by Laura Durham
"In here," Fern bellowed back then dropped his voice to a near whisper. "That's the funny thing. I was surprised Marcie came to Love Brunch knowing her ex was back in the kitchen."
I dropped the phone back into my bag and grasped his arm before he could leave the room. "Are you telling me Marcie's ex-husband is a chef at The Hay-Adams hotel?"
I looked down at Kate and noticed she looked as stunned as I felt. "Looks like our rehearsal dinner just got a lot more interesting."
Kate nibbled the edge of her lip. "Or a lot more dangerous."
22
"This is bad," I said as I stood in the doorway to the Top of the Hay, the glass-walled ballroom on the roof of the hotel overlooking the White House. The only sound aside from the soft Muzak piped in overhead was the muffled tapping of Kate's toe on the carpet as we both inspected the room setup for Amelia's rehearsal dinner.
"I wouldn't say bad," Kate said after a brief hesitation. "It's a little simple is all."
A single rectangular table ran down the long part of the L-shaped room with a white twill cloth covering it. Instead of centerpieces, the table held a row of white pillar candles encased in straight glass hurricanes. Each place was set with the hotel's white china and a folded white napkin with simple tented place cards perched at the top. Beyond the table and through the glass French doors stood the White House illuminated in the deepening dusk. Past that the Washington Monument glowed from the ring of spotlights below it. During warm weather months, the doors could be opened so guests could stand on the narrow balcony that ran around the rooftop ballroom. I knew that a cold February evening meant the doors would have to stay shut unless guests wanted to wear their coats the entire night.
"The word you're looking for is stark." I rubbed one temple with my fingers. "Are we sure the staff set this for Amelia's rehearsal dinner?"
Kate patted my shoulder. "Look at the bright side. It really puts the focus on the view."
"The bride is going to have a fit," I said, leaving Kate and walking the length of the table. "There's nothing even remotely Valentiney about this room."
"I thought the groom's family had money," Kate said. "You think they could have sprung for a red accent plate at the very least."
"I don't think this is about money." I thought back to the bride's comments about her in-laws. Even though they'd been few and far between, they'd led me to think that the groom's side wasn't crazy about Amelia or her overly themed wedding. If they were trying to balance out the weekend or subtly show their displeasure, this stripped-down dinner would do the trick. "Renting out the Top of the Hay isn't cheap."
"There's nothing we can do about it now. It's not like the groom's side hired us to plan tonight." Kate swept her arms wide. "Not that there was anything to plan."
I shook my head and turned away from the table. "Let's just hope this doesn't make Amelia a mess for tomorrow. The last thing we want is a bride who's spent the entire night before her wedding crying or fuming."
"If we're lucky, Fern gave her champagne while he was getting her ready." Kate pulled her phone out of her hot-pink Kate Spade purse. "I'm going to call him and tell him to put a few Valiums in his bag for tomorrow. Just in case."
I held up a finger. "No more drugging the brides."
Kate shrugged. "Then I'll tell him to bring it for us. If Amelia is in full-blown bridezilla mode, I'd rather be oblivious."
I knew Kate was kidding about taking a Valium, but Fern had been known to relax his brides with prodigious amounts of bubbly and the occasional crushed-up muscle relaxer. After sending a group of bridesmaids down the aisle who'd all fallen asleep during the ceremony, he'd promised me that he wouldn't do it again.
"We can't do anything about this dinner," I said. “What we need to focus on is finding the sous chef."
"Well, it's Friday night at one of the top hotels in the city. Between the private events and the restaurant, this place will be busy. I'm sure he's working."
"The question is, how do we find out if he attempted to kill his ex-wife without tipping him off?"
"That sounds like a question we should be asking your boyfriend," Kate said. "You did say you were going to tell him what we found out."
I walked out of the ballroom into the foyer that held the elevators and a small coat check area. "You heard me leave him a message."
