Terror in Taffeta (24 page)

Not this, not now. I really didn't have time to think about a dance number, what with my impending death and all.

“Tamara, I'm not a choreographer; I'm just a wedding planner.”

I'd been repeating variations on that phrase a lot lately.
I'm not a detective; I'm just a wedding planner. I don't want to get married; I'm just a wedding planner.

“But you said you'd help!” She sounded incredulous about my lack of excitement.

“I will—I want your day to be perfect—but you don't know what you're asking. You only have a week. These things take time, planning, practice.”

“Well, I'm asking you to make the time. You said I was your priority.”

Had I? I always want my clients to feel special—they don't call it “your special day” for nothing—but right now my priority was talking to a police officer.

“Tamara, look, I'm sorry, but you're not my only client. And unfortunately, I have way worse problems than some misguided conga line!”

As soon as the words were out, I let out a little gasp. I shouldn't have gone there. But I had.

What was I thinking?
I couldn't go around yelling at my clients, no matter how stressed out I was. Biting your tongue is an essential skill for a wedding planner, and apparently I needed a refresher course.

I opened my mouth to apologize, but it was too late.

“Well, I'm sorry to be such an inconvenience!” Tamara yelled into the phone. “You know, in case you hadn't realized, my wedding is kind of
important
.”

I rubbed my forehead, trying to stave off the headache that was barreling down on me. I felt terrible. She was totally right. “Tamara, look, calm down. I didn't—”

“Calm down? Calm down? You don't even care, do you? It's my special day—MINE!—and you're ruining
everything
!” I had to pull the phone away from my ear to keep her from splitting my eardrum.

I couldn't take it anymore. She was right. When it came down to it, I didn't give a rat's ass about her stupid flash mob. A girl was dead, and all Tamara could think about was herself. Not that she could have known, but I had way bigger issues to deal with. Life-and-death issues, as a matter of fact. “You know, Tamara, it's not all about you.”

“
Excuse me?
What did you just say? My wedding isn't all about me?”

Okay, so it was a low blow. That's the one thing you should never tell a bride; it's pretty much all about them.

“I don't mean your wedding isn't all about you. It totally is. I just mean that not everything in the
world
is about you.”

My clarification didn't help much.

“I hope you'll be very happy with your other clients, and I hope they're paying you a lot of money, because you're fired!”

“Tamara, look— hello? Hello?” Dang it. She'd hung up on me. I tossed my phone back into my purse and buried my face in my hands.

I'd just lost a client.

I should have been distraught, I should have called her back, but I just felt numb. I didn't have time to deal with happy, fluffy wedding plans, not with everything that was happening here.

One of the doors swung open and a heavyset man in a black uniform motioned for me.
“Señorita?”

I nodded.

He looked a little gruff, but he greeted me with a tight-lipped smile. “I'm Officer Castillo. Come on inside.”

I followed him to an interview room and filled him in on the events of the night before as he jotted furiously in his notebook, furrowing his brow in concern. I told him about Dana's murder, our search for the priest, our conversation with Leo—all the way through coming home and finding the message on Evan's machine.

“That sounds serious. I'm going to need you to fill out a report,” he said, standing up from his chair. “Wait here.”

I sat quietly, swinging my legs back and forth. I didn't know what kind of muscle he could wield, but at least he was showing the proper concern. While I waited for him to return, I texted Laurel:

Veruca just fired us. Correction: just fired me.

She texted back:

I know. I'm on the phone getting an earful from her right now.

Damn. Poor Laurel.

After a couple more minutes, the door swung open again, but instead of the nice officer I'd been talking to, Officer Ortiz stepped into the room, clutching the file the other man had started.

Uh-oh.

“Officer Castillo tells me you've been busy,” he said, settling himself onto the edge of the table, his mouth a grim line. “After our conversation yesterday, I hoped you'd start minding your own business. Going behind my back and talking to another officer isn't going to help anything.”

