by Laura Durham
A woman in a powdered wig shuffled by, her dress a table extending out in a perfect circle holding an assortment of artfully displayed sushi. I considered a salmon roll before deciding it was a little too early to eat raw fish. I also wasn’t sure how I felt about eating it off a person’s outfit. Kate had no such “not before noon” or “no eating off a living statue” rules and plucked two California rolls from the living buffet.
I turned my attention back to Blanche. “Have you spoken to the police yet?”
“I promised the detective I’d stop by today after the reception,” Blanche said. “Although I don’t know how much I can tell them. I probably left the wedding before Cher even showed up.”
“Did you drive home or take a taxi?” I asked.
“I walked. I don’t live far from Meridian House.”
I still wasn’t convinced Blanche had actually left Meridian House when she claimed, but I nodded as if I believed her. “Any details you might have noticed could help the case. Maybe someone else who had a connection to Cher was at the house.”
Blanche bit the edge of her fire-engine-red bottom lip. “Like I told you before, Cher and I weren’t close. Plus, the house was a madhouse when I left. I must have seen a dozen people loading in as I was leaving. I saw you, those huge florists and all their crew, the hairdresser and the grooms, the girls in those gold dresses.”
“Did any of them look sinister?” Kate asked.
Blanche’s false eyelashes fluttered. “Why would anyone at the wedding look sinister?”
“Cher thought she was being stalked,” Kate said in a low voice. “Her stalker might have come to the wedding to finish her off.”
I shot Kate a look. So much for keeping that information on the down low.
Blanche sucked in air. “Stalked?” She narrowed her eyes at me. “Is this why the police want to talk to me? They think because Cher and I had a feud I would stalk and murder her?”
“No,” I said. “They want to talk to you because you were at the wedding. They’re talking to everyone who was there.”
Blanche flipped a bouncy golden curl off her shoulder. “I hope you’re right. I had nothing to do with Cher’s death. Not only do I have an airtight alibi, I know someone who wanted her dead way more than I did.”
I watched as Blanche flounced off into the crowd. “I wonder who she meant?”
Chapter 14
I took a pair of martini glasses filled with pale-pink liquid off a passing tray and handed one to my assistant. “I think we both need a drink.”
Kate took a sip. “I’m assuming she’ll tell Reese when she meets with him. I’d love to be a fly on the wall, especially if she wears the dress.”
Richard walked up with a paper napkin filled with hors d’oeuvres he was feeding bite by bite to Hermes. “Who was the blonde who stormed away from you?”
“That’s Blanche Davidian.”
His face was blank.
“Your waiter, David. The one you sent home early on Saturday.”
His eyes grew wide. “Really? I never would have pegged him as a blue eye shadow type of guy.”
I scanned the crowd looking for Fern as I tasted the fruity cocktail I’d snagged. The gold velvet drapes were drawn over the casket, and a microphone had been moved in front. I wondered if people would start giving toasts soon. The jazz band kicked into a mournful version of “It Had To Be You,” and I turned to see a new singer in teal chiffon with pink hair teased so high she had to duck to walk under the hanging light fixtures. While the other performer had been a baritone, this singer was a bass. I felt like I was listening to Barry White and watching Dame Edna. I listened to her, transfixed, until she began singing “The Lady is a Tramp.”
“How long do you think we need to stay?” Richard asked. “I think I’m starting to lose my grip on reality.”
“Let’s get Fern and take off,” I said.
I tried to peer over the heads, but mostly saw lots of big hair.
Kate nudged me. “Are those our grooms?”
I followed her line of sight, not exactly sure if I was up to facing Stefan so soon after the wedding. I saw Jesse in a dark suit moving through the crowd toward the antique fireplace, but not Stefan.
Kate raised her arm above the crowd and waved, calling out Jesse’s name. He swung his head around and broke into a smile when he saw us. We wiggled our way over to him with me holding my drink high so it wouldn’t be jostled, Richard mumbling about personal space, and Hermes giving the occasional yip.
