Engaged in Murder (Perfect Proposals Mystery) Read online

  I sat down hard. My vision started to go dark. Great, just what I needed . . . to faint in front of the cops. It could be worse, I suppose. I could be outside with Officer Flynn. Or worse, inside marring Officer O’Riley’s shiny shoes.

  “Head between your knees.” He put his pad away and squatted beside me. I had to admit that the ground felt particularly comfortable at the moment. I rested my forehead on the cool tiled floor.

  “I’m fine,” I muttered.

  “I’m sure you are,” he said.

  Why then did I have tears in my eyes?

  Chapter 4

  “I have a blanket in my truck,” I heard Jeb say.

  “Get it.” Vandall’s voice was full of sympathy. “You had quite a shock, Ms. Pomeroy. Take a deep breath in and blow it out. Good.”

  I felt the blanket go around my shoulders. The warmth staved off the shivers that had started down my spine. I sat up to look into Vandall’s hazel gaze. He had those lovely diamond-shaped eyes that were wider in the center and pointed at the ends as if he spent days laughing in the sun. “I’m fine.”

  “I’m going to have to ask you some more questions,” he said. “Are you up to it?”

  “Yes.” I nodded.

  “There’s an office across the hall,” Jeb said. “You can take her in there.”

  Both men helped me up and I huddled in the blanket. The office door was open and the overhead light still on from my excursion inside to find Jeb’s phone number. I walked in, this time sensitive to my surroundings. The office held a file cabinet, a desk with a chair behind it, and two chairs in front.

  Officer Vandall ushered me into the second chair in front of the desk. He looked at Jeb. “Can you get her some water?”

  “Sure thing.” Jeb left and I huddled in the blanket as Officer Vandall leaned against the desk and studied me.

  “Tell me how you found the body.” His hazel gaze was calm and direct.

  “I looked under the stall and saw a man’s feet so I knocked on the door. There was no way I was going to use the restroom if a guy was in there.” I had a feeling I would get in big trouble for letting Felicity and Warren leave the scene of a crime. But I really had thought he was simply drunk. Then I’d gotten caught up in the excitement of the moment. Warren and I had worked so hard to create the perfect scene for Felicity.

  Besides, favor from a friend or not, renting the plane and crew must be costing Warren a fortune. It would have been a tragedy for him to go to all that expense only to be grounded due to a crime. There was no way Warren or his crew was involved. No way.

  “Let’s start from the beginning.” Officer Vandall pulled out his paper and pen. “Why are you here?”

  “Well, you see, my mom and dad were taking this romantic vacation to—”

  “At the airport, today . . .” He gave me a deadpan look. You know the kind your mom gives you when you’re caught goofing around.

  “Oh.” I smiled. Luckily Jeb came in with a tiny paper cup filled with water. “Thank you.” I took the cup from him and sipped. It was cold and sweet on my tongue and throat and gave me time to reason out my story. I would tell the truth, I decided. Well, as much of the truth as I could anyway.

  “I’ll need to question you separately,” Officer Vandall said to Jeb. “If you don’t mind . . .”

  “Oh, right.” Jeb shoved his hands in his pockets and left the office.

  I noticed two guys in paramedic uniforms walk by the office window pushing a stretcher. They were followed by a single gentleman wearing a black jacket marked CST. He looked young, thin, and nothing like the actors on television.

  “Is one guy enough to process a crime scene?” I asked.

  “That’s Frank Swizer. He’s the best. Now let’s start with why you’re here in hangar four today, Ms. Pomeroy.”

  “I came to help my sister’s boyfriend, Warren Evans, propose to my sister. You see, he wanted to give Felicity her dream proposal and I knew exactly what she always wanted.” I paused, waiting for him to ask. He gave me the flat-eyed stare. “She wanted to be proposed to in a private jet and whisked away to a romantic weekend. Thus the Executive Airport.” I waved my hand and sloshed the bit of water left in the paper cup.

  “So you came to help this guy, Warren, propose . . .”

