Page 6

Chapter Six

Marianne sat down on one of the low sofas, her breasts nearly spilling out of the top of her mustard-colored dress. I’m not much on fashion, but the color made her look washed out and tired.

Tiffany’s words had been unkind but weren’t necessarily untrue.

Marianne’s eyes were red. Perhaps she’d been mourning her cousin.

“Do you mind if I sit with you?” I asked. Then I smiled.

She glanced up at me.

“Who are you?” The question was sharp, and the sneer unmistakable.

I had serious doubts about why Angie had these people in her wedding. There was loyalty to friends—and then surrounding oneself with toxicity. She was so strong and capable. She never put up with guff from anyone.

Why allow these people to ruin her happy day?

“Dr. Emilia McRoy.” I sat down across from her in a velvet chair.

“Oh, you’re the one working with the constable.”

The gossip in this place was rampant.

“I did the autopsy,” I said.

“Well, I didn’t kill anyone. So you can move along.” She waved her fork at me.

“That isn’t why I wanted to meet you.” Yes, that was a lie. “I’m a friend of Angie’s and wanted to give my condolences. I was told you were Robbie’s cousin. I’m so sorry for your loss.”

Marianne’s brows drew together, and her throat worked hard to swallow. So she wasn’t completely emotionless. “Thank you. You are the first person who—thank you.”

“Is there anything I can do for you?”

“Uh.” It was if no one had ever been kind to her before, and she didn’t know how to answer. “I’m good. It’s hard, though.”

“I can’t even imagine what you must be going through. You’re sweet and brave for showing up tonight.”

She gave me a small smile. “I didn’t want to disappoint Angie by sulking in my room.”

“I’m sure she would have understood. How long have you known her?”

“Since we were tots,” she said. “Our parents used to live next door to one another—until her dad left. Which, if you ask me, was the best thing that ever happened to her. Her parents used to argue all the time. We were young, and I’d never seen anything like it. They didn’t seem to care who was around.”

“Oh?”

“We couldn’t have been more than four or five then. And their rows were epic. More than once she ran over to ours to get away from the yelling. When her dad left, we were all happier.”

“It must have been fun growing up with her, though.”

She pursed her lips together. “Back then, yes. Though trouble always found her—even then. But we did have a blast.”

I wondered what she meant by back then .

“You’re lucky. I’m not really in touch with my childhood friends.”

She sighed. “I thought, after what Robbie did, she might never speak to me again. But she didn’t blame me or our family. We don’t always agree, but she’s been a loyal friend.”

Marianne paused and then blinked.

“Do you think she or Damien killed Robbie? Part of me could almost understand. I mean was he killed? Everyone is saying murder, but the constable will only say he’s dead.”

“It could have been an accident,” I said. “Don’t believe the gossip. Until we can do more thorough tests, there is no way to tell.” That wasn’t exactly the truth, but I had to work hard to keep information close to my vest. “And to answer your question directly, no. They had alibis for the time of death. I believe you were at the party with Angie, right? Did you see her leave that night?”

“No, we were there to the end,” she said.

“Did your cousin perhaps hitch a ride with you?”

Her eyes widened. “I wouldn’t do that. You don’t think I’d hurt anyone, do you?”

I didn’t know. “Of course not. Only, we’re trying to determine who brought him out here. Who told him where the wedding was? As you know, the location was a big secret.”

She nodded.

“Since you’re his cousin, I thought perhaps he might have come with you, or contacted you to find out the details.”

“I’m—I wouldn’t do that to Angie. I didn’t tell him anything.”

She gave me a harsh look. I didn’t have much time before she lost patience with me.

“I don’t want to speak ill of the dead, but I’m guessing he was hard on Angie?” I stared down at my plate.

Marianne cleared her throat. “Yes. I’m still angry at him about that. Mainly because he wasn’t always mean. Before he—the drugs.” She took a tissue from the small glittery bag she carried, and then dabbed her nose. “Robbie was a sweetheart, but the drugs turned him into a demon.”

“As a doctor, I’ve witnessed many times how difficult addiction can be on a family.”

“It is. His mom and stepdad disowned him, and so did my parents. I was the only one who stayed in contact with him.”

“Did you know he’d be here?”

“At the wedding? God, no. Like I said, I would have talked him out of it. He’d gone to rehab in America, and this time it seemed to stick. When he came home, I put him up at mine for a few months while he got back on his feet.”

