Played to Death (3 page)

Jamie

By the time Pete got back, our second course had been served and I was halfway through mine. He took off his jacket and hung it on the back of my chair, loosened his tie, unbuttoned his cuffs and rolled his sleeves up. “Is it good?”

“Oh yeah. Worth the wait.” I waited until Pete had taken a few bites and made appreciative noises, then asked, “What’s going on?”

Pete glanced at the other people at our table, who were well into the champagne and conversing pretty loudly. He leaned closer to me. “The second violinist is dead.”

My jaw dropped. I remembered to keep my voice down and hissed, “
What?
”

“Mmm hmm.” Pete took another bite, chewed and swallowed. “Caterer found the body. Strangled.”

“Holy
shit
.”

“Mmm hmm. Are Kevin and Jon on call this weekend?”

“I think so.”

Pete waved his fork at the several hundred other guests. “No one’s going to be able to leave until they’re interviewed.”

“That’s why you talked to Scott? He identified her?”

“Yep.”

My mind was boggled. “I think I need a drink.”

“Go ahead. Bring me one too.”

I made my way to the champagne fountain in the center of the tents and got two glasses. From the conversations I overheard, none of the other guests had any idea that anything was wrong. When I got back to our table, the third course had been served, and Pete was halfway through it. “This is excellent.”

“Yeah.” Graham and Kent were still making their way around the tables. They’d be getting to us soon. “Do the grooms know?”

“Mmm hmm.”

I looked at the grooms’ faces; they were doing a good job of pretending, but I could see the underlying strain. “They’re handling it well.”

“Yeah. They didn’t want a panic. The cops wanted to shut it down, but Graham pitched a fit. Threatened to sue LAPD. Said he’d paid $200,000 for this wedding and wasn’t going to have it ruined.”

I said, “It’s ruined for the violinist.”

“No kidding.”

I watched as servers swarmed the tables, pouring more champagne for everyone. “They’re keeping everyone distracted with champagne.”

Pete grimaced. “I hope everyone’s got a designated driver.”

When Kent and Graham reached our table, Pete introduced me. Up close, I could feel the tension rolling off both of them. Kent was still gripping the little white dog, a Maltese, which was wearing a pink bow in its hair and a tiny wrist corsage on one of its front legs. I bit my lip hard to keep from laughing.

Kent said, “Thank you for coming.”

Graham gave Pete a meaningful glance. “Thank you for
everything
.”

“No problem.” Pete nodded to them, and they moved on to the other folks at our table. Pete leaned back in his chair and took a sip of champagne. He was still on his first glass; I was halfway through my second.

This was going to be a logistical nightmare. I asked Pete, “How are your friends in blue going to speak to everyone?”

“They’ll funnel everyone that leaves through the front door, and they’ll – um – get spoken to out front. Anyone that the uniforms think need to talk to the detectives, they’ll hold. But that won’t be many of the regular guests.”

“So no one back here will know what’s going on until they leave.”

“The word will spread, but at least it will spread slowly. And that way the uniforms can discourage any drunk driving that might otherwise have happened.”

“Sounds like a plan.” I looked around. The grooms were nearly done with their meet and greet circuit. As far as I could tell, very few guests, if any, had left. Everyone was probably waiting for the cake to be cut.

Movement down at the musicians’ seats caught my eye. I nudged Pete and said, “Now the fun begins.”

My brother Kevin was heading right for Scott.

Scott

The quartet – trio – finished the first piece in the dinner set, and Scott sighed in relief. To the trained ear that was a disaster, but Scott was betting there weren’t that many trained ears listening. He was glancing over the second piece, deciding if it would work as a trio, when he realized someone was approaching. He looked up. “Oh, fuck.”

LAPD homicide detective Kevin Brodie smirked down at him. Jamie’s brother. His ex, Jamie, with whom he’d broken up while Jamie was hospitalized. “Hi, Scott. Could I speak to you for a minute?”

Scott put his cello in its case and said to Stacy, “Watch that for me. I’ll be right back.”

He followed Kevin off to the side, behind the tents, where the rest of the guests couldn’t see. Scott glanced back up toward the house; there were uniformed cops everywhere, and yellow crime scene tape now formed a square area blocking off access to the area between the tents and the front of the main house. Kevin turned to face him. “So, Scott, how ya been?”

