by Laura Durham
Darla giggled. “Aren’t you a doll? I’m fine for now. You three run along and take care of things.”
Kate and I followed Richard out to the pool deck, skirting a ladder and a stack of plastic glass racks. When he turned I could see he had his Yorkie, Hermes, tucked under his arm.
“Darla said it was fine to bring him, and he could do with a pool day,” Richard said when I reached out and patted the dog on the head. I saw the dog’s setup—a collection of designer squeaky toys and a cashmere blanket draped over his Burberry dog bed—on a nearby lounger chair.
“Does he like to swim?” Kate asked.
Richard arched one brow. “Not without his suit and his floaties.”
I could only imagine the designer bathing suit Richard had for his dog. I tried to bring my focus back to the matter at hand and not on the distinct possibility Richard and his dog had matching swimsuits.
“Doesn’t Darla have a dog?” Kate asked, twisting to peer around the pool deck.
“He’s out being groomed,” Richard said. “She wants him looking his best for tomorrow.”
“Too bad.” Kate rubbed Hermes under the chin. “You’d like a friend to play with, wouldn’t you? Someone more fun than Mr. Fussy Pants.”
Richard made a face at Kate and put Hermes down in his dog bed.
“I need to tell you something,” I said before Richard could zing one back at Kate.
“Well, it’s going to have to wait.” Richard tapped his foot on the concrete. “We have a major issue.”
I glanced around to see if Reese had arrived without me knowing. “Which is?”
“The pink-and-white striped ties I ordered for the waiters to wear were accidentally shipped to Washington state instead of Washington DC,” Richard said in one long breath before gasping for air. “They won’t be here on time.”
I exchanged a relieved look with Kate. “That’s not a big deal.”
“Not a big deal?” Richard staggered back a few steps. “We’ve been coordinating this party for months. I can’t have my waiters be the only non-custom element. I hope you aren’t suggesting they wear tuxedos for an afternoon garden party.”
“Would that be the end of the world?” Kate asked. “They could wear the black vests and not the jackets.”
“Just the vests?” Richard said, inhaling sharply as Hermes yipped. “Richard Gerard Catering is known for exquisite detailing. I will not have my waiters dressed like they work at an airport hotel.”
“I promise you this is not a big deal,” I said. I knew this would be nothing compared to learning his bartender was wanted for fraud. “By the way, you have backup bartenders, right?”
Richard slanted his eyes at me. “Matt is my best and works all my top parties including this one. Why do you ask?”
“No reason,” Kate said, shooting me a warning look. “Why don’t I go online and see if I can find some ties that can be overnighted to us?”
“Good luck finding ones not rayon or polyester,” Richard muttered as Kate took out her phone. “It took me weeks to track down the perfect fabric.”
I walked Richard a few feet away from Kate, ignoring her looks. I had to tell him about Matt before Reese showed up. “Listen. I need to tell you something you’re not going to like.”
Richard’s expression became solemn, and he set Hermes on a nearby chaise lounge chair. “Does this have to do with that detective?”
I paused before thinking how to respond to him so he wouldn’t stomp off in a huff. I looked past his shoulder to where a long white bar was set up on the other side of the pool. I blinked a few times as I saw a tall man turn around from where he was arranging bottles on a back shelving unit. The beauty mark was gone, but I was pretty sure I could make out the mole on his left cheek.
“Is Matt here today?” I asked, hearing my voice crack.
Richard twisted around to follow my gaze. “I had him come so he could inventory the bottles and have the bar set up so we only have to set out glasses in the morning.”
My eyes went from Matt, to the glass wall where Darla sat watching us, to Richard. Pink-and-white-striped ties were about to be the least of our problems.
Chapter 27
“Bad news,” Kate said, walking up to where Richard and I stood on the pool deck.
I had yet to tell Richard my boyfriend was on his way to question his best bartender, and I wondered if I should not tell him at all. Maybe I could finesse it so he didn’t see Reese or know Matt was a possible suspect. I knew this probably wasn’t my best idea, but neither was letting Richard have a complete meltdown in front of the client.