Jesse gave us enthusiastic hugs when we reached him. “Can you believe we’re seeing each other again so soon?”
“No, I can’t,” Richard said, shifting Hermes on his hip.
I shot him a look. “He means we aren’t usually this lucky. Most of our couples run off on their honeymoon right away.”
Jesse gave a tight laugh as he reached out and scratched Hermes’s head. “You know Stefan. He had some work thing come up, so we’re going to the Seychelles next week instead of right after the wedding. He made it up to me by getting us the Presidential Suite at The Wharf for this week.”
Kate swiveled her head. “Where is Stefan?”
Jesse bobbed one shoulder up and down. “He said he was going to get us drinks, but he must have gotten lost.”
I hoped he’d gotten lost. I had a feeling Stefan might want to rehash the wedding, and I was in no mood.
“We saw Fern a few minutes ago,” Jesse said. “I had no idea he and Cher were friends.”
“It was a surprise to all of us,” I said, continuing to scan the crowd for Stefan, nervous he would appear at any minute and start complaining about the wedding.
“Speaking of Fern,” Richard said in my ear, “weren’t we going to find him and go?”
“We were actually on our way out.” I squeezed Jesse’s arm. “Please tell Stefan we were sorry we missed him.”
I pulled Kate away after she gave Jesse a final hug. “Let’s find Fern before Stefan finds us.”
“Good thinking.” Kate squatted down. “It’s easier to look through the legs than try to see over the hair. There aren’t many pant legs in here, anyway, so he shouldn’t be too hard to spot.” After a minute, she pointed. “Found him. His legs are on the move and headed toward the gold velvet.”
We wiggled our way through the tightly packed mourners as they laughed and tossed back drinks. More than one cocktail splashed onto my arm, and I could feel my shoes sticking to the floor.
“Watch the suit, people,” Richard cried behind me. “Beige does not hide spills.”
Fern’s face brightened when he saw us. “I wondered where you’d gone.”
“Where we’d gone?” I said. “You left us in the dust.”
He gave a wave of a hand. “I needed to find Hedda Lettuce.” He gestured to a brunette in a one-shoulder canary-yellow cocktail dress that left little to the imagination but filled me with many questions. “She put this whole thing together.”
“Hedda Lettuce?” Kate asked, glancing down at her empty martini glass. I suspected she was wondering if she’d had too many.
“Call me Hedda.” She extended a perfectly manicured hand to both of us as she looked us up and down. “Aren’t you dolls? I love the black. Very Audrey Hepburn.” Her eyes fell on Richard and dropped to Hermes. “The dog goes perfectly with your suit, hon. Really adds a nice contrast.”
Both Richard and Hermes seemed to preen from the compliment as they grinned at Hedda.
“You must have been close to Cher to do this.” I shifted closer to Kate as a Marie Antoinette doppelganger passed by with a rolling metal frame skirt around her waist which held rows of champagne flutes all the way to the floor. This was officially the first party I’d attended where all the food displays were people powered.
Fern snagged one of the glasses of champagne off the human display. “Hedda knew Cher better than anyone. That’s why she’s going to kick off the tributes.”
Hedda stepped up to the microphone before I
could ask her what she knew about Cher’s stalker.
“Give me a hand, girls,” Fern said as he tugged back one side of the gold fabric.
Kate and I took the other side with me holding back the heavy fabric while Kate tied it with a thick gold tassel.
Richard stepped back and eyed the velvet. “It’s not quite even.”
“Where’s the other tassel?” Fern asked as he stood with an armful of gold velvet.
I turned to look for it and noticed the pink casket behind me was now open with both halves of the lid propped up. “Odd. I thought this was for decor.”
Kate grasped my arm. “Is that what I think it is?”
I spotted the end of the gold tassel hanging out of the casket at the same time I noticed a flash of silver from inside. I took a step closer, and Kate shuffled along behind me. I heard Hermes begin to growl in the background.
“I thought you said the coroner hadn’t released the body,” Kate said, hiding her face behind my shoulder.
