Yellow Rose Mysteries 02 - A Wedding to Die For Read Online Free PDF

minor altercations. You didn’t witness anything more serious? Perhaps a fistfight? Or threats?”
    “No. Nothing like that.”
    “And you’re not here in any official capacity?”
    Did she think I was lying? “You mean did I find Megan’s birth mother at the last minute and bring her here? No. And I’d appreciate it if you don’t upset anyone by telling the rest of the family how I came to know Megan.”
    “I’m not in the business of telling witnesses anything. They tell me. Moving on, you are licensed, correct?”
    Not even an hour’s worth of absorbing the odors of Tide and Downy could make me feel “mountain fresh” pleasant about her patronizing attitude. “Provisionally,” I replied evenly. “But I specialize in adoption searches for someone who is licensed.”
    “And your supervising PI’s name?” she asked, pen poised.
    “Angel Molina,” I said. “But what does—”
    Jeff placed a gentle hand on my knee. “Bear with Quinn. She’s just doing her job.”
    “And this Molina has an agency in Houston?” Fielder went on.
    “He does,” I answered. “Is that important?”
    “This is all routine, Abby,” Jeff said.
    Fielder glanced at Jeff’s hand, which had moved up to my thigh. “I’ll check out the agency later.” I saw her fingers flex several times, saw her nostrils flare a little when she took in some extra air.
    Jeff, good detective that he is, noted these subtle indicators, too. He promptly assumed a less intimate posture by leaning back, his arms spanning the sofa’s arched back.
    So he wanted her to feel more comfortable, huh? He cared about her. Oh, I was picking up on the signals, all right. These two probably had a history that was more than just professional—and from the way she kept looking at him, she wished it wasn’t history.
    “Tell me exactly what you saw when you walked in on Megan and her father,” she said.
    “I saw a very distraught young woman with her father’s bloody head in her lap.”
    She laid the pad and pen down. “Sorry. Guess I should be more specific.”
    “Guess you should.”
    “You, Ms. Rose, do not have an emotional wall to climb when it comes to remembering what you saw in that room. After all, you hardly knew the dead man. I consider that rational distance important in reconstructing a crime scene that was seriously compromised by several factors.”
    “You mean those gung-ho paramedics doing CPR on an obviously dead body? Why did they do that, by the way?”
    “Wouldn’t you want them to do everything possible if it were your father?” she replied.
    “Not if his skull was exposed and gray matter was in my lap,” I shot back. “Besides, my father’s already dead.”
    Jeff rested a hand on my back. “Abby, it’s okay.” He addressed Quinn. “Abby’s father had a heart attack and the paramedics were called and . . . well, you understand.”
    I stared hard at him, saying nothing. What the hell did he think he was doing telling her my personal business?
    “I’m sorry if I upset you, Ms. Rose,” Fielder said.
    “You didn’t upset me,” I said evenly, summoning a calmness I did not feel.
    “Good. Now, can you tell me the exact position of the body and where Megan Beadford was sitting? I also need to know which direction her father’s feet were pointing and where the broken glass was in relationship to them.”
    “Can I draw it for you?” I said.
    She picked up the pad, tore off a clean sheet of paper and offered it to me along with her pen. I made the sketch, indicating that Beadford’s head had been parallel to the fireplace on the left wall, his feet toward the back of the room. Megan was sitting on the dead man’s right side facing the fireplace. “You want my impression on how they came to those positions? See, I’ve had plenty of time to think about exactly that.”
    “Okay, sure,” she glanced at Jeff. “I’m always up for impressions .”
    Was that a smirk? Maybe I should clam up and let her go with her own