Terror in Taffeta (29 page)

 

CHAPTER 29

I swung by the house on Calle Recreo, but nobody was home yet, so I left a note and headed to Jacinda Rivera's house. She greeted me at the door in a long, pale green dress embroidered with tiny flowers, her tousle of curls pulled effortlessly into a wedding-worthy 'do.

“Look at you!” I gushed. She was going to make one gorgeous bride. I only hoped I hadn't scared her off.

“Kelsey, come in.” She swung the door open and beckoned me inside. “Sorry I didn't call sooner. I was a little freaked out when we found out that priest had died, but I realize I was being silly. It's not like it was your fault.”

“I understand. I was a little freaked out myself. I've never had anything like that happen before. For what it's worth, we have a good, solid lead on who did it.” It was a relief saying those words, reassuring her that the two deaths weren't the work of some crazed serial killer who only targeted weddings planned by me.

“Who did what?” Jacinda looked at me with a puzzled expression.

“Killed Father Villarreal? The priest? And Dana, the bridesmaid? I mean, I don't know exactly what happened, but I feel pretty confident that we've found their killer.”

“
Their
killer? What do you mean?”

I paused, uncertain how to proceed. “I mean, I found out who had a motive to kill Dana—she'd made some pretty powerful enemies—and I don't know how Father Villarreal got caught up in the whole mess, but I'm sure the police will be able to figure it out.”

She cocked her head to one side as if she was unsure what to say. “So I guess you haven't heard.”

Now it was my turn to be puzzled. “No, heard what?”

“Nothing happened to Father Villarreal. A friend of mine goes to his church, and apparently he had a heart attack. That's what I meant when I said I was being silly.”

Oh, man. Now instead of thinking I was dangerous, she probably thought I was nuts. “Oh, no, I hadn't heard.” Good thing she was interested in my services as a wedding planner and not a detective.

She smiled uncertainly at my reaction. “That's good, right? I mean, better than having
two
murders linked to your wedding.”

Jeez. Well, sure, when you put it that way. “Yes! I'm sorry. I'm a little embarrassed. I just assumed—well, anyway, let's talk about your wedding, shall we?”

“Yes. I guess this got off to kind of a weird start, but I'd still like you to submit a proposal. I mean, this wedding's not going to plan itself, is it?”

I was glad she saw it that way. I wanted the job and would do whatever I could to prove that I was the right person to plan her wedding. Thank goodness she knew that Father Villarreal's death hadn't had anything to do with me. Besides, it made the case against the security team from LionFish even stronger. I hadn't been able to explain their connection to Father Villarreal or why they'd want to hurt him, and now I wouldn't have to.

“… and so I just wanted to see what you thought.”

Jacinda was holding out a stack of photos, staring at me expectantly. Had she been talking this whole time? I had to stop letting the Abernathy case interfere with my real job. It was time to focus.

“These are gorgeous,” I began, flipping through some pictures she'd printed off the Internet. Lots of rustic charm but with plenty of crisp, modern elements thrown in. My mind was already buzzing with ideas.

“Have you thought about a color scheme? I can tell from these photos that you're not afraid of color.”

She pointed to the large painting I'd admired on my first visit. “No, I love color. And I wouldn't mind if we could incorporate some of my artwork.”

“I think that's a great idea! That will really make it unique.”

“That's what I was hoping,” Jacinda said. “I want it to be really personal.”

“Absolutely,” I replied. “That's my favorite part.”

“Oh! But there is one idea I want to steal.” She turned on her phone and started flipping through the pictures. “Remember how I said I saw them setting up for your bride's wedding? I absolutely loved what you did with the old fountain in the middle of the courtyard, filling it with flowers like that.” She zoomed in on the center of one of the photos and handed it to me so I could see.

It really had been the perfect centerpiece. Using the fountain had been the florist's idea—I couldn't take credit, as much as I'd have liked to—but it was definitely easy enough to replicate. I zoomed out a little to admire the setting.

