Annabelle Archer BoxSet, page 164
part #1 of Annabelle Archer Series
“Too bad we didn’t get to chat more at The Mayflower on Saturday,” I said. “You and Byron seemed really busy.”
“Byron was a lifesaver.” Gail’s cheeks reddened. “We were trying to get our bride over to St. Matthew’s Cathedral on time. You know how the monsignor there can be.”
“So you both left with the bride for the church?” I asked.
“Pretty much.” Gail’s eyes didn’t meet mine. “I got in the limo with the bridal party, and Byron walked over since there wasn’t room.”
“Too bad you missed all the drama at the hotel,” Kate said.
Gail bit her lower lip. “Will you excuse me a moment? I need to freshen my drink.”
“Don’t take it personally,” Bambie whispered. “She avoids any mention of Carolyn since they had that falling out when they worked together and Carolyn fired her.”
“When was that?” I asked.
Bambie tapped her chin. “About ten years ago, I guess.”
Kate’s eyes widened. “And she still can’t talk about her?”
“It’s been a long healing process.” Bambie drained her wine glass and looked toward the bar. “Does anyone else need another drink?”
We shook our heads as Bambie teetered off and passed a highly agitated Fern barreling through the crowd.
“This is a disaster,” he said when he reached us. “My model is a no-show.”
“Are you sure?” I asked.
“Well, we start in five minutes and she’s nowhere to be found.” Fern wrung his hands. “I’m going to look like a fool in front of every wedding planner in town.”
Kate patted his arm. “Can we do anything?”
“Since you asked, I did have an idea.” Fern gave us his most ingratiating smile.
I began to shake my head. “Please tell me it isn’t what I think it is.”
“You must admit, you’d make a perfect example of a ‘before’ look, Annabelle.” Fern took us by the elbows and propelled us through the crowd.
“Aren’t there any other people who could do this?” I asked, pointing to a woman in oversized sunglasses and long white-blond hair. “What about her?”
Fern gave a cursory glance at the woman I’d pointed out. “That’s not even real hair, and I do not work with wigs or weaves. No, you and Kate will be perfect.”
I sighed as I dropped my half-finished Coke on a nearby cocktail table. “Promise me you won’t give me state fair hair.”
“And no cutting,” Kate warned.
Fern held up a hand as we reached the door of the Crystal Room. “Scout’s honor. You won’t regret this, girls. Trust me.”
Fern pulled open the door, and we slipped inside the dimly lit room. With only the light coming through the windows on the opposite wall, the towering pale-green marble columns that dominated the room gave an almost eerie glow. Round tables draped in gold cloths took up most of the room except for a space at the front set with a riser and podium.
“My equipment is already in place.” Fern led us through the tables toward the riser. “I came early so I’d be ready to go as soon as people sat down for lunch. I want to dazzle everyone before they get too involved in their salads.”
“Good thinking,” Kate said. “But if you really wanted them to listen, you should have started before they hit the bar.”
“What is this?” Fern shrieked as he got closer to the front. “My table is a mess.”
He ran the last few steps and stopped short when he reached the riser. He clamped his hands over his mouth. I stepped around him to get a better look, and I froze when I saw why his face had lost several shades of color.
Eleanor Applebaum lay sprawled face down on the riser with what looked like the cord of a curling iron wrapped around her neck.
This wasn’t looking like a good week to be a wedding planner.
12
“Oh, no,” I said, taking a step closer to the body.
Eleanor Applebaum’s arms and legs jutted out at odd angles, and her hands were caught beneath the cord wound around her neck. Bright-red marks slashed her throat, and her face looked blue even in the low light.
“My curling iron!” Fern motioned to the chrome wand hanging down the back of Eleanor’s neck.
Kate and I turned to look at Fern.
“Does this make me an accomplice?” he asked.
I put a hand on his shoulder even as I tried to keep my own nerves at bay. “I don’t think you can be held accountable for someone using your curling iron to strangle her.”
