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Authors: Laura Durham

For Better or Hearse (15 page)

BOOK: For Better or Hearse
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“This is my least favorite part of the job,” I complained the next evening as Kate and I waited in the Park Hyatt ballroom for the wedding party to arrive for the rehearsal. After spending the day confirming Nadine's last minute changes with everyone from the cake baker to the string quartet, we'd gotten there early to make sure that the riser and chairs were set up for our mock ceremony. Now I sat in the front row of chairs with a stack of wedding timelines next to me.

The modern ballroom was a long rectangular room in the basement of the hotel decorated in shades of tan and gold. Modern dome-shaped chandeliers dominated the ceiling and provided the only decor. It was a room that adapted nicely to any type of decorations because it was such a neutral palette, but at the moment it looked naked.

“Why is it that everyone is always late for the rehearsal?” Kate sat on the edge of the riser with her legs
sprawled in front of her. I said a silent prayer of thanks that she'd chosen a beige pantsuit and not a skirt.

I looked at my watch. The bride had assured me that everyone would be there at five o'clock, but it was already ten after five and there was no sign of the bride, groom, or anyone remotely resembling a bridesmaid. “They'd better hurry up. We still need to get to Evermay after this.”

“I'd hoped you'd forgotten about that.” Kate groaned. “I really don't think it's a good idea to provoke Richard when he has a big event. You know how moody he gets.”

“I'm telling you, we won't even see Richard. We'll be in and out before he notices us.”

“How about I wait in the car? You need a good getaway driver. I can wait on the street with the engine running.”

I shook my head. “Nice try.”

A woman with fiery orange hair stuck her head in the door. “Is this the Goldman-McIntyre wedding?”

I jumped up. “Yes, you're in the right place.”

She opened the door wide and bellowed into the hall, “Harold! I found it.”

I motioned for Kate to follow me as I walked to the back of the room. “Are you with the bride's side or the groom's?”

“I'm Doris Goldman, the mother of the groom.” The woman with orange hair and equally orange-brown skin held out her hand. Her long fingernails had been painted a metallic copper that miraculously matched her unnatural skin tone exactly, and when she smiled, her teeth almost blinded me. I'd forgotten that the groom was from South Florida until that very moment.

“I'm Annabelle, and this is Kate. We're the wedding planners.”

The mother of the groom gave us another brilliant smile. “My husband was right behind me. I'm always losing him.” She stuck her head back into the hall and screamed his name again.

“Wonder why?” Kate whispered to me.

A pair of short men, both with thinning hair, came through the door. One leaned on a cane and had less hair than the other.

“We're right here, Doris,” the slightly younger man said. “Your father stopped at the water fountain.”

“How're ya doing, Dad?” Doris leaned close to her father and shouted into his ear. She turned back to us. “He's legally blind but still gets around like you wouldn't believe.”

“Don't fuss over me.” He swiped at his daughter with his cane, and then squinted in our direction. “Who are these pretty young fillies?”

Kate gave me a look that said she wasn't fond of being referred to as a filly.

“They're the wedding planners,” Doris shouted at a safe distance from the cane.

The grandfather hiked his brown polyester pants even higher around his chest and shuffled over to Kate. He moved pretty fast for a blind guy. “You'll tell me what I need to do, then?”

“Sure.” Kate smiled and took a baby step away from him as he slipped a hand around her waist. As his hand drifted south, Kate's eyes widened and she looked to me for help. I bit my lip to keep from laughing.

Doris beamed. “He's quite the ladies' man at his retirement community.”

“I can see that,” I said.

“Now what's the protocol of escorting single blind
grandfathers down the aisle?” Doris rested a hand on my arm.

Did she really think a rule existed for precisely this situation? I imagined flipping through the index of an imaginary wedding protocol book. Grandfathers, blind grandfathers, single blind grandfathers, single blind grandfathers without dates…

“There isn't a rule for this, per se—” I began.

“Sorry we're late.” Nadine burst through the door with an entourage of bridesmaids scuttling behind her. “We just got out of the salon.”

I wondered if the salon had been in Texas, because every girl's hair was teased a mile high. They all wore brightly colored cocktail-length dresses and matching high-heeled sandals, and they were all accessorized out the wazoo. I'd bet money that not a single one of the bridesmaids was from D.C.

