Annabelle Archer BoxSet, page 47
part #1 of Annabelle Archer Series
“I think I know where the diamonds are,” I said to Kate and motioned to the jewelry case.
Kate tilted her head to one side. “I thought those were the fake ones.”
“Not inside the case. On top.”
Both of Kate’s eyebrows went up, then her eyes caught something behind me. “Weren’t you looking for Detective Reese?”
I turned around and saw the detective standing at the back of our crowd, his arms crossed and a crooked grin on his face. I waved both arms at him so he’d see me. He waved a single finger in response.
“I’ve got to go tell him what I found out about the model and the vase.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, but I’m right behind you,” Kate said.
We pushed our way through the throng of thirsty and boisterous brides until we reached Reese.
He grinned. “That’s quite a crowd you’ve got. I’m surprised no one’s dancing on top of the bar yet.”
“It’s a bit more interactive than we expected,” I said. “I’ve been searching all over for you.”
“I’ve been avoiding your colleague.” He glanced over his shoulder in the direction of Brianna’s Botox booth. “She’s . . . a lot.”
“Not in the mood for a forehead full of toxins?” Kate asked.
“Among other things,” Reese said.
I couldn’t help feeling a wave of pleasure that the ditzy blonde hadn’t charmed him. “Well, I’m pretty sure she lied about hearing the thief running past her.”
“I agree,” Reese said.
“You do?” I thought I’d have to lay out my reasoning to convince him.
He nodded. “She displayed obvious signs of deception when she told me her story and it changed from one telling to the next.”
“Well, good,” I said. “That means you might believe my theory that there was no burglar at all.”
Reese took a step closer to me. “I’m listening.”
I laid out my theory, showing him the iPhone photo and explaining about the connection between the model and Lorinda.
He cocked his head to one side and studied me for a moment. “Not bad, Annabelle. It seems like I need to bring a couple of ladies in for questioning.”
Kate paled. “Not us, right? Because I don’t think it’s safe for us to leave the bartenders alone with this crowd.”
“Not you,” Reese reassured her.
“But you haven’t heard the best part yet,” I said. “I know where the diamonds are hidden. At least I think I know where the diamonds are hidden.”
I pulled the detective behind me through the crowd with Kate following. I tried not to notice how nice his hand felt, warm and solid. Before we reached Lorinda’s display, he maneuvered his fingers so that his enveloped mine. I felt my pulse quicken and hoped he wouldn’t notice.
“Annabelle, Kate.” Lorinda smiled when she saw us approach and faltered only slightly when she noticed me hand-in-hand with Detective Reese.
I dropped Reese’s hand. “I’m so sorry, Lorinda.” I took the pink roses out of her vase and laid them, dripping, on the glass of her display case.
She stepped back as water dripped onto her shoes. “What are you doing?”
I flipped the vase upside down and water gushed down over the case and the carpet below. Kate jumped back as water splattered all of us. I shook the vase harder, and a torrent of diamond rings fell out, clattering onto the jewelry case.
“Oh, now I understand what you were talking about.” Kate thumped me on the back. “Nicely done, boss.”
Lorinda’s face darkened, and she set her mouth in a hard line.
Reese pulled out his phone and called for backup, then took Lorinda by the arm. “You need to come with me.”
“Should we stay here?” I asked as a uniformed officer walked up and began gathering the diamonds in an evidence bag.
“Definitely.” Reese paused in front of me. “I’m going to take her to the squad car, then come back in and take statements.” He leaned close. “Don’t even think of running out on me.”
“I’ll be right here.” My voice came out much breathier than I’d intended.
After Reese and Lorinda left, Kate turned to me. “And you said bridal shows were all the same.”
19
“That was, without a doubt, the most memorable bridal show in history,” Richard said as he leaned against the sleek black bar in the hotel’s lobby, club music pulsing in the background. Oversized geometric crystals studded the sides of the bar and created a stark contrast with the intricate European detailing on the walls and ceiling that had been retained during the remodel.