Fern made a tiny noise in the back of his throat and sank into the nearest chair. “This is horrible.”
Kate darted a glance at the body. “I don’t suppose she decided to end it all in a really dramatic way.”
“Doubtful,” I said. “Someone took a big chance murdering her with all these people around.”
I glanced around the dimly lit room. Aside from the doors connecting the room from the hallway, the Crystal Room had two side entrances: one leading to a small room we used to hold brides before the ceremony and another that led into the kitchens. I was surprised the ballroom was as deserted as it was, and I expected a waiter to emerge at any second. And then, I knew, all hell would break loose.
The faint aroma of yeast rolls—usually my favorite—made my stomach tighten, and I was glad I hadn’t eaten any hors d’oeuvres. I wished I hadn’t left my Coke out in Peacock Alley though. The cold drink would have gone a long way to calming my roiling stomach.
“Maybe she ticked off someone and they killed her in the heat of passion,” Kate suggested. “Eleanor could be really annoying with all her competitive bragging and snide comments.”
Fern nodded. “If I heard her talking one more time about all the celebrity weddings she did, I might have killed her myself.”
“No kidding,” Kate said. “Maybe someone finally snapped having to hear about her million-dollar weddings for the hundredth time.”
“Don’t say that too loudly,” I warned, looking back at the door. I rubbed my head and tried to think. Why would someone want to kill Eleanor? I could only assume it was connected to Carolyn’s death. If not, the wedding business really was having a string of wild coincidences.
Fern grinned. “If only someone had told her that local weather-men are not really celebrities, it would have saved us all a lot of pain and suffering.”
“You two are awful.” I folded my arms in front of me. “The woman is dead, and you’re making fun of her for planning weathermen weddings.”
“Well, I made fun of her when she was alive,” Fern said. “I don’t want to be a hypocrite.”
Great. Now he’d decided to take an ethical stand.
“Let’s get serious, you two.” I leveled a finger at Kate and Fern. “We have close to fifty wedding planners who are going to walk in this room any second and find us with Eleanor.”
“You’re right,” Kate said. “This doesn’t look so great. Especially since we found Carolyn a couple of days ago in a similar state.”
“Exactly.” I didn’t want to think about what Reese would say. “The police aren’t going to be thrilled with us, that’s for sure.”
“But it’s a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time,” Kate insisted. “We’ve just had really bad luck.”
“I don’t know,” I said.
Fern studied me for a moment. “What do you mean?”
“Don’t you think it’s an awfully big coincidence that two of our competitors are killed almost right in front of us?”
Fern looked thoroughly confused. “Is this your way of telling us you did it?”
“No.” I glared at him. “What if we’re being set up?”
Kate’s mouth fell open. “You mean the real killer wants it to look like we’re eliminating our fellow planners?”
“Maybe,” I said. “I don’t know for sure. I’m trying to make sense of it all.”
“But why?” Fern wrung his hands. “Everyone loves me.”
“You could be right, Annabelle,” Kate said. “I wouldn’t be surprised if some of the planners who’ve been doing this forever were threatened by how fast we’ve been rising in the ranks.”
Fern held up both palms. “Let me see if I understand correctly. Some of the established wedding planners get upset that a couple of upstart hussies are taking their business, so they start to kill each other to frame you two?”
“Upstart hussies?” I tapped my foot on the floor.
“I’m trying to get inside the mind of a killer, Annabelle.” Fern fluttered his fingers at me. “Don’t take it personally.”
Somehow I didn’t think a cold-blooded killer would use the term ‘upstart hussies,’ but I didn’t want to debate with him.
Kate tapped her chin. “He has a point. Why would they kill other old-school planners? Why not kill us if they’re out to get us?”
I swallowed hard. “Maybe they plan to kill us too.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Fern stood and put his hands on his hips. “This isn’t funny. I don’t want to be found with a blow dryer cord around my neck.”
