“Is there anyone else who had contact with either of these individuals?”
Julia and Vicki lifted their hand.
“I saw Phillip,” Julia began, “in Chicago. He pretended to be Van.”
Vicki nodded. “I saw him in Chicago. I only spoke with him briefly, but everyone at the McGrath home saw him. He was talking to Julia’s father, and Marlin and Logan Butler.”
“Phillip repeatedly called my office, speaking to my assistant.” I thought about what Vicki said about the Butlers. “There’s a connection between Logan Butler and my brother.” I didn’t care if this was unsolicited information. I knew it in my gut. “Rob sent me pictures of Phillip and Logan Butler dining at two restaurants in Chicago. Somehow the Butlers are connected.”
“May we have copies of those photographs?” Patrol Officer Stewart asked.
“Yes.” I didn’t look at Oscar. I’d stand by this decision.
Julia
As things were wrapping up—or so I hoped—my phone vibrated. “Excuse me.”
The text message was from Margaret.
“Mom and I are on our way. I hope you’re not upset. The decision is yours. Please know it’s from her heart.”
Shaking my head, I tried to decipher the strange message.
I looked at Van first. “Margaret and Paula are on their way.”
“Mrs. Mayhand.”
Smiling, I laid my hand on his arm. “Yes. Her.”
Addressing the entire room, I stood and asked, “Are we about done for today? I’m hoping for a successful wedding this time.” I had an idea. “Maybe you’d all like to stay. After all, we didn’t have members of two police forces here last time.”
Detective Lawson was the first to speak. Instead of addressing my invitation, he asked, “Are you two planning a honeymoon?”
Van’s gaze came to mine.
“We haven’t discussed it,” I replied.
“We did.” His green stare softened as he reached for my hand. “An uninterrupted weekend upstairs.”
Warmth filled my cheeks as I shrugged.
Lawson continued, “Please contact me before leaving town. We’d like to be sure you stay safe.”
Letting go of me, Van offered the detective his hand. “We will, Detective.”
“You have my number,” Patrolwoman Howard said. “We’ll do some following up. First, before we leave, Mr. Sherman, if you could transfer the contact information for Phillip, your sister, and Rob Landon and the pictures from your PI. We’d also like to follow up with your assistant.”
“Her name is Connie, Connie Simmons. She lives in Ashland.” As Van pulled his phone out, I bid everyone goodbye. Gesturing to Vicki, I walked together with her into the kitchen. “Is it too early for alcohol?” I asked once we were beyond the range for others to hear. “My head feels like it’s about to split open.”
“Maybe a Tylenol instead.”
“Is that the doctor-to-be talking,” I asked with a grin.
“No, it’s your best friend who took a drink of champagne before the last wedding. We’re not doing that again.”
Sitting at the breakfast bar, I closed my eyes and rubbed my temples as Vicki filled a glass with water. As she set the glass on the counter, the French doors separating the kitchen from the breezeway—what Paula referred to as the mud room—opened. Margaret and Paula’s arms were filled with boxes and bags.
Their conversation ended as they both smiled our way.