Annabelle Archer BoxSet, page 143
part #1 of Annabelle Archer Series
He flipped his notebook closed. “Years too soon, babe.”
9
“So what are you doing down here?” I asked Fern as he took the chair next to Reese.
Fern leaned back and let his arms flop to the sides. “I’m taking a break from the drama. I’m used to wedding day drama, but this is a whole new level. The bridesmaids are competing for who’s more upset about Veronica being kidnapped.”
“Crying?” I asked.
“None of them want to ruin their makeup or get puffy eyes, so they’re trying to emote without actually shedding a tear. It’s exhausting to watch.”
“Have I ever told you what a strange job you have?” Reese asked. “And that’s coming from a guy who deals with dead bodies on a regular basis.”
I turned so that I could peer out the wall of windows overlooking the pool deck and the two tents set up for the cocktail reception and dinner. The security team was interspersed with the setup crews, and since both wore black, I had to squint to tell them apart. The blazers and gun bulges let me know I was looking at a member of the father’s security team and not a lighting tech or sound technician. I wondered if the ex-military types were making any progress questioning people on-site or killing time until they got to shoot someone.
Reese stood up. “I have a good idea of the timeline of the day. Now I’d like to talk to the main players and see the last place the bride was seen before she disappeared.”
Fern sat up straight and crossed his legs at the knee. “Ask me anything you’d like, Detective. I’m an open book.” He paused and touched a hand to his throat. “Unless I’m a suspect. Am I a suspect?”
Reese grinned. “You’re not a suspect.”
“Whew.” Fern slapped a hand to his leg. “I started to have a flashback to the time you tried to throw me in the pokey.”
Reese mouthed “The pokey?” to me over Fern’s head.
I raised both shoulders. Leave it to Fern to take his brief stint as a suspect and blow it into a traumatic life event worthy of PTSD. “Why don’t I take you upstairs to the bride’s room where she was getting ready?”
Fern popped to his feet so quickly he made me think of a jack-in-the-box. “I can give you the full dramatic crime reenactment.”
Knowing Fern, dramatic was an understatement.
“A dramatic reenactment won’t be necessary,” Reese said, “but I would like to see the room for potential clues.”
Fern’s face fell.
I elbowed Reese. “But any details Fern might know would be helpful, right?”
“Of course,” Reese said, and by his tone of voice, I knew he was humoring me. “You were one of the last people to see the bride before she went missing, so your information will be especially helpful.”
Fern smiled and waved for us to follow him out of the room. “Veronica was upstairs all morning, from the time I arrived until she vanished. I never saw her set foot out of her room.”
“Although we found Kate’s phone on the floor by the door,” I said as we passed through the marble foyer, motioning to the large double doors. “It stands to reason she and Veronica left by the front door, although if they were being taken against their will, I’m surprised neither yelled out. There are so many people around, someone would have heard them.”
Fern paused as he reached the bottom step of the sweeping staircase. “But we were outside by the pool when Kate went inside to talk to Veronica, so we wouldn’t have heard anything, and most of the setup is going on outside.”
“True,” I admitted as I put a hand on the mahogany banister, “but I still have a hard time believing no one saw them leave. All the bridesmaids were in the sister’s room, and that’s right down the hall.”
“We should consider that the two women left of their own accord,” Reese said.
I shook my head. “Even if Veronica was capable of doing something like this, Kate never would.” I followed Fern up the curving stairs to the second floor and the large landing that divided into a hallway on each side. “Kate knows better than to take a bride off-site. Especially since she was in the limo with the bride who decided to drive around the block after I started the ceremony processional.”
Fern turned and put both hands to his cheeks. “I remember that. One minute we were sending the bridesmaids down the aisle, then we turned around and the limo was gone with the bride in it.”
“Do you remember how we had to tell the last two bridesmaids to walk very slowly?” I asked.
Fern giggled. “I remember watching you running around on the front lawn of the church looking for the limo. But that was better than watching those bridesmaids process herky-jerky down the aisle.” He put a hand on Reese’s arm. “I said ‘step and together’ but those floozies didn’t listen to a word I said. It looked like they were in a bad Claymation movie the way they lurched toward the altar.”
“Luckily, the limo looped the block and came back, but I lost a year off my life, and Kate got an earful,” I said. “She wouldn’t make that mistake again.”
Fern directed us down one of the wide hallways to a room with a pair of white doors. He flung both doors open to reveal the massive bedroom complete with a sitting area and an en suite bathroom. “Voila. The bride’s bedroom.”
Reese stepped inside and swiveled his head to take in the space. “This is where she was the last time you saw her?”
Fern pointed to the vanity. “I had blown out her hair by the window. She liked getting to watch the setup from up here. We could see Annabelle walking around with her schedule out, Richard waving his arms at people, and the penguins in the pool.”
Reese turned his head slowly toward me. “Penguins?”
“It’s not as weird as it sounds,” I said, gesturing to the stuffed animals on the bed. “The bride loves penguins. She’s obsessed with them. It’s the one thing she insisted on. Most of the other crazy ideas were her mom’s, but the penguins were hers.”
“Are we talking live penguins?” Reese asked.
