Groomed for Murder
Page 21
“So just the photo shoot with the couple and mingling during cocktail hour?”
“You got it. We still have a couple of hours until go time, so why don’t you hang out in the house?” As if they heard me, the penguins turned and started waddling away. “I doubt your little guys like the heat.”
“I think they’re heading for the pool.”
I personally didn’t have a problem with the penguins taking a dip. “It’s salt-water. I think it’s safe.”
My assistant, Kate, did a double-take as she passed the penguins on her way down the hill, stumbling a bit in her heels and catching herself before she tumbled the rest of the way.
“I forgot about the penguins,” she said when she reached me.
I tapped my schedule.
“I know, I know.” She flicked a hand through her blond bob. “I didn’t have time to memorize it yet, General.”
“Another date with the naval officer?” I asked, ducking back under the tent to avoid the sun.
She frowned. “He’s been deployed. No, last night’s date was with a lawyer who works at Langley.”
I tucked my schedule back into my pocket. “He’s a lawyer for the CIA?”
She put a finger to her lips and shot a glance over her shoulder. “I can’t talk about it.”
“You know he isn’t a spy, right?” I said. “They don’t send lawyers to infiltrate terrorist cells.”
“We don’t know that. What would be more of a surprise than a bunch of buttoned-up lawyers busting out the spy moves?”
“Not much,” I admitted.
“Enough about my love life.” Kate nudged me. “I want to hear the latest on yours.”
I hoped my impending heat stroke hid the blush I felt at the mention of my love life. After a rocky start and a bit of on-again off-again action, I’d been dating DC detective Mike Reese steadily for several months. Things still weren’t smooth sailing since we both had crazy work schedules—especially since I was in the thick of my busy season—and not all my friends were as crazy about Reese as Kate was. My best friend, Richard, had been giving the relationship the cold shoulder since he’d decided my dating Reese meant he spent less time with me.
“Fine,” I said. “Everything’s fine.”
“Fine?” Kate tapped her foot on the grass. “That tells me nothing. Have you decided yet?”
I avoided her eyes. “I’ve been too busy to give it much thought.”
“If a smoking hot cop asked me to move in together, I wouldn’t take a month to tell him yes.”
“It’s complicated,” I said.
She tilted her head at me. “You mean Richard?”
“And work. We have been very busy.”
Kate took my hands in hers. “Unless Richard plans to keep you warm at night, I don’t think he should have a vote. This is your life after all.”
I squeezed Kate’s hands. “I know, but Richard has been my best friend since I moved to DC. It’s hard to see this come between us.”
“He’ll get over it.” Kate dropped my hands. “He may fast in protest for a while—or maybe cut out truffles—but he’ll survive.”
My hesitation had more to do with my best friend, but it was hard to admit that I was just as much afraid of my life changing as Richard was. I cleared my throat. “How’s the bride doing upstairs?”
“Good. She’s a little nervous so Fern’s calming her down with his patented blend of charm and dirty jokes.”
“As long as he’s not getting the bridal party drunk,” I said.
Kate hesitated. “Would you be okay with tipsy?”
I let out a deep sigh. “Are we talking him or the bride?”
Kate bobbled her head, which I did not take as a good sign.
“Hallelujah.” She threw her arms in the air as she spotted the lemonade station on the other side of the tent. “I’m dying of thirst. The only thing to drink in the house is champagne.” She held up a hand before I could speak. “And you know I follow your rule about not drinking alcohol at weddings.”
I followed her over to the rustic wooden table with the two large glass beverage dispensers, one filled with traditional lemonade and one filled with raspberry lemonade—indicated by painted wooden signs hanging around the glass containers.
Kate took a champagne flute, filled it with plain lemonade and handed it to me before filling her own. “No Mason jars?” she teased, knowing my aversion to the rustic wedding trend.
“Not on my watch.” I took a sip and felt several degrees cooler as I swallowed the sweet drink.
“As I suspected,” Richard said as he strode down the hill toward us, his beige blazer flapping. “You two are drinking on the job while I’m slaving away in the kitchen.”
Kate downed her glass and refilled it. “How is it you never break a sweat when you slave away?”
I’d often wondered the same thing. Richard, owner of the renowned Richard Gerard Catering and my best friend, had a talent for remaining spotless no matter the temperature or disaster.
“It’s a lot of work to direct my staff and manage the load-in.” Richard smoothed the front of his linen blend jacket. “Just because I don’t personally haul boxes, does not mean I’m not working hard.” He took out a small mister and sprayed his face with—from what I could tell from the few drops that flew into my face—rose water.
“Of course it doesn’t.” I touched a hand to his arm, hoping to mollify him. We didn’t need Richard worked up this early in an event. “Would you like some lemonade?”
He eyed the glass jars. “Perhaps a drop. The sun is relentless.”
June in the Washington DC area could be mild or it could be sweltering. Unfortunately, on this wedding day, we’d drawn the short straw.
Kate handed him a glass. “Bottoms up.”
Richard took a sip and dabbed his mouth with one of the linen cocktail napkins fanned out on the table. “So refreshing.” He set the empty glass on the table and put one hand on his hip. “You didn’t tell me we were having an armed militia attend the wedding.”