  “Yes, no, wait . . . I didn’t help him propose. I mean it’s not romantic if your sister proposes for the guy. It wasn’t like I put words in his mouth or anything. I came to decorate the inside of the plane with mementos of their relationship. Then there was the music and the flowers and the champagne and the chocolate-covered strawberries . . . you know.”

  “So when did you find the body? Before or after this Warren proposed to your sister Felicity?”

  I swallowed. I was the worst liar in the world. My face heated up and I tended to stutter. “I thought he was a drunk guy . . . you know, passed out.”

  He glared at me as my face grew warmer. I refused to let his silence unnerve me.

  “Do you really think I would have let them leave me here alone with a dead body?”

  “Just a drunk guy . . .”

  “As far as I knew, he might have gotten up and left while I saw Felicity off . . .” I swallowed. “He might have.”

  He didn’t answer. Instead he wrote something in his notebook. I crossed my arms and jutted out my chin. I told myself to wait him out.

  The tension in the room grew as the time stretched on. I bit down on my tongue until I tasted blood. Finally, he took pity on me and broke the silence.

  “So you called immediately after their plane took off.”

  “Pretty much,” I replied.

  He raised his right eyebrow. “Why did you go into the ladies’ room?”

  “When I got here, Daniel, Warren’s pilot, showed me around. He told me how to be safe around the plane and gave me a tour of the hangar. After I decorated the plane, I wanted to give Laura Snow—she’s the flight attendant Warren used—some pointers on serving the champagne so I looked for her in the ladies’ room. After the plane took off, I thought I heard someone so I went down the hall but no one was there.”

  “After the plane left the hangar, you didn’t see anyone?”

  “No, I guess I was the only one here. That’s why I called 911 first to report the drunk guy. There wasn’t any airport security around. After I called you, the operator suggested I call Jeb. So I did. He told me not to touch anything and came up in the truck you see there.” I pointed out the office window.

  “When did you figure out the victim was dead?”

  “When Jeb asked me if the drunk guy was still there,” I said. “I had to check. I didn’t want to file a police report if he’d gotten up and left.”

  “So you went in and tried to wake him.”

  “Yes, that’s when I noticed the smell and the weird stiffness and the funny blue color of his lips . . .”

  “Did you check for a pulse?”

  “No, I was afraid. Then Jeb came into the hangar. I told him where the body was. That’s when he went inside the bathroom. He said he was a trained professional.”

  “And all this time you didn’t see anyone else?”

  “No, no, I was the only one here. Why?”

  “I’m wondering where the killer was . . .”

  A shiver ran down my back at the thought that I had been alone with not only a dead man but perhaps his killer. “The only one in the restroom when I found the body was me. Trust me, I checked. You see, I have this habit of looking under the stalls to see if they’re empty—especially if I’m in a guy place like the mechanic’s or something. It’s safer. A girl never knows who might be lurking . . .”

  “Or dead.”

  “Right.” I waved my hand to emphasize my words.

  “Where were you when you called 911?”

  “I was in the hal
lway,” I answered.

  “Did you see anyone else?”

  “No.”

  “Did you touch anything?”

  “Well, I guess I touched the door to go in, then the stall door . . .”

  “Frank will be collecting fingerprints . . .”

  “I’m not lying.” I could feel my face flush. Okay, so I might be fibbing about the timeline a bit, but I was being as honest as possible.

  “What makes you think I would think you’re lying?” He raised an eyebrow as he twisted my words.

  “You are acting as if I’m a suspect.” I pouted and folded my arms across my chest.

  “Do you usually skip work to plan an event like this proposal?” he asked.

  “No.” I frowned. “I was recently laid off. They were reorganizing corporate and my job was eliminated. They said it was”—I made finger quotes—“‘redundant.’”

  “I see. How long ago was that?”

  I frowned. “Last month.” I winced at how fast time had gone by. My unemployment stipend was only two-thirds of the salary that Events Inc. had paid me as a corporate event planner. Thank goodness for Warren’s check. That chunk of money would help pay my bills for a few months.

