Annabelle Archer BoxSet, page 147
part #1 of Annabelle Archer Series
“But if the guy is sleeping with Mrs. Hamilton, isn’t he already getting his revenge?” Richard asked. “Chances are the leaks Mr. Hamilton mentioned are coming from his wife indulging in pillow talk. Tarek Nammour is already doing damage. Isn’t it overkill to kidnap his rival’s daughter and destroy his company?”
“Maybe,” I said. “Either way, he’ll be here in a couple of hours, and we can question him.”
“Don’t forget the bride’s brother.” Reese held up a finger. “If he found out his father was turning over the reins of the company to his sister, he could have had plenty of motivation to try to eliminate her.”
“But wouldn’t he be damaging the company he wants to run? You don’t bite the hand that feeds you.” Richard frowned.
“You mean ‘don’t bite the head that feeds you’?” I asked, channeling my inner Kate to properly mangle the expression. “Or bite the hand that feels you?”
Richard let out a small sigh. “Now it feels right.”
“Maybe,” Reese answered, “but revenge isn’t always logical. We also don’t know what the brother knows. The bride being named CEO could have been a surprise to him as well.”
“I can tell you it wasn’t,” Alexandra said, sauntering toward us from the end of the hall as she pulled her hair up into a ponytail, her scent of sugar and perfume reaching me before she did.
I noticed her skirt looked twisted, and I regretted getting distracted on my way to specify that she wasn’t to seduce anyone in her quest for information. “You found the bride’s brother?”
“Oh, yes.” She winked at us as she linked her arm through Richard’s. “I had a lovely chat with the boy. Such a doll.”
This didn’t sync with how Mrs. Hamilton’s assistant had described him. “Victor?” I said. “Tall? Dark hair?”
She nodded. “All he needed was a little attention to get him to open up.”
I did not want to know what kind of attention she gave him. “And he told you he knew his sister was going to be made CEO?”
“He overheard his father talking to her. The poor boy was crushed after thinking for years he would follow in his father’s footsteps.”
“His father’s footsteps might be leading to jail,” I said. “So maybe he dodged a bullet. Do you think he had anything to do with his sister’s kidnapping?”
Alexandra glanced over her shoulder. “To be honest, I don’t think the boy has the initiative or ingenuity to pull it off. He’s not terribly fond of either sister, but I don’t think he’s clever enough to hatch a plan and coordinate a team.”
“I don’t think we can eliminate him yet,” Reese said. “I’m not discounting your intuition, but we need to fully consider everyone until we can eliminate them definitively.”
Richard’s phone trilled and he pulled it out of his jacket pocket, letting out an exasperated breath when he saw the name on the screen. “Yes, Leatrice. What is it?”
Reese gave me a questioning look.
“Leatrice is watching Hermes for him,” I whispered. “She’s had a lot of questions.”
“No, you cannot color his hair,” Richard said, tapping his foot in rapid-fire against the hardwood floor. “I don’t care if it washes out. I do not want a pink dog.”
Reese grinned. “A pink dog might suit him.”
Richard inhaled quickly as he listened, and I wondered if we were approaching breathing-into-a-paper-bag territory. “Absolutely not! I don’t care if perms are making a comeback. If I don’t get my dog back looking exactly like he did when I dropped him off, heads will roll.”
I took the cell phone from Richard. “Hey, Leatrice. It’s Annabelle.”
“Hello, dear. Can you tell Richard he’s being no fun?” Hermes yipped in the background.
“How about you go with non-permanent accessories?” I suggested. “You know they have feathers and colored hair you can clip right into your regular hair? They even have clip-in bangs.”
Richard reached for the phone. “No feathers and no bangs!”
I stepped out of his reach. “As long as it’s removable, you should be fine.”
“What a wonderful idea, dear,” Leatrice said. “Maybe I’ll try feathers too. Hermes and I can match. I guess we’re off to the beauty supply store.”
