Annabelle Archer BoxSet, page 16
part #1 of Annabelle Archer Series
Alexandra shook her head. “That’s not who I saw her fighting with.”
My jaw hit the floor. “Who did you see her fighting with then?”
“What’s all this about?” Leatrice couldn’t contain the curiosity in her voice.
“Alexandra told the police that she saw Mr. and Mrs. Pierce fighting before the wedding, but it seems like it wasn’t Mr. Pierce after all.”
Alexandra sifted through the stack and held up a photo of the bride with her father. Dr. Harriman. “This is the one.”
I exchanged glances with Kate. “Are you sure?” It looked more and more as if the police arrested the right person. The bump on my head made me think otherwise, though.
“Of course.” Alexandra looked taken aback. “This one is much better looking than her husband.”
“She’s right,” Kate said. “You could never say that Dr. Pierce is as distinguished as Dr. Harriman.”
Richard took the photo from Alexandra. “I have to admit, the silver in his hair is quite striking.”
I threw my hands in the air. “This is a murder investigation, not a beauty contest.”
“I’m surprised to hear you’re still investigating the murders.” Detective Reese stepped inside the open door, nodding at Kate and at Richard, who shrank back against the wall. Alexandra brightened at the sight of the detective and didn’t notice Leatrice glaring at her.
I had to admit that in his black jeans and leather jacket, Reese looked a bit menacing. In a sexy way. The detective took a seat across the coffee table from me.
“I didn’t mean investigation,” I stammered.
He nodded, and then changed the subject. “I hear you were a victim of road rage this afternoon.”
“Is that what they called it in the police report?”
“I didn’t see a police report. You weren’t hit in my district,” Reese said. “I have friends in Virginia, though.”
“You were checking up on me?” I exchanged looks with Kate.
“Miss Archer, I’m a detective.” Reese raised an eyebrow. “Checking up on people involved in my cases falls into the job description.”
I felt a flush creeping up my neck. “Well, it wasn’t a case of road rage, Detective.”
“What would you call it?”
I touched a hand to my head. “Attempted murder sounds more accurate.”
Reese laughed. “Just because you were a victim of a hit-and-run doesn’t mean the driver tried to kill you. These kinds of things happen all the time.”
“The car didn’t just bump into me and drive away.” I swung my feet down. “He rammed me twice and pushed me off the road.”
Reese swept a hand through his hair. “Are you sure you aren’t exaggerating?”
“Do you think I got a concussion from being tapped on the bumper, Detective?” I pointed to my lump. “It looked even worse a few hours ago.”
“I don’t see how.” Reese stared at my forehead, a puzzled expression on his face. “Maybe you should consider airbags.”
“Thanks for the tip, but this is with airbags.” It would be much easier to dislike him, I thought, if he weren’t so good-looking.
“I find it hard to believe that someone would want to kill you.” Reese locked eyes with me. “Murder is serious business.”
I threw up my hands. “I’m glad you noticed.”
“We think the killer tried to get rid of Annabelle because she knows too much,” Kate insisted.
“That’s impossible. We arrested Dr. Harriman this afternoon for the murder of Clara Pierce. That was before your accident.”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “We heard. Maybe he had an accomplice, though.”
“You think you know something the entire police department doesn’t?” Reese cast a look at all of us. Richard shook his head vigorously, and Alexandra just smiled.
“We know that Mrs. Boyd threatened to kill Mrs. Pierce the day before the wedding,” Kate said. “Maybe she was in on it with Dr. Harriman.”
“Please don’t tell me how you got this information.” Reese gave a weary glance in my direction.
“It just fell in our laps.” I shrugged my shoulders.
“I’ll bet it did.” Reese stood. “I appreciate the call, but I can’t run around chasing rumors. I need hard evidence.”
Leatrice rushed to his side. “That’s why we called you. We do have evidence. We figured out how the murderer administered the poison.”
“Go on.” Reese sat back down. “I’m listening.”
