| |
Kat was still mulling over the information Belinda and Colin Bridges had thrown at her when she left Jessie’s Diner. The two had argued on more points than they’d agreed, their individual recollections of their high school days so out of alignment that Kat found it hard to give much merit to anything either one of them said. It was impossible to determine which one had the more accurate memory.
A slight headache had begun to throb on the left side of her head by the time she parked in the lot outside her apartment building and headed for the front entrance. At least Belinda and Colin had agreed on one thing: Landon Tabernathy had been a young Lothario. But Kat was at a loss as to whether that had factored into his death.
“Hey!”
Kat paused mid-step. Was that one of Chief Kenny’s sisters waving at her?
“Thank goodness you’re back,” Marigold said, clasping her hands in front of her. “I didn’t know how long you’d be, but now I’m glad I waited.”
Kat was sure to stand a few feet away from her unexpected visitor. Marigold’s sudden presence outside her home left her unsettled, especially in light of everything Belinda and Colin had shared over breakfast.
Marigold frowned, as though she had expected a warmer welcome. “You are Kat Harper, right?”
“I am,” Kat confirmed, figuring there was no point in denying it.
“Maybe you don’t remember me. I’m Marigold, Kenny’s youngest sister. We met at his birthday party yesterday. Although, I missed your name at the time.”
“I remember.” Kat hugged her purse closer. “Is there something I can help you with?”
Marigold’s face brightened. “Why, yes. You can help me find Landon’s killer.”
Kat’s jaw slipped open. “Why are you asking me? Your brother is the chief of police.”
“It was his idea I come to you. Kenny says you’re like a private investigator of sorts. He gave me your address. And since he has a ‘conflict of interest’”—Marigold made air quotes as if the conflict only existed in Chief Kenny’s imagination—“I thought maybe you could do a little digging.”
“Or you could leave the investigating to the two, very qualified members of the Cherry Hills Police Department assigned to the case,” Kat said, pushing aside her doubts about Raoul Leon.
“With Landon being Frieda’s husband, she’s going to be their main suspect. I can’t just sit by and do nothing while they build a case against her.” Marigold chewed on her bottom lip. “But I don’t know the first thing about solving a murder. That’s why I thought maybe you could help get to the bottom of things.”
Kat studied her. She did look sincere. And while the long-term residents of Cherry Hills might have some insight into Landon’s high school days, if they were anything like the Bridges they likely hadn’t spoken to him in thirty-two years. Marigold, on the other hand, was his sister-in-law. It stood to reason she’d seen Landon more than a few times in the past three decades.
“Do the police have a cause of death yet?” Kat asked.
Marigold wrapped her arms around her middle. “I heard he might have received a blow to the head.”
“Like somebody punched him?” Marigold wasn’t very large. Would she be capable of punching a man with enough force to kill him?
“Or he was struck with something,” Marigold said.
“With what?”
Marigold lifted one shoulder. “Nobody knows, and Ken says the medical examiner might not get to Landon’s autopsy until later today.”
Although Chief Kenny had formally removed himself from the case, he evidently was keeping up to speed with new developments. Kat couldn’t blame him. She was curious herself, and she hadn’t even known Landon. It didn’t escape her awareness that by agreeing to work with Marigold she would have access to the same information as the police.
Her mind made up, Kat pointed to the door. “Would you like to come inside?”
Marigold bobbed her head. “Yes. Yes, I would like that very much.”
They didn’t speak on the way up to Kat’s third-floor unit. Kat still wasn’t sure whether she could trust Marigold, and Marigold looked a bit wary herself, as if she were having second thoughts about accompanying a stranger to her apartment.
Tom met them at the door, exhibiting none of the same caution as he meowed frantically and weaved around Marigold’s ankles. His unabashed enthusiasm would have put Kat more at ease had the friendly feline not been known to have solicited attention from criminals before.
“Hi there, kitty,” Marigold crooned as she crouched down to stroke Tom. “You’re a chatty one, aren’t you?”
“Tom is as social as cats come,” Kat told her, closing the front door and tossing her purse on the coffee table. She pointed to the couch where Matty was curled up, one eye pried open to observe the activity. “His sister, on the other hand, will make you work for her affections.”
