'Til Death Do Us Part by Kate White Page B

interviewed that week, and when the reporter commented on it, she refused to talk about it. Maybe she wanted to look invulnerable in the kitchen. But in the article her evasiveness came across as odd—suspicious, even—and I’m sure people wondered about it. I mean, she’d just gotten married, and now she had a mystery bruise—how fast can you say ‘Nicole Simpson’?”
    “Was there any fallout?” I asked.
    “We were lucky. It was only a local paper, and nothing came of it. But I warned her and Mary about ether damage and how they had to be careful now that Peyton was on her way to becoming a household name.”
    “Okay, so let’s say someone
is
out to get her. Got any ideas?”
    “No, I mean, there’s a long, long list of people who don’t like her. People who feel she’s cheated them or stolen their recipes or not given them credit. But I can’t think of anyone capable of going to this kind of extreme—I mean, killing innocent women.”
    Though Maverick’s theory made sense, I spent the next few minutes asking her about the wedding weekend just to cover my bases. Had she noticed anything strange or disturbing? She thought, her brow wrinkled, then shook her head slowly. I also inquired carefully about Peyton’s cousin, not wanting to throw unnecessary suspicion on Phillipa but eager to learn just how upset she’d been about being passed over as a bridesmaid. Maverick appeared to be out of the loop on the subject. And she remembered little about the car accident—she’d been riding in the second car with me and hadn’t seen the crash.
    “You still think the deaths have something to do with the wedding, don’t you,” she said.
    “I’m not dismissing your theory. I think it makes a lot of sense. But last fall Robin asked Ashley if she’d seen anything strange at the wedding, and I keep coming back to that.”
    “There
is
one thing,” she said suddenly.
    I froze, my wineglass at my lips. “What?” I asked.
    “That fight between David and his best man. Remember how they started practically shouting at each other during the rehearsal in the church—not knowing we were right on the other side of the screen?”
    “I was thinking about that last night,” I admitted. “I don’t remember much about it—other than that it seemed work related. Do you recall what they said?”
    “No, just that David seemed to be chewing Trip out—which pleased me at the time since that Trip seems way too big for his britches. Do you think it’s significant?”
    “Well, it couldn’t have been that major of a disagreement considering that they’re still working together. Maybe the flare-up was due simply to prewedding tension.”
    I glanced at my watch. It was nearly seven o’clock. Landon was going to be at my place at eight. I needed to get rolling.
    “I better split,” I said. “But let’s stay in touch, okay? I promise to let you know if I hear anything relevant if you’ll do the same with me.”
    “Absolutely. Safety in numbers.”
    “Speaking of that, what about Prudence? I hear she’s in London, but someone should get in touch with her.”
    “I can do that. We have some mutual friends there, so I happen to have her number.”
    She walked me to the door, rubbing her arms as if she were suddenly cold. She had relaxed as we’d spoken, but now she looked wigged-out again.
    “One more question,” I said as we reached the door. “What advice would you give Peyton now? I mean, if she called you tonight and asked for your opinion on how to handle this from a PR perspective, what would you say?”
    She let out a soft sigh. “Well, the first thing I’d tell her to do is get out of her house. Famous people tend to panic when this sort of thing happens, and they make the mistake of holing up and obsessing. But you’ve got to get out in full makeup, have lunch, and look as if you aren’t damaged in any way. And then . . .”
    Her eyes glanced up to the right as she spun a plan.
    “And then I’d