1st to Die (Women's Murder Club 1)

“Nicest thing you’ve said to me so far.”

I got up, tucked the envelope under my arm, and headed toward the door. “On second thought, you might make a better baker than a cop.”

“That’s my girl.” He smiled. “Wise-guy answer for everything. Keep those defenses up.”

As we left the shop, I softened and said to him, “I have this favorite place, too.”

“Maybe you’ll show me one day.”

“Maybe I will.”

I was surprised by Raleigh — live and learn. He was actually a nice guy. I wondered if he had soft hands.

Chapter 23

WHEN REBECCA PASSENEAU looked at herself in the full splendor of her wedding dress, she knew that she was no longer her mother’s little girl.

You’re my baby. She had heard those words from her very first days on the planet.

With three older brothers, it wasn’t so hard to imagine why. Her mother had always wanted a girl. Daddy, too; but as the years went on they had assumed their time had passed. The oldest — Ben, the daredevil — had been killed before she was born. Her parents were crushed. They couldn’t even think of more children. Then, miraculously, Becky came.

“My baby,” she heard her mother exclaim from where she stood behind Becky.

“Oh, Mom.” Becky sighed, but she also smiled.

She continued to look at herself. She was beautiful. In her long, white, strapless dress, an avalanche of tulle, she shone like the most lovely and beautiful thing in the world. Michael would be so happy. With all the arrangements — the hotel in Napa, the flowers, the last-minute alterations to the dress — she had thought the day would never actually come. But now it was almost here. Friday.

Ms. Perkins, the saleswoman at Saks, could only stand and admire. “You’re gonna knock ’em dead, sweetheart.”

Becky spun around, catching herself in every view of the three-paneled mirror. She grinned. “I will, won’t I?”

“Your father and I want you to have something,” her mother said.

She reached into her purse and pulled out a small suede jewelry pouch. In it was her diamond brooch, a four-carat oval on a string of pearls, passed on from her own mother.

She stepped closer to Becky, clasped the strand around her neck.

“It’s gorgeous.” Becky gasped. “Oh, Mom.”

“It was given to me on my wedding day,” her mother said. “It has brought me a beautiful life. Now it’s for you.”

Becky Passeneau stood there in the spell of the mirror. The glorious dress, the diamond in the hollow of her throat.

She finally stepped off the alteration platform and hugged her mother. “I love you, Mom. You’re the best.”

“Now it’s complete,” her mother said, with a tear in her eye.

“No, not quite,” said Ms. Perkins. She ran into the back and hurriedly returned with a bouquet of flowers. Imitations, sales accessories, but at the moment they looked like the most resplendent blossoms in the world.

She gave them to Becky, who stepped back up onto the platform, hugging them to herself. She saw her beaming smile reflected three times. They all stood back and admired.

“Now you are complete,” Ms. Perkins said.

Standing nearby in Saks, watching Becky model her stunning dress, Phillip Campbell couldn’t have agreed more.

“Your big day is almost here,” he whispered softly. “You look beautiful.”

Chapter 24