Newlywed Dead (9 page)

“And your budget?” I asked.

“Mr. Fulcrum doesn't care what you spend as long as I'm happy,” Mrs. Fulcrum said.

Mrs. Thomson chuckled. “You have him properly trained as well.”

“Thank you, ladies,” I said and stood, reaching out my hand. “I'll have something for you soon.”

“We expect a spectacle,” Mrs. Thomson said as both ladies ignored my hand.

“I'll be sure to bring you the best,” I said and lowered my hand. “I'll be in touch.”

*   *   *

An hour later I met Brad at McGee's Pub and Grill. I approached the booth to find that Jennifer sat next to him.
“Hi,” I said, and looked from one to the other. Brad told me Jen wanted to be here, but I had hoped he was kidding.

“Hi, Pepper,” Jennifer said with a wide smile.

“Hi, Jennifer,” I said, and slid into the booth across from them. “I thought you wanted this to be a surprise. How can we do that if you're part of the planning?”

The waitress stopped by. “What can I get you?”

“I'll take—”

“She'll take an iced tea and I'll take a hot green tea and Brad will have a black coffee, strong, right, dear?”

“Right,” he said, and smiled softly at Jennifer.

The waitress took the order and walked off. It was pretty clear that Jennifer wanted to control the situation. “What if I didn't want iced tea?” I asked.

“Oh.” Jen laughed. “Sorry, you look like an iced tea kind of person. Should I call her back?”

“No,” I said with a small sigh. “Iced tea will be fine. Why don't you tell me why you're here despite wanting to be surprised.”

“I want everything to be perfect for the big event,” she said, and grabbed Brad's hand, pulling it toward her. “There isn't any other way to get it perfect than for me to be involved in the planning, right? You can figure out the surprise part later.”

I bit the inside of my cheek. This was going to be a very difficult event. Maybe I shouldn't have said I would try.

“Don't worry,” she said, as if reading my thoughts. “I promise we'll pay you top dollar. Whatever you want to charge, right, Brad?”

“Yes, dear,” he said. It was pretty clear he was enamored with her.

“I need a ten-thousand-dollar retainer,” I said. “Fifty percent is nonrefundable. You understand, of course.”

“Of course,” she said. “I understand Mrs. Fulcrum hired you to do Clark's proposal to Samantha Lyn. Is that true?”

“Mrs. Fulcrum and Mrs. Thomson and I are in talks, yes.”

“Good, I thought so.” She sent Brad a knowing look. “Mrs. Fulcrum only hires the best where Clark is concerned.”

“How do you know so much about Mrs. Fulcrum?” I had to ask. She and Jen were at least twenty years apart in age. I highly doubted they ran in the same circles.

“Mrs. Fulcrum was my sponsor for my college sorority,” Jen said with a great deal of pride. “Our families are very close. I trust her judgment. If she is hiring you, then I want to hire you.”

“I'm not exactly sure—”

“If you can pull off the perfect proposal, we'll give you a two-thousand-dollar bonus. Won't we, dear?” She glanced at Brad.

“Of course,” Brad said with an indulgent smile.

“All you have to do is make it perfect and surprise me,” Jennifer said. “That's not so hard, now is it?”

“Okay,” I said, feeling as if I were lying again.

“So how do we start?”

“I usually ask the person setting up the proposal a series of questions, to start,” I said. “But it sounds like you already have an idea in mind.”

“Oh, no, let's start like you usually do,” she said, and let the waitress put down the drinks. “I want the full experience. So, ask away.”

“Okay,” I said. The whole setup was more than a little weird, but if I was going to do this, then I was going to do it right. If I could pull it off, it would be a huge boon for my business. “How old are you?”

“Oh, I'm twenty-five and Brad is twenty-six,” Jennifer said, and squeezed his hand.

“Okay,” I said, and wrote that down. I had expected as much. “What are some of your hobbies?”

“I like salsa dancing,” Jen said. “Brad likes to watch the Cubs and the Bears and hockey . . . any kind of hockey.”

“Okay,” I said, and made a note. “It sounds like you don't have any hobbies in common. Is there anything you like to do together?”

“Like movies?”

“Sure,” I said, and nodded my encouragement. “Movies are good. I just did a movie engagement. It was great with old black and white films.”

