He shook his head. “After she ran from the altar, I tried to chase after her, but she waved me off. I hesitated, too long, and she got back to the bridal suite. She locked me—all of us— out.”
Peter looked over his notes. “That’s when you went around to the window to call for her to open the door?”
Chaz dropped his gaze and nodded.
I shifted in my seat. “Your mother”—the banshee, I added silently to myself—“mentioned that Letty specifically got a dress with pockets so she could keep her anti-allergy potion on her. Why didn’t she drink that?”
He blinked rapidly. “Uh… I don’t know.” His brows pinched together. “I wasn’t aware she had that on her. Dress styles and all that—it’s more of a girl-talk kind of thing, you know.” He licked his lips. “Though I do remember her sort of patting around her dress… maybe that’s what she was looking for….”
I shot Peter a flat look. You think?
He narrowed his eyes at Chaz. “How did you and Letty meet? Seems like you’re from pretty different backgrounds.”
Chaz plastered on a wistful smile, though the dude still gave me fake vibes. “We met at the country club—Letty was a server in the restaurant there. I thought she was cute, but it was really my campaign manager, Cybil, who encouraged me to court her.”
I frowned. His campaign manager encouraged him to court a waitress at the country club? Why?
“When was this?” Peter’s quill scribbled notes, scratching at the parchment.
Chaz swallowed. “About seven months ago.”
I raised my brows. “Wow. That’s fast.”
He quirked his lips to the side and shrugged. “Whirlpool romance, as they say.”
I bit back a smirk. “I believe it’s whirlwind, but okay.”
“Chaz? Chaz!” A tiny blond in a pencil skirt and pumps marched across the lawn toward us, her heels puncturing the grass and catching every few steps.
The groom raised his brows as a flock of bats went winging and squeaking overhead. “Speak of the devil…”
CYBIL
“How’re you holding up?” The petite blond clamped a hand down on Chaz’s shoulder.
He shot her a tight smile and clutched the blanket around his shoulders with one hand. With the other, he gestured between us.
“My campaign manager, Cybil Coxcomb. Cybil, Officers Flint and—” He grimaced at me.
I waved a hand. “I’m Jolene.”
Chaz pointed at Daisy. “And their sick dog.”
I waved it off. “She’s not mine.”
Peter stepped in. “It’s just allergies.”
Chaz and Cybil exchanged looks.
I raised my brows. “So Chaz here was just telling us that you were the one who encouraged him to pursue Letty?” I pressed my lips together.
Cybil stood with her spine straight, her straight blond bob swaying over her shoulders in the strong wind.
Peter nodded. “Why’d you encourage Chaz to date her?”
She scoffed and leaned into one hip. “Uh, because he’s thirty-four—people expect a candidate of his age to be settled down. It shows maturity and commitment.”
I arched a brow. Thirty-four wasn’t old to be unmarried… was it? I frowned as I thought over my situation, and my stomach sank a little as I thought of Peter. He was the first man in a long time that I’d even wanted to pursue something with. And now we barely had a professional relationship. Sigh.
Peter nodded. “Okay, but why not encourage him to look for someone from his own social circle?”
She kept her gaze direct and focused, but her confident smile faltered a little. She licked her lips. “Uh, well… everyone loves a Cinderella story, right? Plus, she seemed like a sweet girl. I thought they’d be a good match.”
I narrowed my eyes—unconvinced. “I’d love to hear more of Letty’s side of the romance.” I glanced around at the hundreds and hundreds of guests spread out across the estate’s lawn. “Can you point us to some of Letty’s friends or family we could talk to?”
Chaz and Cybil exchanged looks again.
I frowned. “What?”
Chaz cleared his throat. “You know… Letty was a shy, private person, and she grew up in an orphanage, so she didn’t have any family.”
My frown deepened. “Okay... maybe even a coworker she might have confided in?”
Chaz grimaced and looked to Cybil. She threw a small palm out. “I’m sure you can imagine how awkward that would be, to invite waitstaff from the country club to the wedding as guests?”
Chaz bit his lip. “Eek. So weird.”
Cybil’s words spilled out like she’d had five cups of coffee. “That’d be crossing the line, and Letty understood. Plus, Chaz’s family and connections are so extensive, it really didn’t leave any room on the guest list for her people.”
I blinked. “You’re telling us the bride had literally not one of her own guests among the thousand here?” I set my jaw, determined to be the advocate for Letty that she had clearly not had when living.
“Oh!” Cybil perked up. “Except for the caterer, of course.” She nodded at Chaz.
“Right, the caterer!” He plastered on that smarmy smile I recognized from the campaign posters.
Ah, there it was. So good to know something small like his wife’s death on their wedding day couldn’t dampen Chaz’s spirits for long.
Chaz, still clutching the blanket around his shoulders with one hand, spread his other palm wide. “Letty was so amiable and easygoing—she let Mother do most of the planning. The caterer, Joe something, was the only thing she put her foot down on.”
Peter and I exchanged looks, and he voiced the question in my head.
“Why was the caterer significant for her?”
Chaz shrugged. “She said they were childhood friends, as I mentioned, and he and his family were down on their luck. Plus, I guess he’d recently been released from prison. She said she wanted to help out their family business by giving them the catering contract.”
Peter nodded. “Was
