Annabelle Archer BoxSet, page 21
part #1 of Annabelle Archer Series
I opened my mouth to reassure her that everything would be fine, but I was too late. For such a petite, demure-looking girl, she could really scream. My hair stood on end as I clutched my hands over my ears, and I feared the glass walls of the room would shatter at any moment.
Richard jumped at the noise, and his phone flew straight up in the air. Reaching back to catch it, he stumbled into the corpse and the ice tiger teetered precariously on its base. As the massive sculpture began to lurch backward, Richard grabbed the chef to keep it from falling. The bride stopped screaming abruptly and her knees buckled as she sank to the floor. Fern caught her by the veil before she hit the ground.
“I think I might be sick.” Richard put one hand over his mouth as the other clung to the dark, wet strands of hair that were once part of the dead chef’s tragic comb- over.
“Hold on and I’ll push from the other side.” The bandleader took a few long strides around the ice sculpture.
“Stop right where you are,” a deep voice boomed from behind us. I spun on my heels and saw a uniformed police officer with a hand above his holster. “Nobody move.”
I looked on helplessly as the bride’s veil gave way and she hit the carpet face first with a soft thud, leaving Fern holding a handful of white tulle. Richard let out a barely audible squeak before Chef Henri’s hair slipped through his fingers and the giant ice tiger crashed to the ground, corpse and all.
3
“I say we make a run for it,” Kate said under her breath. “I’ll create a distraction and you guys sneak out the back.”
Kate, Fern, and I sat at a round cocktail table draped in an ivory hotel tablecloth while Richard paced in front of us. The walls of the basement meeting room had been upholstered in a silk cream damask to coordinate with the patterned carpet and match the linens. Hotels were big on neutrals.
We’d been stashed in the Imperial Room while we waited to be questioned, but it had been ages since they’d taken the bandleader to talk to a detective. The silver pitcher of water they’d set out had been empty for an hour, and my stomach had started to rumble.
“One problem with that plan,” I replied. “We don’t know how to get out the back. I’ve never been in through the loading dock, have you?”
“What a splendid idea, Kate.” Richard’s voice had a tone of mild hysteria to it. “I, for one, am all up for adding ‘fugitive’ to our resumes.”
“I’m sure we aren’t really suspects.” Kate stretched her arms over her head, causing her dress to inch dangerously high up her thighs. Not that she cared. “This is just a formality because we found the body.”
“Don’t you mean found the body, touched the body, ruined the crime scene, and destroyed evidence?” Richard counted off on his fingers.
She rolled her eyes. “If you want to get really technical about it. . .”
“We’re staying right here until this mess is sorted out,” Richard said firmly. “Anyway, the four of us would get all of two blocks out of the city before being arrested.”
“What do you mean?” Fern protested. “We can blend in.”
Richard looked Fern up and down. “Are those Prada loafers?”
Fern nodded enthusiastically and held up his feet so we could all get a good look at his designer shoes. “Do you like them in red?”
Richard folded his arms across his chest. “I rest my case.”
Kate slumped back down in her chair. “I guess that plan is up the window.”
“Out the window,” Richard and I said in unison.
The door opened and the uniformed officer we’d met previously strode into the room. A dark-haired man wearing beige pants and a navy blazer followed, closing the door behind him. Detective Reese. He looked exactly as I remembered him, though a little more tan.
“Well, well, well.” He pulled a chair out and sat down facing us. “The gang’s all here.”
Richard looked even more jumpy since Reese had entered the room and he gave a nervous giggle. “You’re on this case?” The last time we’d encountered the detective, Richard’s business had been shut down and he’d almost been arrested.
“Lucky me, right?” Reese gave me a quick glance then opened his small leather notebook. So much for the sight of me causing him to swoon. I wondered if he even recognized me.
“Would you like me to tell you what happened, Detective?” I felt a hint of irritation creep into my voice. “It might save you some valuable crime-solving minutes.”