Kate leaned back on her shiny red leather bar stool with her legs crossed. “Memorable for the fake jewelry heist or for the fact that the police had to shut down the whole thing only an hour into it?”
“I had a bride in mid-updo when they cleared out the room.” Fern shook his head and took a sip of his dirty martini. “Some poor girl is walking around with half her hair done up and the other half hanging out.”
“If you ask me, it happened in the nick of time.” Richard swirled the ice in his rocks glass. “A mother of the bride had almost talked me into a buffet themed around her Precious Moments figurines.”
I pushed the two canvas tote bags filled with our leftover show props underneath a bar stool Kate had saved for me and hopped up. The bar was crowded with brides who’d been exiled from the show but who didn’t want to go home, and I felt lucky that we’d snagged a corner of the bar. I peered down the length of the lobby and noted that bridal show attendees occupied all the contemporary armless chairs and ornate French-inspired settees that made up the furniture vignettes throughout the room. The ones who weren’t sitting were standing, some swaying close to the massive Grecian urns topped with ball topiaries.
I ordered a gin and tonic and saw an expression of surprise and pleasure cross Kate’s face. Usually I’d have been the first one to be heading home instead of bellying up to the bar, but I hadn’t seen Detective Reese since he’d left with Lorinda, and I’d promised him that I wouldn’t leave.
“Cheers to the oddest bridal show ever,” I said once my cocktail arrived. After we clinked glasses, I asked Kate, “Did our bartenders escape unscathed?”
“I snuck them out the loading dock. Two shirtless men wouldn’t have made it five feet in this crowd.” She gestured to the inebriated women around us. I didn’t remind her that part of the reason the women were so tipsy in the first place might be our bar-themed booth.
“Should I ask what happened to their shirts?” I said.
Kate took a sip of her cocktail. “Suffice it to say that a few brides got overly excited and the shirts got damaged in the melee.”
“Basically, the women ripped their shirts off?” I asked.
“In a nutshell, yes,” Kate said. “Who knew engaged women could be so wild?”
Richard gave a small shudder and drained his glass. “I think you mean terrifying.”
“Just because someone wants to serve local wine does not make them terrifying,” I told him.
“Agree to disagree,” Richard said.
“I don’t know about the rest of you.” Fern nibbled on an olive. “But today has restored my faith in bridal shows.”
“We were shut down,” I said. “And vendors were arrested. ”
Fern nodded. “Wasn’t it the most fun you’ve had in ages? I wish we hung out like this all the time.”
“You’re only saying that because you got to drink, watch our hunky bartenders, and shake a girl’s head until diamonds fell out,” I said.
“Exactly.” Fern winked at me. “If I could shake some of our brides’ heads like that I’d be in heaven.”
Richard scanned the crowd. “Are Buster and Mack still downstairs?”
“The branches are harder to take down than they were to put up.” I sipped my gin and tonic. “Plus, the police needed samples as evidence, so I doubt they’ll be done for a while.”
“Having the police at our event breakdowns is starting to become a very bad habit,” Kate said.
I wagged a finger at her. “Technically, a bridal show isn’t a wedding so it doesn’t count.”
“You keep telling yourself that, Annabelle,” Richard said. “But how many other planners have a detective on speed dial?”
“Speaking of other wedding planners.” And detectives. I let my eyes wander around the lobby. “What happened to Brianna? I saw her when we started to break down, but then she disappeared.”
Kate shrugged. “Who knows? I’m surprised she isn’t here at the bar passing out business cards.”
“Wasn’t our hot detective questioning her?” Fern asked.
“Reese?” I said. “You saw him questioning Brianna after the show?”
Fern plucked an olive out of his martini glass. “Very intensely if you ask me.”
I took a gulp of my gin and tonic. So much for waiting for Reese. I bet he’d forgotten all about telling me not to leave the second Brianna batted her eyelashes at him. And I’d probably imagined the spark I’d felt between us and read too much into his actions. When it came down to it, he’d still never made a move. I felt a wave of irritation at myself for getting my hopes up again. I drained my glass and stood. “I think I’m going to head out.”