“Movies are okay,” Brad said, and sat back. He tugged his hand from Jen and put his arm up along the cushion at the back of the booth. “We usually watch them at home on the couch. I think Jen wants something bigger, more romantic.”

“Brad falls asleep halfway through every movie,” Jen said, and sipped her drink. “I don't think that would work for an engagement.”

“Okay,” I said, and doodled on my pad. “What about
food? Do you have favorite restaurants? Any annual traditions? What about your first date? What did you do on your first date?”

“I took her to Pete's Roadhouse,” Brad said with a smile. “She hated it.”

“I did not,” Jen protested.

“Yes, you did,” he argued, then sent me a direct look. “After that I wasn't sure she would go out with me again.”

“What changed your mind?” I asked Jen, suddenly finding a topic of interest.

“I fell for his cute smile and quick wit,” she said, and patted his cheek. “I thought, if this is going to go anywhere, then I need to be honest with him.”

“So you told him you hated it?”

“She did,” Brad said. “She also made me promise never to take her back there ever.”

Jen nodded. “That's right, and you know what? He hasn't.”

“It's easier for me to tell you what she doesn't like than what she likes,” Brad said. “Would that help?”

“Anything helps at this point,” I said, and doodled the word
contrary
on the paper out of eyesight of Jen.

Brad chuckled. “I'll e-mail you a list.”

“Okay,” I said, and sat back. This entire proposal felt completely out of my control and I didn't like that. My mind reeled. There had to be something I could talk to these two about. They were both at Felicity's reception. “You mentioned Jennifer likes the movie
Serendipity
. Jen, what was it you liked about it?”

“I loved how they got together in the end. You know,
on the ice rink. It was so romantic. I mean, how did he know to go there? Why did she show up there? It was all so . . . serendipitous. Plus, it was pretty with all the twinkling lights and the snow. I like twinkle lights.”

“She also likes glitter and diamonds and anything sparkly,” Brad said.

I made a few notes. There was no way I could do an ice-skating proposal. Jennifer would figure it out the moment they went to the rink. “Let me think about that some more.” I sipped my tea and leaned toward them. “So, how do you know Warren?”

“Oh, his mother and my mom play tennis together,” Brad said. “My family got a wedding invitation from Mrs. Evans and Mom wanted to go, so we went.”

“Do you play tennis?” I was struggling to get any ideas, no matter how random.

“Oh, yes,” Jen said. “Brad is killer in doubles. I don't play, of course.”

“Of course,” I muttered. I sighed and thought about the wedding reception. “Wasn't it terrible . . . you know, that poor bartender dying the other night. I mean, you were still there when it happened, weren't you?”

“Yes,” Jen said with a nod of her head. “It was awful. Poor thing. I read in the papers that it was a suspected overdose. She looked so thin. I bet it didn't take much to put her over the edge. You were brave though, to jump in and try CPR like that.” She took a sip of her drink. “I wouldn't have been so brave.”

“I took CPR last year,” Brad said. “It was one of the courses I needed to coach intermural tennis. It looked like you did a bang-up job.”

“It didn't work,” I said, with a shake of my head. “They never did revive her.”

“You can't save some people,” Jen said, patting my hand. “No matter how hard you try.”

She was right, of course. We continued to chat, but I had a feeling this couple was a lost cause. Maybe the list of things Jen didn't like would give me an idea of how to make a big, bold surprise statement with her proposal.

I walked out of McGee's nearly two hours later completely disappointed. Looking at my doodled notes, there wasn't a whole lot to go on for a proposal. I was just about to my car when my cell phone rang. I pulled it out of my purse and saw that it was Toby.

Poor lovelorn Toby was super wealthy but a bit of a schlump. After he helped me in a couple of proposals, he sort of unofficially made me his guide in all matters of the heart.

Gage wondered why Toby kept hanging out with me when he should be pursuing his own girls. I didn't mind. Toby and I were friends, but it was hard for Gage to understand. I tried to explain it by reminding him that he and I had been friends for years. That didn't help. Gage pointed out that our friendship had turned into romance. I swore there wasn't anything romantic between me and Toby. Why would there be? I had Gage.

“Hi, Toby, how are you?” I answered my phone.

