to find the killer or killers, I also needed to learn more about James Beadford and his brother. Jeff always says the victims have all the answers if you look hard enough.

It dawned on me as I pulled away from the police station that despite their denials, James and Sylvia probably recognized the so-called stranger at the reception. They had her child, after all. Many years may have passed, but Laura Montgomery—Donnelly had to be Montgomery—had been important to them in more ways than one. Had been important to Graham, too. Surely they’d remember her face. And if they had recognized her, any one of them may have spoken to her that afternoon.

Had Graham somehow contacted Montgomery after the wedding? Was that why he’d called me? Or was he trying to get money out of her? She certainly had good reason to pay up if Graham knew her real identity. And with Graham probably as drunk as a waltzing pissant, even a small person like Montgomery could have pushed him over the balcony. Hell, I probably could have pushed him off.

I pulled onto the main highway not liking Laura/ Blythe as the killer any more than I liked Travis as a suspect—probably because I didn’t want this case to be about one piece of bad news after another for Megan. So what about Sylvia? How much did she know? I’d been assuming she was aware of who Megan’s birth mother was, but maybe she didn’t. Still, if Blythe and Laura were one and the same, wouldn’t Sylvia have recognized her as the person who brought B&B Stainless Supply down. And if so, why had neither she nor Graham said anything to Fielder when they were shown photographs and the composite?

I had no answers, but there might be a good place to start—Beadford Oil Suppliers. The bankruptcy story might be common knowledge to the current employees. What better place to find out about feuding brothers than at the business they once shared?