  “Were you angry they let you go?” Officer Vandall asked.

  I tilted my head and gave him the squinty eye. “Are you thinking I was a disgruntled employee offing my boss? Because (a) I have no idea how that man in there died, and (b) I’ve never seen him before in my life.”

  “I see,” Officer Vandall said. “What about your sister?”

  “What about her?” I tugged the blanket tight around my shoulders.

  “Did she know the man in the bathroom?”

  “How would I know?” I shrugged. “As far as I know, she didn’t use the bathroom while she was here. Besides, every moment from the time she left the cab until after the proposal was filmed by my video guy. I think I would have noticed if he followed her into the restroom.”

  “There’s video of this event?”

  “Yes, of course . . .”

  “I need that footage,” he said. “Where’s the videographer?”

  “Cesar? He followed the plane out to catch a clip of it taking off into the sunset. I didn’t see him come back, so I presume he headed back to his office.”

  “I’m going to need his information.”

  “Okay,” I said. “I have his info in my phone.” I reached into my pocket and pulled out my cell phone. Thank goodness for smart phones. I flipped through the screens until I got to Cesar’s contact info, then I showed Officer Vandall the screen. “He’s really good and reasonable if you ever have an event you need filmed.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” He wrote down Cesar’s information. “Who else was here that can verify your story?”

  “First of all, it’s not a story. It’s what happened.” I narrowed my eyes at him.

  He gave me that same calm stare.

  “Fine, when I arrived, I met Warren at the entrance to the hangar.” I waved toward what I had begun to think of as the giant garage door. “Then there was Daniel Frasier, he’s the pilot. Then Laura Snow, she’s the stewardess. Do they call them that anymore?” I shrugged. “That’s pretty much it. Cesar came later and then Felicity.”

  “And you were the only one here when you found the body . . .”

  “If that is a question, the answer is yes. Daniel piloted the plane. Laura ensured everyone’s safety and comfort. Cesar went out to the runway to film the takeoff.”

  “And you were here, alone in a wide-open hangar . . .”

  I winced. “Yes, is that weird? I mean, I’ve never been in a hangar before. I kind of thought there would be mechanics or someone else around. Ask Jeb Donaldson, he’s airport security. He should know more than I do about who should be here and who shouldn’t.”

  “Tell me more about Warren Evans,” he asked as if we were getting to know each other over coffee. I didn’t fall for it, though.

  “He’s been dating my sister for a year or so.”

  “Where did they meet?”

  “Why is that important?”

  He tilted his head. “Humor me.”

  “Fine.” I wiggled in my plastic chair. “They met at a charity thing. Look, I really don’t know him that well. I think he’s an accountant for a small firm that does something for the airport. It’s how he knows Daniel and how he managed to get the plane for the weekend.”

  “An accountant for a small firm who can afford to whisk your sister off in a private jet . . . don’t you think that’s a bit odd?”

  Under his steady gaze, it did sound a bit odd. Still, I might not know too much about Warren, but he seemed like a good guy. Felicity was so happy. “Not at all. Daniel and Laura both seemed to know him very well. People do favors for each other all the time.”

  “Perhaps,” he said. I got the distinct impression he was suspicious of both me and Warren. I suppose that is what he got paid to do. But I know I didn’t do anything wrong and I was just as certain Warren didn’t, either.

  Officer Vandall stood. “I’d like you to stay here while I talk to airport security. I may have more questions.”

  “Is it going to take long?” I asked.

  “Do you have someplace you need to be?” He raised an eyebrow as he towered over me.

  “Yes, actually.” I stuck my chin out. “Do I need to call my lawyer?” I lifted my phone and pretended to look through my contacts. In real life I was too poor to have an attorney. Let alone have one stored in my contacts. But he didn’t need to know that.

  “If you’re feeling up to it, you can go,” he said, his expression never changing so I had no idea if he was angry or curious as to why I wanted to call my lawyer. “I will need your address and phone number.”