“No ties?” Richard asked, but didn’t look surprised. He stepped back as one of the lighting crew passed us carrying a ladder, and a waiter rolled a stack of plastic glass racks behind him on a dolly, the wine glasses rattling from the bumps in the paving stones. Between the linens being draped onto tables and the lounge furniture being moved into place, the area was slowly starting to come together.
“No,” Kate said. “But I did find some pink-and-white-striped fabric.”
“And that will help us how?” Richard looked from Kate to me. “I don’t suppose you two have sewing skills you’ve been hiding?”
I shook my head. My sewing knowledge extended to stitching a hem or replacing a button, two things I’d had to do many times on the job. I knew Kate’s skills were right there with mine, so I had no idea where this was going.
“DC Rental has a sewing department, right?” Kate asked. “They’ve done custom napkins for us at the last minute and even whipped up an extra tablecloth the day before an event.”
“You think they’ll cut and sew ties for us?” I asked.
Richard nodded slowly as he seemed to warm to the idea. “I don’t see why not. I send them tons of business.” He pulled out his phone. “Let me call Liz and see if I can sweet-talk her into helping us out.”
While Richard stepped aside to call his account rep at the rental company, I looked over at the bar. No Matt. I scanned the pool deck and cursed. “Reese is going to kill me.”
“Because you didn’t warn Richard?” Kate walked over to a high-top table and straightened the bubble-gum-pink cloth draped over it. “I don’t think it matters much. Richard’s going to have a hissy fit either way.”
“Not that,” I said, although I did think Richard would react worse to Reese appearing at his setup than he would to my explaining everything first. “I lost track of his suspect.”
Kate looked around. “Who?”
I pointed to the bar on the other side of the pool. “Matt, aka Rhoda Dendron, was here setting up the bar and now he’s gone.”
“Unless he has supersonic hearing and managed to overhear us talking about him from the front lawn, I doubt he’s made a run for it,” Kate said. “Maybe he took a break.”
I tucked a loose strand of hair back into my ponytail. “You’re right. I’m overreacting. He’s probably inside.”
Kate patted my arm. “Don’t worry. You spend a lot of time with Richard. His overreacting was bound to wear off onto you.”
“Hallelujah,” Richard said, joining us with a smile on his face. “Life as I know it is not over.”
Kate gave me a “what did I tell you?” look.
Luckily, Richard didn’t catch the look and continued to talk. “Not only is Liz going to make the ties for me, she’s going to go buy the fabric. I feel like I got a last-minute stay from the executioner.”
Leave it to Richard to equate not having custom ties for a party to death.
“Glad I could help,” Kate said.
“Yes, well,” Richard stammered. “I don’t know how you thought of it, but it was an excellent idea. I apologize for the many times I’ve implied all your brainpower goes toward picking up men.”
“Was that a thank you?” Kate asked me.
“It was Richard-style,” I said. “A little sweet and a little more snark.”
“I beg your pardon,” Richard said with a sniff. “
When am I ever snarky?”
Kate and I did not get the chance to answer him. A series of loud car horns made us all jump.
“I hope the delivery trucks aren’t getting jammed up.” Richard wrung his hands. “I probably shouldn’t have tried to have so many come within the same window of time.”
We all ran around the side of the house with the garage. The two white box trucks were still backed up and unloading in the driveway, so I knew they weren’t the ones making the noise. I spotted a new truck which had pulled up in front of the house—the liquor truck from the look of the boxes coming off it—and two cars in a face-off trying to get around it.
“Did you know Fern was coming?” Kate asked me.
“That can’t be him,” I said, taking a few steps closer before I recognized his dark hair pulled back in a low ponytail. He was sitting half out of his white convertible, with his head poking above the windshield, as he waved for the other car to move out of the way. “Nope. You’re right. Definitely Fern.”
