Terror in Taffeta (17 page)

“Oh, I'm sorry. We can come back later. Or make an appointment, if that's better.”

“I'm afraid that won't be possible,” she said, bowing her head slightly.

“Oh.” I was disappointed and a little bit embarrassed at this small failure in planning. I really should have called first. “When do you expect him back?”

She fished in her pocket for a tissue as she let out a sniffle, and I noticed that her eyes were rimmed with red. Was she crying? I looked at Jacinda helplessly. What had I said?

“I'm sorry,” I said, turning to go. “I seem to have caught you at a bad time.”

The woman blew her nose and regained her composure. “No, I'm sorry,” she said. “You must not have heard. Father Villarreal—he is dead.”

 

CHAPTER 17

My mind was reeling and my stomach had gone all wobbly. I suddenly found myself shaking, and only partially because of the coffee.
Dead?
How could that be? We had just seen Father Villarreal a few days before, and he'd looked fit, healthy, and several decades away from needing a cemetery plot. “I'm so sorry,” I said. “What happened?”

The woman pulled her navy blue cardigan tight around her, then fingered the small, gold cross she wore around her neck. “We're still waiting to hear.” She eyed us suspiciously. “Did you know him?”

“Sort of,” I said as I fumbled for words, trying to make sense of the news. “I mean, he performed a wedding for my friend, and we wanted to see if he was available to do another one.” I gestured toward Jacinda, who was looking a little ashen.

“I'm afraid you're going to have to find someone else,” the woman said, turning back toward the altar and walking away.

“Wait!” I needed to know what had happened, but I wasn't sure exactly how to ask. “It wasn't—I mean, it was natural causes, though, right?”

She stopped and turned back to me. “I'm not allowed to talk about it,” she said, fixing me with a level stare that told me everything I needed to know. “The funeral is tomorrow morning, if you'd like to come pay your respects,” she said as she walked away.

Jacinda took a couple of steps back, a distressed look on her face. She pointed toward the front doors. “I'm just gonna—”

I followed her outside, where we stood in silence for a moment, squinting into the sunlight, both of us unsure what to say. I hadn't known Father Villarreal for long, but I'd genuinely liked the man, and he had come through for us in a pinch. “Poor Father Villarreal,” I said. “I can't believe this.”

Jacinda nodded pensively.

One wedding, two deaths. I knew it must look bad. I had to get it together. Be professional. Not let the second death in less than a week throw me off my game.

I took a deep breath. “That's okay. I mean, it's tragic, poor man, but we can find someone else. In the meantime, do you want to go take a look at Bellas Artes?”

“I don't know, Kelsey. I know this sounds silly, because it's not like you killed the guy or anything, but bad luck seems to be following you around.”

I wished I could say it sounded silly, but it didn't.

“Let me assure you that this is not at all how things usually happen.”

“I know, I'm sure it's not. You seem great, and I'm sure you're really good at your job, but this is a lot to process.”

“I understand,” I said. And I did. I couldn't blame her. I didn't know if I would have hired me, either, under the circumstances. “You want to just talk later?”

“Sure,” she said, her voice uncertain. “I'm sorry, I'm probably just being superstitious. I just—I don't know.”

“Of course. Well…” I was at a loss for words. “Call me.”

“Good-bye, Kelsey,” she said before turning and walking away. At least she hadn't broken into a sprint. Maybe there was still hope.

I was disappointed, of course, but there was something much worse nudging at the back of my mind.
Murder
. Could Father Villarreal have been murdered? His death had obviously been unexpected. It could have been an accident, but then why would the woman at the church have been so secretive?

No, I refused to believe it. Father Villarreal could not have been murdered. Because if he had, then it couldn't have been a coincidence, and I wasn't willing to accept that the wedding I'd planned so perfectly had somehow led to two people's deaths.

Stunned, I texted Brody, then wandered back to the
jardín
to wait for him. I replayed the conversation in my head over and over again. Maybe there was some sort of mistake. Maybe he'd—I don't know, faked his own death. Like maybe he had some gambling debts he couldn't repay, or he was on the run from the Mexican Mafia.

