Annabelle Archer BoxSet, page 151
part #1 of Annabelle Archer Series
“In my own house?” Mr. Hamilton bellowed, pushing me to one side as he charged into the room.
His wife stepped out of Tarek’s embrace, spinning to meet her husband with equal fire. “Now I can’t even be consoled by a friend?”
“Is that what we’re calling it now?” Mr. Hamilton’s laugh was rough. “Consoling?”
Richard hurried out of the room and clutched my arm. “Do you think we have time to pop some popcorn?”
“This is rich,” Mrs. Hamilton threw back her head. “Are you really getting angry at me for being unfaithful?”
“I don’t care who you sleep with, dear,” her husband spat out his words, “as long as it’s not him.”
Tarek took a step toward his rival. “Don’t you talk to her like that.”
“Do you think this is going to get ugly?” I said to Richard. “Should we call the police?”
Richard held up two fingers. “One, it’s already ugly. And two?” He pointed to Daniel and Mike as they backed toward us, their eyes on the exploding love triangle. “We have our own cops.”
“I can’t believe this.” Mr. Hamilton jabbed a finger in his wife’s direction. “I’m off paying the ransom to save our daughter, and you’re carrying on behind my back.”
“You’re the reason Veronica was kidnapped in the first place,” Mrs. Hamilton screamed. “All of this is your fault.”
“And I suppose it’s my fault you’re sleeping with your best friend’s husband?” Mr. Hamilton matched his wife’s volume, and I backed further away.
Mrs. Hamilton narrowed her eyes until they were slits. “At least I didn’t sleep with the help.”
Her husband’s mouth dropped open, as Tarek stared back and forth between the pair. I suspected this was more than he’d bargained for when he’d started the affair or decided to pop over to the house.
Richard’s grip on my arm tightened. “I’ve seen telenovelas with less drama than this.”
I rubbed my forehead. “If someone turns out to have an evil twin, I’m out of here.”
22
“Well, that was awkward,” Richard said as we regrouped with Daniel and Mike in the foyer.
We could still hear raised voices as the Hamiltons argued, but standing in the doorway and watching them rip into each other had seemed voyeuristic, so I’d hustled everyone out and closed the study doors to muffle the sounds. Even now, my first instinct was to protect my client and keep the wedding day humming along.
“You know who would be in her element?” I asked no one in particular.
“Kate,” Richard said, not meeting my eyes.
I cleared my throat to keep my voice from cracking. “Although with her Jedi skills when it comes to romantic entanglements, I’m surprised she didn’t call some of this earlier. She can usually tell if people are having an affair or are in love at fifty paces.”
“Did she spend much time with the Hamiltons together?” Richard asked.
“You’re right. She didn’t.” I felt my eyes water as I thought fondly of Kate and how she’d predicted my relationship with Reese before I was even sure he liked me. I forced myself to think positively. “Good thing she’ll be back soon, and I can fill her in on all the drama she’s missed.”
Richard twisted to face Mike. “How long until we should expect Veronica and Kate to be let go?”
Reese exchanged a look with his brother before answering. “If the kidnappers got what they wanted, it shouldn’t be long.”
“Good.” Richard nodded brusquely. “I, for one, have a five-course Venetian dinner to pull off, and these shenanigans have been more than a little distracting.”
I pulled the wedding day schedule out of my dress pocket and flipped through the crinkled pages. “We shouldn’t be too far behind, and it’s not like we stopped setup. I’m sure once the bride is back, we can make up time somewhere. Maybe we cut the cocktail hour to forty-five minutes instead of an hour?”
Richard sucked in air. “You want to cut my cocktail hour? After all the time I spent coming up with the specialty cocktails and customizing the hors d’oeuvres?”
“How do you customize an hors d’oeuvre?” Reese asked me out of the side of his mouth.
“For one thing, they aren’t technically called hors d’oeuvres.” Richard put his hands on his hips. “The Venetians call their small bites cicchetti. I’m serving one dish I found in a Venetian cookbook from the 1300s, and I’m pairing it with the perfect cocktail: a Campari spritzer made with Prosecco.”