Fern made a face. “Dead penguins would be creepy.”
“Yes, they’re alive. They’re here for photos with the bride and groom and to circulate during cocktail hour so guests can see them.”
Reese blinked at me a few times. “And you don’t think this is unusual?”
“I think after planning weddings for so long, my threshold for unusual is incredibly high.”
Reese shook his head as he turned back to Fern. “So it was you and the bride alone?”
“Oh no.” Fern waved a hand. “People were in and out all day. Mostly her mother, who drove her crazy, but all the bridesmaids were in and out talking to her.”
Reese walked the perimeter of the room, poking his head into the attached sitting nook with its overstuffed chaise lounge. “Anyone else?”
Fern tapped his finger on his chin. “Richard came up and brought nibbles sometime around midday, and a few waiters were back and forth with champagne.”
I noticed the empty champagne flutes on the nightstand and the standing silver wine bucket by the vanity, beads of condensation on the outside telling me it had been there for a while.
“It doesn’t look like there was a struggle,” I said. Even though the room wasn’t neat, it was no messier than most rooms were when brides got ready. Nothing had been knocked to the floor. Nothing was spilled or broken.
Reese inspected the bathroom, returning to the bedroom and putting his hands on his hips. “Very odd.”
“What?” Fern and I both asked.
“You’re right,” he said. “You’d never know anyone was taken from this room against their will.”
“So we’re back to the theory that they weren’t dragged out kicking and screaming?” I asked.
Reese held his hands out, palms up. “Well, if they were, they kicked in an orderly fashion and screamed so that no one heard a thing. Even if they were held at gunpoint, I’d expect some indication they were startled.” He swept his arms open at the room. “Does anything look different to you?”
Fern’s eyes swept the room. “Not a thing. She finished off her champagne glass, but that’s not surprising since I left her to come downstairs and find you.”
“Why did you need to find Annabelle?” Reese asked.
“To tell her the bride wanted to call off the wedding.”
Reese arched one eyebrow. “Is that normal?”
“Brides and grooms get cold feet,” I said, answering for Fern. “Kate’s good with nervous brides, so I sent her up to talk to Veronica.”
“I came back up a few minutes later, and they were both gone.” Fern put his fingers to his lips and blew out a puff of air while fanning his fingers wide. “Vanished.”
Reese took a few steps to the window and looked out. “So Kate either happened upon the kidnapping in progress, or it happened minutes after she arrived.”
I swallowed hard, trying not to imagine either scenario and trying not to blame myself for sending her to talk to the bride.
Reese turned around. “I know you found Kate’s phone, but what about the bride’s? I’m assuming she has one.”
“She was on it the entire time I did her hair,” Fern said, taking a few steps over to the vanity. “It should be right here unless she still has it with her.”
I felt a flutter of hope. “If she has it on her, we can locate the phone, can’t we?”
Reese nodded. “Let’s make sure it’s on her before we do that. Can you call her? I’m assuming she’s on speed dial?”
“No need. She called so often I just have to redial the last call received,” I said, taking my phone out of my pocket. After I dialed, I heard a faint ringing coming from inside the room.
“It’s here.” Fern tilted his head as he took steps toward the sound.
We all followed the sound to the bed, where Reese dropped to his hands and knees and lifted the crisp white bed skirt. He held up the ringing phone as he stood.
I felt my shoulders slump. “So much for that plan.” My eyes caught a flash of red by the corner of the bed, almost hidden behind the folds of the bed skirt. I picked up the single gummy bear, feeling my breath quicken as I examined the sticky candy covered in carpet lint.
“What’s that?” Reese asked.
“Either the maid here isn’t very thorough, or Kate left us a breadcrumb.”
10
Reese stared at the small red bear in my hand. “You think Kate dropped this as a clue?”
The initial confidence I’d felt when I saw the gummy bear wavered. “Yes. At least I think so. She may have done it to make us look under the bed.”
“Where we found the phone,” Reese added.
“She does always carry a packet of gummy bears on wedding days,” Fern said, wrinkling his nose at the bear so covered in carpet fibers and dirt that it appeared to have a full head (and body) of hair. “She offered me one a few times earlier today.”
“Okay.” Reese moved his head up and down slowly. “Let’s say she did drop this on purpose to lead us to the phone.”
“That means she knew something was wrong before they left this room.” My stomach clenched. “But for some reason, she couldn’t call out for help or call me.” I pulled out my phone, scrolling back to Kate’s last message to me, the collection of letters unintelligible. “At least not in any way that made sense.”
I held the screen out to Reese, who read it and put a hand on my arm. “You couldn’t have known that was her attempt at a distress call.”
“I know.” I dropped my phone and the gummy bear into my pocket. Knowing didn’t make me feel any better. “Do you think she left more clues?”
“Aside from her phone by the door?” Reese asked. “That was a pretty major one.”
Fern dabbed at his eyes with the corner of his red scarf. “Such a clever girl, our Kate.”
“But she might have dropped more before she was able to ditch her phone.” I ran my eyes over the floor of the room, but didn’t see any more spots of unnaturally bright color against the beige plush carpet. “She would have tried to do it subtly.”