Nadine's brown hair had been highlighted with blond streaks and she looked especially tiny in her strapless pink dress with a chocolate brown ribbon belt. I caught the distinctive scent of cigarettes as she approached me, and was surprised not to see one dangling from her fingers.

“Nadine, honey.” The mother of the bride followed close on her heels, clutching a huge bouquet of bows and ribbons that were tied onto a paper plate. She wore a pastel blue cocktail suit, a single strand of pearls, and a tortured expression. “Don't forget your stand-in bouquet.”

“Let's get this over with.” Nadine took the ribbon bouquet from her mother and tossed her pink clutch purse on a nearby chair. “I'm dying for a drink.”

Her mother gasped, but the groom's mother tossed
her head back and laughed, then walked over and flung an arm around the mother of the bride. “Come on, Audrey. I think we could all use a drink.”

The mother of the bride pressed her lips together until they vanished from sight. South Florida meets the Deep South wasn't going too well.

“We probably should wait until David arrives,” I said to Nadine, who gave me a blank look. “You know, your fiancé.”

She looked around the room and her expression darkened. “Where is he?” She tapped the toe of her pink and brown sandal on the carpet. “He'd better not ruin my wedding.”

“We can go ahead and put your bridesmaids in order on the stage,” I said to pacify her. “That way when the guys arrive, we'll be ready to do the run-through.”

Kate extricated herself from the grandfather's grip and rushed forward. “Let me do it.” I'd never seen her so eager to arrange bridesmaids. Usually it was the worst task. Either the girls were too busy gossiping and giggling to listen to our instructions or they thought they knew it all and couldn't be bothered to pay attention. Worse yet were the ones who secretly wanted to be wedding planners and tried to take over. Give me a bunch of clueless guys any day.

“Bridesmaids, follow me,” Kate called out as she marched down the aisle toward the stage. The grandfather hobbled forward after Kate, and the girls straggled behind in clusters of twos and threes.

“I hope this doesn't take too long.” Nadine sighed, following her bridesmaids. “We need to be at the Occidental Grill by six.”

Bold words from a girl who'd breezed in twenty
minutes late from the hair salon. I took a deep breath and reminded myself that I hadn't gotten my final payment yet. Be nice, Annabelle.

“I'm worried about her.” The mother of the bride came up next to me, her Southern drawl dripping like molasses off every word. “Nadine has always been such a sensitive girl. I think this wedding stress is taking a toll on her nerves.”

I looked up at the stage where Nadine stood with one hip jutted out and her hands planted firmly on her hips. Her mother clearly lived in a fantasy world.

“The hard part is almost over,” I assured her with one of my meaningless platitudes saved exactly for such an occasion.

“Not that his family has helped matters.” She cut her eyes to the groom's family. “They don't care at all about the proper way to do things. It's been most upsetting for poor Nadine.”

Poor Nadine chose that moment to bellow across the room. “Mother, do you have the programs that I asked you to bring?”

“Of course, honey.” Her mother hurried forward, taking tiny steps and holding out a Crane's shopping bag. “They're right here.”

The mother of the groom sidled up next to me and said in a stage whisper, “That woman needs a laxative worse than anyone I've ever seen.”

The mother of the bride twitched in mid-walk, but didn't break her stride or her smile. Despite the fact that the groom's mother was brazen, not to mention completely orange, she was starting to grow on me.

I looked up at the stage where Kate had the bridesmaids arranged in an angled line. Nadine stood glaring
at her watch, while her mother began handing out programs. I looked at the ballroom doors and tried to will the groom to appear.

My attempt at mental telepathy was interrupted when the mother of the bride shrieked from the front of the room. I spun around and was thankful to see that she appeared to be fine, although her face was flushed red and her lips were set in a white line. The groom's grandfather stood next to her grinning from ear to ear. For a blind guy with a cane, he sure got around.

“That means he likes you, Audrey,” the mother of the groom called out, then threw her head back and laughed.

The bride's mother turned an unpleasant shade of purple and stalked out of the room with the groom's grandfather shuffling after her. At this rate we'd all be lucky to make it to the wedding day.

The groom rushed in the door past his future mother-in-law, followed by a group of large groomsmen.

“Where have you been?” screamed the bride.

The groom looked flushed under his tan, and I could see beads of sweat on his brow as he passed me. “The streets are blocked. There are police cars and ambulances everywhere. We had to park six blocks away and walk.”

“What are you talking about?” Nadine's eyes flashed with impatience.