“I'm not bad, Pepper,” Toby said. “Could be better, could be worse.”

I laughed. “That sounds typical,” I said. “What can I do for you?”

“So you know I'm not all that ready for the big leagues in love just yet, right?”

“Right,” I said, nodding my head even though he couldn't see me. “Are you in the minor leagues?” The last I knew he wasn't seeing anyone at all.

“Yeah, so, can we meet?” he asked. “I have this girl I think might work.”

“Have you met her in person?” I asked. The last girl he had brought to me was merely a picture of a woman he'd seen on the street.

“Not yet,” he answered honestly. That was the best thing about Toby. He was always brutally honest. It was an annoying but admirable trait. “I want to meet with you first and get your opinion on her. You know, whether we're a good fit or not. Plus, you know how to take the next step, and stuff like that.”

I had warm feelings for Toby. He was so clueless. I found it charming. “Okay. How about tonight?”

“Sure, meet me at the coffee shop at eight.”

“I can do that,” I said, and put the appointment in my mobile calendar. “See you then.” The bookstore is where I first met Toby. He'd heard about my services and had asked to meet me at Centre City Books. I had gone expecting a cup of coffee and a serious chat about what he and
his soon-to-be fiancée did on their dates, et cetera. When I arrived, I found a rumpled man with a George Clooney air. He didn't even bother to look me in the eye. Instead, he'd wandered the store filling a shopping cart and off-handedly answering my questions. It didn't take long for me to discover that he'd never been on a date with the woman. Toby was brilliant in business, but completely clueless in relationships.

Gage suspected he had a bit of a crush on me. I hoped not and was glad Toby had another target . . . er, woman in mind. It meant that I could officially tell Gage he had nothing to worry about.

It was early afternoon and I sat next to the coffee shop window and watched the cars go by. I noticed a powder blue BMW Mini roar into the parking lot. Samantha Lyn parked badly, and without a second look, hit the lock as she stepped toward the coffee shop.

Today she looked all of nineteen years old in her skinny jeans, pink polo, and blue peacoat. Her pretty blond hair was pulled back into a messy bun. Her black thigh-high boots rang out on the walk as she hurried to the shop. I waved when she stopped just inside the door looking for me.

“Hi, Pepper,” Samantha said, and leaned over to give me a quick peck on the cheek. “Thanks for meeting me. I didn't know who I could talk to about this.”

“Any time,” I said, and handed her a triple raspberry
mocha I had ordered for her. “I thought you might enjoy this flavor combination. It's my favorite!”

“It smells wonderful,” she said, breathing in the steam rising from her cup, then sat down across from me. “Thank you. And thanks for, like, you know, meeting me here.”

“No problem,” I said. She took off her coat and draped it on the chair back behind her and then wrapped her fingers around the cup I gave her. I noted that her manicure was a soft pink ombre that moved from light to darker tips.

“I'm so upset,” she admitted. Her blue gaze held a watery look as if she fought back tears. “Ashley was so kind to me. I never knew anyone like her and now she's gone. Just like that.” Samantha snapped her fingers. “I don't know what to do. I don't know how to handle myself. My mom won't listen. All she can talk about is the upcoming proposal with Clark.”

“Wait, you know about the proposal? I thought it was a surprise.”

Samantha Lyn sighed and shook her head. “Our moms have been talking about it for months. Mom tells anyone who is willing to listen. She told me they hired you. So, I know it's coming, but just not when.”

“And you're okay with that?”

“I haven't had a chance to think too much about it. I'm too upset over Ashley's death. Like I said, it's awful and heartbreaking and I'm having trouble dealing.”

“I know,” I said and patted her hand.

“You liked Ashley, too, didn't you? I saw you two talking off and on that night.”

“Yes, we sort of had a connection,” I agreed, and tilted
my head. “I felt out of place and so did she. She was helping me come up with cocktail ideas because I plan events and thought it would be nice to know. Then she told me a bit about her history and how she knew you.” Samantha Lyn seemed really upset and it didn't make any sense. From what I understood, the teen had hardly known Ashley. Why was she having such a hard time dealing with this? “You mentioned on the phone that you knew Ashley from another wedding. I remember talking to Ashley about this the night she died.”

“Yeah,” Samantha said, and clung to her coffee cup. “She probably didn't tell you the whole story, though. She wouldn't because she was so nice.”

