Engaged in Murder (Perfect Proposals Mystery) (10 page)

“Hi, I’m Pepper Pomeroy. I’m planning the Evans-Pomeroy engagement party,” I said to an assistant in the hospitality management offices at the W Hotel downtown Chicago.

“Ah, yes,” the assistant said. “Amanda is expecting you. Please have a seat. She will be with you momentarily.” She waved toward the chairs lined up against the wall.

I took a seat and pulled out my phone. Today I was dressed in a dark blue pencil skirt, a lighter blue button-down blouse with French cuffs, and a white cardigan. I had unbuttoned the top button for my visit with Officer Vandall.

Who knew tears were the best course of action with him? I was banking on the donuts. Too bad I didn’t keep them for myself. Ah, well, it was probably best that I didn’t. No one could eat only one Krispy Kreme, and they had a terrible tendency to go straight to my bum.

I considered Googling “what drugs can stop a human heart” on my phone, but then I paused. What if Detective Murphy was able to get a warrant for my Internet records? So, no, I would have to go to the library or use one of my friends’ computers.

“Ms. Pomeroy?”

I looked up to see a shorter, round-faced blonde coming my way with her hand outstretched. “Yes.” I stood.

“I’m Amanda Kozlowski,” she said. “I’m your contract manager. We have the venue reserved for the Evans-Pomeroy party in thirty days.”

“Yes.” I nodded and pulled out a piece of paper from my day planner. “I have some menu ideas based on 1920s dinner party menus.”

“On paper?” she asked as I handed her a copy of my favorite menu.

“Yes, how else would I give it to you?”

“Oh, we are all high-tech now. You need to get yourself a tablet as well as a smart phone. The hotel has an app that will let you upload menus so that the cook can see your ideas and price a variety of your choices.”

“Oh, right.” I made a note in my planner to buy a tablet.

“Come on. I booked a tasting room for you, if you would follow me.” She walked down the hallway in four-inch platform shoes made of hot pink patent leather. The heels worked for her. Even with the four inches, she only came up to my eye level. I followed behind. My own shoes were two-inch kitten heels.

She was very stylish in her black sweater dress with a body-conscious fit. Her hair was cut in an asymmetrical bob. Her jewelry was chunky stone and over the top in design. “Second door on the right.” She opened a glass door into a small room with one glass wall that overlooked the Chicago skyline. There was a small round table and four chairs inside. “Please have a seat.”

I sat so that I could see out the window. It was a stunning view, and I was certain the venue would be perfect for that airplane feel.

“I see you have nine courses listed. Did you want a sit-down meal or buffet?” She looked at me from over the top of the paper. Amanda had round features and blue eyes. Her skin was as flawless as silk. I felt frumpy with my orange hair and freckles. I smoothed my skirt and leaned forward.

“I thought we could have mini courses come through as finger foods. The idea being wine and cocktails all night. If you notice there is a wine with each menu.”

“Yes, I see. You start with tuna tartare and Riesling.”

“I was thinking small—flavorful bites for each course brought out in fifteen-minute intervals with mini wineglasses.”

“Sounds different.” Amanda put down the sheet. “I think that Chief Michael might be up to the idea. If you don’t mind, I’ll take him this menu. Give me five minutes. There is coffee in the corner. Please help yourself.”

She left me in the room. I got up and walked over to where she had pointed and found a coffeemaker. There was a silver tray with a wide variety of drinks from coffee to teas. I pulled out a bold coffee, followed the instructions, and moments later had a large cup of black coffee with a dash of half-and-half. I took a sip and looked out the window for inspiration.

A bank of soft clouds floated by the window. I was on the thirtieth floor. The hotel faced east to west. The skyline was on the west side. The lake on the east. The penthouse venue offered views of both the lake and the city. It would be perfect.

I made a note to myself to research jazz music to add to the ambience of the party. My cell phone rang and I picked up.

“Felicity?”

“Hi, Pepper. Warren and I were able to move our schedules around. Is it okay if we come by for the tasting?”

I turned to the room. There were four chairs at the table. “Yes, please, I would love to have your input. Do you know where to go?”

“Warren knows—here, I’ll put you on speaker.”

“Hi, Pepper, we’re almost there.” Warren’s voice rang through the phone. “I know Amanda, we did a few fund-raisers at the W. Tell her we’ll be right over.”

“Will do.” I couldn’t help the smile in my voice. Their happiness was contagious. How could I have ever doubted Warren? I guess I had Detective Murphy to credit with my change of heart. When he suspected me of murder based on my circumstances and lack of alibi, he showed me how easy it was to misunderstand a person’s situation.

All I really wanted was for Felicity to be this happy always. It’s why I was determined to help find the killer. I never wanted there to be a reason—even a false one—for my baby sister to lose the love of her life.

I dialed Amanda’s number. I know she kept her cell phone with her. I’d seen it on her belt.

“This is Amanda, how can I help you?”