“At least she’s not running away.”
“That would mean admitting you matter. Matty would never do anything to make herself appear less superior to a human.”
Tom, however, had no qualms about begging for pats. He stood on his hind feet and dragged one cheek against Marigold’s fingers. She responded by giving him a vigorous full-body rub that made him purr in approval.
Kat perched on one of the couch armrests, deciding to get down to business. “I have to say, I’m surprised you’re so interested in clearing your sister’s name.”
Marigold glanced at her. “Why’s that?”
“I got the impression you and your sister weren’t all that close.”
Marigold swayed back a little, Tom temporarily forgotten. “Why would you think that?”
“I heard she stole Landon from you.”
Marigold sighed. “He was never really mine.”
“But you liked him.”
“I guess. But that was years ago. I wouldn’t kill him because he chose Frieda.” Marigold smiled ruefully. “Frankly, he made the right decision. Frieda’s always been more stable than me.”
“More stable?” Kat echoed.
“A homemaker type. I was the one who liked to sneak out to parties and whatnot, while Frieda stayed home and worked on her school assignments.”
“Even so, you must have been upset when she went after Landon.”
Marigold pressed her lips together. She took a long moment, as though considering how to respond.
“Okay,” she finally said, “I admit I wasn’t happy when Frieda started dating Landon. She knew I liked him, and it’s kind of an unspoken rule that you don’t go after your sister’s crush. But she didn’t, really.”
“Didn’t what?” Kat asked.
“Pursue Landon. He was the one who went after her.”
“She could have turned him down.”
“I don’t know about that. Landon had this charm about him. He was hard to resist. I couldn’t really blame her when she agreed to go out with him, and then later when she fell in love.”
“No matter how charming Landon was, you must have blamed Frieda somewhat,” Kat said.
“Well, sure,” Marigold replied. “I was mad at her, but I wouldn’t have killed anyone over it. And, if I were angry enough to commit murder, I certainly wouldn’t have waited until now to do it.”
“Are you married?” Kat hadn’t noticed a ring on her finger.
“No, I never found the right guy.”
“Or you never found anyone who stacked up to Landon,” Kat proposed.
Marigold barked out a laugh. “I’m not still pining over him, if that’s what you’re thinking. And if I was, why would I kill him?”
“Because you couldn’t have him.”
“I didn’t want him,” Marigold insisted. “He was merely the object of a teenage infatuation, one I got over thirty years ago.”
“Then maybe you killed him to punish Frieda for stealing him away.”
“I would never do that.”
Kat regarded Marigold as she tried to gauge her sincerity. She had to give Marigold credit for maintaining eye contact. Would a guilty person be capable of that? Maybe, if they didn’t regret what they’d done.
Marigold blew out a breath. “Look. Frieda and I might have done some hurtful things over the years, but we’d never go so far as that. No matter how mad we might be, we would defend each other to the death.” She grimaced. “That was a bad choice of words. But you know what I mean. We’ve got each other’s backs no matter what.”
Kat fingered the edge of the couch. Not having any siblings of her own, she found the dynamics between them fascinating and mysterious. What would it be like to share that kind of bond with someone?
For that matter, could such a fierce sense of loyalty drive one sibling to kill on another’s behalf? Maybe Marigold hadn’t killed Landon for revenge so much as a favor to Frieda. Did Frieda have a reason to want him dead?
Marigold lowered herself onto the sofa across from Kat. “I’m telling you the truth. I didn’t kill Landon.”
“Why should I believe you?” Kat asked.
“Because I’m here, aren’t I? I’m asking you to investigate. Would I do that if I were guilty?”
“You might if Chief Kenny put you up to it.”
Marigold worked her jaw for a second. “What about Frieda? You can’t possibly think she’s guilty.”
“I don’t know her well enough to have an opinion one way or another.”
Marigold nodded slowly. “Fair enough. Are you at least open to considering other suspects besides my sister and me?”
“I am,” Kat conceded.
“Then there’s just one thing to do,” Marigold announced as she jumped off the couch. Her sudden movement startled Tom into a fighting position, his back arched and his tail expanded to three times its normal size.
“What’s that?” Kat asked.
“Go talk to Frieda and find out who had it in for Landon.”
