Eat, Prey, Love

by Laura Durham

  “He mentioned something about promising to keep me out of trouble and away from the investigation. Who else could he have promised that to?”

  “That does sound like something Reese has told you to do a few hundred times.” Kate pulled one of her spaghetti straps back on her shoulder. “But it also sounds like Richard. Are you sure he didn’t pretend someone told him to keep you out of trouble?”

  I shook my head. “For one, he accidentally told me and looked panicked when he realized he did. And, two, Richard never lies to me.”

  Despite the fact that he refused to tell me his actual age, Richard was truthful to a fault. He was one of the few people I could always count on to tell it to me straight.

  “You’re right. He doesn’t.” Kate tapped a finger against the crisp-white duvet. “Not that I’d mind a little white lie every so often. I mean is it so hard to say ‘no’ when I ask if an outfit makes me look cheap?”

  I grinned thinking of Richard’s tough-love honesty. “Do you think I should back off and stay out of the investigation?”

  Kate crossed her bare legs Indian style in front of her, leaning her elbow against her knees. “I think it’s a stretch to say that you’re meddling in the investigation. What have you actually done? Talked to a few people? Asked a few questions to see how everyone is connected to the victims? That’s natural curiosity, especially considering we discovered the second body. Meddling would be withholding evidence from the cops or running a stakeout operation in front of a suspect’s house. Both of which you’ve done in the past.”

  I felt my face flush again. “That’s not fair. Withholding the evidence was an accident since I didn’t know I had it, and the stakeout was really more Leatrice’s idea.”

  Kate shrugged. “You know what they say. The road to hell is paved with good inventions.”

  “I do not know they say that,” I muttered to myself, knowing how pointless it was to correct her.

  “I miss having Leatrice around,” Kate said. “She always keeps things lively.”

  That was an understatement.

  “I, for one, am glad she’s back home taking care of Richard’s dog,” I said.

  “What are the over-under odds that she has him doing circus tricks like a seal by the time we get back?” Kate asked.

  “About the same that the two of them will have an entire matching wardrobe.”

  Kate rubbed her hands together in unmasked glee. “As long as I’m there when Richard sees it, my life will be complete.”

  Richard was less tolerant of Leatrice’s creative wardrobe choices and smothering attention. At one point he’d hoped to influence her style but had given up when she’d worn a Christmas tree skirt complete with dangling electric plug. Kate was right. He would officially blow a gasket if he saw his tiny Yorkie in a dog version of a Leatrice outfit. It would be epic.

  “Have you learned anything good from your meddling this time?” Kate asked. “Tell me there was a good reason you chased Jeremy through a rice field aside from providing entertainment to the rest of us.”

  I made a face at her. “Aside from the fact that he said that both victims deserved what they got and then threatened my life?”

  “I’m not saying that’s not juicy, but why was he so worked up about Veronica and Dina? I understand he’s a diva, but what’s his motive?”

  I filled Kate in on Jeremy’s Inspire connection then reached over to the nightstand, grabbed a bottle of water, and took a swig. “He knew both women and wanted to get his revenge; he got himself added to this trip when he wasn’t invited; and he was missing right before Veronica dropped dead. Plus, he was on the beach around the same time Dina was when she died.”

  Kate steepled her fingers and pressed them to her lips. “I dislike Jeremy as much as anyone, but I feel like a lot of people had a connection to the victims from Inspire. Don’t you think Sasha’s motive is better? A jilted woman is way more vengeful than a guy who gets dropped from a social group.”

  “If Jeremy was a regular guy, I’d agree with you, but he’s a narcissistic diva. And you know how important it is to him to be seen as a power player.”

  “True. I wish we had some sort of hard evidence. All of this feels like guessing.”

  I took a gulp of the room-temperature water, then stood up and walked to the open sliding glass door. “What we need to do is find out how the drinks got poisoned. Someone had to have seen something. We know that Dina’s waiter was given a written order to deliver the drink and say it was from Carol Ann. But who told him to say that? And whoever put the poison in the glasses had to come in contact with them between the time they were made and the time the victims took a drink.”