“What?” Kate said. “I thought you promised to hang out with us and debrief.”
“She did finish her drink,” Fern said. “That’s a first.”
“I’m sorry.” I scooped the tote bags from the floor. “But it’s been a long day.”
“You can say that again.” Richard kissed me on both cheeks. “Call me later.”
I nodded and then gave Fern an air kiss, trying to ignore his pout. My heels clicked on the black-and-white-tile lobby floor as I made my way to the valet parking stand on F Street, which was as crowded with brides as the bar. I fished my valet ticket from my bag and gave it to the nearest attendant.
“You might as well wait inside,” he said. “It’s going to be at least ten minutes.”
Great. I went back inside and ducked into a side room off the lobby with a cluster of black leather and metal slope-backed chairs. The walls were covered in a paper that made it appear that the room had floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. Uber-chic hotels didn’t have walls of books, I reminded myself. They had wallpaper that made it seem like you were surrounded by walls of books.
The room was tucked away enough that it was free from brides, so I set my bags on the floor and sank into a chair to wait, closing my eyes to avoid looking at the concentric prism pattern on the brown and beige carpet and enjoying the relative quiet.
“I thought you promised not to run off.”
My eyes snapped open to find Detective Reese standing in front of me.
“Me?” I stood up, the gin and tonic giving me more courage than usual. “You’re the one who disappeared.”
He angled his head at me. “It took longer than I expected to question Ms. Goodman and her niece.”
“So they were in on it together?” Curiosity overpowered my irritation.
Reese nodded. “It was pretty clever. Ms. Goodman planted the fake rings in her niece’s hair before the blackout, and then the girl shut off the power while her aunt dumped the real rings into the vase and acted like a burglar had made off with them.”
“So they planned for the fake rings to be discovered?”
“Apparently the plan included setting up the hairdresser. The model could claim innocence, and they could make off with the real diamonds after the show ended.”
“And then report them as fakes afterward?” I asked.
“And claim they hadn’t noticed in the chaos of the show,” Reese said.
“Good thing Fern can spot a fake gemstone at a hundred paces.”
Reese gave me a half smile. “Your friends do have their uses.”
“Please.” Now it was my turn to cross my arms. “You never could have cracked this case without us.”
Reese stepped closer to me. “It wouldn’t have been so hard if you hadn’t sent me on a wild goose chase.”
“Wild goose chase?” This was some gratitude considering I’d solved his case for him.
“The eyewitness who claimed to have heard the burglar run past her?”
I rolled my eyes. “Brianna? Don’t blame me for that one. And it’s not like you seemed to mind questioning her.”
Reese unfolded his arms from across his chest. “What are you talking about?”
I felt my face flush. “Never mind. It’s none of my business who you like.”
Reese shook his head. “For your information, I spent the past fifteen minutes reading her the riot act for giving a false police report and impeding an investigation. Do you really think I’d like someone like that?”
I opened my mouth but shut it again, not sure how to respond. It made me happier than I wanted to admit that Brianna got in trouble with the police and even happier that Reese didn’t like her.
“For someone who’s pretty good at uncovering clues, you can be pretty clueless,” he said.
Before I could revel in Reese admitting I had crime-solving skills or react to being called clueless, he leaned down and slipped one hand around my waist and flattened it into the small of my back. My irritation melted as I pressed against him.
“I’d say it’s very much your business who I like,” he whispered into my ear, his mouth brushing against my earlobe and sending shivers down my spine.
I gripped the back of the nearest chair to keep my quivering knees from buckling. If I’d been in any state to speak, I would have told Reese that, for once, I agreed with him.