“Richard likes to be historically accurate with his cuisine,” I explained.
“My cicchetti can’t be rushed, Annabelle,” Richard said. “Can you take time from someplace else? What about the ceremony? Those things can really drag on.”
I leveled my eyes at him. “You want me to cut out the part where the couple legally gets married? The entire point of the day?”
“Not cut it out, darling. Just trim the fat.” He made cutting motions with two fingers. “Snip, snip.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” I said, knowing I had zero intention of shortening the ceremony. Officiants were rarely receptive to suggestions they cut out scripture readings in favor of custom cocktails.
Daniel turned to his brother. “I’d like to check on the other victim. Maybe she’s regained consciousness enough to give us some information. Even if Kate and your bride come back, we still have to deal with the attempted murder.”
Since Sherry had survived, it was easy for me to forget that killing her had most likely been the aim of the attack. This was no small matter since no one had left the property, which meant we still had a violent criminal running loose.
“Do you want to come with us?” Reese asked, resting a hand lightly on my back.
I took out my phone and glanced at the time, feeling a nervous flutter that we were just over an hour away from when guests might start arriving. “I’d better go with Richard and check the reception and dinner setup. If the bride reappears soon, everything will move pretty fast, and we need to be ready.”
He leaned down and brushed his lips to my cheek in a quick kiss. “Okay, but don’t go anywhere alone. We’ve already had two people kidnapped and one attacked. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
Richard linked his arm through mine. “Don’t worry, Detective. I’ll keep an eye on her.”
I wasn’t sure if this was truly comforting to him, but Reese patted Richard on the shoulder and thanked him.
“So,” I said as Richard led me through the casual dining room and kitchen, “you and Reese seem to be making friends.”
Richard gave me a side-eye glance. “I wouldn’t go that far, but he has shown an appreciation for my talents lately. Something certain people could learn from.”
I ignored the not-so-subtle dig.
Richard opened the French doors leading outside, and I shielded my eyes as we stepped onto the back terrace leading to the pool deck. The sun sat lower in the sky but still burned brightly, warming my skin and making me miss the air conditioning of the house almost instantly. I enjoyed the fact that the June sun didn’t set until after eight o’clock in the evening, but that also meant more hours of heat. I took a breath, inhaling both humidity and smoke in equal measure. I put a hand over my nose and coughed.
“Sorry.” Aunt Connie stood a few feet away and waved a hand to dissipate the cloud of cigarette smoke surrounding her. “I know it’s a bad habit. My daughter gives me all kinds of grief about it. Says I should know better, especially since I’m a nurse.”
“It’s okay,” I said, stifling another urge to cough. “I know it’s been a rough day.”
The woman dropped her cigarette and ground it under her foot into one of the beige paving stones. “I keep saying I’m going to quit, then the first time something stresses me out, I run right back.”
I tried not to focus on the cigarette butt I would now need to come back out and clean off the terrace before guests arrived. “I get it.”
“Any word?” Aunt Connie asked, a furrow forming between her eyes.
“Well, Mr. Hamilton delivered the ransom, so we’re hoping Veronica and my assistant will be released soon.”
“Good. He’s put my sister through plenty, so this is the least he could do for her and his daughter.”
I didn’t know what to say, so I smiled. Richard’s phone trilled and he pulled it out of his jacket pocket, sighing when he saw the name on the screen.
“What on earth could it be this time, Leatrice?” He paused to listen. “Hermes’s bedtime is whenever he falls asleep. He’s a dog.”
Aunt Connie looked a little confused as she walked past us into the house.
“No, I don’t think he’ll be permanently scarred if he watches Old Yeller. You aren’t taking him to a movie theatre, are you?”