“What happened?” I asked. Tears welled up in Samantha's eyes and she dashed them away. “You don't have to tell me if you don't want to,” I said, and patted her hand.

“Stupid mascara.” Samantha Lyn got a tissue out of her Michael Kors bag and dabbed at her eyes. “No, no, I don't mind telling. I'm sure you'll understand. You see, when I first met Ashley it was at the wedding you're referring to. Clark was being a complete jerk.”

“Oh,” I said encouragingly. I wasn't surprised. From what I saw the other night, Clark was not a naturally nice person.

“He said something really mean to me. Usually I can blow it off, but not that time. I'd had enough and ran out of the reception.” Tears filled her eyes and she used the tissue to dab them away. I reached into my bag and pulled out a new tissue and handed it to her.

Samantha Lyn took the second tissue and dabbed at her eyes then twisted the two tissues in her hands. “He said I was a fat cow.”

“No!”

“I know, right?” Samantha said. “He said it because I caught him flirting with this other girl there, at the wedding. Hanna Anderson. We go to school with her. When I called him on it, he got mean.”

“I'm so sorry,” I said, and patted her hand. “Is that when you met Ashley?”

“Yes,” she said. “I ran out of the building and Ashley was taking a cigarette break. When she saw me crying, she came over and said, ‘Whoever he is, he isn't worth it.'”

“She was right,” I said.

“I know.” Samantha Lyn shrugged her shoulders. “It's complicated. But Ashley just sat down with me and listened as I went on and on. I know she was supposed to be working. I even asked her to go since I knew she was missing out on tips and such. She said no. She said I needed to talk and she was not going until I was okay.”

“That sounds like the girl I met,” I said, my mind going back to my conversation with Ashley the night of my sister's wedding.

“Anyway, she listened for a long time and then told me that I should break up with Clark.” Samantha's big blue gaze looked up at me. “She said I should trust my gut because guts don't lie.”

I nodded. “She was a very smart woman.”

“Yes, she was,” Ashley agreed, and tears welled up in
her eyes again. “I told her something I hadn't told anyone else.”

I waited but Samantha simply dabbed at her eyes with a tissue. “I'm sure whatever you told her was kept in the highest of confidence.”

“I think so, too,” Samantha Lyn said. She paused and looked at me, then leaned in. “I told her that I wanted to break up with Clark, but with my parents involved it was tough.”

I waited a heartbeat. “What did she tell you?”

“She did the most amazing thing,” Samantha said, and leaned away from me. “She said for me to wait right there. Then she went inside and when she came out a few minutes later she had her purse and car keys. She put her arm through mine and told me that she apologized to the other bartenders and explained to them that an emergency had come up and she needed to leave. Just like that, she left her job and all those tips for me. Then she drove me home so I wouldn't have to go back in and face Clark.”

“That was a really nice thing to do.”

“I agree,” Samantha Lyn said with a nod. “In the car, Ashley encouraged me to go out and see the world. She said I should learn more about who I was and give myself a chance to grow before tying myself down forever.”

“That sounds like very good advice.”

“But I let her down.” She leaned back as tears welled in her eyes. “I didn't break up with Clark. I tried, but my parents talked me into giving him another chance.”

“I still don't understand the pressure to get married,” I said. “What about college?”

Samantha shrugged. “I wanted to study engineering, but my parents think that's not an appropriate major for me. They think it's silly to get an education when all I need to do is marry well and give them grandchildren. They sent me off to college to join a sorority and make good connections. They expect me to get my Mrs. degree and drop out. Not actually graduate with a college degree. You see, my parents have never let me have a job. They pay for everything and then they threaten to cut me off if I disobey their wishes.”

“They said that?” I frowned. “In this day and age, people actually still think that way?”

“No, no, you misunderstand,” Samantha Lyn said. “They mean well, they really do. They want what's best for me. I'm the one who is wishy-washy.” She blinked. “It's because I'm young.”

“You're almost twenty years old,” I said. “You are an adult. You don't have to listen to them.”

“It's not that easy.” Samantha Lyn shook her head. “Until I can afford to live on my own, I
do
have to listen to them. But I can't afford to live on my own because I can't get a good job without an education, which I don't have because they want me to spend my time at society events instead of in class. It's all a vicious circle.”