I hung up and handed the phone back to Richard, trying not to laugh as I imagined his face when he saw his Yorkie and my octogenarian neighbor in matching hair feathers. “Problem solved.”
“Are you out of your mind?” Richard asked, dropping his phone back into his pocket. “You authorized Leatrice to buy my dog a hairpiece. If Hermes has a comb-over when I pick him up, I’m not speaking to you for as long as I live.”
We paused our conversation as a pair of enormous masked performers approached in burgundy velvet cloaks and shiny white masks with elongated noses and chins. These two would certainly make a statement as part of the “row of masks” greeting arriving guests.
I waited for them to pass so I could start talking again, but they stopped when they reached us. “Are you looking for the rest of the greeters?” I asked, shifting in place as they stared at me from behind their blank masks.
“It’s us.” Mack’s deep voice took me by surprise as he and Buster pulled off their masks.
I gaped at them. “What are you doing?”
“We’re incognito.” Buster replaced his mask on his face, and I wondered if his motorcycle goggles were tucked under his black velvet hat.
“Why?” Richard asked.
“There are so many performers and vendors on-site, there’s a chance one of them is either involved in the kidnapping or saw something but is afraid to say something,” Mack explained. “So we’re infiltrating. We figure there’s a better chance of someone talking if they think we’re one of them.”
“That’s not the worst idea,” Reese said.
Since the two men were noticeably larger than every other masked performer, I wondered just how incognito they would be.
“Do not let Sidney Allen see you.” The entertainment diva would have a coronary if he saw two linebacker-sized performers with leather pants poking out of the bottom of their costumes.
“Is he the high-strung fellow with the clipboard and headset?” Buster asked.
“And the pants devouring his body inch by inch?” Richard said. “That’s him.”
Mack slipped his mask back on his face. “With that in mind, we’d better run before he sees us.”
The two men lumbered down the hall away from us, their capes flapping around their black leather calves instead of reaching their feet.
“Are those capes supposed to be high waters?” Alexandra asked.
Richard draped a hand over his eyes. “My life is a Fellini film.”
16
I led everyone down to the ceremony tent because it was far enough away from the house that no one could overhear us, and it was shaded so we wouldn’t get sunstroke while we talked.
“This is pretty,” Alexandra said as she took in the rows of folding chairs and the enormous gilded frame at the altar area flanked by two towering arrangements of white blooming branches and feathers. Since the tent was open on all sides, the view through the frame was of the rolling hills, the horses out to pasture, and the wooden barn in the distance. “Less fussy than the reception tent.”
“Guests will only be here for thirty minutes, so we tied the decor into the theme but used the natural landscape as the focus,” I said, taking a seat on the front row and picking up a feathered fan.
She winked at me. “You sound like Buster and Mack.”
“I guess all the years of listening to them describing floral decor has rubbed off.” I fanned my face to keep the beads of sweat that were forming around my hairline from trickling down my forehead.
“Do we think it’s a good idea those two are doing our undercover work?” Richard asked, sitting next to me with his back ramrod straight and not a drop of sweat in sight.
“I’m not sure how undercover they actually are," Reese said.
Richard gave him a quick glance. “Exactly my thoughts.”
“Great minds think alike.” Reese took the seat on the other side of me and draped an arm across the back of my chair.
“Well,” Richard sniffed as he scooted closer to me, “don’t let it go to your head.”
I took out my wedding day schedule and flipped it over to write on. “If every crime is based on motive and opportunity, why don’t we figure out who has one or both from what we know so far?”
Reese leaned over and whispered in my ear, “Are you trying to turn me on by talking like this?”
I elbowed him, hoping Richard wouldn’t hear and stomp off in a tizzy. I wanted to build on their moment of detente instead of reminding Richard of the ways he couldn’t compete with my boyfriend.
“You want me to Google all the terrorist organizations in the world?” Richard asked, producing his phone.
