To Love and To Perish (10 page)

“What do you mean there was a murder at Maxwell Gray's party?” The cell phone slipped from my hands and clattered to the floor. “I just came from there.”

“We know.” Detective Hobbes looked somber. “Do you mind if we ask you a few questions?”

Ian stepped aside to let the men in. Each wore blue jeans topped with a wool blazer, but Reese's black jacket looked stylish while Hobbes's brown tweed made him seem even more frumpy than usual. I motioned for them to take a seat while I scooped up the parts of my cell phone. I guessed I'd have to call Richard back later.

I sank onto the couch wordlessly while Detective Hobbes took out a pen and clicked it a few times. My head began to pound. I knew I should have warned Kate and Gail about Byron. He must have overheard us and decided to get rid of Gail before she could tell the police. If only I'd gone back and told them. But it was too late. I assured
myself that Kate was fine. Byron didn't have as much of a reason to kill her, and he'd never try to get rid of them both.

Ian looked down at my shaking hands and took a seat next to me, draping an arm around my shoulders. Reese watched us then walked to the window while his partner took a seat across from me in the yellow armchair. Hobbes took a pocketsized notebook out of his tweed blazer and clicked his pen a few more times.

I steadied my voice. “I don't know how much I can tell you, Detective. I wasn't even at the party when the murder took place.”

“She's been here with me for the past half an hour,” Ian confirmed.

Reese took in my mussed-up hair and high heels kicked off to the side of the couch. His eyes flitted to the glasses of wine on the coffee table. “I can see that.”

My cheeks warmed and I shot Reese a defiant look, then turned away from him and focused on his partner. Why did I care what Reese thought of my personal life? Aside from a little harmless flirting and some definite chemistry, we'd never had any sort of relationship.

“Did you see Stephanie Burke while you were there?” Hobbes asked.

“Stephanie?” I looked back and forth between the detectives. “Why do you want to know about her?”

Hobbes looked up from his notebook. “Because she was found strangled with a camera cable in Mr. Gray's equipment closet.”

My eyes widened. I could feel the blood rush
ing in my ears, and I breathed deeply to keep from getting sick. “Stephanie was murdered tonight?” I couldn't believe it. I'd been sure that the victim was Gail. Stephanie didn't make any sense. Who would want to kill her? I didn't think she'd been around long enough to make any enemies.

“Miss Archer?” Detective Hobbes waved a hand in front of me, and I heard his voice faintly through the ringing in my ears. “Did you see the deceased at the party tonight?”

I snapped back to reality. “Sure, I saw her. She hung out with Maxwell on the couch most of the time.”

Hobbes scratched away in his notepad. “So they knew each other well?”

“I didn't think so, but they seemed very friendly tonight.”

Reese walked over from the window. “Meaning?”

“Maxwell has a bit of a reputation,” I explained. “He has a habit of becoming intimately involved with the party planners he works with.”

“Interesting,” Reese said.

“Not me, though,” I added quickly. Ian reached over and squeezed my hand. “Mostly the older generation. That's why it's so odd that Stephanie got cozy with him tonight. I didn't even know she worked with him.”

Hobbes flipped a page and continued writing. “Do you think some of the other planners might have gotten jealous?”

“I guess,” I said. “I did see Gail have an argument with Maxwell tonight. Apparently they used to be an item. But I can't imagine someone killing over Maxwell.”

Reese took a seat on the blue ottoman across from the couch. “Can you think of any other reason why someone would want to kill Miss Burke?”

I shook my head. “I didn't know her very well, but I can't see any connection between her and the other two murders. You do think this murder was committed by the same person, don't you?”

Reese locked onto me with his hazel eyes, and they deepened into green. “The M.O. is exactly the same. So unless we have a copycat killer, I'm assuming that the same person killed all three wedding planners.”

“Do you have any leads?” Ian asked, and received a curt shake of the head from Reese.

I rubbed my temples. “It doesn't make sense. At least Carolyn and Eleanor had some connections to each other and some common enemies. Stephanie is completely out of left field.”

“You can't think of anything the three women had in common?” Hobbes asked.