  “Thank you.” I gave him the address to my tiny apartment in Arlington Heights, and then stood to leave. Unfortunately I wasn’t really ready to stand up. Maybe it was my nerves, perhaps it was all the excitement, but I had a head rush. My vision started to close up again and my legs felt rubbery. “Or maybe I’ll wait a minute.”

  “Take your time.” Officer Vandall nodded and opened the door. He stopped at the entrance. “Oh, and Ms. Pomeroy, I wouldn’t leave town if I were you. We may have more questions.”

  “Right.” I nodded and watched him walk out. He wore a bulletproof vest under his uniform. It gave him a smooth, stiff torso. The man had a nice backside and brown hair that was the color of mahogany. Perhaps it would have been okay to spend a little more time in Officer Vandall’s company.

  That thought made me realize I had definitely had a bit too much excitement. Besides, my boyfriend, Bobby, was waiting for me at the Naked Truth, a hangout bar close to his apartment. It was time to get out of here.

  As I stood, I noticed the two paramedics go by the office window pushing a stretcher with a large black bag on top.

  It struck me as incongruous that they basically haul out the body in a big black trash bag. I waited a moment for them to take the body, put it in the ambulance, shut the doors, and leave. It felt too weird to follow the dead guy out—better to give them some space.

  By the time I left the hangar, Officer Vandall was deep in conversation with Jeb Donaldson. I picked up my leftover bags and made my way to my car. An unmarked dark sedan was parked near the patrol cars, blocking my car. I sighed, put the bags in the backseat with the remaining palm, and went inside.

  Officer Vandall stopped talking when he saw me. “Remember something?” he asked.

  Jeb gave me a squinty-eyed look. I figured he was probably angry because I’d interrupted his involvement in the investigation.

  “There’s a sedan blocking my car,” I said, playing with my car keys. “Can someone move it?”

  “Hold on.” Officer Vandall looked over his shoulder and into the now wide-op
en doorway to the ladies’ room. I could see the crime scene tech hard at work. There were two men in suits and ties. I didn’t remember seeing them come into the hangar. I imagine they showed up while Officer Vandall questioned me.

  “Hey, Murphy, you’re blocking the lady in.”

  One of the suits turned to look at us. He was about six feet tall, maybe forty, with thinning gray hair and savvy blue eyes. He had that worn look of a man who saw too much and cared too much. “Move it for me, will you?” He tossed keys toward Officer Vandall.

  The officer caught them. “Sure.”

  I noticed Murphy studying me. Was he profiling me? I tried not to look guilty, which means I blushed to the roots of my hair and studied him back. He wore an ill-fitting black suit coat, black slacks, a white dress shirt, and a blue tie decorated with yellow Tweety Birds. He was stocky but not fat.

  “Come on,” Officer Vandall said. “I’ll let you out. Mr. Donaldson will follow you to the gate.” He turned to Jeb. “Make sure she gets out of here safe.”

  “Right.” Jeb sent a short frown in my direction. It was really clear that he didn’t like the fact that he would miss part of the investigation.

  I followed both men out of the hangar. “I’m sure I’ll be fine.” I opened my car door. “I’m going to meet my boyfriend. He’ll see I get home safe.”

  “I’d feel better if Mr. Donaldson followed you out,” Officer Vandall insisted.

  I shrugged and got into my car. A quick glance in the backseat told me that no one was hiding there. A girl had to check—I mean I’ve seen enough slasher movies to know you needed to be sure about these things.

  The vanilla scent of the fragrant lei that hung around blue’s rearview mirror mingled with the scent of palm and old car. There was something comforting in the everyday smells. Blue’s seats were warmed by the sun and I let out a deep breath.

  It only took a minute for Officer Vandall to move the car. I backed out and left. The palm in my backseat blocked my rear view of the hangar. I was glad to be on my way. I’m an event planner, not a crime-scene junky. Jeb dutifully followed me to the gate, where the kid who had let me in opened it and let me out.