Keeper of the Bride / Whistleblower: Keeper of the Bride / Whistleblower. Tess Gerritsen
was in the morning. Just before I left town.” She began digging in her purse, desperately fishing for tissues. “I stopped in to pay a few bills before I left.”
“Did you two speak?”
“Naturally. Jimmy’s such…” She gave a soft sob. “ Was such…a friendly man. He was always coming up to the office to chat. Since I was leaving on vacation, and Reverend Sullivan wasn’t in yet. I asked Jimmy to do a few things for me.”
“What things?”
“Oh, there was so much confusion. The wedding, you know. The florist kept popping in to use the phone. The men’s bathroom sink was leaking and we needed some plumbing done quick. I had to give Jimmy some last minute instructions. Everything from where to put the wedding gifts to which plumber to call. I was so relieved when Reverend Sullivan arrived, and I could leave.”
“Excuse me, ma’am,” Sam cut in. “You said something about wedding gifts.”
“Yes. It’s a nuisance, how some people have gifts delivered to the church instead of the bride’s home.”
“How many gifts arrived at the church?”
“There was only one. Jimmy—oh, poor Jimmy. It’s so unfair. A wife and all…”
Sam fought to maintain his patience. “What about the gift?”
“Oh. That. Jimmy said a man brought it by. He showed it to me. Very nicely wrapped, with all these pretty silver bells and foil ribbons.”
“Mrs. Whipple,” Sam interrupted again. “What happened to that gift?”
“Oh, I don’t know. I told Jimmy to give it to the bride’s mother. I assume that’s what he did.”
“But the bride’s mother hadn’t arrived yet, right? So what would Jimmy do with it?”
Helplessly Helen Whipple shrugged her shoulders. “I suppose he’d leave it where she’d be sure to find it. In the front pew.”
The front pew. The center of the blast.
Sam said, sharply, “Who was the gift addressed to?”
“The bride and groom, of course.”
“Dr. Bledsoe and his fiancée?”
“Yes. That was on the card. Dr. and Mrs. Robert Bledsoe.”
IT WAS STARTING to come together now, Sam thought as he got back in his car. The method of delivery. The time of planting. But the target wasn’t quite clear yet. Was Nina Cormier or Robert Bledsoe supposed to die? Or was it both of them?
Nina, he knew, had no answers, no knowledge of any enemies. She couldn’t help him.
So Sam drove to Ocean View Drive, to Robert Bledsoe’s house. This time Bledsoe was damn well going to answer some questions, the first two being: Who was the other woman he’d been seeing, and was she jealous enough to sabotage her lover’s wedding—and kill off a dozen people in the process?
Two blocks before he got there, he knew something was wrong. There were police lights flashing ahead and spectators gathered on the sidewalks.
Sam parked the car and quickly pushed his way through the crowd. At the edge of Bledsoe’s driveway, a yellow police tape had been strung between wooden stakes. He flashed his badge to the patrolman standing guard and stepped across the line.
Homicide Detective Dick Yeats greeted him in the driveway with his usual I’m-in-charge tone of superiority.
“Hello again, Navarro. We have it all under control.”
“You have what under control? What happened?”
Yeats nodded toward the BMW in the driveway.
Slowly Sam circled around the rear bumper. Only then did he see the blood. It was all over the steering wheel and the front seat. A small pool of it had congealed on the driveway pavement.
“Robert Bledsoe,” said Yeats. “Shot once in the temple. The ambulance just left. He’s still alive, but I don’t expect he’ll make it. He’d just pulled into his driveway and was getting out of his car. There’s a sack of groceries in the trunk. Ice cream barely melted. The neighbor saw a green Jeep take off, just before she noticed Bledsoe’s body. She thinks it was a man behind the wheel, but she didn’t see his face.”
“A man?” Sam’s head snapped up. “Dark hair?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh, God.” Sam turned and started toward his car. Nina, he thought, and suddenly he was running. A dark-haired man had forced Nina off the road. Now Bledsoe was dead. Was Nina next?
Sam heard Yeats yell, “Navarro!” By then, he was already scrambling into his car. He made a screeching U-turn and headed away from Ocean View Drive.
He drove with his emergency lights flashing all the way to George Cormier’s house.
It seemed he was ringing the bell forever before anyone answered the door. Finally it swung open and Daniella appeared, her flawless face arranged in a smile. “Why, hello, Detective.”
“Where’s Nina?” he demanded, pushing past her into the house.
“She’s upstairs. Why?”
“I need to talk to her. Now.” He started for the stairway, then halted when he heard footsteps creak on the landing above. Glancing up, he saw Nina standing on the steps, her hair a tumble of black silk.
She’s okay, he thought with relief. She’s still okay.
She was dressed casually in jeans and a T-shirt, and she had a purse slung over her shoulder, as if she were just about to leave the house.
As she came down the stairs, she brought with her the elusive fragrance of soap and shampoo. Nina’s scent, he thought with a pleasurable thrill of recognition. Since when had he committed her fragrance to memory?
By the time she reached the bottom step, she was frowning at him. “Has something happened?” she asked.
“Then no one’s called you?”
“About what?”
“Robert.”
She went very still, her dark eyes focused with sudden intensity on his face. He could see the questions in her eyes, and knew she was too afraid to ask them.
He reached for her hand. It was cold. “You’d better come with me.”
“Where?”
“The hospital. That’s where they took him.” Gently he led her to the door.
“Wait!” called Daniella.
Sam glanced back. Daniella stood frozen, staring after them in panic. “What about Robert? What happened?”
“He’s been shot. It happened a short while ago, just outside his house. I’m afraid it doesn’t look good.”
Daniella took a step backward, as though slapped. It was her reaction, that expression of horror in her eyes, that told Sam what he needed to know. So she was the other woman, he thought. This blonde with her sculpted body and her perfect face.
He could feel Nina’s arm trembling in his grasp. He turned her toward the door. “We’d better go,” he said. “There may not be much time.”
Chapter Six
THEY SPENT THE NEXT FOUR hours in a hospital waiting room.
Though Nina wasn’t part of the medical team now battling to save Robert’s life, she could picture only too vividly what was going on at that moment in the trauma suite. The massive infusions of blood and saline. The scramble to control the patient’s bleeding, to keep his pressure