Page 9

Chapter Nine

I threw my hand over Mara’s scream. “It’s Angie,” I said quickly. Our friend sat straight up in our bed and stared at us with glassy eyes. The beauty mask she’d been wearing slid down to her chest, giving the appearance of a melting face.

“Where have you been? I looked all over the castle for you,” Angie said.

“Kitchen,” Mara said. “You gave us a fright. I thought someone had mangled your face.

Angie pulled the face mask off and then hopped off the bed. “My skin is leather in this weather. I’m sorry if I scared you. Damien was getting on my nerves.” She left us for the bathroom, and we followed her.

“You’re supposed to be resting,” I said. Something I was desperate to do.

“How can I when he just sits there and stares at me? He wants to cancel everything and for us to elope when the weather lifts. Can you imagine? Bloody idiot.”

Mara and I glanced at each other.

“No. Do not tell me you agree with him.” After tossing the mask in the bin, she put her hands on her hips. “I’m not canceling.”

“Wouldn’t dream of asking you to,” I said. She appeared anxious, and there was no reason to tell her what Ewan wanted to do.

“Thank God, you are sensible. It’s not my fault someone killed my ex. Did they? Do you know yet?”

We’d just told her. “We still can’t be sure.”

“Don’t get me wrong—it’s awful,” she continued as if she hadn’t heard me. “I said this before—I’m not some horrible person who doesn’t feel anything for him. I feel sorry that he died that way. Em, you said it first, though. He was probably up to no good.

“I didn’t do it, by the way. I know you are probably wondering, but I didn’t. I would tell you the truth if I had. Not that I could. You know that, right? If I’d seen him, I probably woulda ripped into him like a banshee, but wouldna killed him.”

It was obvious Angie needed to vent. I didn’t blame her.

“I don’t think Damien did it either. He’s not a very violent sort of guy. I know I said that before, but it’s true. He’s more likely to make the guy some cookies, listen to his complaints, and get him counseling. The only time I’ve seen him raise his hand was the night Robbie attacked him.

“I mean, he’s very protective, but I can’t see him killing someone. What have you two figured out? Tell me you know who murdered him.”

Mara and I glanced at each other.

Angie shook a finger. “You’ve been chatting, I can tell. Who?”

“You have a wedding in two days,” I said. “You leave this bit to us.”

“I can help,” she said. “I know all of these people better than most.”

“So, who do you think it is?” I asked.

“At first, my soon-to-be father-in-law, but why would he kill my ex if he was using him to break us up? Not that it would have worked.”

“You are here because you’re annoyed with your groom,” Mara said softly.

My eyes went wide. Angie was in no mood to be messed with, and I feared for Mara’s safety.

Her eyes narrowed at Mara. “That doesn’t mean I don’t want to marry him. I just had to get away from him for a bit. He’s in protective mode. I waited for him to fall asleep, and snuck out. I will not have some jerk murderers ruin my wedding.

“And I just realized that makes me sound like one of those bridezillas on that show from America. A man, one I loved once, has died. Who goes on with a wedding?” She sat down on the edge of the tub. “Robbie is dead.”

A tear slid down her cheek. “I’m a horrible person, right? We should send everyone home and cancel the lot.”

Given what she’d been through, this mania was expected.

“He fell asleep, and I just stared at him. I kept wondering if the man I was about to marry might be a killer. Oh. My. I said that out loud. He’s not. He’s not.” The last word was a sob.

I sat down on one side of her, and Mara on the other. We wrapped our arms around her.

“Take a deep breath,” I said. “You’re feeling manic. Quite honestly, who wouldn’t? None of this is on you Angie. Now breathe again.”

We all did it together.

“And another one.” We did it again.

“I know we keep having this same conversation, but so much went into this wedding.” Angie hung her head. “I go back and forth. Maybe Damien’s right, and we should just elope.”

“You’re exhausted and have been quite ill, and you have a head injury,” I said. “This is no time to make big decisions. Besides, what are all these people who are stuck here going to do? We can’t leave, and the wedding at least gives everyone something else to focus on—other than that there is a murderer among us.”

“But a man is dead,” she said. “I can’t get my head around it. I feel like I need to do something. Anything that will help find who did this.”

“I want to ask you something, but I need you to stay calm,” I said.

“Oh no.”

“It’s not bad. Why did you ask people like Tiffany and Marianne to be in your wedding?”