Kate folded her arms across her chest, exposing even more cleavage than her scoop neck blouse did already. "I heard you leave him a courtesy message. You didn't tell him what we learned. You just asked him to call you back when he got the chance."
"I don't want to be one of those shrewish girlfriends who pesters him while he's at work."
Kate narrowed her eyes at me. "Right. That's what you're worried about. Being high-maintenance."
I let out a breath. "Fine. I didn't want to tell him right away, because I know that once Marcie's ex thinks the police are onto him, he might not be so eager to talk. You and I, on the other hand, might be able to get more genuine reactions by having a casual chat."
"So we're not questioning him, just having a casual chat because we happen to be in the same hotel at the same time?"
I clapped her on the shoulder. "Exactly."
"Don't you think Reese will call this shirting the rules?"
"Skirting the rules?" I continued past the empty coat check area with its long row of metal hangers. "Not once he realizes that we were already here and just happened to run into him. Now let's check this kitchen. Chances are good they've already started prepping for dinner. If he's not here, we'll check the main catering kitchen on the first floor."
"This feels less like a coincidence and more like a manhunt," Kate mumbled as she followed me through the swinging door and into the kitchen.
Sure enough, a few cooks were standing at the metal tables facing the entrance, and the scent of sautéing onions filled the air. The sounds of chopping stopped as everyone looked up at us.
"Hi," I gave a small wave. "We're the planners for tonight's dinner." A small lie. "We wanted to pop in and introduce ourselves and thank you ahead of time for all your hard work."
A few of the cooks smiled and a few went back to chopping.
"Is Chef Symon working tonight?" I asked.
A lanky man with thinning hair turned around from the industrial stove top. "That's me. I'm Darren Symon. What can I do for you?"
I paused as I kept my smile fixed. I hadn't thought past the part where we found the ex. I really needed to start planning out my interrogations better. "I'm Annabelle and this is Kate. We were here at the Love Brunch the other day, as well."
The chef nodded as if this was information he didn't need. "I hope you enjoyed the food."
"Delicious," Kate said. "The oatmeal soufflé is our favorite."
Chef Symon gave a half snort half laugh. "It's everyone's favorite."
"It was too bad the event was interrupted by the police," I said. "I hope the kitchen wasn't too messed up."
He shrugged. "We're used to it. If it isn't the police, it's a surprise toast by a drunk guest, or an extra-long dance set by the band."
"Tell us about it," Kate said. "We once had a saxophone player do a twenty-minute riff right as we were about to serve the entree."
"You've probably never had a guest taken out of an event to be questioned about a murder before, though," I said, trying to steer the conversation back to Marcie.
His eyes flickered. "I guess not." He motioned to the stove. "I've got to get back to work."
He turned his back to us, and Kate jerked her head toward the door. I knew she was probably right and we should go, but I also knew that we had the element of surprise that the cops wouldn't.
I decided to go for broke. "I'll bet that was a shock, especially when you found out who was being questioned."
Chef Symon stopped stirring and swiveled back around. "Why do you think we'd know anything about who was being questioned?"
"I assumed you'd have heard if your ex-wife was a suspect in
a murder investigation," I said. "Then again, she wasn't supposed to be the suspect, was she? She was supposed to be the victim."
All the cooks froze, and their eyes darted between the chef and me. Even Kate held her breath.
Chef Symon blinked slowly a few times. "Marcie was at Love Brunch? She's the reason the police came and disrupted service?" He laughed. "Typical. She's still messing up my life even after we're divorced."
This was not the reaction I'd been expecting. "You didn't know she was here?"
"How would I know? They don't give the guest list to the kitchen, and we never leave the back of the house during an event."
That made sense, I guess. "You're telling me you didn't even know it was her when she made a scene accusing someone else of murdering her assistant?"
"The kitchen is pretty soundproof. The hotel doesn't want guests hearing us banging pans back here." He tilted his head at me. "Did you say her assistant was murdered? Do you mean Marcus?"