When I'm in denial, I go all in.

Brody showed up a few minutes later. “Hey,” he said as he shrugged off his messenger bag and set it beside me. “That didn't take long. I just got done at the police station, and then I got your text. I wouldn't say they were as impressed as we were by what we found, but they promised to look into it.”

“Brody, sit down.” I gestured at the bench next to me.

“Whoa, you look like hell! What happened? You were only gone for an hour.”

I shot him a look before realizing I probably did look pretty shaken, then recounted what had happened at the church.

His eyes went wide with disbelief. “Dude,” he said, not as a nickname but as a general observation about the suckiness of the situation. “Are you sure?”

“I didn't ask to see the body or anything, but the word ‘dead' didn't really seem open to interpretation.”

“Sorry, I can't even wrap my head around this. What happened?”

“I don't know! The woman I spoke to didn't offer up any details.”

“I don't want to let my imagination go running away with me here, but two deaths … What are the odds that it was a coincidence?”

I buried my face in my hands. “I know. As much as I don't want to believe it, I thought the exact same thing. What if he was killed by the same person who killed Dana?”

We both slumped in our seats, staring at the ground in silence as we tried to make sense of this new piece of information.

A thought suddenly occurred to me, propelling me into an upright position. “On the bright side, Zoe wouldn't have had any motive to kill Father Villarreal. Surely the police will be able to see that.”

“Hey, that's true,” said Brody. “Plus, she might have already been in jail when it happened.”

“That would certainly help our case,” I said, chewing on my lip pensively. “I just wish we knew more. We could get Zoe out of jail, and I could convince Jacinda that my weddings aren't inherently lethal.”

Brody and I abandoned our spots on the park bench and headed off to find the street taco lady who had a cart a few blocks away. I told him about Jacinda and how she'd practically fled after learning about Father Villarreal. We sat on the curb with our paper plates in our laps, speculating over
tacos de carnitas
about whether the police would release Zoe and what exactly the Abernathys' attorneys were doing to help.

After polishing off the
carnitas,
what I really wanted was a nap—isn't that what you're supposed to do after lunch?—but first I wanted to go by Evan's house and see if he was home. So much had happened since our last date, and I wanted to catch him up on all of it. I'd learned about Dana's blackmail scheme, found and probably lost a new client, met Dana's fiancé, Kirk, and gotten the evil eye from Mrs. Abernathy no less than eight times. All that and another death to report, too. I was nothing if not full of news.

Brody walked with me to Evan's house, but when Evan answered the door, Brody all but abandoned me, mumbling something about giving us our space before vanishing around the corner.

“This is a pleasant surprise,” Evan said, pulling me in for a quick hello kiss. I hoped there would be more where that came from. We retired to the hammock in his courtyard, where I updated him on everything as we swung lazily back and forth.

“I heard about that,” he said, when I told him what I'd learned about Father Villarreal. “When I was at the market earlier, I ran into one of my neighbors, and she goes to his church.”

“Did she say what happened?”

“Not really. They found him at his house after he didn't show up for services on Sunday.”

I sighed. “But no one knows the cause of death?”

“That's all she told me, sorry. But I'll let you know if I learn anything else.”

I told him all the rest of my news. My right arm was going a little numb from being pinned under me, but it felt good to be pressed against the warmth of his chest.

“Wow,” he said, rubbing one hand idly up and down my back. “You've been busy.”

“Tell me about it. We're getting kicked out of the villa the day after tomorrow, and I have to find someplace we can all stay. Stupid chamber music.”

He shifted and propped himself up on one elbow, red indentations crisscrossing his forearm where the hammock had pressed into his arm. “What about here?”

“Here? You don't have room for all of us.”

“No, but I have room for you, and that's a start. Maybe even Brody, if he doesn't mind taking the foldout.”

I chewed on my lip and thought about it. “Well, it would be nice to have a little distance from Mrs. Abernathy.”

