Darlene Franklin - Dressed for Death 02 - A String of Murders Read Online Free Page A

explains why he came here tonight.”
    No one said anything, their silence confirming my guess.
    The grandfather clock chimed eleven, and my knees wobbled. “Do you mind if I sit down? There are chairs in my office.”
    “We’ll only be a few more minutes,” Reiner echoed Frances’s earlier promise.
    Exasperated, I grabbed the chair Audie had pulled out of the dressing room earlier and sat.
    “You came into the store. . .why?” Reiner turned his attention to Audie.
    “I was driving down the street, on my way home.”
    “What time was that?” Frances spoke up, pen poised over her notebook.
    “A few minutes after eight. I had stayed late at the MGM working on sets for the play.”
    “And you came by the store. . .when?”
    “Maybe five minutes later. It’s on my way home.”
    “Why did you stop? Were you hoping to see Cici?” Reiner repeated his question.
    Audie shook his head. “I knew she wasn’t there. I had called her at home before I left the theater.” He pulled up a chair from the other dressing room and sat in it backwards, dangling his hands in front of him. “I saw a light bouncing around the store. Not the usual night light Cici leaves on. I stopped to investigate. That’s when I saw the broken window. I wanted to check it out.”
    “You didn’t call the police?” Reiner made it sound like a federal offense.
    “My only thought was to stop whoever was there from doing damage. Instinct, I guess.”
    “How did you get in if Cici wasn’t there?”
    “The door was hanging open. And I have a key.”
    Reiner grunted while Frances took notes.
    “How many people have keys to your store?” She addressed the question to me.
    I frowned at that. Someone had broken the front window to get in; why did the keys matter? But I answered the question. “Me. Audie. And I have an extra set that I loan to my sister Dina when she helps out.” Since Audie has a key, he wouldn’t need to smash the glass.
    “Can anyone verify your whereabouts between six and eight?” Reiner focused on Audie.
    Audie frowned at his fingers, entwined in front of the chair. “I was at the theater alone between seven and eight. I wanted to set up the scene for tomorrow night’s rehearsal. I called Cici from the theater. I told you that.”
    Reiner snorted. “Using your cell phone, I suppose. You could have called from anywhere. Where were you before seven? With Cici?”
    Audie paused. “No.”
    Unease rippled through my heart. Few people could provide an alibi for every minute of each day. But did it make him look suspicious to the police?
    Reiner continued grilling Audie about the evening. My mind searched for something to distract me from the horror, and my thoughts wandered to my favorite topic: our wedding. I looked around the store, picturing a full-skirted, white organza gown that came straight out of the ’50s. Or perhaps an A-line that would have been at home in the ’60s. Fashion was my passion, and I wanted the perfect wedding dress. So many to choose from, I thought.
    Audie pursued me diligently in the months following our investigation into Penn Hardy’s murder last fall. Once I had chosen the theater director over my childhood friend, Cord Grace, Audie relaxed and acted like a giddy school boy at times. Flowers every day, occasional chocolates, joining in harvest time celebrations at the family ranch, singing beneath my bedroom window. . .
    Even the usual November doldrums, brought on by shortened days and brown ground, sped by unnoticed in a haze of happiness. On Christmas Eve Audie took me to a special dinner out of town, away from prying eyes. He got down on one knee and popped the question.
    “Cecilia Wilde, heart of my heart, love for you has blinded me to all others. Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?” His face paled, blue eyes blazing and hair glistening from a fresh cut. He could have chosen the greatest love poems of all time, but instead he used his own words, tying my name—which means