  Kate scooted to the edge of the bed and dangled her legs over the side. “This definitely sounds more like the meddling you’re not supposed to be doing.”

  “Doesn’t it freak you out that two fellow wedding planners have dropped dead on our first overseas FAM trip?” I asked.

  “It’s not the greatest way to kick off a trip,” Kate said. “I’ll give you that. At least we aren’t the ones who put this entire trip together. Can you imagine spending months arranging everything and then it’s all ruined because people keep dropping dead?”

  “Actually, I can’t.” I knew Carol Ann was devastated over the deaths and that this would ruin her fledgling business of promoting resorts to event planners before it got off the ground. It wasn’t great news for us, either, since we’d just gotten ourselves on her list. I’d hoped that this trip would turn into many more trips, but it looked like the entire operation would be going down in flames along with my dreams of jet-setting to exotic wedding locales.

  I felt a fresh rush of anger over the murders. Who did this person think they were, poisoning wedding planners and ruining people’s lives? And over what? Reputations? Infidelity? I slapped my hand against the metal edge of the glass door. “Whoever it is isn’t going to get away with it.”

  “So what are you saying?” Kate slid off the bed and came over to me.

  “I’m saying we need to find out for sure who’s behind all of this mess,” I said, walking to the glass-and-metal railing of the balcony and leaning my hands against it. I spotted Brett and Kristina below us inside one of the fabric-draped cabanas. Brett hadn’t been comfortable at the thought of Jeremy being the killer and had nearly squirmed in his seat when I mentioned it. Was that because he actually thought the man was innocent, or did Brett know more than he was telling me?

  “If you ask me, we should tell the hotel security team or the police what we know and let them handle it.” Kate joined me at the railing and peered over the side. “At least tell them what happened with Jeremy. He did threaten you, after all.”

  “You’re right,” I said. “I still think Jeremy is involved in this somehow, otherwise he wouldn’t try to scare me off.”

  “Maybe he’s protecting Sasha,” Kate suggested.

  I shook my head. “I doubt Jeremy would go to the mat for anyone but himself. He’s using Sasha just like he uses everyone else.”

  “What if it’s the other way around?” Kate asked. “What if Sasha’s using him to distract from her scheme to kill the women? What if he’s her fall guy?”

  “I like the way you’re thinking, Kate. Very devious.” I nodded. “I’ll definitely tell the hotel security guys what we know about Sasha and Jeremy. That way they can question them. We already know that Jeremy isn’t amenable to being questioned by me.”

  “It looks like Brett and Kristina are heading inside.” Kate pointed to the two LA planners as they walked from the pool deck into the lobby. “We should probably start getting ready for dinner soon.”

  I glanced inside at the digital clock beside the bed. “You’re right. After how Mack and Buster teased it to us, I’m excited to see how they’ve decorated the villas for tonight’s party.”

  “What does ‘unforgettable pool decor’ even mean?” Kate asked.

  I shrugged as I heard a loud knocking on my fro
nt door and crossed through the sitting area to open it. Richard stood in the hallway with a cell phone in his outstretched hand. “It’s for you.”

  I stared at the phone then at Richard’s solemn expression. Not a good sign.

  Chapter 18

  “So it wasn’t Reese?” Kate asked as we stepped out of a golf cart in front of the resort villas, and she straightened the plunging neckline of her pale-blue handkerchief dress. Knowing Kate the way I did and considering her high hemline, there was a distinct possibility that her dress was literally two handkerchiefs stitched together.

  I stepped out next to her, releasing my long, flowing skirt and letting it swirl around my ankles. While Kate was showing lots of leg (not to mention plenty of everything else) in the dress she’d chosen for dinner, the only thing exposed in my brightly patterned dress with halter-style top were my bare arms and half of my back. Even though the sun had barely set, and the early evening still held the warmth of the day, I rubbed my arms out of habit, hoping I wouldn’t regret leaving my pashmina in the room.

  “I never said it was Reese.” Richard smoothed the white pocket square tucked into his Wedgewood-blue linen jacket and plucked a nonexistent piece of lint from his white pants.

  “I assumed when I saw your facial expression that it was Reese calling to scold me,” I said.