She sighed. “Why? What have they been saying now?” A tear slipped down her cheek. “Do you think one of them killed Robbie? I could see Tiffany doing something like that. She’s been vindictive her whole life.”

“So again, why is she here?” Mara asked.

“Half of the bridesmaids are friends of mine from when I was young. They had my back through my parents’ many marriages. We all promised to be in one another’s weddings when we grew up. Though I never thought I’d get married. At least, until I met Damien.”

“It’s old loyalties?”

She nodded. “We’ve stayed in touch through the years. Marianne was really upset with Robbie when she found out what he did. Tiffany—well, she’s never had much self-esteem. I was the one always convincing her to try new things.”

“Did you know she dated Robbie after you left him?” I asked.

She frowned. “Years later, she let it slip. It only made me worry about her more. Who goes after a man who has hurt another woman? She knew how bad the drugs were. Like I said, no self-esteem.”

“You are too kind,” Mara said. “Isn’t there an American saying like, ‘Ho’s before bro’s’?”

We chuckled.

Angie shrugged. “I haven’t always made the brightest decisions about boys. I’m guilty of doing things back then that I can’t believe I did. I wouldn’t judge any of them.”

“But do you think Tiffany could kill Robbie?”

She shrugged. “She has a dark side to her, but murder? Marianne wouldn’t have killed him. She told me earlier that he had his life back together, and she was so proud of him.”

“But could she have worked with him to hurt you?” It was a tough question, but I had to ask.

“Out of family loyalty? I don’t know. Marianne comes off rude, but she has a heart of mush. I can’t see her trying to kill me or helping him.” She put her face in her hands. “Why are we discussing murderers two days before my wedding? Have I been cursed?”

“No,” Mara and I said in unison.

“Maybe we should have eloped. Then I wouldn’t have people who are supposed to be friends trying to kill me.”

We hugged her.

“You have us,” I said. “We will get to the bottom of this and keep you safe. Don’t you worry.”

She wrapped her arms around us and squeezed hard. “What would I do without you two?”

“We feel the same way about you,” Mara said. “Don’t worry about anything except having the best wedding ever. The doc has a plan.”

I do?

“We’ll need to begin early in the morning. First, I need you to make me a list of anyone who might have had grievances against you. Even small, silly ones. Anyone who is here in the castle is a suspect,” I said to Angie.

“I can do that,” she said. “I do have a favor.”

“Name it,” I said.

“I want to see Robbie. That sounds weird, so let me explain. It’s like it isn’t real. I saw the pictures, but I need to see him.”

“Oh, Angie, are you sure?” Mara asked. “That might send you over.”

She blew out a breath. “Yes. I need to do this.”

“If you need closure, we will make it happen,” I said. “Let’s get some rest. Do you want to stay in here with us?”

Angie sighed. “I should get back. Damien will worry if he wakes up, and I’m not there. Promise me we’ll figure this out.”

“Promise. We’ll take you back. Do me a favor and don’t run through these hallways alone, okay? At least, until we find out who is doing this.”

“Deal.”

After walking Angie back to her room and agreeing to meet up early the next morning, I climbed into bed. All the facts whorled around my brain, but one thing stuck out.

Someone had killed a man who had no business being here. Then they’d tried to kill Angie—twice. The killer was smart and wicked, a terrible combination when trying to catch a murderer.

The next morning, Angie, looking much more like herself, met us near the kitchen. She wore a silk scarf around her head, like a 1950s movie star, and another one of her jumpsuits. This one had sequined bouquets of flowers. Over it, she wore a pink, fake-fur coat.

The outfit absolutely worked for her.

“Is that one of Lulu’s designs?” Lulu, Angie’s aunt, had an unusual shop with all kinds of gifts, antiques, vintage clothing, and some of the designs she made—most of which were from the sixties and seventies.

She nodded and then winced.

“How do you feel?”

“Eh,” she said. “I’m hoping you have some pain pills in that huge bag you’re carrying.”

“I do. Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Um.”

“It’s okay if you changed your mind,” I said. “He was identified by several people, including his cousin, by the photograph.”

“Right, but to calm my thoughts and give me some peace, I need this.”

“Do you want to eat something first? You’ll need food before taking any medications.”

“No. Let’s get this done. I’m afraid to eat anything before. I might get sick.”

There was that.

“Okay.”