Wait. Something had caught my eye. I tapped my finger on the screen to zoom in again. There in the background was a man wearing an orange shirt that looked an awful lot like a
guayabera
. Hadn't Fernando, the chef at the villa, said that whoever had visited Dana's room had been wearing an orange
guayabera
? Fernando had thought it was Vince who'd gone to her room, and later we assumed it was Ryan, but the man in this picture didn't look like either of them. Could it have been the security guy from LionFish? Was this the evidence I needed to convince the police? Maybe they'd even let Zoe out of jail!

“Jacinda, can I have a copy of this photo for reference?” I asked excitedly.

“Sure. It's not very good, but I can e-mail it to you. Of course, I'd want different flowers. I mean, I don't want it to be
exactly
the same.”

“Of course.” I handed the phone back to her, and she forwarded the photo to me with a satisfying
swoosh
noise. I could have kissed her, but I didn't want to let on that this was about anything other than her wedding. “All right, let's talk about your guest list. How many people are you thinking?”

Although I could hardly sit still, I fought with every cell in my brain to stay focused on her wedding for the rest of the meeting. We talked food, flowers, venue, all of it, and I promised to send her an estimate ASAP.

At last we were done, and Jacinda showed me to the door. “Thanks again for coming, Kelsey. I'll be on the lookout for your proposal.”

“Thank
you
, Jacinda. I really appreciate it.” She had no idea how much I really meant it.

As soon as she closed the front door, I scrambled for my phone to retrieve my e-mails. Yep, there it was. I shot off a copy to Ryan with a message asking if he could identify the man in the photo, then texted it to Brody, too. Underneath I wrote, “Orange guayabera man?”

I really wanted to see what Fernando thought, and I was only a few blocks from the villa. I walked straight there in the hopes of catching him and asking if this was the same man. The maid escorted me to the steaming kitchen, and my stomach growled audibly at the smells coming from the stove.

“Kelsey!” Fernando greeted me. “How is it you always know when I am cooking?”

“
Hola,
Fernando. I didn't come to eat—although I wouldn't say no. I mean, come on, who am I kidding?”

“Here, taste this,” he commanded, handing me a forkful of the fragrant pork that was simmering in the skillet in front of him.

“Oh my God, that's good!” It was so tender and delicious I almost forgot where I was for a second, but I was there for business, not Fernando's incredible cooking. I swallowed and retrieved my phone from my purse. “And while I can't deny the lure of your cooking, I actually had a question for you.”

I pulled up the picture from the courtyard and showed it to him. “You said you saw a man in an orange
guayabera
entering Dana's room the night before she was murdered. Can you tell me if this was him?”

Fernando studied the picture on my phone. “It's hard to say because this picture's so small, but it sure looks like him.” The phone chimed, and he handed the phone back to me. “Here, it looks like you got a message.” A text from Brody was superimposed over the photo:

this looks like kirk?!?!

Kirk? Dana's fiancé? No, it couldn't be. I peered more closely at the photo, but the tiny man on my phone's screen could have been anybody.

“Can you excuse me for a second, Fernando?” He nodded, returning to his cooking, and I stepped into the dining room and called Brody, who didn't even bother to greet me with a proper hello. “Where did you get this picture?” he asked.

“Jacinda took it. What do you mean, it looks like Kirk?”

“That's his name, right? Dana's fiancé?”

“Yeah, but you think it looks like him?” My voice was getting a little shrill.

“Did you see it on your phone, or on a computer?”

“On my phone,” I admitted, trying to remain calm. “My laptop's still at Evan's.”

“Well, I'm looking at it up close on my computer monitor, and I'm telling you, it's Kirk.”

“Hold on.” I held the phone at arm's length, squinting. It was hard to tell on the tiny screen, but the guy in the picture did bear some resemblance to Dana's fiancé. “Maybe,” I said, “but that doesn't make any sense! Kirk didn't arrive until a couple of days after the wedding.”

“Well, if this is him, that changes everything.”

