His Brother's Bride

The Coopers were distraught when they heard that one of Twin Oaks’s guests was missing. But when Scott described William to them, neither could remember seeing him.

“He was driving a black BMW,” Laurel said. “A rental. You didn’t happen to notice it around town, did you?”

“Yes!” Phyllis cried, sitting forward. “I think I did see it.”

“When? Where?” Scott’s gaze was intent, his pen poised over the notebook he’d taken from his pocket.

“Saturday afternoon, just down the street.”

“You’re sure?” Scott asked.

“Positive. I was just on my way from the store back down to the barbecue. I had to come back to get more coleslaw. Mable was in charge of coleslaw and one of her kids dropped the biggest bowl of it getting from the car to the table. I remember thinking how odd it was to have someone here in town with all the free food at the barbecue.”

“That is odd,” Philo said. “Of course, as Phyllis and I decided, the car just could’ve been parked there. It didn’t mean anyone was actually in the vicinity. Maybe the owner walked down to the barbecue.”

“Was the diner open?” Laurel asked.

“Oh, yes,” Phyllis said. “For passers-through and tourists. Though if they saw the signs for the barbecue, those who’ve got the time would come join us there instead. The car wasn’t parked outside the café, though. It was several yards down the block.”

Scott lifted an ankle to rest on his knee. “Has anyone said anything about noticing an unfamiliar gentleman around town? Know of anyone who might have taken him in if he got too drunk last night to make it back to Twin Oaks?”

The Coopers shook their heads in unison. “The car’s gone, too.”

“Did you notice when it left?”

“We didn’t come back this way after the barbecue,” Phyllis told him.

“She’d had a little too much of that maple candy,” Philo said with an affectionate grin at his wife. “Her stomach was hurting her a bit.”

Laurel looked over at Scott and was surprised to find that instead of watching the exchange between the older couple, he was staring at her. The look in his unusual blue eyes was unsettling.

And definitely not happy.

“You know,” Philo said, diverting Laurel’s attention. She looked back to see him tapping his wife on the shoulder. “Our daughter Bonnie was out at Twin Oaks yesterday. She did the plumbing on the place and had one last fixture to install in the kitchen. It had just come in late Wednesday. Maybe you ought to talk to her.”

“Yeah,” Phyllis said, nodding vigorously. “If there was anything out there to notice, our Bonnie would have seen it. She’s a smart girl, that one.”

“Bonnie became a plumber?” Laurel asked, loving the sound of that. The Coopers’ daughter had been five years younger than Laurel, but she’d gotten to know Bonnie rather well during her sojourns at the grocery.

Laurel had always admired her spunk. Nothing seemed to keep Bonnie down. Even in a town as small as Cooper’s Corner, she hadn’t been swayed by what other people thought. She’d been as outgoing as Laurel was reserved. There’d been a time in her life when Laurel had secretly wished she was Bonnie Cooper.

After a couple more questions—and no more answers—Scott and Laurel left, but not before Laurel had promised to come back and have dinner with the Coopers before her vacation was over.

Odd how she wished Scott had been included in that invitation.

* * *

THE COOPERS SAID BONNIE had been called out to a plumbing emergency at the Johnsons’ place that afternoon. She’d been there, but was gone. Mrs. Johnson was pretty certain Bonnie was heading over to the library to fix a leak that had sprung in the bathroom.

Scott was used to chasing around after leads, so that wasn’t a problem. But having Laurel in the seat beside him was beginning to take its toll. His tolerance was wearing a little thin.

He loved having her there too much, and knew there was no hope of ever keeping her in his life—even as a friend. Eventually she was going to find out he hadn’t been driving the day Paul had been killed—and why.

All of the disbelief and anger she’d spewed forth onto him the morning of the accident would spring forth again. But this time she wouldn’t merely be killing the messenger. She’d be killing him.

“So Bonnie Cooper’s a plumber...” she said as they drove back across town toward the library.

“Not too hard to believe, though, is it?” Scott asked. “She always was into...”