Read Online 'Til Death Do Us Part by Kate White - Free Book Online Page A

I finally fell asleep at about one and thanks to sheer exhaustion slept straight through till seven—when the roar of a snowblower jarred me awake. From my window I could see a man in a green parka riding it, working along the edges of the large circular driveway in front of the house. I took a hot shower and used the time to plot out my morning.
    Despite what Jack had suggested, I wasn’t going to leave things entirely to the Greenwich police. Maybe they’d rule Ashley’s death a murder, maybe they’d even reopen Robin’s case. But that might take weeks, and I would have a hard time sleeping unless I proved to myself that there really
wasn’t
a killer at large, a killer with an apparently exorbitant interest in Peyton Cross’s bridesmaids. So I needed to turn over a few rocks and see if anything nasty crawled out. At the very least, I owed it to Ashley. And it was certainly better than waiting around for an ax to fall—on me.
    As soon as I got back to New York, I would find out all I could about Jamie’s death and learn more about Robin’s dietary restrictions—I planned to call the number I’d copied from the Post-it note Ashley had shown me. And last but not least, I wanted to hook up with the other bridesmaid, Maverick, who handled PR for Peyton.
    Before I left Greenwich, however, there were a few things I needed to take care of. I was going to drive back out to Ivy Hill Farm and talk to the staff at the kitchenware shop—to learn whatever I could about Robin. I also wanted to talk to the wedding planner Peyton had used. I happened to remember her last name because it had amused me when I’d first heard it last spring. It was Bliss, and her company was called Bliss Weddings. Using my cell, I got the number from directory assistance and scribbled it down on a piece of paper. If anything strange had happened at the wedding, she might know about it firsthand.
    I expected there would be some early morning hustle and bustle in Peyton’s house, but as I stepped out of my bedroom, wearing my bagged-out pants and sweater from yesterday, I was greeted by total silence. Walking down the big staircase, I felt a little like Joan Fontaine in
Rebecca
—a girl totally out of her element at Manderley.
    I took a peek into some of the main rooms on the ground floor—living room, sunroom, library—and finding them empty, I headed toward what I thought must be the door to the kitchen. It swung open suddenly and Clara emerged, a small tray in her hand covered with a cloth and hosting a white porcelain teapot. She greeted me and explained that breakfast was laid out in the kitchen and Mr. Slavin was having his morning meal in there now. As for Peyton, she was under the weather and had requested breakfast in her room. I couldn’t help wondering how much of Peyton’s condition had to do with Ashley’s death and how much was related to the family feud that had transpired last night.
    I pushed open the door to the kitchen. The room was as big as the kitchen at the farm, but sparkling white and ultramodern. There was a contemporary-style fireplace, with the hearth at waist level and a gas fire giving off a faint hum. David was at the far end of the room, sitting at a sleek black table and reading
The Wall Street Journal
.
    “Good morning,” I said, for lack of anything better to say.
    “Oh, Bailey,” he replied, rising from his chair to greet me. “I didn’t hear you come in. Here, please join me.”
    He was a little over six feet, barrel-chested, and handsome for a guy almost fifty—hazel eyes, soft, full lips, and gleaming brown hair that had begun to thin slightly on top. Personalitywise he was pleasant enough, but he had this supermature quality that I found totally offputting. I’d always figured that going to bed with him would be like shagging the U.S. secretary of state or the loan officer at your bank. I mean, it was tough to imagine being buck naked with him and asking him to lick chocolate sauce off your