“Do you suspect anyone in particular?” Kate asked.
“Aside from everyone in the hall?” I nibbled on my lower lip. “I think we have to assume that any of our colleagues could be the killer.”
Fern sat back down again and fanned himself with his hands. “I don’t know if I can deal with this stress. It’s a disaster for my complexion.”
I took a deep breath and looked back and forth between Kate and Fern. “You know what this means? We have to find out who’s after DC’s wedding planners before they get to us.”
Kate’s shoulders sagged. “That’s what I was afraid you’d say.”
13
“We’re goners,” Fern whispered to me as all the guests from the party were corralled into the meeting space across from the Crystal Room.
I eyed the sunken windowless room with cream-colored walls and neutral carpet. Several round tables draped in the hotel’s own cream damask linens had been set up, but the room wasn’t nearly large enough to seat everyone. A pair of tuxedoed waiters put a station against one wall with a large silver bowl of ice and several pitchers of water. I couldn’t wait to see people’s reactions when they realized the only beverage on offer was nonalcoholic.
Our colleagues whispered as they dispersed throughout the room. Some cast curious looks at us, but most kept their distance. We hadn’t been able to keep the news that we’d found Eleanor under wraps. Not after a waitress had walked into the Crystal Room from the kitchen, seen us near the body, and run out screaming. Luckily, Willard security arrived quicker than the team at The Mayflower had.
“Don’t panic,” I said. “The police want to keep us all in one place until they can question everyone.”
Fern led us to a small table near the back of the room. “What they’ve done is trapped us with a murderer.”
Kate angled her chair so her back faced the wall. “We’d better stay on our toes unless we want to be next.”
Fern gave evil glances to everyone around him.
A planner I’d never seen before flounced by us trailing a cloud of floral perfume in her wake, her eyes widening when she noticed Fern’s menacing facial expression.
“Calm down, you two. Nobody is going to try anything with an officer stationed at the door and dozens of witnesses. Not that it would hurt to stay alert.”
Fern visibly relaxed and squeezed my hand. “Of course you’re right. I’m just so upset someone was murdered with my equipment. I don’t even know if they make that curling iron anymore.”
“It’s probably still usable,” Kate said.
Fern’s mouth gaped open. “I hope you’re not suggesting I use a murder weapon to style my brides’ hair.”
Kate rested her arms on the table. “It’s not like your brides would ever know. There wasn’t any blood on it or anything.”
The color left Fern’s face at the mention of blood, and he slumped onto the table. “I don’t feel so good.”
“It’s evidence anyway,” I reminded them. “You probably won’t see it for a while.”
“Is it true?” Bambie slid her chair over next to mine. “Did you find Eleanor?”
“I’m afraid so,” I said, hoping my terse answer would discourage her. Fat chance.
“I can’t believe it.” Bambie shook her head and came as close to a frown as a person could with all their facial muscles deadened. “She was telling us all about a huge wedding she was working on. Apparently for European royalty.”
Fern looked up and raised an eyebrow. “What did I tell you? This wasn’t a murder. It was a justifiable homicide.”
“What?” Bambie perked up.
I shot daggers at Fern. “He’s joking. Gallows humor, you know.”
“Oh.” Bambie looked deflated. “You’re the hairdresser, aren’t you?”
Fern sat up and threw his shoulders back. “Fern at your service.”
“Like the plant?”
Fern gave her a withering look. “It’s short for Fernando. My mother was an Abba groupie.”
Kate almost slipped off her chair. “Really?”
Fern pressed a hand to his heart and sucked in air. “Did you think I was named after a houseplant?”
Kate shook her head and spluttered, “Of course not.”
“Well, of all the ridiculous things.” Fern spun around in his chair so his back was to us.
Bambie hesitated as she turned her attention back to me. “I can’t imagine who would have done this to her, can you?”