“Even if a terrorist organization orchestrated this, they didn’t burst in wearing ski masks and brandishing machine guns,” Reese said, flipping open his own notebook. “This was done with stealth, which makes me think the people involved were either on-site as part of the setup crew or were pretending to be. And we shouldn’t assume a terrorist group is behind the kidnapping simply because of the ransom. No group has claimed responsibility. I’m still not convinced the ransom isn’t a distraction to make us think this is terrorism when it may be corporate warfare.”
Richard rubbed his chin. “You believe the father’s claims?”
“I think he knows better than any of us what producing this ransom will do to his company and to him. It’s a clever way to strike at him without actually taking a shot at him, especially since he beefed up his personal security. This man felt threatened enough to hire a bunch of paramilitary guys to watch him like a hawk. We have to take that into consideration.”
“We should also remember what we know about Mr. Hamilton. If he’s the target, who hates him enough to pull a stunt like this to get even with him?” I said. “From what I can tell, it’s a lot of people. And plenty of them are related to him.”
Alexandra meandered to the altar area and stepped through the giant frame. “His son is pretty hurt about being cut out of the CEO job, but I don’t get the feeling he’d kidnap his sister to get back at his father.”
“The bride’s Aunt Connie had some choice words about her brother-in-law, but she also seems close to her sister. Even if you think your sister’s husband is a ‘heaping pile of horse manure,’” I made air quotes, “you don’t kidnap your niece to stick it to him.”
“Heaping pile of horse manure?” Richard said. “I feel like I might like this Aunt Connie.”
“She’s the same one Sherry told me was secretly being sent money every month by the mother,” I said. “So this family clearly has some issues.”
“Sherry?” Alexandra asked.
“The mother’s personal assistant,” I explained. “She knows everything. She’s the one who told me the bride and groom met at rehab, and the mother has been supporting her side of the family with her husband’s money for years.”
Reese scratched in his notebook. “I wonder what other secrets this Sherry knows. I should probably talk to her.”
“Does she know the bride’s mother is planning on asking for a divorce?”
We all turned around to see Fern striding down the aisle from the back of the tent.
“What?” I stood and let Fern sink into my empty chair.
“It’s true,” he said, taking the feathered program from me and fanning his face. “She was only waiting until after the wedding so she wouldn’t steal her daughter’s thunder.”
“When were you planning on telling us?” Richard asked.
Fern snapped his fan shut and rapped it on Richard’s leg. “I just found out when I was taking the curlers out of her hair, but it took forever to find you all. Do you know how long it takes to search every room in that house?”
“Who else knows about this?” Reese asked. “Does the father?”
“Not from what I could understand.” Fern unfurled the feathered program and resumed fanning himself. “Annabelle, sweetie, would you be a dear and get me some lemonade? I’m feeling a bit light-headed from my ordeal.”
“Ordeal?” Richard rolled his eyes. “You walked down a hill.”
I knew Richard hated anyone else to be more dramatic than him. Usually, it wasn’t an issue.
“Of course.” I headed down the aisle to the lemonade station. “But don’t say anything else until I’m back.”
I filled a champagne flute with raspberry lemonade from the large glass container, then decided to fill another for myself. The glasses were cool in my hands, and my mouth watered as I looked at the pale-pink liquid. I hurried back up the aisle and handed Fern one of the glasses.
Richard took the other. “You read my mind, darling.”
So much for quenching my thirst. “So Mrs. Hamilton told you all this as you were doing her hair?”
Fern drained half his glass. “She and her sister were talking while I finished her hair. To be honest, I think they forgot I was there. It happens a lot.”
I knew what he meant. It wasn’t unusual for clients to forget that waiters, hairdressers, and staff had ears. If we were around enough, we became part of the furniture to them. I’d heard plenty of juicy tidbits during wedding setup, especially when champagne was involved.
“Was she drinking?” I asked. Fern had been known to take the edge off his clients by either getting them or himself drunk.
He bit his bottom lip. “She might have taken a teeny sedative to calm her nerves, but I don’t think it was anything she hadn’t taken before.”