Who else would wear a white button-down shirt topped with a pink-and-white-striped vest, a pink bow tie, and a straw hat wrapped with a pink ribbon?
Richard threw his arms up. “I can’t find pink-and-white ties but he finds a vest?”
I glanced at the other car and my stomach fell. Tina Pink glared through the window of the black Mercedes as she blared her horn.
“Well, this isn’t good.” Kate looked over her shoulder toward the house. “How do we explain this if Darla comes out here?”
I noticed the guys unloading the trucks had all stopped to gawk at the traffic jam spectacle, and a few waiters wandered around from the back of the house. Pretty soon we’d have the entire neighborhood watching.
“Come on.” I waved for Kate to follow me. “We need to put on our negotiator hats.”
When I reached Fern’s car, I leaned my arms on the side. “Nice outfit.”
For Fern, coordinating his outfit with the event—even if he wasn’t a guest—was an art form.
He glanced over at Kate and me, and his expression changed from determined to delighted. “Hey, girls! Do you like it? I wore it to see if it worked with the decor before I officially debuted it tomorrow. How’s setup going?”
“Good,” I said. “What are you doing here?”
Fern gave a quick beep of his horn. “Darla has a new idea for her hair and wants me to do a trial run. I was about to pull in front of the truck, when this two-bit hussy flew up and blocked me.”
I caught a glimpse of Tina hunched over her steering wheel, her knuckles white and her face red. “Why does she seem to hate you so much?”
“Is it because of us?” Kate asked, giving Tina a finger wave.
“Not unless you also refused to do her hair when she called you for an appointment,” Fern said.
My mouth dropped open. “You did what?”
“She called the other day begging for an appointment.” Fern waved a hand in the air. “I suppose she heard I do all the Potomac wives, so she figured if she’d bought into the neighborhood she should be able to use the same hairdresser.”
“And you said no?” I asked.
“I didn’t like her attitude.” He blew her a kiss. “Or her telling me I should stop working with you and start doing weddings for her. I told her I’d never work for her and neither would any other decent stylist. I told her she should stay with SuperCuts.”
“Ouch,” Kate said.
I would have felt bad for Tina if she hadn’t been trashing me to Fern and trying to steal him away. As it was, I had no sympathy for her.
“You know I’m completely on your side,” I said. “But don’t you need to do Darla’s trial?”
Fern motioned to his backseat and the black bag jammed with hair product and brushes. “Send her out here. I’ll do her trial in the car.”
I looked to Kate for assistance, but her face was blank.
“Back to work, people,” Richard yelled, clapping his hands. “This party isn’t going to set up itself.”
None of the delivery guys moved, so Richard started wrestling with one of the dollies filled with plastic crates himself. I noticed Tina’s husband step out of their front door and walk across the lawn as he took in the situation. Even from a distance I could tell he was a good twenty years older than his wife and had at least a hundred pounds on her. A thick gold chain around his neck glinted in the sunlight as he shoved his hands deep into his pants pockets.
Fern looked over at him and back at Tina.
“Is there anything I can say to convince you . . .” I began, but had to step back as Fern threw his car in reverse and flew back, reversing into a spot on the other side of the mailbox.
Tina gunned her car, her tires squealing as she accelerated by us without a second glance. The delivery guys resumed hauling boxes out of the trucks, and Richard let go of the dolly and hurried back around the side of the house.
“Chop, chop, people,” he called out behind him. “I’m not paying overtime.”
Fern parked his car and got out, hoisting his bag of equipment onto his shoulder. His face was grim as he walked toward us, casting a glance at Tina’s husband still standing on the front lawn. “I don’t like the look of that guy.”
“I mean, any guy who would marry Tina can’t be great,” Kate said as the three of us headed for the house.
“I would have been happy for you to stay out there all day,” I lied. “But I didn’t want Reese to see that.”
Fern’s face brightened a bit. “Is the hot detective here?”