“Aside from a tenuous romantic link to Maxwell?” I thought for a moment. “Other than that, Stephanie doesn't fit with the other two at all. She was brand new to the wedding planning business and was very young and friendly. Not to mention pretty. She couldn't have been more opposite from Carolyn and Eleanor.”

Hobbes looked up from his notes. “Sounds like you weren't big fans of theirs.”

“I don't know that many people really liked Carolyn or Eleanor.” I hoped I didn't sound defensive. “Most people were afraid of Carolyn and annoyed by Eleanor. But everyone liked Stephanie.”

“This makes the situation even more dangerous.” Reese rested his elbows on his knees.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Is Annabelle in danger?” Ian asked, and closed his fingers around my hand.

Reese kept his eyes on me. “The killer had established a type of victim with Carolyn and Eleanor. They had obvious connections, which meant that they also had similar connections to the killer. By killing Stephanie the killer seems to have abandoned the pattern.”

“What if he killed Stephanie to throw you off the trail?” I asked.

Reese looked skeptical. “It's possible, but it's a big risk to take to confuse us.”

I had to agree. Whoever had killed Stephanie in the middle of a crowded party had taken a huge chance of being caught. “So either Stephanie was killed to make it harder to find the killer or the murderer doesn't really have any pattern after all?”

Reese looked grim. “Either way, it isn't good.”

“So any wedding planner could be killed next? Even if we have no connection to the other victims or the killer.” I trembled and felt Ian's arm tighten around my shoulders. “This means that Kate or I could be next, doesn't it?”

Reese dropped his eyes to his hands and didn't answer. I glanced over at Hobbes, who didn't look up from his notebook. I had a sinking feeling in my stomach. Suddenly wedding planning wasn't such a dream job after all.

“Are you sure you're okay to be here?” I asked Kate the next day as we walked down New York Avenue to the National Museum of Women in the Arts. “I can do the walk-through for Debbie's wedding without you.”

Kate pulled her black fitted coat closed as the wind whipped around us. “Are you kidding? It's after noon so I'm sure Debbie and her mother have had their liquid lunch already. You're going to need all the help you can get.”

“Richard will be here to keep things on track,” I said.

“Like I said, you're going to need all the help you can get. I told you that I'm fine. I didn't even see Stephanie's body. Once the police asked me a few questions, I ran out of there.”

“Okay, but don't forget that we're going to stop by Carolyn's viewing right after this.”

Kate made a face. “Now that you mention it, I do feel a bit of a headache coming on.”

I shook a finger at her. “You lost your window of opportunity.”

Kate mumbled something that sounded a lot like “tyrant” as we reached the glass doors to the museum and ducked inside. Kate let her coat fall open to reveal knee-high black boots and a body hugging pink sweater dress. I avoided baring my legs when the weather was so cold and had opted instead for black wool pants and a cropped black and white tweed jacket

I did feel like a nun next to Kate's sexy outfit, though. I felt that way a lot next to Kate.

“Thank you very much for returning my calls last night.” Richard came up to us in the museum's marble foyer but refused to meet my eye.

I smacked myself on the forehead. I knew there was something I'd forgotten to do. “I'm sorry, Richard. The police were at my apartment for a while and then I had to say good-night to Ian. I was so tired when everyone left that I collapsed.”

Richard pulled himself up to his full height. “Excuse me. Did you say Ian? Were you on a date with him despite my warnings?”

“This should be good,” Kate said.

“He may have a few tattoos and be in a band, but he's a nice guy,” I said.

“Do you mean to tell me that I'm being replaced by a Johnny-come-lately who doesn't even know the difference between Prada and Pucci?”

I sighed. “You're not being replaced.”

“I beg to differ.” He waved a finger in the air. “You've never forgotten to return my calls before.”

“I said I was sorry, Richard. It was an honest mistake.”

Richard held up a hand. “He's already coming between us. I can see that now. You're going to kick all your faithful friends to the curb. Is that the way it's going to be, Annabelle?”

“Out with the old, in with the blue,” Kate said.

