Veil of Night (8 page)

Audrey Whisenant, the pastry chef, shrugged her muscled shoulders. She’d been an Olympic swimmer back in the day and still spent a lot of time in the water, but after winning a bronze medal she’d decided competition wasn’t her thing. Instead, she explored another passion of hers—baking. Her cakes were works of art, lighter and with a silkier texture than the average wedding cake. Unlike a lot of pastry chefs, she decorated her own cakes, too. “Now, if I can just get her to choose the flavors and fillings for the cakes. I have a couple of weeks’ leeway on these cakes, but I’d like to get the details nailed down because I’m going on vacation next week.”

“Then let’s see if we can move on you for now, and give things time to calm down between—”

Behind them, Carrie chirped a cheerful, “Bye, love you,” to her poor unsuspecting groom, the sound followed almost immediately by a thud and crash as she swiped her arm across the table, sending Estefani’s book flying, along with kabob skewers, cake samples, ribbons, brochures, a couple of ink pens, and Jaclyn’s appointment book, all of which went skidding across the floor.

“Who do you think you are?”
Carrie’s voice was low but textured with venom as she stalked toward them. Melissa, Bishop, and Audrey faded back a little, but Jaclyn held her ground, figuring it was her job to stand between them and the advancing demon. Estefani, though, narrowed her eyes and tensed her small dumpling of a body as if she was ready to put up her dukes. The mental image made Jaclyn’s mouth quirk as she struggled not to smile.

“Audrey is going on vacation next week,” Jaclyn said, hoping to deflect Carrie’s attention. “There’s some time to spare on the cakes, but if you can—”

The blow came out of nowhere. Carrie’s palm cracked against her left cheek, sending her stumbling back. For a moment the shock and surprise were so great that Jaclyn seemed to disconnect from reality; the next thing she knew, she was standing with her hand pressed against her burning cheek and Bishop’s muscular arms were holding her steady until she could regain her balance.

“You’re
fired!”
Carrie spat at her. Her pretty face was twisted in rage, but her eyes were disturbingly cold and calm, as if two people inhabited the same body. “How dare you talk about me behind my back, undermine me with the people
I
choose to give my business to? From day one you’ve done everything you can to ruin my wedding, but this is the last straw. By the time I’m finished, you’ll be lucky if you can get a job planning a plumber’s wedding.
No one
in Buckhead will ever use you again, and you know what that means. I want my money back, too, because you certainly haven’t earned it!”

Jaclyn’s head swam, but she stiffened her spine, forced the jelly out of her knees. Pride made her remove her hand from her face, as if the stinging had stopped. Her heart was racing so fast she could barely breathe. Her right hand curled into a fist; she could feel the muscles in her arm tensing of their own accord, as if she no longer had control over them, but Bishop saw the telltale sign and placed a warning hand on her wrist, at the same time putting another one on Estefani’s shoulder. “Don’t do it,” he murmured, so low Carrie couldn’t hear him. “The bitch would have you arrested for assault.” Behind Carrie, Irena had shifted position so she was directly behind her, and the caterer looked ready to take her down.

He was right. Jaclyn took a deep breath. As things stood now, she was the one who had grounds for making any charges, if she chose to go that route. She wouldn’t, so long as Carrie didn’t escalate and hit someone else, but she should be smart and hold to her legal high ground. And, for Premier’s sake, she would end this association as professionally as possible.

“I think all of the appointments should be rescheduled for another day,” she said calmly, giving Bishop and Irena looks that said
Get Estefani out of here
, as well as
I’ll be okay
.

“Who gives a fuck what you think?” Carrie asked viciously. “These people work for me, not you!”

Maybe so, but “these people” were moving to do exactly what Jaclyn had suggested, picking up the items scattered on the floor, replacing them on the table. Melissa picked up Jaclyn’s appointment book and was brave enough to approach with it in her hand. “Thank you,” Jaclyn said, taking the book. Melissa immediately backed away again, out of striking distance. As Carrie’s hand moved as if she would slap the book from Jaclyn’s grasp, she said sharply, “If you hit me again, I’ll have you arrested. Is that plain? It’ll make a great headline in the newspaper.”

“I have some paperwork to do,” Melissa ventured, and Jaclyn gave her a brief nod, telling her that clearing the deck was the best thing she could do right now. Melissa wheeled and in short order had the room cleared, the vendors’ tense but muted voices fading as they walked down the hallway.