“Not yet. He’s on his way.” I walked around a stack of liquor boxes by the front door. My phone buzzed, and I pulled it out of my pocket.
“Who is it?” Kate asked.
“Stefan is texting me.”
“Doesn’t he know the wedding is over? We’ve broken up. Move on.”
I laughed. “Apparently not. He wants to do an ‘event autopsy.’ His words.”
Kate made a face. “That sounds horrifying in so many ways.”
I typed quickly on my screen. “I’m telling him I’m at an event setup in Potomac and can’t meet with him until next week.”
“When he’s on his honeymoon? Good thinking.”
“Don’t he and Jesse live somewhere near here?” Fern asked.
I pressed send. “I think you’re right. We always met them downtown, but they moved to Potomac at some point during the planning.” I felt relieved our grooms hadn’t witnessed the scene with Tina. If I knew Stefan, he wouldn’t have thought twice about stopping to rehash the wedding in the middle of the street.
Kate took Fern’s bag from him and gasped. “What do you have in here?”
Fern tugged the front of his striped vest. “Hairdryers, curling irons, spray, serum, cement. Everything I might need.”
“Hair cement or literal cement?” Kate shifted the bag from one shoulder to the other as she staggered up the brick stairs.
He giggled and gave her a playful shove, almost sending her sprawling back down the stairs. “Aren’t you a hoot?”
I caught Kate’s arm and steadied her, taking one handle of the heavy bag so the weight was distributed evenly between us.
“So is hot cop coming here on a social call, or is it official police business?” Fern asked.
I ignored his knowing look as the front door opened. “He’s coming to interview a new suspect. Richard’s bartender, Matt—also known as Rhoda Dendron—was Blanche’s roommate and has a record.” I looked up and saw the very person I was talking about standing in the doorway.
The bartender’s mouth dropped, and he slammed the door closed on us.
“How rude,” Fern said, adjusting the tilt of his straw hat.
I grabbed for the door handle and tugged hard, but it was locked. “That was the suspect.”
Chapter 28
“So much for the element of surprise,” I said as I jiggled the knob again.
“That was Rhoda Dendron?” Fern asked. “I feel like I’ve se
en him somewhere before.”
“I’m sure you have.” I pounded on the wooden door, my hand smarting but not making much of an impact. “He was tending bar at the wedding on Saturday and was at Cher’s memorial reception.”
The wooden door opened and Mack stood inside holding a pair of floral clippers in one hand. “I thought you were out back.”
I stepped inside the foyer and dropped my side of the bag filled with hair products. Kate did the same and the bag thudded onto the marble floor.
Since we’d last seen it, the floral carousel had become significantly more floral. Three of the four horses were completely covered with tightly packed blooms and fewer buckets filled with flowers covered the drop cloth. The bodies of the horses were white and each wore an intricately patterned floral saddle in pastel shades with gold rope reins running from the mouths.
Fern gave a low whistle as he reached a hand out to touch one of the horses.
“Hands off,” Buster said, spraying Fern with a water bottle from where he balanced on top of a stepladder. “These need to stay fresh until tomorrow and the oils on your hands do not help.”
“Touchy.” Fern flicked the water off his hand and a few cold drops hit my arm.
“Did you two see where the guy who opened the door a few seconds ago went?” I asked.
“The one who was carrying in the bottles of liquor?” Mack asked. “He went back out toward the kitchen.”
As I’d suspected. I was glad he hadn’t made a run for it up the stairs. I did not feel comfortable searching the client’s bedrooms.
“If you see him come back through here, don’t let him leave,” I said.
Mack’s face lit up. “Should we tackle him?”
My mind went back to the last time Buster and Mack had helped us by tackling someone. The person had nearly ended up in the hospital. “Try to avoid tackling.”
Mack’s smile vanished.
“Does this have anything to do with the commotion out front?” Buster asked.
“I was coming to ask the same question,” Darla said from the top of the sweeping staircase, a Bloody Mary in each hand.