BOOK 4: REVIEW TO A KILL
Annabelle Archer Wedding Planner Mystery
by Laura Durham
1
“This rain is going to ruin the view of the White House.” I threw open one of the french doors that led to the Hay-Adams Hotel’s narrow balcony overlooking both Lafayette Park and the most famous address in Washington, DC.
The gray clouds that hung over the city had been sending a steady mist of rain since the morning and, as it was now midafternoon, my hopes for a sunny wedding day, along with my hopes for a happy bride, were dwindling fast. I stepped onto the balcony and let the fine droplets settle on my skin. I breathed in the fresh scent of rain and felt glad it had washed away the pollen haze that had been hanging over the city for the past week, even if it did have to happen on the one day I needed clear skies. I ignored the clattering noise of the wedding band setting up behind me and took a moment to soak in the relative peacefulness of standing nearly ten stories above the city on a sleepy, rainy Saturday.
I reached into the pocket of my dress and felt for the packet of gummi bears my assistant, Kate, had given me earlier in the day. I popped a few into my mouth and savored the sugar rush. They were probably the only calories I’d get until much later that night so I didn’t feel guilty about them. I held up the Cellophane candy packet to Buster, one half of my floral designing duo, and jiggled it.
He shook his head, pulling at his brown goatee with his fingers. “I’m too stressed to eat right now.”
“Don’t worry. It might clear up,” I said, dropping the candy back into my pocket and patting Buster on his thick tattooed arm. I didn’t fully believe what I said but, as the owner of Wedding Belles, one of DC’s top wedding-planning companies, I’d learned that is was crucial to keep my creative team positive on the wedding day. Even if that meant lying to them.
Buster raised his eyebrows and the motorcycle goggles he wore on his forehead followed. “It’s hard to pull off a springtime in Paris theme when it looks like a hurricane’s brewing outside.”
“Don’t you think you’re exaggerating a bit?”
Buster was usually the more even-keeled half of the floral design duo from Lush. His partner, Mack, was equally tattooed and leather-clad with a dark red goatee instead of a brown one but, generally speaking, the more emotional of the pair. I hoped Buster’s nerves didn’t mean that Mack was in a full-scale meltdown.
I turned from the view to look for Mack and glanced over the ballroom that had been transformed into springtime in Paris. One of the biggest selling points for holding a wedding at the Top of The Hay, the name for the iconic hotel’s rooftop ballroom, was the two walls of glass french doors that wrapped around the L-shaped room and provided both natural light and a stunning view. It was the perfect pick for a bride wanting any type of garden theme, and it had been a natural fit for our bride who wanted to recreate Paris in the spring. Whitewashed Eiffel Towers were interspersed between the towering arrangements of pink tulips on a runner of grass that extended the length of the long, rectangular tables. A tiny easel sat at the top of each place setting with a guest’s name painted over a pastel impressionist background, and white ladder-backed chairs wore pale-pink tulle skirts.
“There you are,” I said as I spotted Mack walking toward us under the hanging flower garden that Buster had installed in the ceiling alcove over the dance floor.
Mack dodged a hanging tulip. “Well, I delivered the bride’s bouquet.”
“And?” I asked, not sure if I wanted to know the bride’s reaction.
Mack flopped down in a nearby chair. “Let’s just say that if I cursed, now would be the time I’d pick some choice words about our bride.”
I cringed. Mack and Buster were members of a Christian biker gang, and I’d never heard a swear word leave their lips.
Buster closed the french doors. “She didn’t like the collar of nerines around the tulips?”
“Who knows what she hated more?” Mack tugged at a loose thread on his black leather vest. “She said it gave her a headache.”
“The scent of it?” I asked. “I thought you specifically chose flowers with no scent.”
“I did,” Mack said. “She approved every flower in the whole wedding, remember?”
“How could I forget?” I recalled every painstaking moment of the planning ordeal with Tricia, from bringing blooms to her house for her to sniff test to sending her MP3 files of every song the band played so she could eliminate songs that were in a key she found irritating to having the chef forward her the ingredient list for every bite that would be served so she could identify offending foods.