I told Brody I'd call him back and hung up, my mind racing. Surely this was a coincidence. As I tried to decide what to do next, my phone chimed again. It was Ryan:

Nope, sorry, whoever that is wasn't with us

I sank back against the doorway for support. What could this mean? If it was Kirk, not only had he been here before Dana had even died, but Fernando had seen him going into Dana's room
while she was still alive
.

I was getting ahead of myself. Maybe Dana had kept him on the down low. Mrs. Abernathy would have given Dana hell for having an uninvited guest at the villa. Still, why would he pretend he'd just arrived instead of telling us he'd already been here?

After saying a hasty good-bye to Fernando, I exited through the back. Then I sat on the curb for a few moments, contemplating my next move.

I called the hotel where Kirk had been staying. The front desk girl didn't speak English much better than I spoke Spanish, but she was able to tell me that Kirk had already checked out. At least I thought that's what she said; she might have been recommending a restaurant. I really needed to brush up on my Spanish.

On a hunch—and not wanting to attempt any more bilingual conversations over the phone—I looked up the address for the morgue and headed straight there.

“Hi,
hola, habla inglés?”

“Sí?”
the front desk attendant answered.

“I wanted to check on a body. Dana Poole?”

“Momento.”
He walked to the back of the room and thumbed through some files on his desk. “
Sí
. She's ready to go.”

“You mean she's still here?” I practically shouted.

“Sí
…
?”
he replied, confused by my reaction. “Aren't you here to take her?”

I sank down in the metal folding chair near the desk. Kirk hadn't picked up the body? He'd said he would take care of it. Had there been a change of plans?

I held up one finger as I searched for the directory on my phone. “
Momento
. I need to check on something.” I dialed Dana's parents, and her mom picked up after a couple of rings.

“Hello?” she answered.

“Mrs. Poole, hi,” I said. “This is Kelsey. I was wondering if you had heard from Kirk?”

There was a pause. “I'm sorry?” she replied.

“Dana's fiancé, Kirk? He was supposed to make arrangements for … you know…” I could hear her whispering to someone in the background.
Please let this all be a big, fat misunderstanding.

Mrs. Poole came back on the line after a second. “Kirk? I'm confused, Kelsey. We don't know anyone named Kirk.”

 

CHAPTER 30

I wish I could say I handled the situation with aplomb and made up a good cover story while I got my wits about me, but I mumbled something approximately like, “Um, he, well, I—I have to go!” At least I didn't make static noises and say I was about to go through a tunnel.

Who was this guy? We had taken him in without a second thought. We'd fed him dinner. Heck, we'd even comforted him for his loss. And what did I know about him? Even less than I know about Japanese battleships or the mating rituals of warthogs. That is to say, very, very little.

Here's what I did know: He'd said he and Dana were engaged and that she was going to have his baby, but her parents had never heard of him. He said he'd arrived in Mexico the night we met him, but if Brody was right, Kirk had been in town for several days before that. He'd claimed to be devastated; he'd even sat in Dana's room and unpacked all her things. Had he been looking for something? Like the flash drives?

I hesitated for a moment, trying to decide whether to call Mrs. Abernathy. I wasn't sure which would be worse: getting her, or not getting her. I certainly didn't want to start rambling nervously into her voice mail.

I called Brody back instead.

“Tell me I'm letting my imagination run away with me,” I said as soon as he picked up.

“Oooh, fun game. Okay, you're letting your imagination run away with you.”

“Except what if I'm not?” I asked.

“What you
are
doing is being cryptic,” he said. “Tell me what's going on.”

“Oh, sorry. I talked to Dana's mom, and they've never heard of Kirk.”

“Whoa, seriously?”

“Yep. Kirk never picked Dana's body up from the morgue, either. I guess that's a good thing, since he wasn't sent here by her family.”

“Wow. So who the hell is this guy?”

“I don't know! Do you remember Kirk's last name? Or if he even gave us a last name?”

Brody paused for a second. “He must have, but I couldn't tell you what it is. It's not like he gave us his business card.”