The two women faced each other, both of them squared off and ready for battle.

It was probably the part about the newspaper, rather than being arrested, that made Carrie clench her jaw and keep her hand by her side. “Do you think any Atlanta cop would do anything to me, considering who I’m marrying?”

“Maybe not, but you aren’t in Atlanta. You’re in Hopewell, and I’m involved with one of the detectives, so you might not fare so well with him,” Jaclyn said, seizing on Eric as a weapon even though he might dispute the “involved” part. “Regardless of that, if you hit me again I’m pretty sure I could hit you back and everyone here would testify that I was defending myself. Before you go that route, you should know that I take kickboxing, and I can wipe the floor with your ass.”

Okay, so much for being professional. The part about kickboxing was a lie, too, but damn if she didn’t mean it about wiping the floor with Carrie’s ass. She was so angry she was pretty sure she could do it. And whether it was the expression on her face or her threat, Carrie reevaluated her actions.

“As if I’d brawl with you like two bar sluts,” she sneered. “You might as well leave. I’ll expect my refund check in the mail within the week.”

“I’ll see to it immediately,” Jaclyn said. “Though the amount will be prorated by the time I’ve spent on the job, most of which has been accomplished.”

Carrie’s face flushed an ugly red. “I want the full amount refunded. If you’d done your job, you wouldn’t have been fired!”

“Read the contract you signed. I believe you might receive a thousand or so in refund.” Considering how hefty Premier’s fee had been, it wouldn’t bother her at all to send Carrie a check for a thousand dollars. In fact, it would be downright satisfying.

“We’ll see about that!” Carrie hissed. “My lawyer will be in contact.”

“As soon as possible, please. And be certain to tell him there were five witnesses who saw you strike me. I’m sure he’ll be thrilled with that.” The adrenaline burning through her made her bare her teeth in a smile that probably looked more like a snarl. Jaclyn had never been in a fight in her life, at least not one that got physical, but she was almost hoping Carrie
would
take another swing at her because she’d never wanted anything as much in her life as she wanted to punch the bitch on the nose.

“If they want to keep their jobs, they’ll be smart and not say anything,” Carrie said, but her cold, watchful gaze was less certain.

Jaclyn snorted. “They could all walk away and have other jobs within the hour. Which is what I’ll do,” she added, “and there’s no way it won’t be with someone I like more. Have a happy wedding. Maybe someone will show up, other than the poor victim … uh, groom.”

The childish shot didn’t do anything to lessen her anger but it did make her feel better. She spun on her heel and stalked off. For whatever reason Carrie didn’t yell anything else at her, so she even had the satisfaction of having the last word.

With every step she took the weight on her shoulders lessened. Free! The way it had happened was ugly, but she was released from the burden of dealing with Carrie ever again. From here on out, nothing that happened was her problem. By the time she reached her car she was beginning to think her throbbing cheek was worth the end result.

She unlocked the car and opened the door, standing there for a minute while some of the fierce afternoon heat dissipated from the interior. Taking out her cell phone, she called her mother. Madelyn answered quickly and brightly, obviously curious about how the afternoon had gone, but not curious enough to spend the afternoon at the reception hall, in the midst of the action.

“It’s done?” Madelyn asked.

“Yep—in more ways than one.”

Madelyn’s voice immediately changed, taking on a wary tone. “What happened?”

“A lot. We’re going to have to throw a lot of business to these vendors before they forgive us for Carrie Edwards. Gretchen quit. The others may, too. And, best of all, Carrie fired me.” She didn’t want to go into details right then, because her emotions were still running hot, her self-control was holding but was a tad shaky, and she wanted time to calm down before she told Madelyn exactly how it had all gone down.

“Hallelujah,” Madelyn breathed. “Tell me all. Can you meet me at Claire’s for coffee? I have almost an hour to kill before I meet the party for tonight’s wedding.”

A cup of coffee, and maybe one of Claire’s fabulous blueberry muffins, would be a great way to wind down after a tense afternoon. “I can be there in less than ten minutes.”

“I can be there in five. Tell me what you want and I’ll have it waiting.”