“That’s not Cher Noble,” I said as I got a clear view into the casket and the body within. “It’s Blanche Davidian.”
Chapter 15
“There’s the missing tassel,” Fern cried, stepping closer to the open casket.
I turned around and tried to step in front of him. “Maybe we should leave the velvet down for a while.” I dropped my voice and gave Kate a pointed look. “Like until you call 911.”
She fumbled in her purse. “On it.”
Richard’s face froze as he alternately looked at the casket and down at Hermes, whose growl was a low rumble. “Is that . . .?”
Fern put his hands on his hips. “We can’t have one side pulled up and the other side hanging down, Annabelle. You know how I hate asymmetry.”
True. Fern had not been happy during the days of one-sided angled haircuts.
“I’ll drop my side,” I said, still blocking his way. I tried not to look at the body lying sprawled in the casket, but even from the corner of my eye I could tell it had not been a neat job. The body was twisted awkwardly, and the spangly silver dress was bunched up in the middle, almost like Blanche had been tossed inside.
Fern squinted at me as Hedda Lettuce turned from the microphone, waving us out of the way with one hand.
“Close the lid,” she said, her voice a gravelly rumble.
Fern sidestepped me to reach the lid and screamed so loudly I had to cover my ears. I caught him as he staggered back and began to sway, his eyes fluttering before rolling back into his head. I braced myself under his dead weight but couldn’t keep him from slipping down to the floor and landing at Kate’s feet. Hermes leapt from Richard’s bag to the inside of the casket where he began barking.
Richard staggered against the casket as Hermes scampered up and down on the corpse, yipping furiously.
Hedda gaped at Fern’s limp form and glanced up at the casket. The microphone picked up her deep voice. “What is Blanche Davidian doing inside the casket?”
So much for keeping this quiet until the police arrived. Every person in the room stopped talking and looked up to where Kate and I stood in front of a hot-pink open casket with Fern lying at our feet and a dog barking on top of a dead body. I saw a few phone flashes go off.
“It looks like there’s been an accident,” I whispered to Hedda, hoping the mic wouldn’t pick up my words.
“Accident?” Hedda took a few jerky steps toward the casket and paled under her heavy makeup. “Is she dead?”
I let my eyes wander to the body. The purple cast of the face and the protruding bloodshot eyes left little doubt Blanche Davidian was dead, and the gold tassel wrapped around her neck made it pretty clear she’d been murdered. I felt my stomach do a flip-flop as I looked at the dead drag queen and was glad I hadn’t eaten the sushi. I scooped up Hermes and handed him to Richard, whose usually tan face looked several shades paler.
Hedda put her hands to her cheeks and shook her head. “Who could have done this?”
I didn’t know what to say, and I didn’t feel like I knew Hedda well enough to comfort her.
Fern stirred at my feet, pushing himself onto his hands and rubbing his head. “Why am I on the floor? What happened?”
Kate kneeled down next to him. “Maybe you should stay down there for a while.”
He shook his head. “I’m getting dirt all over my suit.” He got to his knees and clutched the side of the casket to pull himself up the rest of the way.
I stepped forward to stop him, but he’d already hoisted himself so his face was even with Blanche’s. His eyes widened, he gave a squeak, and collapsed again.
“Let’s hope he stays down this time,” Kate said. She hooked her hands under his armpits and dragged him over to the tile wall, propping him so he looked like he was napping upright.
The crowd murmured behind us, and I heard sirens in the distance. I saw a few guests drift toward the staircase, including Jesse and Stefan. Luckily, Stefan wasn’t looking in my direction, so I hoped he hadn’t seen me. If I had to juggle a groomzilla and a dead drag queen for a second time I would lose my mind. I grabbed Richard’s arm. “This is a crime scene. No one can leave until the police arrive.”
He looked at me blankly, but Hermes yipped his agreement.
“We don’t want Blanche’s killer to escape, do we?” I asked.
Richard hoisted his dog higher in his arms. “Hermes and I will be at the stairs and make sure no one leaves.”