“C'mon,” he said, giving me a quick kiss as if it settled the matter. “It'll be fun, like a slumber party.”

“And it would mean two less beds to find.”

“See? There you go. I won't take no for an answer.”

“Okay, then. If you're sure…”

“I'm sure,” he said. “And who knows? Maybe you'll like it so much here you'll never want to leave.”

I craned my neck around to look at the clock. “Speaking of leaving, I should probably skedaddle. I have to fill the villa folks in on everything that's happened.”

I hated to go, but there was still so much to do. At least I'd found a place for me and Brody to stay, but I was going to have to get creative or I'd have to show up with four or five extra people in tow. I wondered how Mrs. Abernathy would feel about sleeping in a hammock.

*   *   *

Back at the villa, I had Brody help me round everyone up for a family meeting. Mrs. Abernathy, Nicole, Vince, Brody, and even Kirk gathered around the patio.

“What is this about, Kelsey?” Mrs. Abernathy demanded, right as I was about to open my mouth.

“I've got good news and bad news. Well, and some other news that's somewhere in between.”

“Let's start with the in between,” said Mrs. Abernathy, “since I have no earthly idea what you're talking about.”

I hadn't realized I'd been holding my breath until she said that. I wasn't ready to break the news about Father Villarreal, at least not yet. Not that the extra few minutes would make it any easier, but I was still struggling to find the right words. “As you may or may not be aware,” I began, “we have to move out of here on Friday to make way for new guests.”

“I'm sure they can find another place to stay,” said Mrs. Abernathy, dismissing the new tenants with a wave of her hand.

“I wish it were that easy, but we're getting kicked out.”

“Where are we supposed to go?” Mrs. Abernathy demanded.

“That's what I've been working on,” I said. “It's been difficult finding accommodations, because everything is full up this weekend, but I do have some leads.”

“I should hope so,” said Mrs. Abernathy. “So what's the good news?”

I filled them in on the information we'd found on the USB drives and told them we'd visited the police. I kept an eye on Vince to see how he reacted to the news, but his face didn't betray anything one way or the other about whether he knew that LionFish was in trouble.

“That
is
good news,” said Mrs. Abernathy. “When do you think Zoe will be released?”

“It's not that simple,” I replied. “They aren't ready to let Zoe go, but at least they're looking into it, and that's something.”

Mrs. Abernathy let out an exasperated little sigh. “Wait, you mean you weren't able to convince them to release her? I thought you said this was
good
news.”

“Mom, Kelsey did everything she could,” said Nicole. “These things take time.”

Mrs. Abernathy looked unconvinced, but Kirk leaned forward and touched my arm in a gesture of appreciation. “I'm sure you did great, Kelsey. I appreciate everything you're doing to help find out what happened to Dana.” I smiled and nodded in response. Poor Kirk. It was nice to have someone on my side. I made a note to ask him later if I could help him with anything.

Ignoring Kirk's speech, Mrs. Abernathy rolled her eyes. “If you call that good news, then I hate to hear what the bad news is.”

“Oh, yeah. That. So, I went to the church today to see Father Villarreal.”

“Why?” asked Vince. “Is he a suspect?”

“What? No, nothing like that. I was taking a woman named Jacinda Rivera to meet him. Anyway—”

“Who is this Jacinda woman and why have I never heard of her?” asked Mrs. Abernathy.

“It's not important. She's a new client. So we went—”

“A
what
?” asked Mrs. Abernathy.

Oh, boy.

“I met her the other day. She's planning a wedding and asked me to help.”

“So
that's
what you're doing with your time?” Mrs. Abernathy shook her head. “I'd think we'd be keeping you busy enough that you wouldn't have to be looking for outside work.”

“I am. I mean, you are!” Why had I even mentioned Jacinda? It was all Vince's fault.

“If you were a little more focused on this job, maybe you could have convinced the police to release Zoe. But I guess you were too busy planning this Jacinda woman's bachelorette party to be bothered.”