“Take a look at these photos.” Leatrice handed him the pictures of Mrs. Pierce holding her cocktail. “Do you see anything out of place?”
He studied them for a moment. “No.”
“Exactly.” Leatrice danced around him. “The normal person wouldn’t think twice when seeing these.”
“Luckily, Richard isn’t normal,” I said. Payback for his comment about my messy apartment.
Leatrice pointed to the photographs. “These aren’t Richard’s straws. He doesn’t use them, and they weren’t on the bars. We checked.”
“Are you sure?” Reese sounded interested.
Richard peered down his nose at Reese. “Of course I’m sure. I’d die before using a cocktail straw for a wedding.”
“Clara is the only one with a straw in her drink.” Kate handed him a handful of reception shots. “See for yourself.”
“So you came to the conclusion that the straw held the poison?” The corner of the detective’s mouth twitched into a grin. “Not bad deductive reasoning.”
“You think we’re right?” Leatrice’s bell necklace jingled as she bounced up and down on her toes.
“I can’t say for sure, but it makes sense to me. Do you mind if I take these pictures back to the station?”
“Could you leave the ones of the hors d’oeuvres? The shot of the caviar-filled quail egg should go in a frame.” Richard started weeding through the prints spread out on the coffee table, then stopped when he saw Reese’s face. “Or you could take them all and bring them back whenever you’re done.”
“Just because you found this clue, doesn’t mean I want you hunting for others.” Reese directed his comments to me. “We’ve got the murderer locked up, remember?”
“You’re sure Dr. Harriman did it?” Kate asked.
“He had motive and opportunity for both murders, and now we might know the way he killed Mrs. Pierce.” Reese held up the photos.
“And I saw him arguing with Mrs. Pierce at the wedding,” Alexandra said, giving Reese a look that was either sheepish or flirtatious. “I got the husbands switched at first, but now I’m sure it was Dr. Harriman.”
“What about Mrs. Boyd?” Kate didn’t sound convinced. “We just forget about her?”
“Just because someone threatens murder, doesn’t mean they did it.” Reese met my eyes. “I don’t want to hear about any more snooping around from any of you.”
I gave him a sugary smile. “I’m going to be taking it easy for a while. You don’t have to hit me over the head for me to get the hint.”
His eyes flitted to my poorly concealed bump. “At least not twice, I hope.”
28
“I’m telling you, Annabelle. Maxwell sounded upset that you took the proofs.” Kate stood outside the bathroom and spoke through the door. We’d survived the night together, but we were having a hard time negotiating time in the one bathroom.
“You talked to him?”
“While you were in the shower just now. He said he left a couple of messages yesterday, too.”
“Did you tell him that I got run off the road and had to be taken to the hospital?” I dried off and put on my plush Willard Hotel bathrobe, last year’s Christmas gift from their catering department. “Otherwise I’d have returned them right away.”
“I tried, but he kept talking about how upset the clients were when they couldn’t see the photos. Should I call the bride and explain that we gave them to the police?”
“Don’t bother.” Not likely to do any good, anyway. A bride would cut you slack only if you produced a death certificate. “I’ll be out in a couple of minutes, and I’ll deal with it.”
I wrapped a smoke-blue towel around my hair like a turban, trying not to make it too tight. The shower had washed off the last bits of makeup and the knot on my head shone like a new penny. Maybe I’d let Kate have a go at downplaying it with pouty lips.
“Thanks for taking this morning’s phone calls.” I passed the office on the way to my bedroom. Kate sat at my chair with her long bare legs propped up on the desk. Since it was an office work day, Kate had worn her idea of casual Friday—pink silk shorts that left little to the imagination and a black and white striped top with spaghetti straps that tied at the shoulders.
Kate had the phone pressed to her ear and she rolled her eyes, mouthing the words “Alice Freakmont.” Mrs. Pierce’s death had elevated Alice Freemont to the role of our most demanding client. We called her Freakmont because she called at least once a day to freak out about something.
“What is it this time?” I whispered.
