Meant to Marry Me

Yet again, Bree found herself speaking to a police officer. This time, she wasn't the one lying in a hospital bed, though. Instead, after they'd pieced together enough of the story to know that the maintenance man had been trying to make it so that only the pipe above Bree's head would move down, spraying her with flames, Bree and her bandmates had been asked to come to the police station. The others were either sitting outside or being interviewed by other officers now. All she knew was the man sitting across from her, Detective Coop Wellington, didn't look like the sort of person one kept information from.

"We know Monica and this..." he looked at his notes, "Dustin Craig were working together in their attempt to lower the pipe toward your band. What we don't understand is why she would do that when she had invited your band to play at the show and how it ended up backfiring on her. Hopefully, discussing the situation with you and your bandmates will give us some information."

Bree took a deep breath and then unfolded the story for him, letting him know, in as brief of terms as possible without withholding any information she thought he might need, how she and Monica knew one another. She told him about the wedding and how Monica had seemed to just let it go, but then how she'd shown up in Nashville not long ago and eventually asked Bree's band to play at the show. She also added that Monica knew Bree's past experience with fire, and she imagined that's why she'd chosen that particular means of harming her.

Det. Wellington took in all of the information, jotting down notes, nodding, but rarely interrupting. When he did, it was to ask a question for clarification. "Do you have any idea why it was her that caught on fire and not you?" Bree nodded. "I believe so. She kept trying to get us to use this hairspray. It's called Bright Salon, and it has a history of being highly flammable. She'd brought a can over to our station and even tried to force me to spray it on my hair. I didn't. She didn't like that and started yelling at her assistant, the woman who was getting her ready. Well, when Monica hit the runway, Shawna, the keyboardist in my band, and I took the spray over to Candy, the woman who was getting Monica ready. We told her that Monica wanted us to use it. We saw Candy use it on Monica when her back was turned."

Det. Wellington's eyes widened. "So... you think it was this particular can of hairspray that caused her hair to catch on fire?"

"I do," Bree said. "Or the brand, anyway. I'm not sure if she'd done anything specific to that can or if it's just that the brand itself is highly flammable."

He wrote that down. Bree began to fidget. When she said it out loud, it sure seemed like she and Shawna had done something terrible. They'd spoken briefly before they were asked to go to the police station and agreed they'd come clean. "Is there anything else you think I should know?"

"Do you think Shawna and I will be in trouble? Or Candy? About the hairspray?"

She wasn't sure, but she thought the gruff, middle-aged man in front of her was hiding a smile. "No, not unless we find out that one of you did something to the can of hairspray. It wasn't as if you knew the fire would be right above your heads--or Monica's. Right?"

"Right. I did see that man, the custodian, working on the pipes the day I was there. And I saw him with Monica leaving what looked like a broom closet. But... I didn't know what was happening."

"I'm sure you and your friend didn't intend for this to happen, and honestly, returning someone's hairspray is not a crime, Ms. Matthews."Content protected by Nôv/el(D)rama.Org.

Bree wanted to breathe a sigh of relief, but she also wanted to make sure that Monica wasn't trying to twist this somehow so that she would be in trouble. Before she could say anything else, the phone rang. Det. Wellington held up his finger, motioning for her to excuse him for a moment, and then picked up the receiver.

Bree tried not listen to Det. Wellington's side of the conversation, but from the sounds of it, he wasn't doing much except for agreeing with whomever was on the line. After a few minutes, he hung up, and she returned her attention to him. The consternated look on his face told her that something else was going on.

"Is everything all right?" Bree asked him.

The officer scratched his head. "Yeah... it's just.... Well, I'm probably not at liberty to say any of this to you, but, when the police were looking through Miss Edge's phone for emergency contact information, they found some pictures and messages that potentially tie her to... another crime."

Bree's eyes widened in disbelief. She couldn't imagine that Monica would be involved in any other criminal behavior. She obviously had it out for Bree, but she didn't seem like the kind of person who would rob a bank or kidnap someone. "What crime?" Bree wanted to know, despite his prefacing his comment that he shouldn't be saying anything.

She could tell he was contemplating whether or not he should say more. When he spoke, his voice was quiet. "They found messages between Monica and... Cat Hadley."

Her mouth dropped open as she gawked at the officer. "What? Cat? Why?"

He shook his head. "That, I don't know. I'm sure it will all come out eventually. I just thought you should know... there might be more to this than a pipe malfunction and a bottle of hairspray."

Sitting back in her chair, Bree let that set in. Had Monica been working with Cat all along? She remembered hearing reports of Cat saying that she hadn't acted alone, that someone had put her up to it, someone she refused to reveal because that person was blackmailing her family. Could that person be Monica?

It all made sense now. Why Cat had pushed Bree so hard to date Zach on the side. Why she'd become increasingly rude and belligerent. If she was doing Monica's bidding, maybe in exchange for drug money or just cash payments, that would explain why someone she'd liked and trusted had tried to kill her. Monica certainly never saw Bree as a friend.

The officer finished taking her statement and walked her out to the waiting room where Trent was sitting. He stood as Bree walked out, his forehead wrinkled as he considered her expression. With tears in her eyes, Bree rested her head against his chest, glad for his strong arms around her. This nightmare had begun with Monica's jealousy, and now it would end that way. If it was true, and she really was behind Cat's attempts to kill her, Bree would make sure that Monica paid for what she'd done. She wouldn't be needing that long black hair in prison.