“How long ago was it that he returned home?”

She bit her lip. “A little over a year ago. He was dating someone else and seemed so happy. I don’t understand why he’d show up here. He was finally moving forward with his life and leaving the past behind. He’d even given up music. Said it wasn’t good for him to be in that environment. He had a great job in advertising in Glasgow. He was so clever and wrote that new jingle for Party Cakes.”

“Oh?” I had no idea what Party Cakes were.

“There was no reason for him to be here,” Marianne said softly, as if she were as confused as me. “A few weeks ago, he had to come to Edinburgh for a meeting with a new client. He stayed at mine for dinner. The old Robbie, the sweet one, was back. He told me he was happier than he’d been in a long time.

“Now he’s dead. I don’t understand any of this.”

She wasn’t alone.

“Is it possible he might have seen the invitation to the wedding at your home?”

Her brows drew together.

“Oh. I—do you think? I may have had some of the stuff out on one of the benches in my kitchen. I didn’t even—oh no.”

“It’s not your fault, but it may explain how he knew where the wedding would be.” Though not how he arrived. “Did you ever meet the woman he dated?”

Marianne shook her head. “He was in Glasgow by then, but he cared about her. He talked about how amazing she was. When we had dinner, he was excited about his parents, his mom and stepdad, forgiving him. They’d all gone to counseling. He was like a different person. Happy. That’s the way I’d describe him. Can you tell me—did he die from a drug overdose? That’s going to kill his mum.”

The not commenting on an ongoing case was burned into my brain. I’d told the other bridesmaid, Tiffany, too much already.

“I haven’t been able to run all the tests I’d like because of the weather,” I said.

Her shoulders slumped.

“But from what I’ve seen so far, I’d say no. I didn’t see any new needle marks.” Well, I shouldn’t have said that either. Argh. “But we are still in preliminary stages with the autopsy. Just don’t quote me on that or tell anyone, okay? I really can’t be sure until we run some more tests. Gossiping about him doesn’t help us get to the truth.”

“Do you think Robbie was murdered? I mean, be real. You can tell me. I’m his family.”

“I don’t know.” Yes. Possibly. We couldn’t find the bottle that delivered the poison, which bothered me a great deal.

This case was more confusing than ever.

“Do you remember the name of the girlfriend, by chance? The authorities will want to let her know, and they’ll probably want to question her.”

She pursed her lips. “I’ve been trying to remember if he ever mentioned her name. That’s odd, right? He promised to try and bring her the next time he visited. But for the last few hours I’ve wracked my brain for her name. Maybe they’ll find it in his things or at his apartment in Glasgow.”

Ewan and his men needed to check Marianne’s room.

I wanted to believe her.

“Was he close to anyone here, besides you? Someone must have brought him in.”

“No. I mean, Robbie used to be close to the Carthages, but they also wrote him off when he started living hard. There’s no way anyone in Angie’s family would have helped him. They argue, like too many monkeys in a barrel, but there is love there. They are super protective of her.

“And were Damien’s friends also friends of Robbie?”

Hmm.

“So, no one else here might have helped him gain access?”

“No.” She narrowed her eyes. “I’m not a suspect, am I?” She sat up straighter. “He was my bloody cousin. I didn’t kill him.”

But out of a sense of duty, she may have helped him. Maybe he didn’t tell her why he wanted to be here. He could have told her he’d been here to make amends.

“Of course not.”

“You’re trying to trick me. You pretend to be caring, but you just want information about Robbie.”

Her hand shook, and she set her glass down loudly on the table before storming off.

Ugh.

Everyone turned to look at us, and I shrugged.

I picked up the food I hadn’t eaten and moved back to the sofa, where Mara sat.

I told her everything I’d just learned.

“Why would he try to kill Angie if he was moving on?” she asked.

“We can’t be sure she was the one who was targeted. The bottles might have been mixed up or something.” But I was certain, since no one else had tested positive, that Angie had been the one the killer or killers had been after.

“The wheels are turning again.” She pointed at me. “Technically, someone in this room is a murderer. That’s what you are thinking. Come on. Just say it. You said he would need help to get here. If he poisoned himself, where is the evidence?

“No, someone cleaned up after him. They hid him somewhere before his death because Ewan said only a few of the guests and staff think they saw him. Everyone is confused whether it was Robbie or somebody named Mark. Abigail may have let that slip when she came to get some food for Tommy.”