I patted her hand again. “There are lots of things you can do to put yourself through college. Kids do it all the
time. It takes longer than if your parents are supporting you financially, but it can be done. This is your life, Samantha. You have to stand up and fight for it.”

She frowned at me. “I tried. But my mom was so disappointed. I just.” She paused and her shoulders slumped. “I caved.”

I muttered something appropriately soothing like “I understand” even though I didn't. I had learned there was a point where people refuse to listen to good advice and it sounded like I hit that point with Samantha. What I wanted was more information. Maybe she knew something about Ashley that would help me figure out what happened to her. “Can I ask you something? Do you know if Ashley was doing drugs? I mean, she didn't seem to be the druggie type when I met her. But you met with her before and I thought maybe you might have a better feel for who she was.”

Samantha looked appalled. “Absolutely not. It's weird how much she and I talked that one night. But I can tell you that she was completely against that sort of thing.”

“Seems like you knew her pretty well in that short time,” I said.

“You know how sometimes you get to know a person really fast and you want to stay friends forever?” Samantha shrugged. “I felt that way about Ashley.” Samantha paused and sighed. “The worst part is that she died so very young.”

“I agree, it's a terrible loss.” I wrapped my hands around my coffee cup.

“I think she'd be disappointed if I married Clark,”
Samantha said in a near whisper. Then she looked at me so sadly.

“If you don't want to, then don't,” I stressed.

“I wish it was that easy.”

I bit my tongue. We talked a bit more, but mostly about what happened when someone died. How to dress and act at a wake. What to do for a funeral. It was all things that I had learned through my parents and my big family. By the time Samantha and I left the coffee shop she had settled down. I felt confident that she could drive safely and I gave her a hug and waved as she drove off. Samantha Lyn was a lovely person. I really hated the fact that she felt pressured into being with Clark. I would do my best to discourage the proposal. I had to be careful, though. Clark's mother was well connected in the community. If I went against her wishes, she was completely capable of seeing that I didn't get any more work. Perfect Proposals was too new. I couldn't afford to make enemies—especially influential enemies like Sugar Fulcrum. I would have to be very, very careful.

*   *   *

My cell phone rang as I got into my car. “Perfect Proposals, this is Pepper, how can I help you?”

“Pepper? It's Murphy.”

“Hi, Detective Murphy. What can I do for you?”

“I wanted to let you know that the official autopsy report came through.”

“Oh, that was fast. Do they know what happened?”

“The report confirms that Ashley was killed by a deadly mixture of drugs and alcohol,” he said, his tone flat.

“I just don't think she was on drugs,” I protested. “She didn't seem high to me at all.”

“It was an overdose of Xanax combined with alcohol,” he said. “It's a killer combination.”

I remembered Ashley finishing my martini and I felt pangs of guilt in the pit of my stomach. “Lots of people take Xanax,” I said. “I'm sure some people drink alcohol, too. How come we don't hear about people dropping dead all over the place?”

“Mixing any drugs with alcohol is a bad idea,” Murphy said sternly.

“Yes, I know,” I said. “I would never do that, but people do and they don't die.”

“Pepper, the amount in Ashley's system was off the charts.”

“I don't understand,” I said. “Did she have a prescription for Xanax? I mean, if she had a script then she should have known she shouldn't mix it with alcohol.”

“She didn't have a script, Pepper. We checked.”

I didn't like his tone. “What are you implying?”

“If she didn't have a script, then she could have bought the drug off the street,” he said. “She probably didn't realize you can't mix Xanax and alcohol.”

“I just don't think she was a drug addict,” I said. “I was with her for a few hours. I could be wrong, but she didn't seem strung out to me.”

“I'm sorry, Pepper, I know this is bad news. But
someone with her track record probably knows how to get illegal drugs.”

“I don't understand,” I said, and frowned. “Just yesterday you thought that something was wonky about this whole thing. Now you get the autopsy results and suddenly Ashley is a drug addict who overdosed?”

“Look, the chief says the results were definitive.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means the case is closed, Pepper,” he said. “It has been labeled an accidental overdose. There's nothing more to do. Anyway, I thought you should know. I know you took a shine to this girl.”