I took a few steps closer to the pool, which was now penguin-free, and wondered where the little animals were hanging out. My eyes drifted to the pool house at the far end of the pool, which looked like a Tuscan villa that had been shrunk. This was where we had all of the performers staged, along with their food, so it made sense the penguins were hiding out in there, although I doubted they ate luncheon meat or snickerdoodles.
My own stomach growled as I thought about food, and I realized it had been hours since I’d eaten a bite. This happened to me at almost every wedding, because I got too busy to think about food until I was light-headed. My stomach was making noises loud enough to be heard by Richard.
“Good heavens,” he said, holding his hand over his phone. “Was that you?”
Before I could defend myself, I caught a glimpse of one of the waiters walking through the reception tent. I recognized the gait as being distinctively female, although the waiter had boy-cut blond hair. This in and of itself wasn’t something notable, but something in the stride made me squint my eyes to get a better look.
The waiter looked up and locked eyes with me, and I gasped. The blonde in the bistro apron ran from the large dinner tent into the draped one next to it, disappearing behind a wall of fabric.
I rushed over to Richard and shook his arm. “I just saw Tina Pink dressed up like one of your waiters.”
Richard lowered the phone from his ear. “What? That’s impossible. What would that disgraced wedding planner be doing here?”
“Revenge,” I said, feeling my heart pound. “What if this entire kidnapping doesn’t have anything to do with the Hamiltons, but is really an elaborate plot to get back at us? What if Tina Pink is the one holding Kate hostage?”
23
“Come on.” I pulled Richard with me as I ran around the side of the pool toward the two reception tents. “We need to see if I’m right and that really was Tina Pink or if I’m losing my mind.”
“Can’t both of those be true?”
I led the way through the open sides of the dinner tent, weaving my way between the ornately decorated tables topped with towering floral and feather arrangements. The chandeliers were illuminated, and the lighting team had focused the pin spots so light now sparkled off the gilded and jeweled masks sitting on every plate.
“Don’t bump the tables,” Richard yelled from behind me as I sucked in my stomach and squeezed between the gold ladder-backed chairs crowned with organza-beaded chair caps.
I made it through the gauntlet of tables and chairs and reached the draped entrance to the cocktail tent, pulling back the heavy crimson fabric and stepping into the second, smaller tent. I paused inside and let my eyes adjust to the lower lighting for a moment.
While the dinner tent was bathed in light and filled with crystal, white feathers, and glimmering gold, Buster and Mack had designed the cocktail tent to reflect the mysterious and sultry side of Carnival. Surrounded by crimson fabric walls, the space had a black-and-white checkerboard floor with gold scroll-patterned light reflected onto both it and the high-peaked ceiling. A mirrored bar stretched across the far end of the tent, and tall cocktail tables draped in black-sequined linens were scattered throughout.
I felt the air conditioning pumping into the tent from two units in the back, and the beads of sweat that had gathered at the nape of my neck immediately cooled. Guests would welcome this cool space after the ceremony in the open tent with only fans to move the air.
Richard opened the flaps of his jacket. “This is divine. Remind me why we didn’t air condition all the tents?”
“Because Mrs. Hamilton didn’t want to lose the view of her estate. If we put in AC, you know we have to put up fabric walls to keep the cool air inside.” My eyes scanned the tent for people and any trace of the person I believed to be Tina Pink. A pair of bartenders were stocking the bar, and a few waiters placed beaded votive candles on the tables, but none of them were the blond woman I’d recognized.
“I’m willing to make the sacrifice,” Richard said.
I threw my arms in the air. “Where did she go?”
“Look.” Richard pointed to a section of the fabric tent walls in the back, a sliver of sunlight entering the dimly lit space as the drape was pulled open and fell back again.
I noticed a flash of blond hair ducking between the folds of crimson fabric and headed toward it, instinctively hopping out of my shoes before I scuffed the polished black-and-white squares of the dance floor. “That’s her.”
Richard ran around the dance floor since he couldn’t easily slip out of his lace-up oxfords, but I made it to the back of the tent first and burst through the back of it, looking right and left for Tina Pink. There was no sign of her.