“I’m going to start calling you Vera,” I joked.

“I take that as a compliment. I love Vera. She’s good at what she does.”

“True,” I admitted. And now that I lived in Scotland, I understood the many layers the character wore. Even though she was in England, it was as cold and wet there as it was here.

“Motive—well, that’s the worst part of this, right?” Mara whispered. “Angie and Damien would have a good reason for killing him. I can’t imagine it, but as we’ve learned, people will do the unthinkable, if necessary, to protect those they love.”

“True. I can’t see her doing it—or him, though we don’t know Damien as well.”

“But you have to be objective. What I want to know is, if she did it, will you help her hide the proverbial shovel, or will you turn her over? You are, technically, on the law side of things.” Her eyebrow went up.

“Where do you fall in that scenario?” I asked.

She snorted. “I’m totally hiding the shovel, and though I might feel guilty about it, I think you would find a way to get her out of it somehow. But if the anchor drops, you’d be on her side. I know that much.

“Remember, we had that Thelma and Louise conversation, and you introduced us to that Earl song. We are the three amigas.” She winked.

“Let’s hope we don’t have to put ourselves in that position.” One could hope and pray, and I honestly didn’t think Angie could have murdered someone.

“It could have been those block-headed groomsmen. Rugby does something to their brains. If they thought Robbie was here to cause trouble, they would have had a square go.”

That meant beating him up. “He was poisoned, not beaten. If we have a murderer, he or she is clever.”

“That is not making me feel better.”

This was not how I thought Angie’s wedding days might go. I’d expected some weird party games. Maybe some wild friends and a lot of drinking—but not a murder.

Of the forty or so humans in the lounge, any one of them might be a murderer. It hit me. The families might have done anything for them.

“That look in your eyes is scaring me even worse,” she said.

I shrugged. “I thought I had some decent suspects, but it could be anyone.

“I keep forgetting to ask him, but why are so many of Ewan’s men here?” Mara asked. “Did he tell us that? My brain is still foggy.”

“Mr. Carthage insisted on having security,” Ewan said as he sat down across from us with a huge plate of food. “He was worried about being out in the middle of nowhere. They’re all sharing the apartment above the garage. Why?”

Mara snorted. “I just noticed two different ones from those last night at the door. That Mr. Carthage is a snobby jerk, but I feel better that your men are near.”

“Aye,” Ewan said. “Turned out to be a good thing.” He stuffed some sort of potato in his mouth. My stomach grumbled. After talking with Marianne, my food had gone cold.

“I said I wasn’t hungry before, but those potatoes look good,” Mara said. “I have my appetite back.”

“Do you want some?”

“Thanks,” she said. “Maybe if we survive eating, other people will try the food. Ewan’s staff has been cooking all day for these guests. We cannae let it go to waste.”

She was right: only a few people had plates with food. Most of them were drinking.

I headed to the back of the room to join the queue. Some of the other guests followed me. I guess, if I thought the food was okay and wasn’t worried about dying, it was good enough for them.

“Is my daughter going to be okay?” Angie’s birth mom asked. I hadn’t realized she was in front of me. Her mother had been furious that Angie wanted her dad to walk her down the aisle, but that was part of the truce.

Most of the time, the mother and daughter got along just fine, but the wedding had everyone in the family at loggerheads.

At least, that’s what Angie had said when she tried to explain the politics of her wedding. Mara and I had been shocked by Angie’s news that her relatives really did call a truce.

Seems the stepmothers were notorious for stirring up trouble.

Had one of the stepmothers tried to harm another one and Angie and Mara got in the way?

It was worth checking out.

“Yes, she’s doing well,” I said.

“Did Robbie try to murder my baby?” she whispered.

“I don’t know,” I said. That was the truth. “Angie is one in a million, with a heart of platinum. We don’t know why he was here or what he might have been doing.”

Her mother’s eyes narrowed. “If someone is trying to hurt my baby, my guess is it’s Damien’s family. The boy is grand, but his parents gall me. I wouldn’t put it past that old crank to hire someone to kill her. If he says one more cross word about her, I’ll take him out myself. I despise her pa, but he wouldn’t stand for that. If he were here, that is.”

“Any word about that?”

“Why would I care, other than him not showing might upset my girl? I’m glad I don’t have to lay eyes on that lying git.”