The castle was dark. The snow outside was so thick, it let no light in through the windows. The only lights were the ones gracing the hallways. Since no one was up except for the staff and us, the rest of the rooms were dark.

I shivered. I wasn’t sure I’d ever get used to this place.

Angie and Mara followed me down to the dungeon. Abigail was already there, working to lift fingerprints from the mallet used to hurt Angie. The bright lights in the makeshift autopsy suite made me blink.

“I’ve been in a few wine cellars, but I’ve never seen one like this,” Angie said.

“Me neither,” Mara whispered. “There is an entire wall of refrigeration for champagnes and white wines. This is a sommelier’s dream.”

“Oh.” Angie put her hand on my shoulder when we turned down the aisle toward the setup where Abigail was working. “Is that him in the bag? I’ve seen this sort of thing on television.”

“Yes. Again, it isn’t necessary that you do this, Angie.”

“I know,” she said. “I just need a few seconds to prepare myself. I have it in my head that it’s some actor the murderer hired and that it’s not really Robbie.”

Abigail worked at one of the side tables she’d set up.

“Take your time. Let me know when you’re ready.”

“Any luck?”

“I lifted a couple of prints,” Abigail said. “Without access to the internet, there’s no way to run it through any sort of database. Henry said as soon as the storm lifted, we’d be able to check.

“But the finger pad size is smaller. It could have been a woman or a small man.”

I stepped back, and my foot hit a metal tray. I glanced down to find the floor littered with paper and medical equipment.

“What happened?” I leaned down to pick up some of the debris.

“Stop,” Abigail said. “Henry came down with me this morning, and he’s gone to get more evidence bags. Looks like someone had a rummage around last night when we weren’t here.”

“Interesting. I thought the door was supposed to be locked.”

“It is,” Henry said as he came into the lighted space. “But it was open when we came down. I’ve alerted the constable. He’s working with the others to find some sheep whose pen was knocked down last night.”

“In this weather? He and the men could be killed or freeze to death.”

“He knows what he’s doing, Doctor.” Henry said.

I hoped so. Ewan might have been annoying, but I certainly didn’t want him dead.

“I’m ready,” Angie said. “If it’s okay. I didn’t want to bother your doctoring stuff.”

“What’s this?” Henry asked. “We don’t want anyone contaminating the crime scene.”

Angie’s hands shook, and she crossed her arms. “If it’s not a good time …”

“Henry, don’t be rude,” Abigail said sternly. I’d never seen her talk that way to him. “Angie needs to make sure he’s not some actor made to look like the victim. We need her to do this.”

No one said a word to Abigail about her discussion the night before, but she was instinctive.

Henry’s face fell, and his eyes went wide. “I’m sorry—of course. Let me just clean a path for you.” He wore gloves and stuffed the items that had been strewn about into evidence bags.

Poor guy was only trying to do his job. Abigail had no idea of the power she had over him.

A few minutes later, a path had been cleared. Abigail put her hand on the zipper of the body bag. “Are you ready?”

Mara and I stood on each side of Angie, with our arms crooked in hers for support. She’d been right the night before. She wasn’t the sort of woman who fainted, but she’d been through a lot in the last forty-eight hours. I wasn’t taking chances.

Abigail unzipped the bag to the man’s shoulders. I’d sewn him back up, but there was no reason for poor Angie to see my handiwork.

Angie frowned. “It doesn’t look like him.”

Mara and I glanced at each other.

“What’s wrong, Angie.”

“This man is too old. He’s so rough looking. How could anyone think it was Robbie. How did I think that from the photo? It can’t be him. What about his tattoos? Can you take the zipper down a bit more so I can see the right side of his ribcage and if he has arm art.”

I held up a hand. “The body is—I had to do a full autopsy.”

“I can take it. I need to know for sure if someone is playing a trick on us. I’m telling you, I don’t think this is Robbie. Yes, there are similarities, but no one ages like that in five years. And his nose was banged up when we dated. It’s straight now.”

I almost wanted to mention that it probably didn’t feel like a trick to the dead man, but it wasn’t appropriate.

I nodded toward Abigail. I’d examined the body thoroughly, and I knew exactly what she’d see.

She pulled the zipper down, showing a demonic tattoo painted red and black on the right side of his ribcage. His arms were covered in tattoos.

“I—it is him.” She pulled out of our arms and then quickly walked away. I followed her down the long corridor to the steps going back upstairs. She stopped and sat down.