“It's true, Nadine.” A groomsman with no neck spoke up in defense of the groom. “Something happened at the hotel across the street. It's nuts out there.”

Kate and I looked at each other. There were two hotels that could be considered to be across the street from the Park Hyatt. The Fairmont and the Westin Grand.

“Which hotel?” I asked, my voice barely above a squeak.

“The big one,” Neckless said. “I think it starts with an F.”

That's what I was afraid of.

“This is a nightmare.” Mack lurched toward me on the sidewalk in front of the Park Hyatt dragging a large wrought-iron flower stand behind him.

I tore my attention away from the swarm of police and emergency vehicles across the street at the Fairmont. I hadn't expected to see the Mighty Morphin Flower Arrangers until the wedding day. “What are you doing here?”

“The hotel said we could load in the heavy things tonight to save us some setup time tomorrow.” Mack wiped his forehead with a Bikers for Jesus bandana, and then jammed it back in the pocket of his black leather pants. “But if we'd known the streets were going to be closed we never would've bothered.”

“Where's Buster?” Kate looked around.

“He's somewhere behind me with the top of the chuppah.” Mack sagged against the iron stand, his face flushed pink. I guess black leather didn't breathe very well. “I lost him at a cross walk.”

“You just missed Nadine,” I said. “The wedding party walked down the street to catch cabs to the rehearsal dinner.”

Mack darted his eyes around him. “That was a close one. I don't know if I could handle the Southern belle from hell right now.”

“She's nothing,” Kate said. “Wait until you see the mother of the groom.”

“Bad?” Mack asked.

Kate shook her head. “Orange.”

“There's Buster.” I pointed at the approaching florist, who looked like a football linebacker who'd gotten lost in a leather bar. He carried the top of the iron chuppah frame over his head and people scurried out of the way as he approached.

“I should have known this wedding was going to be a disaster from start to finish.” He lowered the iron canopy to the ground with a thud. “If we have to rewrite the proposal more than twice, it always means trouble.”

“How many rewrites did Nadine ask for?” I'd lost count months ago.

“Eight.” Mack didn't smile. “You know that means we're in for wedding Armageddon.”

I sighed and glanced across the street at the swarming police cars and ambulances. “Looks like you might be right.”

“Don't tell me there's more trouble at the Fairmont.” Buster shook his head. “What else could possibly go wrong?”

Kate shrugged. “We just came outside when you walked up. But whatever happened, it must be serious.”

“Speaking of serious, did you have any luck finding out who might have killed the chef?” Mack asked.

“Yes, and no,” I admitted. “We have some suspects, but we can't prove anything yet.”

“Did you have any luck sending flowers to Georgia?” Kate asked.

Mack frowned. “No. But we did the next best thing.”

“We sent her our lawyer,” Buster chimed in. “If anyone can get her acquitted, he can.”

“I didn't know you had criminal lawyers on your payroll,” I said. These guys were full of surprises.

“We had a few unfortunate legal misunderstandings in the past.” Buster looked at the ground and cleared his throat. “People see leather and motorcycles and think the worst.”

“We haven't actually used him in years, but we keep his office full of flowers,” Mack explained. “It's good for business. We've done lots of junior associate weddings from his firm.”

“The guy is a pit bull,” Buster said. “He thinks he'll have her released any day now.”

“That's great.” Kate sounded relieved. “We haven't been able to prove anything yet, and our witnesses and evidence keep disappearing.”

Mack gave a dismissive wave of the hand. “Don't worry. A really good lawyer doesn't need either.”

I gulped. So much for the triumph of justice and the legal system.

“Well, we'd better get this stuff in the ballroom.” Buster lifted the iron canopy above his head. “There's more where this came from, and I don't want to be here all night. See you tomorrow, girls.”

“And we'll come bearing monkey balls.” Mack grinned and followed Buster, dragging the wrought-iron stand behind him.

Kate rubbed her hands together with a wicked glint in her eyes. “I can't wait to see that bouquet.”

“Me, too…hey, is that Reg running over here?” I squinted across the street.

The banquet captain hurried toward us, looking back over his shoulder several times. His white shirt hung out the front of his pants and his tuxedo jacket looked like it had been slept in. He scooted behind one of the Park Hyatt's thin columns and motioned for us to join him.

“Reg, what are you doing over here?” I asked as we ducked behind the column.

“Forget that,” Kate said impatiently. “What's going on over there?”