“But this isn't about that!” I said, jumping from my seat. “Someone threatened my life. Did he mention that?” I couldn't believe Castillo had ratted me out.

“And why do you suppose someone would want to threaten you?” he asked calmly, as if talking to a small child.

I don't take well to being patronized, and I could hear my voice go up an octave. “Because they didn't want me to—oh, I see what you're doing there.” If I had minded my own business like he'd told me to, this never would have happened. Talk about blaming the victim.

Maybe I could try a different tack. “Look, I know you think Zoe is guilty, but if she were, why would someone be after me? Don't you think that means I'm onto something?”

“Then that's all the more reason for you not to be involved,” he said with an air of finality. “You let us do our job, and you won't have anything to worry about.”

“Yeah, nothing except the wrong person being convicted,” I huffed, plopping down in my chair and crossing my arms in front of me. I wasn't getting anywhere with this man. “May I please speak to Officer Castillo again? I would like to finish filling out my report.”

Officer Ortiz stood and put both hands on the table, leaning down to look me in the eye. “A report isn't going to help you if you don't back off. You're pissing off the wrong people, and you need to mind your own business, you got it?”

“But—”

“I mean it.” He slid the folder across the table to me. “You can file a report, but if someone really wants to hurt you, this piece of paper won't protect you.” He turned to leave. “You want to know what you can do if you want to stay safe?”

I nodded. Of course I did.

“Go home.”

 

CHAPTER 24

“How did it go?” Brody asked as soon as I walked through the door.

I went to the hall closet, where I had stashed my empty suitcase less than twenty-four hours earlier, and pulled it out with a yank. “Does this answer your question?” I asked, holding it up for him to see.

“Whoa. Okay,” Brody said, scrunching his face in concern. “What happened?”

“Brody, the police can't help me. I filed a report, but their advice was to butt out. And I think they might be right.”

Brody let out a low whistle and followed me as I dragged my suitcase into my room, tossed it onto the bed, and unzipped the zipper. Whatever my job description did or did not include—and it had been stretched to its limits over the course of the past week—I was done with the whole mess. If the police couldn't help me, I had no business being here. It was time for me to hang up my badge.

I opened the dresser drawer and started scooping up my clothes, dumping them unceremoniously into my bag. “If I keep pursuing this, I might be putting us both in danger.”

Brody nodded pensively. “I hate to say it, but that message did leave me kind of shaken.”

I went to the closet to retrieve the clothes that were hanging there. “Even if you take that out of the equation, I still have no idea what I'm doing. This whole thing is a disaster. I told Zoe I'd help her, but I'm not helping at all. I'm just antagonizing the police. They're sure Zoe did it, and they won't even listen to me anymore.”

I slapped the empty hangers back onto the rod with such vigor that they continued swinging back and forth while I scooped my shoes up off the closet floor. “Mrs. Abernathy is going to be mad at me, but she's just going to have to be mad. Oh, and did I tell you? I lost a client today! I'm supposed to be working on her wedding, which is next weekend, but instead I've been neglecting her while I play private investigator. She called me today, and I lost it. She fired me, and frankly, I don't blame her one bit.”

“Wow, yeah, that sucks pretty bad. This thing has really taken over your life.”

I knelt down and checked under the bed for shoes, then sat up again and looked at my friend. He'd been so patient, and I was exceedingly grateful that he'd stuck by me these last few days. “Yours, too,” I acknowledged. “I know you have a life you have to get back to.”

“What? And miss out on all this?” Brody laughed.

“So, anyway,” I said, ducking my head to the floor to check under the bed again, “I say we get out of here.”

Brody nodded, but I noticed he was chewing on his lip thoughtfully. He didn't seem as enthusiastic about my suggestion as I'd thought he'd be. “What?” I said. “Spill it.”

He shook his head and shrugged innocently. “What do you mean, ‘spill it.' Spill what?”