He looked up and held my gaze with his deep hazel eyes. The corner of his mouth twitched up into a half smirk. “I’m glad to see you’re as easygoing as ever, Miss Archer.”
I felt a flush begin to move up my neck. “I didn’t know you remembered me, I mean, us.”
Reese looked from me to Kate to Fern and settled on Richard. “Vividly.”
“I had nothing to do with it,” Richard burst out. “When I came in the room, they were all standing around the body.”
I shot him a look. “Thanks, Richard.”
Reese nodded and flipped to a page in his notebook. “So how did you end up holding the deceased ‘by the hair’ and dropping him onto the floor?”
“I tried to catch him and ended up with a handful of hair.” Richard paled a few shades.
“That comb-over was the real crime,” Fern muttered.
Reese turned his attention to Fern, who shrunk back into his chair. “When did you enter the crime scene?”
“You see, I’d just realized that my equipment case was missing and went to find Annabelle so I could report it stolen.” He took a quick breath and leaned forward. “When I came into the Colonnade, I saw her in front of the ice sculpture.”
The detective wrote quickly in his pad. “Did you see anyone else in the room?”
“Well, the chef.” Fern shrugged. “But he was dead, so I don’t think he counts.”
“No, he doesn’t count.” Reese sighed and turned to Kate.
“I must have come in after that because Fern and Annie were both in the room, but I didn’t notice the body at first.” Kate adjusted one of the spaghetti straps of her dress. “The band guy came in right after me. Probably not more than two minutes later.”
Reese asked the uniformed officer to bring in the lead singer, and then looked at his notes. “So if I have this right, Annabelle came in, followed by Fern, Kate, the band guy, then Richard.”
“Ian,” the kilt-clad Scotsman said from the doorway. “Not that I mind ‘band guy.’ ”
Reese gave Ian the once-over and turned to me. “This is the lead singer of the wedding band?”
I smiled and nodded. “They’re supposed to be very good.”
“We’re better than good, darling.” He came in and pulled up a chair next to me. “It’s a shame you didn’t get to check us out.” Ian didn’t seem to be intimidated by the police presence, or even notice it, actually.
I tried not to blush more than I had already.
Reese looked between us for a second, and then went back to his notes. “We’re trying to piece together tonight’s chain of events. When did you come into the room?”
“After I spoke to this lovely redhead in the lobby, I went to check on how the rest of the band was coming along.” Ian turned his gaze from me to the detective. “Maybe ten minutes later I went into the reception room and saw the two girls on the floor and the chap in the great jacket standing next to them. The high- strung fellow didn’t come in until after that.”
Richard twitched visibly, and Fern puffed his chest out.
Reese raised an eyebrow at me. “What were you doing on the floor?”
“I got startled when I saw the body and stumbled over my shoes,” Kate said before I could explain. She held her legs out to show the detective the high heels. Clearly, Kate needed more male attention. “Annabelle tried to catch me, but we both ended up on the ground.”
Reese turned back to me. “It seems that you were the only person alone with the body, then.”
“Aside from the person who killed him, you mean?” I didn’t like the way this seemed to be headed.
“Of course,” the detective said quickly. “Did you see anyone leaving the room?”
I shook my head. “But someone could have left through the kitchen and escaped through the back of the house without anyone seeing them. Anyone who worked in the hotel knows how to get around in the back corridors.”
Reese arched his eyebrows. “The back of the house?”
“Sorry.” I gave an apologetic smile. “That’s the term we use for all the behind-the-scenes areas like the kitchen and the corridors that connect everything.”
“Have you ever been in back?”
“Sure,” I admitted. “I’ve gone into the kitchens and the employee cafeteria before. But I wouldn’t know how to get around easily, if that’s what you’re getting at.”
“Were you in the back at all today?” Reese sounded casual, but red lights started going off in my head.
I sat up on the edge of my chair. “I went into the kitchen to check on things and discuss the setup with the chef.”