Kate covered the mouthpiece with her hand. “Is it okay for her bridal attendants to go bare-legged in July?”
“Tell her the latest trend is for bridesmaids to wear nothing at all under their gowns.”
Kate held the phone at arm’s length while she laughed. Just the thought of Alice, arguably the biggest priss on the planet, telling her bridesmaids to go naked under their formal, A-line dresses made me feel better.
I continued into my bedroom and stepped out of my robe. I pulled on a white fitted T-shirt with my favorite jeans and did a deep knee bend to stretch out the seat. A little tight but wearable. I had to stop letting Richard cook. He didn’t know how to make anything with less than a stick of butter.
“Yoo-hoo, anyone home?” Speak of the devil.
I stuck my head into the hallway and saw Richard coming toward me in a navy suit. “We’re conservative today, aren’t we?”
He opened the jacket and flashed the melon-orange lining. “Fooled you. This is my mood-swing suit.”
Kate stepped out of the office. “Just what you need.”
Richard buttoned the jacket back up. “What are we up to today, ladies?”
“I have big plans to do nothing,” I said. “I’m still recuperating from yesterday, and I promised Reese I would stay out of trouble.”
“You were serious about that?” Richard followed me into the kitchen. “The other times you promised to stop snooping around you never did.”
“But now we have the clue that proves how the murderer poisoned Mrs. Pierce,” I said.
“So now you don’t care about finding out who killed her?”
“You heard the detective,” I insisted. “They caught the killer.”
“But you aren’t totally convinced, are you?” Richard gave me a suspicious look. I could tell he didn’t trust me not to run off and try to solve the murder.
“My gut tells me the killer is still on the loose,” I shrugged. “If you have any bright ideas how to figure out who it is without making my head pound, I’m all ears.”
“We’ve talked to everyone involved in the case.” Kate squeezed by me and leaned against the counter. “How much more will we really be able to find out?”
“We’re the only ones who think the murderer is still at large.” Richard shook his head. “Maybe we’re wrong.”
“To be honest, we can’t afford to spend any more time running around looking for clues.” I poured myself a cup of lukewarm coffee. “Kate and I have another wedding this weekend, which we’ve hardly had time to think about.”
“Luckily the bride and groom are laid back and the whole thing has been planned for months,” Kate said. “I talked to them this morning. The rehearsal is still set for six o’clock tonight.”
I smacked myself on the head, then instantly regretted it as my forehead throbbed. “I forgot about the rehearsal.”
“Don’t worry about it, Annabelle.” Kate waved her hand. “I’m going to run it for you. You’re not in any shape to deal with rowdy groomsmen at this point.”
“Thanks. You’re right.” I sighed. “But I feel like there’s something else I’ve forgotten about. Something important.”
Richard cleared his throat and pointed over the counter to the pile of plastic tuxedo bags stacked on the arm of the couch. “They’ve been sitting here for almost a week. Are you planning on keeping them?”
I took a sip of day-old coffee, gagging as I poured the rest down the sink. “That’s what I forgot to do. Return the tuxedos from the Pierce wedding. The fines will be more than the cost to rent them in the first place.”
“Maybe if you explain the whole story, the guy at the tuxedo shop will give you a break,” Kate said. “Don’t you know him pretty well?”
“Yes, and after all the weddings I’ve sent him, he should let me have the tuxedos outright.”
“Do you want to go now and return them? I’ll take you.” Richard, sounding eager to have a mission, went to gather up the garment bags. “I don’t have anything to do since I’m still under police orders not to work.”
“Should you be going out so soon, Annabelle?” Kate asked.
I put my cup in the sink. “I’ll be fine.”
Richard opened the door and let me pass. “Famous last words, darling.”
29
“Sauro’s is two blocks down on the left,” I said as we exited Dupont Circle onto Nineteenth Street and drove past a series of formal restaurants catering to business executives. Waiters were sweeping off the sidewalks in front. Warm enough to eat outside if you could handle the exhaust fumes.