Scott scowled. “Fine. Like you care.”

Kevin grinned. “Okay, so much for pleasantries.” He gestured at the tents. “This is a little below your pay grade, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. This wasn’t my gig. I’m substituting for a friend.”

Kevin nodded. “The Wiley guy that’s listed in the program.”

“Yeah.”

“What can you tell me about these kids?”

Scott shrugged. “Not much. You’ve got their names from the program. They’re students of Wiley’s at Pasadena City College. Stacy, the first violinist, is very good. Brian, the guy, is pretty good. Elena, the dead girl, was only a fair player. Brian and Elena didn’t seem to like each other very much.”

“Any idea why?”

“None.”

“Do they know what’s going on?”

“I haven’t told them anything.”

“Good. So tell me everything that’s happened.”

“From what point?”

“From the time you got here today.”

So Scott did, as much as he could remember. Kevin made a few notes while he was talking. When Scott finished, Kevin asked, “Had your friend Wiley told you anything about these kids?”

“Not a thing.”

“Were all of you at the rehearsal?”

“Yeah.”

“And that was last night?”

“Yeah.”

“Any problems?”

“No. Elena was ten minutes late, and Brian made a comment – like, ‘Thanks for showing up,’ but then we had to start playing and that was it.”

“Did the kids talk to each other? Last night or today?”

“No. We’ve been playing pretty much since we got here, even during the ceremony. Except for that ten-minute break.”

“Did the girl make any comment about knowing someone here, or did she seem to recognize anyone?”

“She didn’t comment, and if she knew someone, I didn’t see it.”

“Okay.” Kevin closed his notepad. “Let’s go talk to Stacy.”

“What about Brian?”

“My partner should already be talking to him.”

Scott turned back toward his seat. Kevin said, “Hey. You know the guy that took you up to the body?”

“Yeah? Is he a cop? The first cops knew him.”

“He’s an ex-cop.” Kevin gave Scott a smirky grin. “He’s also Jamie’s fiancé.”

“Oh, God.” No wonder the guy had said he was pleased to meet Scott. “Is
Jamie
here?”

“Somewhere, yeah.” Kevin chuckled at Scott’s expression of horror. “Let’s go see our violinist.”

Jamie

The wedding party had finally gotten seated at the head table, and the toasts and speeches had begun. The chairs in which we’d sat during the ceremony had been replaced by a portable dance floor, and a DJ with boom box had magically appeared. With all that activity, everyone’s attention was directed away from the musicians’ seats. So most people likely didn’t notice the big blond guy in jeans and tennis shoes who was sitting down there now with Scott, talking to the first violinist. Kevin’s partner, Jon Eckhoff, had come and taken the viola player away with him several minutes before.

Pete rested his arm across the back of my chair. “So. What elements of this ceremony would you like to incorporate into ours?”

I laughed. “Um – being outside.”

“We’ve got that covered. Anything else?”

“Good food at the reception.”

“Neil’s got that covered.” Our reception was being held at Neil and Mark’s house; Neil, Mark, Ali and Mel were providing it as our wedding gift from the four of them. We were having a Low Country boil in homage to my Carolina heritage and our
very
casual outdoor wedding.

Pete tugged at a piece of hair that was hanging over my collar. “Do you want me to read you a poem?”

“Oh God. Only if it’s a haiku.”

“How ‘bout a limerick? ‘There once was a boy from LA...’”

I giggled. That was my third glass of champagne talking. I picked up Pete’s program and turned to the blank back page. “We should make a list.” I wrote, “1. No poetry.”

Pete looked at what I’d written. “Two. Don’t forget the marriage license.”

We’d gotten our license a couple of weeks ago at the county clerk’s office in Beverly Hills. “Neil got sworn in as Deputy for a Day last week.” Neil was performing our ceremony.

“You talked to the Topanga State Park people.” We were getting married at Eagle Rock, a scenic point along one of our favorite hikes in the Santa Monica Mountains. It was an easy enough hike for everyone who’d be attending and would provide spectacular backgrounds for photography. It was where Pete and I had spent our first day together and where he’d proposed.

“Yep. We’re good to go there.”

“Okay. We need to talk about vows.”