Well, then. We knew how she felt about her ex, but her comment about Damien’s dad made me wonder.

How far would he go to keep his son from marrying someone he believed wasn’t worthy?

The problem was making a connection between his parents and the dead man. Robbie and Damien had been friends once, but it was a reach to think his father might have brought Robbie here on purpose.

Or was it?

Mr. Carthage was over near the bar; his wife, on the other side of the room.

Were they capable of murder?

Since I didn’t know anything about them other than that he was a crusty fool, I put them on my suspect list.

Robbie was dead. No matter what his motives had been for being here, no one deserved to die like he had.

I glanced over to where Marianne had been sitting. Had she lied to me? Most criminals were adept liars. It wouldn’t have been the first time a suspect tried misinforming authorities.

“I don’t like to gossip, but I wasn’t impressed by the parents,” I said. “Anyone who doesn’t love Angie isn’t right in the head.”

She smiled. “I like the way you think. We argue over most everything, but I could not love her more. This wedding is a bit wild, but I wanted it to be perfect for her. I won’t let anything, or anyone, get in the way of that. If that old codger pulls anything, feel free to suspect me of his murder.”

I laughed. I shouldn’t have, but I couldn’t help it. I loved how she was so fiercely protective of her daughter.

As she scooped green beans onto her plate, she didn’t see me staring at her. Could she have killed Robbie? Poison was most often used by women. I’d read a statistic about that in some of the forensic research I’d done.

If I was forced by Ewan, and Sea Isle, to be a coroner, I at least needed some working knowledge of crime scenes and types of murders. It turned out there were a few thousand books on the subjects.

Most nights when I wasn’t watching mysteries with Mara, Jasper, Abigail, and sometimes Angie, I was reading criminal forensics and criminal psychology.

People were fascinated by murders and serial killers. As an addict of UK book and television mysteries, I was no different. Some of the manuals were quite technical, but no less fascinating.

The one thing I’d discovered from those books was the phrase: KISS (keep it simple, stupid). If it looked like the butler did it and the evidence pointed to that—more often than not, he had.

Only this case wasn’t so cut and dried. I didn’t know if Robbie had been murdered. We had no idea why he’d been here. Had it really been to stop the wedding?

Argh. I suspected that, yes. But as Ewan would say, the evidence wasn’t there. At least, not yet.

My friends had been poisoned. Someone at that party had handed them a bottle with poison in it. Again, it could have been an accident. But why just them? What were the odds they’d get the tainted bottle?

Abigail had found fibers on Robbie’s clothing, but we had no way of testing for DNA. Even if we found human skin cells, they weren’t necessarily from the person guilty of killing him.

He could have borrowed the clothing from one of the valets.

I much preferred assuming things. This gathering evidence to solve a case was annoying.

“Did you have any reason to want Robbie gone?”

She huffed. “He raised a hand to my daughter. He’s lucky he lived as long as he did. No one touches my Angie like that.”

That was a fierce momma bear, and I didn’t blame her.

It was difficult to imagine this woman, with perfectly coiffed hair and Christian Louboutin heels, killing someone.

She wouldn’t have harmed Angie and Mara.

“I’ll be honest. If I’d seen him, I’d have shoved him outside and locked the door. Better yet, shoved him off one of the balconies. That’s one thing Angie’s steps and I agree on. Anyone who tries to hurt her again, they will die.”

Since I felt the same way about Angie, Mara, Abigail, Tommy, and Jasper, I couldn’t fault her. I’d taken an oath to do no harm, but I’d never had friends like them.

If pushed, I’m not sure what I might do to protect them.

“That boy was bad news from the start,” she said as we moved down the line. Mara’s plate was piled high, but I’d forgotten to put anything on mine. I grabbed some green beans and chicken piccata.

“Do you know much about him, other than that he dated Angie and was mean to her?”

“When he was a child, he was fine. But he grew up to be a completely disrespectful git. Wasn’t just me either. Her dad hated him. If he were here, he’d have taken the boy out. No question about it.

“Back then she couldn’t see he wasn’t the sweet boy she grew up with. He ran with a bad crowd, got into drugs. It wasn’t until he tried to isolate her from us that she saw him for who he was. But she still couldn’t quite pull away—until Damien.”

“I understand he was best mates with her ex.” Ewan had taught me it was best to get the same story from different people. It made it easier when deducing the actual truth.