Richard shook his head and I frowned at her. “It was only one date and it didn't even go very well.”

“Why not?” Kate asked. “Did you take my advice about the cookie dough?”

Richard looked scandalized. “I don't even want to know what the cookie dough is for, but I hope you're not taking dating advice from Kate.”

Kate stuck her tongue out at Richard. “For your information, Mr. Too Tight Pants, the cookie dough is to put in the oven so her apartment will smell good. It makes men think you're more domestic.”

Richard looked down at his tapered blue pants and sucked in his breath. “I'll have you know that skinny pants are in.”

Kate turned back to me. “So what went wrong?”

“Well, any date that ends with the police showing up at your door isn't a success in my book.”

“Really?” Kate winked at me. “You should borrow my book for a while. The rules are a bit more relaxed.”

Richard stifled a laugh. “A bit?”

Kate glared at him, and then turned back to me. “So nothing happened at all?”

“Well, not exactly nothing,” I admitted. “Things
were moving in the right direction until Detectives Reese and Hobbes showed up.”

“Spare me the details,” Richard said. “We're here to work, you know.”

The glass doors behind us opened, and two huge men dressed entirely in black leather strode through them. They wore riding goggles pushed up on their heads and looked identical from a distance except for the color of their goatees. One was red and the other dark brown.

“At least the florists are here,” Richard said.

“Are we late, girls?” Mack rushed up, his face flushed almost as red as his hair. “Parking was impossible.”

“Even for the Mighty Morphin Flower Arrangers,” Buster said, referring to their unofficial name. They usually had an easier time with parking since they drove motorcycles.

The actual name of their company was “Lush,” and they turned out some of the city's most cutting-edge floral designs. They were the first florists I knew who'd refused to put flowers in baskets and the only florists I knew who rode matching black and chrome Harleys.

I looked at my watch. “You're fine. Debbie and Darla are running a little behind.”

“You didn't try to call us, did you?” Mack asked. “We got new cell phones so the numbers you have won't work anymore.”

“Why?” Kate said. “You know you can keep your old numbers when you get a new phone.”

Buster shook his head. “We changed the numbers on purpose to escape from an M.O.B.”

Richard's eyebrows shot up. “You changed
your cell phone numbers because of a Mother of the Bride?”

Mack folded his arms across his massive chest. “Don't give me that look. You have no idea what this woman was like. She called so often that we couldn't get any work done.”

“If I hadn't gotten a call in over an hour, I assumed my phone was broken,” Buster added. “She made our lives hell.”

“Don't curse,” Mack scolded. Their Christian biker gang frowned upon cursing, and they were pious to the point that they considered “hell” a curse. Luckily they didn't have a hard and fast rule against badmouthing clients.

“You don't have to explain to me,” I said. “I've had my share of awful M.O.B.'s.”

Mack put a hand on my arm. “But we love this one. Drunks are so much fun.”

“I wish all our clients drank as much as they do.” Kate gave Mack a nudge and the two began giggling.

“Hush.” Buster looked over his shoulder.

“I don't think it's a huge secret, boys,” I said. “The entire theme for this wedding is booze. We have mint juleps before the ceremony, a bourbon tasting bar during cocktails, and a rum-soaked groom's cake and chocolate martinis passed for dessert.”

“I hope no one lights a cigarette,” Kate said. “The whole place will go up in flames.”

“We're here!” Darla's voice carried from the entrance as she attempted to hold the glass doors open for her daughter. They both looked a bit unsteady.

Richard rushed forward. “Allow me.” He held open the doors as the women teetered past.

“Aren't you precious?” Darla blew a kiss behind her.

“Did we miss anything?” Debbie clutched her Burberry bag in front of her and swayed slightly. Her mother had an identical handbag, and I noticed that the women wore matching Burberry headbands in their dark brown hair. “Lunch at Vidalia ran a teensy bit long.”

My stomach growled at the mention of the Southern-inspired restaurant. It was a shame that the ladies had probably never sampled the world-class lemon chess pie. I doubted they'd actually ingested anything at the restaurant that didn't come in a martini glass.

