'Til Death Do Us Part Read Online Free PDF Page A

they’re not posed pictures, so it doesn’t appear as if she asked someone to take some shots of her.”
    I thumbed through the stack again. There were two photos of Peyton alone, looking spectacular in her gown, and one of David and Peyton outside, kissing passionately under a trellis. There were also quite a few shots of guests mingling and talking and dancing and a few more of all the bridesmaids. All the bridesmaids, that is, except for one.
    “I think
Jamie
took these photos, not Robin,” I said. “She’s the only bridesmaid not in any of the shots. And I remember she had her own camera that day. It was one of those baby Nikons—I asked to take a look at it.”
    “But what—? Omigod, Jamie asked Robin to keep these pictures for her, didn’t she. You see, there
was
something strange about the wedding. Maybe Jamie discovered it and told Robin.”
    She went all nervous Nellie on me, whipping her head from side to side like a dog with a shoe in its mouth. But I had to admit there was something weird about the fact that Jamie’s photos were tucked away in Robin’s drawer.
    I turned over the envelope and saw by the name and address stamped on the back that the photo shop was in lower Manhattan—where Jamie had lived. That meant Jamie probably had the photos developed, then brought them out to Greenwich for some reason.
    “Maybe Jamie didn’t want the pictures in the end and passed them along to Robin,” I volunteered.
    Ashley shook her head again, as if my words had done nothing to mollify her. “No, there’s definitely more to it than that. Jamie saw something that day, and she gave Robin these pictures for safekeeping.”
    “Please try to stay calm, Ashley,” I said, slipping the photos into my purse. “I’m going to look into this, okay? Now tell me. Do you know how to get in touch with Peyton’s other two attendants?”
    “Prudence is living in London—her husband took a job there. Of course, she was the maid of honor, and I have no idea whether that
excludes
her from all of this. And Maverick’s in New York. She’s the one who handles Peyton’s PR. I have no clue where she lives, but we could get her number from Peyton—or it would be in the book under Maverick PR.”
    I suggested we go back downstairs and then head over to Ivy Hill Farm. Though I’d tried to reassure Ashley, finding the photos disturbed me. Maybe Jamie
had
seen something odd at the wedding, something she’d captured in one of the pictures. Then she’d hinted at it to Robin. But I still had a hard time imagining someone killing her—and later Robin. The question I kept coming back to was
why
? Plus, there was apparently absolutely no evidence of foul play.
    We agreed that I would follow Ashley in her car, which was parked not far from mine behind the town house. I slipped into my Jeep and waited as she set several shopping bags of fabric samples into the backseat of her red Mercedes coupé. Seemingly out of nowhere, a tall blond guy in his early to mid-thirties strode over to her car and spoke to her. In his navy blue wool coat and plaid scarf, he was clearly some sort of business type. Ashley listened to him with a haughty gaze and then shook her head vehemently. Maybe it was a neighbor, claiming she’d hijacked his parking spot. She brushed past him to get into the front seat of her car. He turned, trudged across the parking lot, his feet clad in a pair of those floppy black totable snow boots, and climbed into a car of his own.
    The farm was north, in an area known as the “backcountry”—where there were numerous multimillion-dollar estates and horse farms. Owing to a combination of poor road conditions and heavy suburban traffic, the trip took longer than it should have—about twenty minutes. I’d been to the farm before, but I’d forgotten how truly lovely it was. Covered in snow, it looked like a Christmas card. Though the original farm had been huge, most of the land had been sold off years ago and was now