“I’m dizzy.”

“Bend over and put your forehead on your knees.” She did as I asked. “Take deep breaths.”

“I—it’s—oh no. This is real.” Her body shook hard.

“You’re in shock,” I said. “Take deep breaths.”

“It’s real. It’s real.”

“I’m sorry,” I said.

“He looks so old. He’s the same age as Damien. I mean, we—why does he look so old?”

“Heroin addiction is not kind on the body,” I said. “It ages you quickly.”

“There’s a dead man in the dungeon and it is my ex.” She repeated the phrase three times.

“Why don’t we get you some tea or coffee upstairs,” I said.

“I can’t get up yet. Trust me, if I could run I would. But my head feels like a hive of bees buzzing loudly.”

“Just sit here a few minutes—I’ll be right back. Do not try to go upstairs without me, okay? We can’t risk you falling before the wedding.”

“There isn’t going to be a wedding. Did you see him? He’s real. A dead man is in the dungeon.” She kept saying it over and over.

I was afraid to leave her.

“Mara,” I shouted.

Angie winced.

Mara came running around the corner. She glanced from me to Angie. Then she frowned. “Tell me what to do.”

This was one of the many reasons I adored her.

“We need to get her upstairs. She’s in shock. You walk in front of her, and I’ll walk behind. If I thought her fiancé could get her up those twisted stairs, I’d have you go get him. It just isn’t safe.”

“I can walk,” Angie said in a strangled voice. “Stop talking about me like I’m not sitting right here. I—” She tried to stand but sat down hard on the stone step.

“Oh.” And then her hands were on her face, and she sobbed. It was honestly the best thing for her. The release of tension was good for someone in shock.

“Tea, full of sugar,” I said to Mara.

She raced up the steps. Well, as fast as one could go. While not as treacherous as the stairs in the tower, they weren’t easy to navigate.

I sat down next to Angie and wrapped my arms around her.

“None of this is your fault. I’m sorry,” I whispered.

“Why? You didn’t kill him. Did you?”

I grabbed a tissue from the pocket of my cardigan and handed it to her.

“No, but I can hurt for my friend who should be experiencing the happiest time of her life.”

“It’s not happy.”

“I know, friend. There’s a dead guy in the dungeon.”

“For the last time, it’s a wine cellar,” Ewan grumped. He held a cup of tea above us. After sitting on the step just behind us, he handed the fine porcelain cup to Angie. “Drink this. Now,” he ordered.

“He’s dead, Ewan.”

“I know, luv. It’s not your fault.”

“That’s what Em says, but we are here because of me.”

“True. You were the one who wanted a gothic wedding,” he said.

Angie gasped.

I gave him my best evil eye.

“Dead guy just adds to the atmosphere, right? Whoooooo.” He made ghost hands and crossed his eyes. “Imagine, a ghost walking you down the aisle instead of your old da. That would send those society pages crazy.”

Appalled, I glared at him.

Angie giggled. “You are awful.” She laughed louder. “Like, really terrible.”

“Yes, lass. As the doc would say, it’s one of my superpowers.”

I’d never said any such thing, but Angie was laughing even harder now. I took her tea, so she didn’t drop the porcelain cup.

He’d known exactly what to say to snap her out of it.

“Come on, punk. Let’s get you upstairs. Doc may have to sedate your fiancé. He was frantic when he couldn’t find you this morning.

“My legs wobble,” she said.

“Put your hands on my shoulders and lean in hard. I’ve got you.”

And he did. Mara and Damien stood by the door when we emerged from the dungeon.

“Babe, why did you go down there?” Damien squeezed her tightly to him. And kissed her face. “I’ve been worried about you. At least leave me a note. Better yet, don’t go anywhere alone.”

“I had to know for sure. And I didn’t walk to the kitchen alone. Mum went with me. She wanted to check on some flowers or something.”

I hadn’t seen her mother when Angie arrived.

He stopped, and then stared at her. “And?”

“What?” she asked.

“Did you figure out for sure who it is?”

Her lips trembled, and then she steeled herself. “It’s him. Why would he be here, Damien? Why does he look so different?”

“We’ll find out, Angie,” I said. “I mean it.”

“He had his nose fixed. That’s weird, right? He wasn’t the type.”

A loud crash and screams came from the kitchen.

“What now?” I asked.

Only a blood-curdling scream answered.