Darla leaned on Buster's arm. “We had a floral inspiration while we were sitting at the bar.”

Leave it to Darla and Debbie to get inspiration on a bar stool.

Debbie clapped her hands. “We want to recreate the wall of magnolias that they have behind the bar.”

Mack looked around at the towering marble hall of the museum flanked by two sweeping stairways. “Where do you envision putting up a magnolia wall?”

Darla waved toward the opposite end of the hall. “We thought it could go behind the band as a backdrop.”

Mack fiddled with his goatee. “That could work.” He walked forward a few steps, and we all followed him into the main hall. “I see a matching garland of magnolia draping across
the front and coming down the banisters.”

“Perfect,” Debbie said. “Now where are we putting the bars?”

Richard stepped forward with the floor plan. “Since you wanted more bars than we normally would do for two hundred guests, we have two down here with the bourbon bar and two upstairs.”

“Shouldn't we have a bourbon bar upstairs as well?” Darla asked, digging in her purse. She produced a miniature cocktail shaker covered in pink crocodile. “I'd hate for guests to have to hunt around for it.”

Richard made a few marks on the floor plan. “So that makes two bourbon bars, one up and one down.”

I tried not to gawk as Darla shook the cocktail shaker vigorously. Was she going to make herself a drink in the middle of the museum?

“Perfect,” Debbie said. “Now let's talk about the decorative ponies.”

All of our mouths dropped open as we stared at the women. Darla took a swig from her shaker.

“I'm sorry.” Buster gave his head a jiggle as if to clear his ears. “Did you say ponies?”

“That's right.” Debbie hopped up and down. “We thought another way to personalize the wedding would be to have miniature ponies wandering around the cocktail hour for guests to pet. I used to love horses as a girl. You did say that we should bring personal elements into the wedding, didn't you, Annabelle?”

Richard gave me a sugary sweet smile. “Well, Annabelle?” He was loving this.

Mack turned to me. “Technically, ponies wouldn't fall under decor.”

Oh no. He wasn't pawning this off on me. Where would I find midget horses?

“I think they would since they're called ‘decorative ponies,'” I said.

“They're not decorative unless they have flowers on them,” Mack countered.

“What a wonderful idea!” Darla said. “We should have floral wreaths around the ponies' necks.”

Kate grinned at Buster and Mack. “Ponies as floral decor. What will you think of next?”

“You don't want to know,” Buster grumbled.

“As great an idea as this is, I doubt the museum will go for it.” I watched the women's faces fall.

“Decorative ponies would also require special permits,” Richard said. “Now if you wanted to use dogs or cats, that's another matter, but horses, sheep, and ducks need a permit.”

Not surprising that Richard would know this. He had a knack for knowing every obscure city rule and ordinance, which came in handy when clients made odd requests.

I jumped in before Debbie got the urge to have cats wandering around her wedding. I could imagine sounds of hissing and yowling cats wafting above the string quartet. Not to mention the number of extra Band-Aids I'd need for all the guests who'd get scratched. “I think you have plenty of personal touches already. Not every wedding has a cake in the shape of the groom's dog.”

Debbie didn't look convinced. “Well, if you're sure we don't need the ponies…”

“Oh, I'm sure.” I gave them a reassuring smile. “Trust me.”

“Of course we do, darling. If it doesn't work, it doesn't work.” Darla took a final drink from her cocktail shaker and dropped it back in her Burberry bag. Now I knew why she always carried an oversized purse. “Can you finish up the rest without us? We have tennis in half an hour.”

“We're as good as done,” I said, and followed the women back to the front doors.

“I'll send you the revised floor plan this afternoon,” Richard said.

Buster adjusted the goggles on his head. “And we'll add the magnolia wall and garland into the proposal and send you a new copy.”

“Don't forget the ponies,” Kate said under her breath, and got glares from both Buster and Mack.

“No rush, dolls.” Darla gave both men a smile that looked a bit like a leer.

“Fabulous to see you all.” Debbie blew air kisses as she followed her mother's weaving path out of the museum.

Once the doors had closed behind the women, Kate let out a long breath. “Wow. They're really off their knockers.”