"Did you know him?" Kate asked.
An expression clouded his face before disappearing just as quickly. "He and Marcie were old friends from college. I'm really sorry that he's dead. I liked him more than I liked her."
"Did you ever want your ex-wife dead?" I asked.
"I don't know anyone who went thought a divorce that didn't want their ex dead, do you?" he asked in lieu of an answer.
"He makes a good point," Kate whispered.
"I can tell you I never wished any harm on Marcus," he continued. "He always had the best stories about Marcie and the trouble they used to get into. It was always fun to watch her squirm when he blew her perfect princess image out of the water. I'll miss the guy."
"The police don't think he was the intended victim," I said. "They think the killer intended Marcie to die."
The chef raised his eyebrows. "Then it's too bad they failed. I would have liked to buy them a drink." He spun back around. "Now unless you want this dinner to start late, I need to get back to work."
Kate tugged me by the arm until we were standing outside the swinging door. "Well, that was interesting."
"You can say that again. He seemed genuinely surprised to hear about all of it."
"Either he should have a second career as an actor, or he had nothing to do with the murder," Kate said.
I was about to agree with her when a giant potted tree walked past us toward the ballroom, jingling as it went. I exchanged a glance with Kate. "Was that . . .?"
We both followed the jingling plant and watched as Mack lowered the potted palm to the floor. His red, sweaty face brightened when he saw us.
"What are you doing here?" I asked.
"What do you think?" He wiped his hands on his leather pants as he walked over to us. "The bride hired us to come in and upgrade the look. Buster is on his way up with about a thousand pink-and-white balloons to fill the ceiling alcove."
I wondered what the grooms' parents were going to think about the bride hijacking the party they'd planned.
"Finding murder suspects might have just become the least of our worries," Kate said.
I was afraid she was right.
23
"Am I through the door yet?" Buster called out from behind a wall of iridescent pink-and-white balloons trying to squeeze through double doors leading into the ballroom. The only indication it was Buster, aside from the deep voice, was the tips of his black leather boots poking out underneath. Otherwise, it was a mass of latex.
Mack rushed forward and tried to push the balloons aside to help Buster through. "Let me help you."
The sound of balloon against balloon and then balloon against leather made Kate put her hands over her ears. Finally Buster and his balloons made it inside, and he let them go to rise up into the recessed alcove that ran down the center of the ceiling. I braced myself for at least one to pop, but none did.
"So how much more decor did Amelia hire you to provide?" I asked. "And since when do you guys do balloons?"
"Normally we'd never touch them," Mack said, looking up at the bobbing sea of pale pink and pearly white orbs above us. "But everyone knows this alcove needs something."
"We've filled it with real flowers, paper flowers, palm fronds, and just greenery before, but Amelia wanted something more fitting for Valentine's Day." Buster tilted his head up and the black motorcycle goggles he wore on his forehead slipped back. "This seemed better than the alternative."
"Which was . . .?" Kate asked.
"Hearts made out of paper doilies and suspended by translucent wire," Mack said. "I put the kibosh on that, let me tell you."
"When did Amelia order all this?" I asked. "We didn't hear a word about it."
Buster's mouth went slack. "You didn't know?" He snapped his head around Mack's. "We assumed you knew."
Mack clamped a hand over his goatee then let it slowly fall away. "We never would have done this if we thought it was behind your back."
I gave a wave of my hand. "Don't worry. It's not your fault. I'm sure Amelia didn't think of it as going behind our backs."
"Brides do this all the time," Kate said, shaking her head. "Since she felt comfortable with you, I'm sure it made sense to add this directly."
I didn't say what I really thought. That Amelia didn't tell us on purpose. She knew we would have advised her against going behind her future mother-in-law's back to change the look of the rehearsal dinner, and like most brides, she didn't want to be told no. I knew in the frenzy of wedding planning it seemed like the best way to get the magazine-worthy weekend Amelia wanted so badly, but once the flowers wilted and the balloons deflated, she would have irate in-laws for years to come. I shrugged to myself. Nothing I could do about it now.