“Yeah.” I wrote that down and glanced down to the musicians’ seats; Kevin was still talking to Scott and the violinist.

The grooms cut the cake - eight tiers with pink and fuschia flowers - and each fed a piece to the other and to the dog. Not good for a little dog like that; my brother Jeff would be appalled. The servers distributed generous slices of cake and people began dancing. So far, none of the guests seemed to know what was happening.

At least three hours later, the crowd of guests was gradually thinning as people left. The caterers kept those of us that remained well-supplied with food and drink. I made three trips to the chocolate fountain, not wanting any of the $200,000 worth of strawberries to be wasted. The people at our table still seemed unaware that they were part of a crime scene, but I saw small groups of others nearby whispering amongst themselves and staring toward the musicians’ seats. People who’d been questioned and allowed to leave must be texting their friends who remained.

I had a pleasant champagne buzz; Pete had abstained after one glass. Eventually the caterers were allowed to pack up, the DJ turned off the music, the last of the guests drifted into the house, and the crime scene techs descended like locusts on the quartet’s area. Pete and I stayed outside. It was a beautiful summer evening, and we had no place else to be.

Finally, well after nine, the musicians were allowed to leave. Scott and the two kids packed up their instruments and left, Scott not looking our way. The crime scene techs took the dead girl’s violin and music. Kevin and Jon spotted us and came to our table. They both looked tired.

Pete said, “Did you find anything?”

Kevin said, “Not a clue. The girl was manually strangled, there are grip marks on her neck, so maybe the coroner can do something with those. The only other thing of note is that her bag seems to be missing.”

“Bag. Like a purse?”

“Yeah. The first violinist remembered that the vic came in with a big shoulder bag. No sign of it now.” He yawned. “Did you know this Wiley guy that Scott was subbing for?”

I said, “No. I met him once after a concert, but only said hello. That was it.”

Pete told Kevin, “You’re going to have to work tomorrow.”

Kevin had bought a new condo and closed on it yesterday. After his breakup with Abby, he’d been staying with Ali and Mel until he was able to buy a place of his own. We were supposed to help him move into it tomorrow. I said, “We can move everything for you.”

Kevin smiled. “I was hoping you’d say that.” He reached into his pocket and produced a key card and a regular door key. “Here’s the card for the elevator and the key for the door. These are spares, so you can keep them.” He picked up my pen and the wedding program and wrote a string of numbers. “Here’s my code for the garage and my parking space numbers. You can drive in there and unload. Liz said she’d help.”

“Did you get in there to clean this morning?”

“Yeah, Mel, Sunny and I scrubbed the place down, and the bed was delivered.” Sunny was the legal secretary at Mel and Neil’s law firm, where Kevin worked on the side as a paralegal. “So all you have to do is move the boxes in. Stack ‘em all in the living room. I’ll unpack when I get around to it.”

“I can set up the kitchen for you.” Kevin and I roomed together for six years until I moved in with Pete. I knew how he’d arrange things.

He gave me a grateful look. “That’d be awesome. If you can hang up my good clothes, too, and put the safe in the bedroom closet. I’ll take care of the rest of it.”

I punched him lightly in the shoulder. “Leave it to us.”

He smiled, tiredly. “Thanks, short stuff.”

Jon said, “We’d better go. We have to deliver some bad news.”

Pete said, “Where do the girl’s parents live?”

“Glendora.”

I said, “We’ll walk out with you.”

Kevin and Jon stopped to have one last word with Kent and Graham. Pete and I were approached by a uniformed officer I recognized - Jill Branigan. She looked tired too. “I need you two to take a look at the photo of the victim.”

We looked. She wasn’t familiar at all. Branigan asked, “You were sitting on the same side as the quartet. Did you notice anything unusual?”

I said, “Other than a wrist corsage on a dog? No.”

Branigan’s partner snorted a laugh; Branigan just smiled. “If you remember anything, you know who to call.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Pete retrieved his car keys from the few remaining that the valets had left with Kent and we headed home, pulling out of the driveway behind the police department tow truck, which was leaving with what I assumed was the dead girl’s car.

I said, “Having someone get murdered at your wedding has to be the worst.”

“Yeah. Let’s not incorporate that into our wedding.”