Jaclyn complied, ended the call, and got in her car. As she started the engine a silver sedan pulled into the parking slot to her right. A man stepped out of the car, and she stopped to look at him because she had to wonder if Carrie had scheduled any other meetings she didn’t know about. Anything was possible. But she didn’t recognize the gray-haired man who was wearing a well-cut gray suit, with a white shirt and a red tie; he was probably someone arriving to see Melissa about booking the hall. He glanced in her direction as he strode toward the side door, but his mind was definitely elsewhere.

She hoped he was lucky enough not to encounter Carrie. If he did, that was his tough luck.

It was
so
not her problem!

Chapter Seven

JACLYN USED THE FAIRLY BRIEF DRIVE TO TRY TO CLEAR
her mind and settle down, because Madelyn was going to be upset enough when she heard what had happened. She didn’t want to add to her mother’s agitation by being an emotional wreck; she wanted to be calm and cheerful about the outcome even if the way it had happened was enraging.

She deliberately didn’t think about Carrie. Instead she imagined a nice, hot cup of coffee and a warm blueberry muffin. She didn’t indulge in the muffins very often, so having one was a real treat, one she thought was well-deserved—though whether as consolation or reward was up in the air. Thinking of coffee made her think of Eric, and she wondered if he liked blueberry muffins, and if he did, would he stop at a chic establishment like Claire’s to get one? Probably not; it wasn’t at all a cop kind of place. Most of the customers were women, but the coffee was good and the baked goods were phenomenal, so maybe she could convert him. All day she’d very determinedly pushed away her thoughts of him, but now she gratefully seized on anything that would take her mind off what had just happened, and help her to calm down—though thinking about Eric made her feel agitated in an entirely different way.

She pulled off the busy street into the small parking lot and spotted her mother sitting in the shade at one of the outdoor tables, all of which sported huge umbrellas to shield the patrons from the sun. The small table held two cups of coffee and a couple of muffins; Madelyn was already pinching bites from one of them. Jaclyn got out of her car and unhurriedly walked through the wrought-iron gate; it could even be said that she sauntered, but it was the memory of Eric that put the slow sway into her hips.

God. Now she knew what the term “in heat” meant, which was
not
the kind of thought she wanted to be having right now. Maybe she should be thinking of the gorgeous knockout roses that were blooming in the small courtyard, or taking a dip in the community pool tonight—something calming and serene. Thinking of Eric was neither.

She sat down with a grateful sigh and smiled when she saw that Madelyn had even indulged and gotten the muffins with the glazing on top. Madelyn gave her a sudden sharp look, then jerked her sunglasses off and peered at Jaclyn’s face. “What’s wrong with your cheek?” she asked sharply. Jaclyn had so thoroughly succeeded in distracting herself that for a moment all she could do was give her mother a blank stare.

Then she realized her cheek must be red and said, “I can’t believe I forgot. The bitch actually slapped me, and I’m so relieved and happy to be rid of her that it slipped my mind!”

“She
slapped
you?” Madelyn echoed in an awful tone, her expression shifting into something so fierce as she half rose to her feet that Jaclyn put a calming hand on her mother’s arm. “I’ll have her guts for garters!”

“That’s some nasty, mean, stinky garters you’d have,” Jaclyn said, smiling. “Not that I’m happy she slapped me, but, damn, when you balance that against never having to see her again, the happy way outweighs the pissed off!”

“Maybe for you,” Madelyn hissed, fully on her feet now. “We’re going to press charges. Did you call the cops? Were there witnesses?”

“Mom, I handled it. I didn’t call the cops, but there were five witnesses so we’re covered legally if she tries to hurt Premier’s reputation.”

“I don’t care about Premier!” Madelyn’s eyes were slits of fury, and she was breathing hard. “That low-life poster child for skankhood slapped you, and I’ll be damned if she gets away with it!”

“Mom,” Jaclyn said again, her voice calm and patient. “I handled it. I told her I’d wipe the floor with her ass if she touched me again. I got our vendors out of there before any of them came to blows with her, though with Estefani it was a near thing. She may quit. I wouldn’t blame any of them if they walked away. Would you stop huffing and puffing like a dragon, and sit down? We have something to celebrate!”

Madelyn sat, but she continued fuming. “I know someone who knows Fayre Dennison,” she said. “I’ll make certain word gets to her just what kind of vicious shit-faced fluffer her son is marrying.”

Jaclyn’s eyes went wide in shock that her mother—her
mother!
—knew what a fluffer was. Her mouth opened and closed, then opened again. “Mom!” she said weakly, which was the best she could do.