“Who could blame her?” Alexandra said.
She made a good point. Most doctors would probably prescribe a sedative to a mother whose daughter had been kidnapped, so I couldn’t quibble with that.
“So she was planning on asking for a divorce,” I prodded. “Did it sound like this was a reaction to the kidnapping or something she’d been thinking about for a while?”
“I’d say the latter since she’s already met with an attorney.”
“What do you think this means?” I asked Reese.
“The bride’s father is even less popular than we thought,” Richard answered for him.
“He’s right,” Reese said. “So many people have an issue with Mr. Hamilton, I think we really need to give more credence to the theory that this kidnapping is actually meant to hurt him.”
Richard gave me a smug smile. “See? I’m right.”
I narrowed my eyes at Reese. If he was trying to win over Richard, it seemed to be working, although I wasn’t sure I could handle a more self-important version of Richard.
I made a list of names on the back of my wedding day schedule. “The people we know dislike Mr. Hamilton are his wife, his son, his younger daughter, his sister-in-law, the groom, his mother-in-law, and an untold number of corporate rivals, including one who’s a guest at the wedding.”
“So the only family member who does like him is currently missing because she’s been kidnapped?” Alexandra made a tsk-ing noise in the back of her throat. “Bad luck for him.”
“Good thinking,” I said. “Another way to hurt the dad. Target his favorite child—the only family member who likes him.”
Richard made a face. “Ugh.”
“You disagree?” I asked.
“No.” Richard motioned for me to look behind me. “Ugh, here comes Sidney Allen.”
I turned to see the egg-shaped man making his way down the hill toward us, his face flushed from the exertion as he barked orders into his headset.
“Bless his heart,” Fern said. “One false step and he’s rolling the rest of the way down.”
I could tell Sidney’s Southern speech had started to rub off on Fern, who was already a bit of a chameleon.
“Who’s Sidney Allen?” Reese asked, watching the small man windmill his arms to keep from falling.
“He’s an entertainment designer,” I said.
Reese tilted his head at me. “A what?”
“He designs the entertainment and coordinates all the various performers.”
“That’s actually a job?” Reese gave a quick shake of his head. “I don’t think I’ll ever understand the wedding industry.”
“What’s up, Sidney Allen?” I asked, walking forward to meet the man as he reached the tent.
“Theft, that’s what’s up.” He stepped into the shade and began fanning himself with his clipboard.
“Someone mugged you?” From his seat, Fern shook his head slowly. “What is this wedding coming to?”
“For heaven’s sake, I wasn’t mugged.” Sidney Allen threw his clipboard down onto the grass. “My costumes were stolen.”
I thought of Buster and Mack wandering around in capes and masks. “Are you sure someone didn’t misplace one or two or maybe borrow them?”
Sidney Allen’s eyes looked as if they might pop out of his head. “Who borrows embroidered doge capes?”
“Doge capes? You mean the white ones with all the beading and feathers?” I asked. “You aren’t missing robes for your path of masks?”
Sidney Allen heaved his pants up a few inches. “The burgundy ones? Not that I know of. Why did you assume those were missing?” He tapped his earpiece. “Columbina Two. Can you count the costumes for the path of masks?”
“No reason,” I said, cringing as I saw Buster and Mack appear from the house and rush past the pool, barreling down the hill toward us, the long burgundy robes flapping behind them and their masks in their hands. The ground vibrated as they got closer.
Sidney Allen turned in time to see Mack trip on the velvet cloak and stumble forward, catching himself with his hands and rolling head over heels into the last few rows of chairs. I dodged out of the way as the wooden chairs crunched beneath his girth and scattered across the grass, but Sidney Allen was not so lucky.
“My costumes!” he screamed as Mack knocked into him, sending him skidding across the grass face-first.
Buster had slowed his descent of the hill and held his robe up with both hands as he jogged the last few feet. Reese went over to check on Sidney Allen, rocking him back and forth a few times to get him upright, while I checked on Mack.