“You're thinking. What are you thinking?”

He studied my face. “No, I think it's the right thing to do. And believe me, I want to sleep in my own bed tonight as much as you do. I just don't want you to regret it later, that's all.”

“Regret it? How do you mean?”

“Well, yeah. You like to finish what you start. You're going to get back and you'll worry about Zoe, but you won't be able to do anything about it. And you're going to start wondering, ‘What if I'd stayed?'”

I closed the lid of my suitcase and zipped it up. “I can't say that's not going to happen. You're probably right; I'm sure I'll second-guess myself. But ever since the wedding, exactly
nothing
has gone right, and every cell in my body is telling me to run away.”

Brody offered me a hand, pulling me up from the floor. “Okay, then. It's settled. So what's the plan? Bus to Mexico City, then catch the next flight out?”

I nodded. “I have enough frequent-flier miles to get us both home.”

“That's perfect,” Brody said, “so long as I'm in first class.”

I could tell he was kidding, but I thought it sounded like a terrific idea. Let someone take care of
us
for a change. “If I have enough miles, we're totally doing that. Now go get packed.”

“What about Evan?” Brody asked.

“I'll leave him a note.” I didn't know where he'd gone, and I didn't want to wait for him. Besides, he hadn't bothered to say good-bye before he left, so I didn't feel too bad.

I grabbed a purple highlighter I'd scrounged from my purse and flipped over one of the flyers with the grainy picture of Leo on the front. I chewed on the end of the marker for a second, trying to decide what to say. Was I being too hasty? I hated to leave things like this, but after last night it was probably for the best. I'd seen the look on his face when I'd said I loved him. If anything, he'd probably be relieved to come home and find me gone.

Dear Evan,

Thank you for offering us a place to stay, but Brody and I are heading back to the States. E-mail me if you want to talk, but I think we both know this is for the best.

Love,

Kelsey

Dang it! There was that word again. I wadded up the paper and stuffed it in the side pocket of my carry-on, then rewrote the message and signed it, “Cordially, Kelsey.”

I left the note on the coffee table so he'd be sure to see it, then took one last look around.
Hasta la vista, Evan.

There were no cabs to be found on the street, so we bumped our way down the hill, suitcase wheels clacking loudly on the cobblestones. The bus station wasn't that far, and the adrenaline was enough to keep me going.

The tiny station was stuffed with people. We bought tickets for the bus, but an hour and a half seemed like an eternity to wait. I looked at the clock on the pale, industrial-green wall. If I hurried, I had time to run over to the jail and say good-bye to Zoe in person. I hoped she would understand, and that she would pass on my apologies to Nicole and Vince. I felt terrible for leaving without saying good-bye to the newlyweds, but I just couldn't face Mrs. Abernathy. She would be furious with me, of course, and might threaten to withhold my final check, but my crime-fighting days were officially over. I just prayed Nicole and Vince would forgive me.

I nudged Brody, who was listening to a podcast. “What?” he said as he took the tiny headphones out of his ears.

“Will you watch my stuff? I'm going to run to the police station to say good-bye to Zoe.”

“Of course. I'll be right here.”

The police station wasn't far, so I took off on foot. I had to hurry if I was going to make it in time.

“Kelsey!” Someone was shouting my name from down the street. Brody? I turned and squinted into the sun to see a man running toward me. It was Evan.

“Kelsey, I got your note. What's up? Why are you leaving?” He looked genuinely confused, maybe even a little hurt.

“Oh, Evan, what's the point? Everything I've touched has turned to disaster. That phone message was just one thing too many.”

“What about the police?”

“They can't help me. They told me to go home. And that's exactly what I intend to do. Good-bye, Evan.” I turned and walked away.

“Kelsey, wait.” He caught up to me and matched my stride. “Can you stop?”

I turned to face him. “What?”

“I wanted to say I'm sorry about last night. I got kind of freaked out. But I don't want it to end this way.”