“What?” Madelyn growled.

“Fluffer?”

“Oh.” A flush warmed her cheeks. She sniffed. “Well. Evidently you know what a fluffer is, too, so you can’t say anything.”

“I found out when I read it on a blog. How do
you
know what it is?”

“Oh, the same way,” Madelyn said airily.

“Uh-huh,” Jaclyn said. “Right.”

“Don’t go all Victorian on me when I’ve been ready to snatch that bitch bald-headed on your behalf, young lady.”

“And I’m grateful for the hair-snatching sentiment, which has nothing to do with how you know what a fluffer is.”

Madelyn gave her a stern glance. “I’m giving you the compliment of treating you like an adult. I imagine we’ve both done some personal fluffing, so let’s just let the subject drop.” She glanced at her wristwatch. “I want to give myself a cushion in case traffic is tied up, but I have another ten minutes or so. Do you have anything else to do, or are you finished for the day?”

“I’m finished. I have a ton of laundry to do, so I think I’ll just go home. The stress of dealing with Carrie has worn me out. I need a couple of hours of HGTV, or maybe the History channel, to unwind.”

“If anything else happens with that heifer, call me immediately. I don’t want you dealing with her again. If she contacts Premier, I’ll handle it.”

“Fair enough,” said Jaclyn. She’d held her temper and refrained from retaliating today, but she wasn’t certain she could do it again. She doubted Carrie would contact them again, though, because she wouldn’t want word of her behavior leaking out to the poor moron she was marrying. Sean Dennison seemed like a very sweet guy, and he probably wouldn’t believe it, but from everything Jaclyn had heard, Sean’s mother was a different kettle of fish. Fayre Dennison was a force to be reckoned with; Carrie wouldn’t want to butt heads with her, especially not before she and Sean were married, or there might not be a wedding at all.

She and Madelyn parted company ten minutes later. For her part, Jaclyn felt much better. Listening to her mother rant about Carrie had given her back her sense of humor and perspective. Carrie was behind her now, nothing more than an ugly little speck of fly poop on her rearview mirror.

Funny how just getting Carrie out of her life made her feel much less pushed for time, even though Carrie’s wedding wasn’t one of this week’s heavy load. Her schedule was still hectic, but her stress load had just been halved. Maybe she’d even have time for Eric after all. If just thinking about him had the power to push Carrie completely out of her mind, then at the very least she should muster the courage to find out if he was truly special or just another guy.

Maybe she’d call him. No, not yet. Uncertainly she bit her lip. Probably she should wait to see if he called her next week the way he’d said he would. And probably she should get over doubting herself and have a little fun. Eric didn’t have to be the love of a lifetime, or even this year. She’d had sex with him last night without being in love with him, without any sort of commitment on either of their parts, and the world hadn’t come to an end. Not that she intended to start sleeping around indiscriminately, which seemed kind of unsanitary, but she was overdue for a red-hot affair.

This could be a very interesting summer.

Melissa DeWitt looked up from the contracts on her desk, and for the fifth time in the past fifteen minutes she glanced out the window of the reception hall to see if Carrie Edwards’s car was still there. It was. She heaved a sigh. Why wouldn’t the woman just
leave?

She couldn’t see the entire parking lot, just one corner of it, less than a quarter of the large lot. Carrie had snagged a prime space in the shade. What a quandary she must have faced when she’d arrived: Should she choose the spot closest to the door, or one of the few in the shade? Melissa was a little bit surprised she hadn’t been blasted by the bride because there wasn’t a spot that offered both. God knows Carrie had complained about everything else.

It had been a while since Melissa had heard any noise at all from the reception area, but she’d been making—and taking—a sudden spurt of phone calls, so if there’d been any further fireworks she might have missed them. She couldn’t imagine Jaclyn was still talking to the foul-tempered witch, but why else would Carrie still be here?

Melissa had thought she’d faint from shock when Carrie had actually slapped Jaclyn. Poor Jaclyn! Then she remembered the flash of fire in Jaclyn’s eyes, and the sentiment vanished. Poor Jaclyn, my ass. If anyone could hold her own against someone like Carrie Edwards, it was Jaclyn Wilde. Just because she was normally calm and controlled, with the diplomacy of an ambassador, didn’t mean there wasn’t fire behind the facade. She wondered if Carrie had any idea how close she’d come to getting decked. Jaclyn hadn’t been about to return the slap, she’d been winding up for a full-strength fistfight.