Reg took a breath. “Emilio is d-d-dead. Frozen to death.”

“The chef?” I asked. “How?”

Kate's face fell. “What a shame. He was cute, too.”

“They found him locked in one of the walk-in freezers. He'd b-b-been there for hours and the temperature had been turned as low as it could go.”

I felt light-headed when I thought of Leatrice's narrow escape from the freezer. “That's horrible. Do they have any idea how it happened?”

Reg pressed his lips together. “The hotel is t-t-trying to say that he locked himself in accidentally, but that's impossible. Emilio was too clever for that.”

“They're probably trying to do damage control.” I shook my head. “Accidental death sounds better than murder.”

Kate shuddered. “Not much better. Who wants to stay at a hotel where the employees keep accidentally killing themselves? Doesn't inspire much confidence in the staff.”

I had to agree with Kate's twisted logic.

“The p-police are questioning everyone.” Reg chewed on his thumbnail and glanced around the column at the police cars. “I don't think I can take much more of this.”

“Calm down, Reg.” I patted him on the arm. “You have nothing to worry about.”

“Except for being the next victim,” Kate said.

I elbowed her in the ribs and looked back at Reg, who'd gotten a few shades paler. “She's kidding. Ignore her.”

Kate rubbed her side and glared at me.

“She's right.” Reg jerked his head in Kate's direction. “All the victims were in the Colonnade around the time Henri was killed. Maybe someone is killing off any potential witnesses. That would include me.”

“Maybe you should tell the police what you know about the general manager,” I said. “He's one of the few suspects left and he had plenty of opportunity when he cleared the room for room shots.”

Reg darted his eyes to the ground. “About th-th-that—”

“If there's a chance that Mr. Elliot is the killer, you have to tell the police what you know,” I insisted.

Reg buried his face in his hands. “I made it all up.”

“What?” Kate and I said in unison.

“The story about Mr. Elliot.” Reg peeked at us between his fingers. “I made it up so he would look bad. It never happened. He never even mentioned room shots.”

My mouth dropped open. “I don't understand.”

“I had to do something to help Georgia.” He lowered his hands slowly from his face. “Mr. Elliot had it in for
her and wanted to fire her even if she was proven innocent. I thought if I could get him arrested for the murder, she'd go free and get her job back.”

“So Mr. Elliot wasn't in the room alone?” I asked.

Reg shook his head. “He took one look at the setup and left. I followed him out and went to check on the cocktail party.”

“So much for Mr. Elliot being a suspect.” Kate sighed. “What a shame. I really despised him.”

“I'm sorry.” Reg hung his head. “I've made a mess of everything.”

“It's okay. You were only trying to help Georgia.” I wondered if Georgia had any idea that the shy banquet captain was in love with her.

“She doesn't deserve to be in jail,” Reg said firmly. He looked around the column toward the Fairmont. “I had to come tell you the truth, but I'd better get back before I'm missed.”

Kate and I watched him scurry back across the street and dart between police cars to enter the hotel.

“I can't believe he made up that whole story.” I didn't know whether to be impressed that he went to such lengths for Georgia or angry that he'd led us down the wrong path.

“It was pretty convincing, too.” Kate nodded. “I didn't know he had it in him.”

“I wonder how many other people are lying to us.”

“You mean of the suspects who are still alive?” Kate put her hands on her hips. “We're down two more suspects. Who does that leave at the Fairmont?”

“Well, we still have Jean St. Jean.”

“For now.” Kate rolled her eyes. “Until he accidentally flambés himself.”

“We have another suspect who isn't at the hotel.” I started walking toward my car and motioned for Kate to follow me.

“Ian?” Kate asked.

I gave her a dirty look. “No, Miss Smarty Pants. Marcello. I think now is the perfect time to find out what he knows and how involved he is in this whole thing. Come on. We have a party at Evermay to go to.”

“If Richard catches us, it's not going to be pretty,” Kate reminded me.

“Don't worry.” I hunted in my purse for my car keys. “Your workman's comp is all paid up.”

Kate gave me a sugary smile. “How comforting.”

“How many times do I have to tell you?” I said. “He'll never know we were there. You should be more worried about the fact that a killer is still on the loose.”

“Between an unknown murderer and Richard when he gets in a foul mood?” Kate muttered. “I'll take my chances with the serial killer.”

BOOK: For Better or Hearse
13.65Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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