I turned to Hedda. “Can you make an announcement to calm everyone down and make sure they don’t run for the exit?”
She pressed her coral lips together and stepped up to the mic. “Forgive the technical difficulties, sweeties, but don’t leave yet. We’ll be raffling off a spa weekend in a few minutes.”
The guests who’d been heading to the stairs stopped and turned around. I had to give it to Hedda, dangling a spa weekend in front of people was pretty ingenious.
“I hope we win,” Kate said, nudging me. “That would turn this week around.”
“Definitely.” I didn’t have the heart to tell her the getaway was a scam.
A pair of blue-uniformed police officers appeared at the top of the staircase, blocked by Richard who appeared to be asking for ID. Kate hurried over to them while I stayed with Hedda to block the other guests’ view of the body.
Hedda handed me a glass of champagne from the live display who still stood nearby and took one herself. “Here, sweetie. You and I could both use a drink.”
I thanked her and took a sip, the bubbly feeling oddly comforting as it cooled my throat. “Did you know Blanche well?”
Hedda tossed her hair back. “Not as well as I knew Cher, but she was still part of our community. It’s no secret Blanche had issues with Cher, but I never thought of it as more than a spat.”
Any theory of Blanche killing Cher had flown out the window, so I wasn’t sure how their feud could have anything to do with either murder. Unless drag queens had factions and there was some Jets versus Sharks thing going on. Looking over the sequined and hairsprayed crowd, I doubted it.
Hedda drained her champagne and hiccupped. She clasped my hand. “I think I may have been one of the last people to see both victims before they died.”
“What?”
“I haven’t told anyone yet because I was too distraught, but I dropped Cher off at the wedding on Saturday. She was nervous about using her car after her tires were slashed, especially since she’d be in full drag, so she asked me to drop her off.” Hedda dropped her eyes. “I was waiting for her call to come pick her up, but it never came.”
“You need to tell this to the police,” I said. “You might have seen something important without knowing it.”
Hedda looked at me, her dramatically arched eyebrows furrowed. “Do you think so? I dropped her off at the front door and drove away.”
“Did you see anyone you recognized going in or out of the house?” I asked. “What about Blanche? She was a waiter at the wedding but claims to have
left early. Did you see her leaving?”
Hedda paused for a moment, shaking her head before she spoke. “I don’t think so, although I don’t know if I’d recognize Blanche out of costume.”
“You think you might have been the last person Blanche talked to before she was killed as well?”
Hedda’s eyes drifted toward the casket. “She came up to me today and told me she wanted to say a few words about Cher.” Hedda sighed. “I might not have been gracious to her. I told her a reception celebrating Cher was no place to bring up bad blood or past history.”
“Is that what you think she wanted to do?”
“I don’t know. She insisted not. She said she wanted to make her peace with Cher. I told her I’d add her to the end of the tributes and we’d get to her if we had time. She wasn’t too pleased and stomped off.”
I remembered her storming away from me earlier. Blanche had done a lot of stomping off before she was murdered. “Do you have any idea who would want to kill her?”
“You can’t help yourself, can you?”
I closed my eyes and did a mental head slap as I recognized the voice behind me. I turned around and tried to give my boyfriend my most innocent smile. “I didn’t think this was your district.”
Fern stirred against the wall, and Reese looked over at him, shook his head, and looked back at me.
“It’s not. Kate called me after she called 911.” He cut his eyes to where Kate was flirting with one of the uniforms near the stairs. Richard and Hermes were nowhere to be seen. “I don’t know if she understands I don’t cover the entire city.”
“I don’t know if she cares,” I said. “I think she considers you our personal detective.”
His face finally broke into a half grin. “I don’t mind being your personal detective.” His expression became serious again. “I do mind you trying to do my job. Or actually, the job of the District Three detective.”
“I’m sorry.” I rested a hand on the sleeve of his brown blazer. “It was an accident. Hedda and I were chatting while we waited for the cops and the questions slipped out.”