“I’ll drop you off, then circle the block for street parking.”
I’d have been finished before he found a space. Not the easiest place in the world to park. “Why don’t you park in one of the garages?”
“No, thank you.” Richard shook his head. “The last time I let a parking attendant have my car he readjusted the seats, reprogrammed my radio, and jammed my roof open.”
“That’s right. I remember it rained that day.”
“Exactly.” Richard pressed his lips together as he pulled over. “I looked like an absolute fool driving around in a convertible holding an umbrella.”
“Fair enough.” I stepped out onto the curb, dragging the garment bags behind me. “I’ll be waiting.”
I pushed the glass door to Sauro Custom Tailor open with my hip. The small shop was cool and quiet, a marked changed from the bustling street outside. Mr. Sauro appeared from the back of the shop and took the bags from me, laying them out across the counter.
“Another successful wedding?” He flashed me a smile as he thumbed through the bags, moving his lips as he counted. Mr. Sauro looked the same as he always did, a tape measure around his neck and silvery hair showing traces of once being dark. His hands were worn from hemming and tucking thousands of suits over the years. I wondered how many grooms he’d seen come through his store.
“You could say that,” I said. Most people who knew Mrs. Pierce would call it a great success.
“Almost a week late.” He gave a low whistle, and then winked at me. “Don’t worry about it.”
“Thanks, Mr. Sauro. I promise it won’t happen again.”
He waved off my apologies and opened the top bag. “Let me check the pockets. Don’t want to end up with an extra wallet.”
“I haven’t even opened the bags, so I hope all the components are there.” I sat down on the step stool in front of the wall-length mirrors and watched Mr. Sauro hang the suits on a metal bar as he inspected them.
Mr. Sauro winked at me. “When will we see your groom in here picking out his wedding clothes?”
“Not for a while.” I felt myself blush. “I’m too busy with work right now to think about marriage.”
Mr. Sauro made clucking noises. “I have a feeling the right man will walk into your life soon.”
Richard swung open the glass door and stumbled into the shop. “The best spot I could find is two blocks away in an alley. I’m starting to perspire.”
“Well, we’re almost finished here.” I stood up so Richard could sit on the stool.
“Take your time. I’m not going back out there until I cool down.” Richard took off his jacket and fanned himself with a brochure for After Six formalwear. “One drop of sweat and this shirt will be ruined.”
“A cigarette lighter and an empty plastic baggy.” Mr. Sauro held up the two items. “That’s all I found in the pockets.”
I took both from him as he went into the back of the store. I rolled the thin, silver lighter in my palm. Not the cheap, drugstore variety. I would need to call around and try to find its owner. I began to wad up the plastic bag when some white powder fell out onto my hand. I opened the bag and shook it, causing a small pile of white to gather in the pointy corner.
“Richard, take a look at this.”
“You’ve never seen a sandwich bag before?” Richard held his shirt away from his body with his fingertips.
“Not one with white stuff like this in it. Besides, why would one of the men have a sandwich baggy in his pocket?”
Richard walked over and took the bag from me “Well, what do you think it is?”
“I think it’s poison.”
Richard shrieked as though he’d been burned and dropped the bag to the floor. “How could you let me touch it? I’ve been contaminated. Where’s a sink? I need to get this off my hands.”
“Not that kind of poison,” I said. “The blood-pressure medication that caused Mrs. Pierce to die.”
Richard reached down and retrieved the bag, holding it away from him by the edges. “So whoever killed her carried the straws around in this bag, waiting for the right time to drop them in her drink?”
“It makes sense, doesn’t it? If only we could determine whose tuxedo this came from, but they’re all alike.”
“Were Dr. Pierce’s and Dr. Harriman’s tuxedos both in the pile we returned?” Richard ran a fingertip along the row of hanging black jackets.
I nodded. “The bride wanted all the men to match so she asked her father and stepfather to rent the same style as the groom and groomsmen. I counted eight tuxedos total, so they’re all here. It could have been either of them.”