“What?” I blinked at him a few times before snapping my fingers. “You mean the father-of-the-bride’s personal security detail?”
Richard pointed to a man in all black walking the perimeter of the patio. “There are at least half a dozen of these guys and they’re all packing serious heat.”
Kate winked at him. “You sound so butch when you talk like that.”
Richard ignored her. “Isn’t this excessive for a guy who owns a pharmaceutical company?”
“It’s not just any pharma company.” I dropped my voice. “They got a major contract with DOD last year. Very hush-hush.”
“Department of Defense?” Kate asked. “What does a drug manufacturing company have to do with defense?”
I wasn’t surprised Kate knew the acronym off the top of her head. She’d dated men at every major government department and knew all the abbreviations by now.
“And how do you know this?” Richard asked.
“You told me I should Google my clients,” I said.
Richard beamed at me. “Look at you doing research on your clients. I’m so proud. I hope you charged them more when you found out.”
I headed out of the tent, gesturing for Richard and Kate to follow me. “You know I don’t raise my prices just because someone is wealthy.”
He let out an exasperated breath. “Still so much to learn, darling.”
“Anyway,” I said, letting Kate lean on me as we walked up the hill and her heels got stuck in the grass. “I figure the contract must be top secret. Why else would he have guards following him everywhere? You don’t do that if you’re manufacturing ADD meds.”
Richard paled under his bronzer. “That’s a scary thought. You don’t think we’re in danger, do you?”
“Kate and I have been coming to the house for six months and we’ve never seen anything out of the ordinary, right?” I stepped onto the paving stones of the pool deck and waited for Kate to pull her s
hoes out of the ground.
She scrunched her mouth to one side. “I do see a pair of penguins swimming in the pool.”
Richard held up his palms as we watched the pair of animals splash in the water. “Don’t get me started on the penguins. You know my feelings about livestock at weddings, Annabelle.”
“Penguins are hardly livestock. You should be grateful I talked them out of the llamas.”
“Llamas? They must be out of their minds.” Richard looked heavenward. “I used to think it was absurd to have dogs in weddings. Now I long for the days when a cocker spaniel was the worst of our worries.”
I stepped back as one of penguins slapped his flipper, sending droplets of water onto the pool deck.
“Watch it,” Richard called out to the penguin, pointing to his shoes. “These are suede.”
“I don’t think he heard you,” Kate said. “He’s underwater.”
“There you are.” Fern stepped out one of the French doors to the house. “I need a little assistance.”
His dark hair was pulled into a tight man bun at the top of his head but it was the crease between his eyebrows I noticed. “What’s wrong? Please tell me another bride isn’t passed out cold.”
“Of course not, sweetie,” Fern said, as if this had never happened to him before. “But she says to cancel the wedding and send everyone home. She’s changed her mind about getting married.”
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To be continued . . .
(To pre-order Wed or Alive, turn the page.)
Also by Laura Durham
Read the entire Annabelle Archer Series in order:
Better Off Wed
For Better Or Hearse
Dead Ringer
Review To A Kill
Death On The Aisle
Night of the Living Wed
Eat, Prey, Love
Groomed For Murder
Wed or Alive (pre-order now)
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Thanks for reading and reviewing!
For Ric Marino and Monte Durham,
dear friends and constant inspiration.
Richard and Fern have nothing on
their real-life counterparts!
Acknowledgments
A huge thank you to all of my wonderful readers, especially my beta readers and my review team. You are all amazing and so appreciated! A special shout-out to the beta readers who catch all my goofs and let me know if something doesn’t make sense before the book goes to print: Linda Reachill, Sheila Kraemer, Jan Scholefield, Linda Fore, Annemarie Esposito, Wendy Green, Vivian Shane, Charlene Eshleman, Sandra Anderson, Katherine Munro, Sharon Thach, Tony Noice, Barb Foerst, Karen Diamond, Lisa Hudson, and Bill Saunders. You all have eagle eyes! And thank you to everyone who leaves reviews. They really make a difference, and I am grateful for every one of them!
Thank you to my editor, Sandy Chance, whose work is fast and fabulous, and to my cover designer, Keri Knutson, who created the new look of the Annabelle books (which I adore).
A virtual hug to Bill Saunders who suggested I feature a gay wedding in my next book (a great idea). I’m always open to reader suggestions, so if you have ideas for a future book or something you’d like to see, let me know!
About the Author
Laura Durham has been writing for as long as she can remember and has been plotting murders since she began planning weddings over twenty years ago in Washington, DC. Her first novel, BETTER OFF WED, won the Agatha Award for Best First Novel.
When she isn’t writing or wrangling brides, Laura loves traveling with her family, standup paddling, perfecting the perfect brownie recipe, and reading obsessively.
She loves hearing from readers and she would love to hear from you! Send an email or connect on Facebook, Instagram, or Twitter (click the icons below).
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laura@lauradurham.com
Copyright © 2018 by Laura Durham
Cover Design by Alchemy Book Covers
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.