Reese didn’t look me in the eyes. “When did this take place?”
“About half an hour before I found him murdered.” My mouth felt very dry. Did they think I killed Chef Henri? “But I stayed in the lobby from the time I left Henri in the kitchen to when I came back in the room. I’m sure lots of people saw me.”
“I can vouch for her being in the lobby.” Ian gave a firm nod of his head. He looked at Reese seriously and almost appeared fierce. “If you think this girl murdered someone, you’re all wrong, mate.”
I gave Ian a grateful smile, and then glared at Reese. “See? What does my being in the kitchen have to do with Henri’s death?”
“It seems that one of the other chefs overheard you having a huge fight with Henri earlier today and said that you left in a rage.” Reese snapped his notebook shut and stood up.
I cringed. “We had a disagreement over one of the food stations. Who said I left in a rage?”
“The same person who called us to report the murder.” Reese finally met my eyes. “And named you as the killer.”
4
“That’s impossible!” Leatrice Butters, my elderly neighbor who took an overeager interest in my personal life, had been waiting for me at the door of our narrow Georgetown apartment building when I got home from hours of police questioning. She wore a navy sweat suit with green puffy frogs that seemed to squeak each time she pressed against one. Leatrice had a fondness for “action” clothing. “Who could ever suspect you of murder?”
Richard had insisted on making sure I got home safely and had walked ahead of me up the stairs to open my door. I’m sure it had nothing to do with getting out of earshot of Leatrice and her squeaking frogs.
“Apparently some overeager cook saw me right after I found the body and assumed I did it.” I already felt weary explaining the night’s events and dreaded having to do it a hundred more times. “Once the police pinned him down, he admitted that he didn’t see me doing anything but standing next to the body.”
“Thank goodness for that.” Leatrice looked relieved as she followed me closely up the stairs to my fourth floor walk-up. The building was only four stories high, with two apartments on each floor. Small enough for neighbors to actually know each other, which was rare in D.C. Sometimes I considered it more of a mixed blessing, though.
“How did you know about the murder before we got here?” I turned to Leatrice as we reached my floor. “It hasn’t been on the news, has it?” My brides would be less than thrilled to see me on the news involved in a murder. The fact that the murder took place at a wedding would send some of them into comas.
Leatrice shook her head and beamed. “My police scanner. I keep it on all the time.”
I felt my stomach drop. So much for keeping this incident hushed up. “You heard my name on a police scanner?”
“No, dearie.” Leatrice patted my arm. “I heard that the report came from the Fairmont and remembered that you mentioned the hotel when I saw you leave this morning. To be honest, the scanner doesn’t give as much information as I’d hoped.”
“Really?” Knowing Leatrice, she’d been expecting color commentary of the crimes. I needed to lie down. Richard held the door open for me and visibly restrained himself from shutting it on Leatrice. According to Richard, Leatrice meddled in my life too much. I don’t think he liked the competition.
I dropped my purse on the floor and collapsed onto my slightly worn yellow twill couch. Nudging a pile of wedding magazines out of the way, I propped both feet up on my coffee table. Leatrice sat down next to me while Richard headed off to the kitchen.
“So who do they think did it?” Leatrice’s eyes danced with excitement. Sometimes it worried me how much she liked mysteries.
“I have no idea.” I let out a deep sigh. “Considering how many people hated the murdered chef, it could have been anyone. Apparently I had the least motive of anyone in the hotel.”
“I told you, Annabelle.” Richard emerged from the kitchen with a mini wheel of Brie and a box of crackers. “Anyone who ever worked with Henri wanted to kill him. He was the most notorious chef in town. And one of the most talented.”
Leatrice put a hand on my arm. “Is that cute detective working the case?”
Richard snickered, and I glared at him. “Yes, Leatrice, but I’ve told you a thousand times that there’s nothing going on there.”
“I know.” Leatrice’s face fell. “It’s such a shame.”
