The Wedding Project 💍

'Money For Nothing' (Part Three)

I didn't feel much better when the interview ended, though the relief was undisputed. I had made my case, and McNeill was hardly a fool. Still - he probably was suspicious of me just because of our past together. Not that I blamed him.

I was close to the rear end of the line with people being interrogated, and when I stepped out and went back to the music system and my day job, hardly anyone seemed to notice me. They could not imagine me being involved in all this.

Except for one. My employer waited behind a corner for me, gained my attention and gave me a sign to follow him. I gave him a reprimanding gaze. This was not what we agreed upon. But I could hardly refuse the client, could I? So I looked around, made sure that nobody would take notice of it, and followed him. On my way I passed the small group of groomsmen, with Ocean Creed as their leader. Something was off about them...

We arrived at a small, empty room in the back of the restaurant.

"Yes, Mr. Gilmour?" I asked him in the most innocent tone as I closed the door behind me.

"You!" Now that we were out of earshot range from everybody else, he didn't even try to hold back. He barked at me, his face distorted from anger and pain, his hands clenched to fists as if he wanted to beat me to death right here and now. He lost control pretty fast, and I readied myself to strike him down with my bare hands, should he try something funny. "Look me in the eyes and tell me that you had nothing to do with this!"

His judgement was clouded, otherwise he might have realised what a terrible mistake he was making right now. Not only he assumed I would confess if I really were the killer of his daughter - let alone allow him to leave this room with that kind of knowledge. But also he attempted to overpower me with his attitude - thinking that of the two of us in here he was the one in control.

I stepped forward, looked into his eyes with a glance that would melt a hunk of cold steel. "You calm down! Right now!" My voice cracked like a whip. I had a teacher back in grammar school that used to talk with a voice like this - the sound of it could beat anyone into submission. I guess that some of my classmates even regretted growing out of their diapers so soon.

Even with all the fury and hate that my client was feeling right now, my voice spoke to his more primal instincts - like his self-preservation. He actually stepped back. It was a huge gamble on my part, talking to a paying customer like that, but I had no choice. A bit calmer I explained to him:

"I did not kill your daughter, Mr. Gilmour. I had no reason to. You paid me to find out whether her future husband is a fraud marrying her for money, and that's what I did. What has happened here has nothing to do with me."

I picked my words carefully, leaving out the other part he had hired me for - if Callum Wallace had actually married his daughter for money... You could never know if someone is carrying a wire and using your own words against you.

"I did not kill your daughter," I repeated, since Gilmour still wasn't fully convinced. "If I had, we wouldn't have this conversation. Because you still wouldn't know about it. That's what I told these two detectives - this was an amateur's job. I'm not an amateur."

I left the subtle thread in those words lingering, echoing in the air between us. And finally he got it. His demanding posture faded, he seemed to shrink like a balloon that lost air.

"I want the person who did this." His voice was raspy, and he avoided my gaze. He was too embarrassed and broken to face me.

"I don't do this," I answered firmly. "I will not mess with this investigation - not with those two men on the case. That would only make matters worse."

"No..." He almost choked, but finally got a grip on himself. "I understand. That's not what I meant. I..." His trouble saying what was on his mind was apparent. Good thing was that in situations like this I can almost read the mind of my client. To me it was pretty obvious what he wanted.

"You know my conditions." We were both business people - talking like this put us back on familiar ground. "This is a new contract then. But given the circumstances, I will only charge you for 70 percent of the usual fee. As long as you accept the fact that I will wait for the investigation to be successfully concluded before I step into action."

He nodded, his eyes full of relief, thanking me in silence. "I accept."

"Good." As I turned around and headed for the door, I added: "Now, try to remember our agreement this time: We don't talk to each other until the contract is fulfilled. Those detectives are already suspicious enough."

A brief moment of hesitation later I got his answer. "I understand." As I laid my hand on the door knob, he then spoke up again. "Just one... more thing. If you get to this person..."

I turned around, looked at him. He couldn't bring himself to end this sentence, but I knew what he was trying to say.

"Don't worry, Mr. Gilmour." I gave him a brief and faint smile. "I am a professional. I will take care of it."

He got the meaning behind those words, and he seemed satisfied for the moment. I was glad that I managed to calm him down enough to attend the party again, without raising any more suspicion. Because even with the first murder being a mystery to the people here - the second murder, if it happened, would be much more obvious.

But that's what he hired me for. And he agreed to my terms - which in this case were really generous. The detectives would do most of my work for me. All I had to do was get to this person when they discovered them. I will kill the murderer for you, I thought, and get 70 percent of my usual fee.

Making them suffer... I will do for free.

I couldn't help but ponder about the groomsmen. They were now scattered around the premises, but they all dressed the same, so they were easy to spot. Some of them, like Ocean, tried to hook up with young women, with the bridesmaids being popular targets as usual. One of them had just returned from the basement, his face a pretty reddish colour, but it just looked like embarrassment rather than any physical condition. Also there was some sweat running over his forehead. He gave a somewhat intimate nod to the young girl that I identified as Callum's sister and then pulled out his handkerchief to wipe the sweat off...

The handkerchief!

That was the puzzle piece I was looking for! All the groomsmen had the same attire, right down to the white handkerchief they wore in their breast pocket as a classic item of decoration.

All of them... except for one.

Ocean Creed. His left breast pocket on his jacket was empty.