"We still have more trees," Buster said.
Mack shifted from one foot to the other and his leather pants groaned. "And a floral table runner."
I eyed the candles running down the single long table. "Is it low profile?"
Buster crossed his thick arms, and I saw a flash of tattoo beneath the sleeve of his leather jacket. "What do you think?"
"Maybe we should duck out before the families arrive for dinner," Kate said as Buster and Mack headed out of the ballroom. "Our job is to check on the setup and leave, right? It's not like we have an event timeline to coordinate."
The idea of missing any potential fireworks between Amelia and her mother-in-law was appealing. I also wanted to pop in on Leatrice before it was too late. For once, I was looking forward to telling her about our newest suspects, and I knew hearing about it would perk her up.
"Let's wait until Buster and Mack have finished at least," I said. "Then we can hang out in the lobby to greet the families. That way Amelia and her mother will see that we're here."
Kate gave me a thumbs-up and was about to say something when a look of confusion crossed her face. "What is she doing here?"
I swiveled my head to see Marcie peeking in from the foyer. She spotted us and looked equally startled.
"What are you doing here?" All three of us said simultaneously.
"I thought you had police protection," Kate said, looking around for any trace of cute cops.
"That was just at the office," Marcie said. "And it was only for twenty-four hours. Our building amped up security anyway, so I doubt anyone suspicious is getting in."
"So no one from the wedding industry then," I said.
Marcie laughed as she stepped into the ballroom. "I didn't know they had an event here tonight." Her eyes swept the length of the room. "It looks so different than it did for Love Brunch."
"Buster and Mack went all out for that," I said. "The ballroom is actually pretty classic and simple when it’s not carpeted in grass or draped with fabric."
"No toadstools for cocktail tables on a normal day," Kate said.
"I figured that." Marcie smiled. "Even the planters were brought in? I thought the hotel owned those."
"The ones inside the room all belonged to Lush," I said, jerking a thumb toward a nearby palm. "They
've brought different ones in for tonight's rehearsal dinner."
"Actually, we're using the big ones from Love Brunch at our wedding tomorrow." Kate dropped her voice in a mock whisper. "Don't tell our bride, but we had Buster and Mack keep them exactly the same since our bride is having a Valentine's Day themed wedding."
"That's smart," Marcie said. "Don’t forget to submit it directly to me for publication, and I’ll give it special attention."
"That’s so nice of you," I said, trying not to betray my excitement.
"I can't wait to see the photos." Marcie glanced over her shoulder then looked at her wrist. "I don't want to keep you though. I'm sure you have lots to do."
Kate exchanged a look with me. "He's in the kitchen."
"What?" Marcie asked, looking behind her again. "What are you talking about?"
Kate rested a hand on the editor's arm. "We know about your ex. He's working up here tonight on our client's party."
Marcie stared at us.
"We already met him," I said. "If you were coming up here to talk to him, I wouldn't recommend it."
Kate shook her head. "He was busy getting ready for tonight and wasn't too happy to talk to us."
"Then you probably figured out that he'd be less excited to talk to me," Marcie said. "It was a mistake to come here."
"I thought your divorce was settled," Kate said. "I don't know about you, but I rarely have the urge to see my exes once things are over. Unless they're not really an ex, and I add them back in the rotation every so often."
I shot Kate a look. The less the editor of Capital Weddings knew about my assistant’s vibrant love life, the better. "She's joking, but I don't think it will do you any good to reopen old wounds."
"You're right." Marcie ran a hand through her long dark hair. "Of course you're right. I wanted to tell him about Marcus myself since Darren was actually friendly with him, but the last thing I want to do is put your event in jeopardy."
"How could you do that?" Kate asked.
Marcie's face darkened. "Like most chefs, Darren has a temper. If he gets really angry, he might take it out on the food."