“Hi, Amanda, this is Pepper Pomeroy. My sister, Felicity, called and she and Warren Evans are on their way in to help with the tasting.”

“No problem, I’ll have the server set the table for three.”

Felicity and Warren arrived as the server finished setting the table. He had placed three settings of 1920s vintage china and glassware on the table. It looked like we would be able to pick china as well as the tasty dishes.

“Thank you so much for doing this.” Felicity rushed up and gave me a kiss and a hug.

Warren looked flushed and happy. They were both dressed for work. Felicity had on a cute little ice blue suit with a full skirt that came to her knees. Warren wore an Italian-cut business suit of charcoal gray with a blue shirt that matched his eyes.

“It’s my pleasure,” I said and returned her affection. “Sit. Tell me what you think of the china.”

“Oh, my goodness, it’s all so lovely.” Felicity sat in the chair Warren pulled out for her. He pulled mine out as well and I was astonished at his manners. A man with manners was difficult to find in this day and age.

“The china patterns are all 1920s,” Amanda said. “Original to the hotel at the time.”

“I love the graphic feel of the pattern on the right,” I said. “What do you think, Warren?”

“I think the idea of a Roaring Twenties party is fabulous. You really have a knack for these things, Pepper.”

“Thanks.” The heat of a blush rushed up my cheeks. “I’m taking your advice and starting my own business. I’m going to plan wedding proposals and the engagement party.”

“Oh, my gosh, that’s perfect,” Felicity said, her blue eyes sparkling. “Be sure and keep everything you did for mine as an example.”

“I plan on it, if that’s okay with you both . . .”

“Oh, of course, it is,” Felicity gushed. “Isn’t it, Warren?”

“It was my idea,” he said. “Do you have a business plan?”

“I’ve been working on one,” I said with pride.

“Good, when you’re done, send me a copy. I want to invest in your company.”

“What?” I sat back.

“I’ll go over the plan and help you tweak it, and then I want to be a silent partner. I believe in you, Pepper,” he said as he put a napkin on his lap. “I have the ability to fund good talent when I see it. Let me partner with you.”

“But—”

“Give me two years,” he said. “If you’re sick of me—”

“Or you’re sick of me . . .”

“Then you can buy me out. Agreed?” He held out his hand.

“What if I can’t buy you out?” I drew my eyebrows together. Worry wrapped itself through my mind. I wanted to do this for me. I didn’t want to owe anyone. But then again, I had been looking at the initial numbers on the business plan and a fresh flow of start-up cash would really help.

“You will be able to buy me out,” he said with confidence and motioned with his hand. “I would never support a business I wasn’t a hundred percent sold on. Now shake and we can get back to the tasting.”

I shook. Felicity’s joy washed over me. Warren had believed in me even when I doubted his sincerity. He had that unique ability to start over fresh. I pulled my hand from his warm one and watched as the waiter came in with covered dishes on a room service cart.

Was it possible that he was doing this to throw me off his trail as a suspect? I mean, I was indebted to him now. How could I turn on him if my investigation showed me Warren was the killer? I mentally shook off the thought. If I were to find out that Warren was the killer, I would still tell the police no matter what. In the meantime, Warren’s financial help gave me hope for myself and my ability to take charge of my own future. From now on, I was the boss. My business would succeed or fail based on my own abilities. For the first time in a long time I could feel real hope and confidence blossom in my chest. I could do this. I really could.

Felicity and Warren had loved the menu I’d created. The chef had outdone himself as well with tiny tasty bites of an actual feast and the wines that matched.

I sat in my apartment and worked on my business plan. The sounds of a group laughing and coming out of the bar on the corner caught my attention. I looked out to see some of Bobby’s work friends going inside. Bobby’s favorite drinking buddy, Harry, held the door for the rest of the gang.

It felt a little odd not to rush down to meet them. I dropped the sheer curtain that covered the old windows on my apartment and resolutely went back to my desk.

The business plan was nearly finished. I had done a lot of work on it. Part of my event planning/hospitality major in college was to come up with an accurate business plan. At the time I’d written it for a small children’s party planner business.

Proposal planning was close to the same thing—minus the magicians and clowns. I had spent an hour online researching statistics of how many people in the area marry every year and extrapolated for how many proposals I would be able to plan. My overhead would be low. With a smart phone and a tablet, I could plan pretty much anything from my car.

The new social media Pintrest was a big help. People pinned pictures to a wide variety of boards. The first thing I could do was research each potential bride and see what kinds of things she pinned. It was a great way to determine her design style and incorporate her favorite things into the proposal plan.

A good business plan also accounted for any unexpected expenses in the first year, and from what I could tell, I would be able to make a go of this business without too much of Warren’s money. I wanted to keep the overhead low so that I could pay him back sooner rather than later. He was a nice guy, but my parents taught me that it was better to pay off loans as quickly as possible.

I put the last touches on the plan and printed out a copy for Warren. A glance at the clock told me it was 10
P.M.
and the bar was probably starting to get rowdy. I thought of Bobby and how I’d left him. It had been hard to break up in front of Gage, but I knew I’d done the right thing.