But why was Carrie still here?

Melissa left her desk and stepped to the open doorway of her office, sticking her head into the hallway and straining to hear voices. Silence. Her office was on the other side of the building from the reception area, with a couple of other small meeting rooms and restrooms in between. All afternoon, since Carrie had first arrived, she’d heard the occasional raised voice. Usually there was a lot of laughter and good-natured joking, when these kinds of meetings were held here, but not today.

She didn’t want to face Carrie Edwards alone, but she wanted to lock up and call it a day, and she couldn’t very well do that if the bride-to-be was still in meetings. The only way to find out was to face Carrie. Since the woman had spent all day mowing down everyone in her way, Melissa wasn’t at all anxious to place herself on that path.

Taking a deep breath, she steeled her spine. If the bitch wanted to get violent with her, she
would
hit back. She wasn’t a violent woman—far from it. At the same time, she wasn’t sure she had the kind of restraint Jaclyn had displayed. Not that Jaclyn had been meek. If looks could kill …

Melissa strained to hear something, anything, as she walked toward the reception area, but the building was completely silent. It was eerie, knowing Carrie was somewhere in the building but not knowing where. She peeked through the door of the reception hall, noted that the table there was still littered with samples and paperwork, and continued down the hallway to the side entrance she’d left unlocked for Carrie and her vendors.

Curiously she stepped outside, wondering if Carrie was standing out in the heat talking to someone else. No one was there. Carrie’s car, and her own, were the only vehicles still in the parking lot.

She stepped back inside, frowning. Was Carrie in the ladies’ room? Had she gotten a ride with someone else and just left her car in the lot to collect later? Why would she do that? Not that it was beyond the realm of possibility, but it would’ve been common courtesy to at least stop by the office and let her know everyone was gone, and that she was leaving her car there for a few hours while she went out for a drink with a friend, perhaps.

Carrie had never shown any common courtesy, though, to anyone. Not only that, it was doubtful she had any real friends. Given that, Melissa hoped Carrie was off with an
acquaintance
who passed as a friend, and not lurking in the restroom, priming herself for another confrontation. She seemed to thrive on them. Melissa did not thrive on confrontation. The idea of being Carrie’s next target was enough to make her stomach clench in dread. She hadn’t been present for all the meetings today, but she’d checked in often and had seen enough—more than enough.

She braced herself, just in case, and went into the reception hall to clean up the mess Carrie had left behind. The table was cluttered and there were even piles of fabric on the floor; she could see a bit of it though the long tablecloth blocked much of the view. Even if Carrie was still here she wasn’t the type of person who cleaned up after herself.

As soon as she entered the room she caught a whiff of something unpleasant. She stopped, her head lifting and her nose wrinkling as she took a deeper sniff. Oh, dear. That smelled as if one of the toilets had overflowed. The restrooms were down the hallway, though, and she hadn’t smelled anything when she’d passed them. The farther she walked into the reception hall, the stronger the odor became. Had a sewer line ruptured?

Her steps slowed, and she brought up her hand to cover her nose. Her heart began to race. Something was wrong. Something felt very wrong. The hairs on her arms lifted as chills roughened her skin. She moved forward another three steps, and her breath caught in her throat, strangling her.

That wasn’t a pile of fabric on the floor behind the table, it was Carrie Edwards, staring back at her open-eyed and oddly blank through the fine net of the veil that had been draped over her face. Her blood pooled on the floor; kabob skewers—some still skewering shrimp and beef—stuck out of her body at odd angles.

Melissa vaguely heard a strange shrieking sound, and after a moment realized it was she who was making the noise. She had a reputation for being able to handle any crisis with aplomb, but other than a funeral, she’d never seen a real dead body before, and this was different from seeing one on television. Aplomb went out the window. Dear God! The smell, the congealing blood, the complete lifelessness of the woman on the floor, were all too gruesome and too real.

The end of a scream caught in her throat and she took a step back, her eyes still on the body. There was no reason to check for a pulse. She might never have seen a dead person before, but she didn’t have any doubt Carrie was doornail dead. No way was she going to touch her.

Okay. Okay. What should she do? She couldn’t just stand here and stare at a dead woman. Nor could she do what instinct said, which was lock the door, go home, and leave her lying there for someone else to handle. There
was
no one else to handle it.