“Aye, and two men couldn’t be more different,” she said. We’d reached the end of the line. “Damien very nearly worships her,” she said. “When they first met, he dressed rough and had long hair. I worried that we’d be going through the same thing with him as we had with Robbie.

“But he was so lovely, even then. Damien’s always been polite and thoughtful with our family. All the steps love him as well. He’s been given our stamp of approval. Not that Angie cares about that, mind you.

“He’s so clean cut, it’s tough to imagine what he was like five years ago when she first brought him around. They are opposites and a good match at the same time. I could not imagine a better husband for her.”

I hadn’t spent much time with Damien, but I’d been around him enough to see how he treated Angie. He would have done anything for her.

Maybe he’d killed his former friend to protect her. Damien was lithe and athletic, but he was also tall and formidable in his own way.

If he were guilty, I’d understand—but could I let my friend marry a murderer?

Don’t get ahead of yourself.

“Thank you,” I said.

“You let me know if you need anything, darlin’. Me and the steps will do whatever is necessary to protect our girl.”

“Noted.” I liked Angie’s mom, but I wouldn’t want to get on her bad side.

I carried the plates across the room and handed Mara hers. She stared down at the piles of food and then back at me.

“I wasn’t sure what you were in the mood for, so I picked up a little of everything.”

My plate held a small new potato, the green beans, a bite of chicken piccata, and a roll. Oh well. At least it was something.

“What were you talking about with Angie’s mom?” Ewan asked.

I dropped the food on my fork back on the plate.

“What?” he said.

“I’ve never seen you be this nosy,” I said. “Why would you care that I was talking to her?”

“Did she say anything pertinent to the case?”

I sighed. “If you must know, she told me about the ex. How he exhibited classic abuse behavior by trying to isolate Angie away from her friends and family. And she thinks the world of Damien.”

“You have that look in your eye.” Mara frowned.

“It’s just my brain working out a few things.”

“Theories?” Ewan leaned forward in his chair. His plate, which had been full before, was clean and sat on the round table next to him.

“Are you going to share yours?” I asked before sticking a forkful of potatoes in my mouth.

“Yes,” he said.

“Wait. What?” I coughed.

“This is getting good. It’s like a real-life whodunnit.” Mara smiled. “You first, Em.”

“Let’s keep in mind there is a dead man in the dungeon,” I said. “Technically, it is real life.”

Mara scrunched up her face. “Sorry. You’re right.”

“Wine cellar,” Ewan corrected. “It hasn’t been a dungeon in at least a hundred years or so. And even then, my family only jailed and tortured people when necessary. We live by a code.”

“Absolutely necessary?” I had so many questions about that. How many people had the McGregor family tortured down there?

“Focus, Doc. What do you know so far?” he asked.

“The majority of people here feel the same way about Angie that we all do. Maybe we should be looking at those who don’t.”

“Like Damien’s father?” Mara whispered.

I nodded. “As well as the mother and brother. What if one of them brought Robbie here on purpose? Marianne said Robbie was close to all the Carthages until he got into drugs.

“Then there is Tiffany, who dated Robbie after Angie left him.”

“What?” Ewan’s jaw dropped.

“She didn’t tell you?”

“No. She must have forgotten that part.”

“And you probably already know Marianne is his cousin, since you and your men talked to everyone. Did you find anything in the rooms you searched?”

“I did know about Marianne, and she is on the list of suspects, as is Tiffany now.”

“I have them at the top of mine. But if they were working with Robbie …”

“Then why kill him?” Ewan finished.

“Might have been an accident,” I said. “But if that’s how they planned to kill Angie, why would he drink it?”

“So you think he came with the intent to kill her?”

I shrugged. “He had to have help, though. There was only one bottle with the antifreeze in it at the hen party. And someone just happened to hand it to Angie? There must be an accomplice who made sure she picked up that bottle.

“Those bridesmaids were in the room at the time.”

“The person had to be a woman at the hen party. There weren’t any guys there,” Mara said.

Loud voices rang out behind me. Someone wasn’t happy.

I glanced around the room.

An argument had broken out, in the corner of the room, with some of the groomsmen, but I was at an odd angle, and I couldn’t see who all was involved.

Ewan popped up, as if to stop them, but a loud crack, like a bomb, went off, and people screamed.

Mara and I might have been some of those people.

The castle trembled and everything went dark.