We shuffled out of the room as a group, taking tiny steps as we bent over and searched the floor. We baby-stepped our way down the hall and the staircase until we reached the front door. I opened one side, and we stepped outside and onto the large circular driveway. I heard the marble fountain before I could see it, the dancing cherub rising up from the center of the large round fountain and spouting water that splashed into the pool below. I looked down at the designer welcome mat. “This is where her phone was found.”
“One question,” Reese said, eyeing the fountain that looked as if it had been plucked from the streets of Rome, “did they base the Italian theme around the house, or did they redecorate the house to go with the wedding?”
“Not even my clients are crazy enough to remodel a house around a wedding,” I said.
Fern sniffled. “I hate to think I must have missed them by seconds. I was probably walking from the kitchen when they were being taken out the front door.”
“And you didn’t hear a thing?” Reese asked.
“Who could hear anything over the opera singer rehearsing?” Fern asked, pantomiming putting his fingers in his ears.
“Before you say anything,” I said, as Reese turned to me, “yes, we have an opera singer to serenade the guests during dinner and, yes, I know it’s ridiculously over-the-top.”
Reese grinned at me. “I like that you’re starting to know what I think before I say anything.”
“I don’t care what Richard says.” Fern whispered to me. “You and the detective aren’t nausea inducing.”
I hoped Reese hadn’t heard that. I was used to Richard’s snark, but Reese might take it personally to have someone say he induced vomiting.
“I don’t see any gummies.” I bent down to inspect the gray paving stones of the driveway and plucked a piece of white fluff from the ground.
“We’re assuming she had any left,” Fern said. “You know Kate loves her gummies. She might have eaten all but that red one before she was taken.”
It was a good point. Kate munched on her gummies in proportion to the difficulty level of the wedding day, and with this wedding, I was surprised she’d had any left by noon.
Reese pointed to two small black orbs mounted over either side of the door. “Security cameras. We’ll need to get the footage if they’re recording and it’s not just a live feed.”
“I can ask Mrs. Hamilton’s assistant,” I said. “She knows everything house related.”
“So no more clues?” Fern sighed.
I held up the white scrap of feather. “Unless you think she started molting.”
Fern inspected it from multiple angles before shaking his head. “That’s not even blonde. It’s white, and thank heavens Kate hasn’t started coloring her hair white. I’m all for trends, but why girls want to look like old ladies by dyeing their hair gray or white is beyond me.”
“You have clients who want to go gray?” I asked, shoving the feather into my pocket along with the gummy bear.
Fern looked over his shoulder. “I don’t like to talk about it. I made a name for myself making my clients look younger. This trend could ruin me. If one of my clients insists on doing it, I make them swear they won’t tell a soul that I do their hair. Kind of like the agreement I have with you.”
I touched a hand to my hair, which was pulled up into a high bun. “I’ve gotten a lot better about coming in for haircuts.”
Fern crossed his arms over his black-and-white-striped chest. “Sweetie, you know I adore you, but hair maintenance is not where you shine. When do you not have your hair up in a bun or ponytail?”
I opened my mouth to protest, but closed it again when I realized he was right.
“I can name a few times,” Reese said under his breath.
Fern’s eyes widened in delight. “Well, well, well. Now this is getting interesting.” Fern sidled up close to Reese. “Annabelle tells us nothing you know.”
“I wonder why,” Reese said.
Fern pressed a hand to his heart. “I hope you aren’t implying that I would breathe a word to anyone.” He lowered his voice. “I am the soul of discretion.”
Reese did not look convinced. “Mmm-hmmm.”
Reese had good reason to be suspicious. All of DC’s best gossip passed through Fern’s upscale Georgetown hair salon, sometimes passed along by Fern but, more often than not, made up by him. It wasn’t unusual for his own gossip to circle back around and for him to have forgotten he made it up and be as shocked as anyone to hear it.
Before I could convince Fern there were no salacious details for him to ferret out, I heard the unmistakable sounds of creaking leather and heavy footsteps. I turned to see two massive stone urns approaching us from the side of the house with lush greenery and blooms bursting from the top and black leather-clad legs poking out of the bottom.
“It’s like the S&M version of Birnam Wood approaching,” I said as I watched Buster and Mack stagger toward us with the massive floral arrangements.
They made it to the front door where they lowered the urns onto empty pillars flanking the entrance, then backed up to assess the look.
“Were there always pillars on either side of the doors?” I asked, trying to remember from my many site visits.
“We brought them,” Mack said. “They usually have topiaries.”
I snapped my fingers. “That’s right. The ones that are twisted into tall spirals.”
“We moved those to the doors of the pool house,” Buster said.
I stepped closer to the floral arrangement, reaching my hand out to touch a white plume arching from the top. “There are white feathers in a lot of the arrangements for today, aren’t there?”
“White and black,” Mack said. “To go with the masks.”
I pulled the bit of feather from my pocket and tugged the gummy bear off of it, reminding myself to put them back in separate pockets. “Does this look like one of yours?”
Buster picked it up from my palm. “Could be, although it looks like this bit was pulled off a larger feather.”