“Do you see her?” Richard asked, pawing at the voluminous fabric as he fought his way out of the tent.
“She’s gone,” I said, looking between the back of the house and the door that led to the garage-turned-catering-kitchen. “And I don’t know which way she went.”
Richard kicked the last bit of fabric from around his ankle. “Are you sure it was Tina Pink?”
“Pretty sure.” I thought back to the moment I’d locked eyes with her and had seen the familiar flash of anger. “If it wasn’t her, why did she take off running?”
“Maybe because a deranged wedding planner and her incredibly stylish friend were chasing her?” Richard suggested.
“You didn’t see the way she looked at me.” I began trudging around the tent to the house, still holding my black flats dangling by two fingers. “If that wasn’t Tina Pink, then one of your waiters has serious anger management issues.”
“You can’t honestly believe I would hire Tina Pink as a waiter,” Richard said, matching my steps. “I do remember what she looks like you know.”
I paused at the French doors leading inside the house. “First off, she cut her long hair, so now she looks like a boy. And secondly, you might not have hired her. She may be here pretending to be a waiter. It wouldn’t be difficult to show up in black pants and a white shirt, swipe a bistro apron, and wander around like you know what you’re doing. No one would think twice about it.”
Richard opened the door for me and held it while I stepped inside. “I like to think there’s more to being a waiter with Richard Gerard Catering than that, Annabelle. You know I require my staff to have a thorough knowledge of both Russian and French service.”
“I doubt she was going to grab a tray and serve filet mignon,” I said. “The only reason Tina Pink would be here is because she’s involved in the kidnapping.”
“Tina Pink?” Mack said from where he stood at the kitchen sink filling a pair of plastic spray bottles. “Are you saying she’s here?”
Aside from Mack, the kitchen was empty, but the air held the scent of coffee, and I saw that the stack of muffins in the middle of the oval table had dwindled in size. I wondered if my crew was stress eating or if the family had started to eat their feelings.
“Annabelle is convinced she saw her disguised as one of my waiters,” Richard said. “We chased after her but didn’t catch her, and I never got a good look.”
Mack gaped at me, his jaw slack as water overflowed the spray bottles and cascaded onto his hands. “If she’s here then that means . . .”
“This entire mess may not be about the Hamiltons at all, and it may be completely unrelated to any sort of terrorism.” I lowered my voice. “It could be Tina Pink getting revenge on Wedding Belles.”
Mack turned off the water and shook the water droplets off his beefy hands. “If it’s revenge she’s after, she could just as easily be after Buster and me. After all, we were partly responsible for bringing her husband to justice.”
“I think if it comes to kidnapping, Kate is an easier target than the two of you,” I said.
Richard leaned against the marble countertop. “Let’s say Tina Pink did kidnap Kate and the bride. Why is she still running around here?”
“Maybe part of the fun is seeing us worry?” I said, although I didn’t really believe it.
“Do you really think a former wedding planner could do this?” Mack asked. “This is a pretty serious crime.”
“And was she a great planner in the first place?” Richard drummed his fingers on the white-and-gray marble. “This plan took some serious coordination. I honestly didn’t think that bimbo had it in her.”
“Which bimbo?” Fern asked, coming into the kitchen with an empty champagne bottle in each hand. “Kim, Kylie, Kendall?”
“Tina,” I said, opening the under-cabinet recycling bin for Fern.
Fern dropped the bottles and tilted his head at me. “Which show is she on?”
“She’s not,” I said. “We’re talking about Tina Pink.”
“That awful wedding planner with the even more awful husband?” Fern hiccupped. “I still have nightmares about him coming after me.”
“Annabelle thinks she saw Tina here,” Mack said.
“What?” Fern looked wildly around. “What would she be doing here? You don’t think she’s come to finish off the job, do you?”
“If it was, in fact, Tina I saw with her hair cut like a man and dressed up like a waiter,” I said, “I think she may be involved in the kidnapping.”