“Did you see Eleanor talking with anyone suspicious?” Kate asked, trying to avoid Fern’s over-the-shoulder glares.
Bambie shook her head. “Who here isn’t suspicious?”
“Right.” Kate leaned back in her chair. “So much for narrowing down the field.”
Bambie’s eyes widened. “Are you trying to figure out who killed her?”
“No,” I said, perhaps a bit too forcefully. “We’re not getting involved in this at all. Are we, Kate?”
Kate took my cue. “Absolutely not. We always let the police do their job.”
Luckily, Bambie didn’t catch Kate’s sarcasm or me kicking her under the table.
I stood up. “I’m dying for some water. Anyone else?” Head shakes and murmured no’s. I walked over to the table set up with pitchers slick with condensation, scooped some melting ice into a glass, and poured water over it. I turned and scanned the room as I took a sip.
The room of wedding planners looked restless. People shifted in their seats and talked in low voices. I noticed that people had self-selected themselves into groups. The young, hip planners sat together with their phones in hand. I was sure they were desperately trying to find something in the bare room to Instagram. Byron and Gail sat at a table on the far side of the room, but they didn’t appear to be talking to each other.
I spotted Brianna from Brides by Brianna, and the closest thing we had to a professional nemesis, deep in conversation with Stephanie at the table of Insta-planners. She cut her eyes to me, narrowed them, gave me an icy smile, then turned back to Stephanie. If I wasn’t already creeped out, that would have done the trick. I reminded myself that the last time we’d run into Brianna, Fern and Kate had been busy spreading the rumor she was running an escort service instead of planning weddings. So maybe I understood why she wasn’t so thrilled to see me.
The group inside the meeting room seemed smaller than the crowd that had been in Peacock Alley for cocktails. I knew some planners had the habit of popping in for drinks then leaving before the meal, and I guessed some had been lucky enough to slip out before security and the police took control of the crime scene.
I took my water and returned to our table. I was sad to see Bambie hadn’t moved on. Gail strode over and sat in the empty chair next to Fern. Her usual reelection smile had vanished. “The police are ruining the party.”
“I think the fact that one of the guests was murdered actually ruined the party,” Kate said.
Gail ignored her and turned to me. “How much longer do you think this will take?”
Since when did I become the expert in police protocol? “As long as it takes to question everyone, I guess.”
Gail threw her hands in the air. “That could take all day. This is a disaster. One planner dead, two taken away for grief counseling, and the rest of us stuffed like sardines in this room.”
“Who got taken away for grief counseling?” I asked.
“Lucille and Margery,” Bambie jumped in before Gail could respond. “Apparently Eleanor’s death pushed Lucille over the edge. The police brought in a grief counselor, and Margery went with her to make sure she’d be okay.”
I felt sorry for Lucille. She’d never been the toughest planner around, which I guessed was why she’d remained an assistant for so many years. At least she still had Margery for support.
“Well, I have an important meeting this afternoon. I can’t afford to sit around here twiddling my thumbs all day.” Gail stood up. “I’m going to go talk to the police and see if I can’t speed things along.”
The uniformed officer who’d been guarding the door approached our table. “They’d like to see you now, Miss Archer.”
I motioned to Kate and Fern. “Only me?”
Gail opened and closed her mouth a few times before stalking off. I followed the officer out of the room and across Peacock Alley to the Crystal Room.
The ballroom that had previously been so calm and serene now buzzed with activity. Light filled the room, and officers swarmed around the riser at the front. I walked to where Detectives Reese and Hobbes stood facing the body. I couldn’t help notice how Reese’s beige sweater fit snugly over his broad back and tapered to his narrow waist. There was no such tapering for Hobbes, whose own striped sweater looked a little lumpy around the middle.
I cleared my throat, and Reese turned around.
“Good, you’re here.” He reached for my hand and stopped himself, then grabbed it anyway. “I don’t know whether to hug you or strangle you.”