The light on my phone blinked and I turned it on to see that I had a missed call. A quick check of the number told me it was Bobby who’d called. I deleted the message without listening. Knowing Bobby, he would remind me of a time when he had done something out of the ordinary—like when he had won money at the casino in Des Plaines and had used it to pay for a romantic weekend getaway. In Bobby’s mind, a happy weekend four years ago was proof he loved me.

I blew out a long breath and went to bed. Bobby could wait another day.

*   *   *

The next morning I stood in my living room and listened to the Metra train rattle by. I had bed hair. I know this because I always had bed hair in the morning, but this time I didn’t care. In fact, to celebrate breaking up with Bobby for good, I stayed in my favorite pink and white striped pajamas. It was 8
A.M.
, and I was eager to continue making changes in my life.

The first thing I needed to do was to box up Bobby’s stuff and put it out in the hall. Not for the first time I was glad I’d insisted on living alone. Bobby had tried for years to get me to let him move in with me. It’s why he had so much stuff here. Looking back, I realized my reluctance should have been a real clue. My excuse was my parents would never forgive me. Frankly, I have no clue if that were true or not. For all I knew, they thought Bobby and I had been living together for years.

I pulled up a big moving box, one of three I’d picked up at the storage unit shop and tossed Bobby’s things inside. There was his collection of random CDs. They made a distinctive thunk in the bottom of the box. His beer-bottle-cap collection—all three jars’ worth—made a satisfying clink and jingle as I placed them next to the CDs. Next came the collection of ball caps from every NASCAR race he’d ever been to see. I turned the corner to the next wall and pulled his game system off the shelf. He’d brought it in one night pronouncing he’d bought it for me to do workouts with . . . Then he’d proceeded to bring in a variety of his favorite games. Suddenly, the game system became his real reason to come over—that and the beer in my refrigerator.

It was hard to remember that there was a time when he was the star quarterback and I was his girl. In those days he’d put his letter jacket around my shoulders and I’d imagine we were Sandy and Danny from
Grease
. I thought we were destined to be together forever.

The games went into the box with a click and a snap. The controller was next. It was funny how he’d only bought one of those.

Then there was the framed picture of his dog. The photo of Bobby standing next to his truck and a handful of beer steins all got packed away, too. When the box was full, I pulled it out into the hallway and shut my door on it with a satisfying clap of my hands.

The next room was my bedroom. When I had moved in, I’d bought neutral bedding so that Bobby wouldn’t feel as if he were sleeping in a girl’s bed. I ripped that off with sadness and satisfaction. The bedding was a symbol of my life. I had sacrificed my own desires for Bobby and a dream that didn’t happen. It was time to grow up and move on. My first stop—when I decided to get dressed and go out—would be to the bedding store. I was going to purchase whatever girlie bedding struck my fancy. Let freedom ring!

At that thought my cell phone rang. I whirled about in an effort to find it before it stopped. I found it under a stack of muscle magazines and hit the answer button. “Hello?”

“Pepper?”

“Yeah,” I said as I frowned at the magazines. They had my address on them. I certainly didn’t read them.

“It’s Warren.” He sounded tentative. “Are you doing okay?”

“Yes, hi, I’m fine.” I tossed the magazines in the trash. “What can I do for you?”

“I have a client for Perfect Proposals,” Warren announced.

My eyes widened and my heartbeat picked up. “Really? That’s fabulous. Let me get my pen, I want to write the info in my desk planner.”

I hurried over to my desk and sat down. I was surprised to see there were two pens left in my pen holder—a pink one and a blue one. The rest had been Bobby’s and had gone in a box. I snatched the blue.

“Don’t get too excited,” Warren said. “It’s for my friend Keith. He wants to propose to his girlfriend and I told him about you. The thing is this. He won’t be able to pay for your services—only the props and venue and such. But he’s willing to let you use him in your portfolio. How’s that sound?”

I covered my disappointment quite nicely. “No problem. It would be great to have more work in my portfolio.”

“That’s the spirit.” Warren’s voice brightened. “Here’s Keith’s number. He has an interesting problem. When you solve this, he’ll be thrilled.”

I wrote down the phone number Warren gave me and hung up the phone. A quick look around my apartment and it became very clear to me that the place looked bare. Somehow in my enthusiasm to make my home appealing to Bobby, I had forgotten to make it appealing to me.

“Well, that’s about to change,” I muttered and stood. I grabbed another scrap of paper and made a list of things I needed to get the business off and running. A quick inventory showed I needed things like business cards, brochures, a website, a new computer, a new desk, a fax machine, and a color printer. I made one more turn about the place to ensure that everything Bobby was packed up and out in the hallway. Then I headed for the shower. If I was going to start the business off on the right foot, then I needed to be sure I was showered, professionally dressed, and properly focused before I called my first client.

It was difficult to think like a professional when you had cobwebs in your hair.