“Isn’t it, though?” Richard gave me a sugary smile as he sat down across from us in the matching yellow armchair. Richard loved seeing me squirm when Leatrice started trying to play matchmaker. I’m sure it was the only reason he tolerated her. He put the box of crackers on the table and started to open the Brie.
“I don’t know if I would eat that cheese.” I cringed as Richard opened the round wooden box. “I think I’ve had it for a while.”
Richard unwrapped the white paper covering and made a face. “Now you do understand that the refrigeration process does not stop time, don’t you?”
“Yes.” I rolled my eyes. “I just forgot about it.”
Richard stood up, holding the offending cheese in front of him at arm’s length. “I will never understand how you can be so detailed and precise with your weddings, yet your own life is a mess.”
“It is not a mess,” I protested. “Anyway, if I spent all my time shopping and cleaning, I’d never be able to put in the hours to plan all those perfect weddings.”
“One word for you, darling.” Richard disappeared into the kitchen then poked his head up over the counter that separated the living room and kitchen. “Balance.”
“I have balance,” I shouted over my shoulder as I sunk into the couch. “I’m even taking a yoga class. If that isn’t balance, I don’t know what is.”
Richard walked back into the living room and planted his hands on his hips. “You’re taking yoga? Miss Type A, if-I’m-not-doing-ten-things-at-once-I’m-not-busy? Now this I have to see.”
“Fine.” I folded my arms across my chest.
“Now, now.” Leatrice waved her arms. “You kids stop your bickering. You’re just like me and my Jimmy used to be.”
Jimmy? Richard mouthed to me.
“Her late husband,” I said under my breath. Richard’s eyebrows shot up and he opened his mouth to say something, but I grabbed him by the sleeve. I stood and began tugging him into the kitchen.
“Come on; let’s go find something to eat.” I turned to Leatrice. “We’ll be right back.”
Once we got into the kitchen, Richard pulled my hand away and started unwrinkling his sleeve. “What was that all about? Doesn’t she know by now that the chances of us getting together are slim to nil? Heavy on the nil?”
“I think she forgets things sometimes. I’m not going to be the one who explains things to her again. You do it.”
Richard wagged a finger at me. “I have a strict ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ policy.”
“People have to ask? I mean, aside from Leatrice?”
“Very funny, Annabelle.” Richard narrowed his eyes and looked over the counter at Leatrice, who was happily pressing the frogs on her shirt to make them squeak. “I think the nut-ball has a selective memory.”
“Be nice, Richard.”
He pressed a hand over his heart and let his mouth gape open. “You wound me, darling. When am I not nice?”
“Well. . .” I began.
Richard cut me off with a raised palm. ‘That was a hypothetical.” He opened the refrigerator as the doorbell rang. We both jumped at the loud noise.
“Could you get that Leatrice?” I called out as I turned to examine our food options.
“Of course, dearie.” She shuffled to the door. “Are you expecting anyone?”
Leatrice opened the door and gave a small scream. Richard and I both froze.
“Good heavens,” Leatrice gasped. “We’re being robbed!”
5
I rushed into the living room and saw Leatrice with her hands in the air and Ian standing in the doorway with a puzzled expression on his face. I didn’t see a weapon in sight.
“Leatrice, what are you talking about?” I went up and pulled her arms down. I heard Richard’s muffled laughter behind me. “Ian isn’t robbing us.”
“You know him?” Leatrice flushed. “I guess I got startled by the tattoos.”
“Sorry about that.” I waved Ian into the room. He’d traded in his kilt and Captain America boots for a pair of broken-in jeans and Doc Martens, but he’d kept the black tank top. If it weren’t for the tattoos covering both well-muscled biceps, he’d be practically mainstream.
“Are those real?” Leatrice had overcome her embarrassment and stood inches away from Ian’s arms.
He nodded. “Do you like them?”
Leatrice cocked her head to one side. “They’re interesting. This woman certainly isn’t dressed to be riding a dragon like that, though.”