  “My face was so grim because I’d been talking to Leatrice.” He sighed. “Did you know she’s knitting hats for Hermes? Hats?”

  Kate raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t even know Leatrice could knit.”

  “It takes a very particular face to pull off a hat. I, for instance, look amazing in hats.” Richard gestured to me. “You, not so much.”

  I ignored his snarky comment because he was in one of his ‘states,’ and I made it a point to give my friend a wide berth when he needed to rant.

  “I don’t need to tell you all that I have a head made for hats,” Fern said, twisting his black beret that looked suspiciously like one of the Balinese police hats. Coupled with his black cargo pants, black lace-up boots, and stone-colored short-sleeved shirt, Fern’s homage to local law enforcement was only missing a badge and official patches. “You’re all welcome to borrow my udeng if you’d like.”

  “Your what?” Kate asked.

  “My udeng. The Balinese cloth hat I’ve been wearing.” Fern sighed. “I’m starting to think I’m the only one who researched Balinese costumes before we arrived.”

  “I’m starting to think I’m trapped in a Balinese soap opera,” Kate muttered.

  “I’m sure Hermes will look fine in the hats,” I told Richard as I walked up the wide steps to the entrance.

  Richard shook his head at me as he followed. “Annabelle, he’s a dog. Dogs should not wear hats, period. I don’t want to make him weird.”

  “You carry him around in a leather satchel. The same leather satchel you named him after, I should add, when you changed his name from Butterscotch to Hermes. I don’t think the hats are the issue.”

  Richard held the tall wooden door open for me. “He’s much too sophisticated a dog to be named Butterscotch. He needed a designer name.”

  “My point is the hats won’t make him odd. You should be happy that he’s being taken care of by someone who loves him enough to knit him clothes.” I thought about Leatrice fussing over the tiny little black-and-brown Yorkie and felt glad that she had him to take care of while I was away and she couldn’t meddle in my life. Worrying about my marriage prospects and trying to figure out why things had never “worked out” with Richard even though he spent a significant amount of time at my apartment usually took up so much of her time that it was good she had Hermes to fill the void.

  Richard paused to think about what I’d said then nodded. “You’re right. I’m getting all worked up over nothing. It’s not like we have to add the hats to the repertoire when I get home. If he insists on them, I’ll take him shopping for a nice fedora as a replacement.”

  Not exactly what I’d meant, but at least he seemed to be letting it go. I’d take the win.

  Fern gave a low whistle as we stepped into the marble-floored living room of the main villa. Cream-colored sofas and chairs were arranged around square beige columns that rose up to the high ceilings. In front of a wide wall adorned with a swirling three-dimensional spiral stood a tall octagonal table of polished wood. On top of the gleaming wood were masses of flickering candles perched on high glass holders over low compotes of lush white flowers. The far wall, a series of sliding glass doors, led out onto a terrace with more neutral furniture.

  Three Balinese women in long, embroidered skirts and aqua tops tied with ikat-patterned belts greeted us with smiles, their palms together in a prayer pose. I put my hands together and returned their shallow bows. They swept their arms wide to indicate that the guests were outside.

  “This way,” I said, hearing the low buzz of chatter and music coming from the terrace.

  We passed through the living room and onto the terrace where most of the guests were gathered, drinks in hand. Kristina and Brett were sitting on an overstuffed couch talking with Alan, and Cliff and Ted seemed to be trapped in a corner with Chatty Cathy on one side and two illuminated decorative cones on the other. I spotted Sasha and Jeremy, heads together in conversation, as they stood at the glass balcony away from the crowd.

  “Isn’t this lovely?” Carol Ann asked as she approached us, a waiter following behind holding a tray of premixed cocktails. Her pupils widened slightly as she took in Fern’s outfit.

  He winked at her and smoothed the front of his snug-fitting shirt before heading off into the crowd, his black boots rapping against the marble floors. I just hoped his outfit wouldn’t startle an already edgy crowd.

  “The villas are even bigger than our suites,” Kate said, taking one of the highball glasses from the tray.

  Carol Ann nodded. “These are where the really high rollers stay.”

  I eyed the cocktails before deciding that the likelihood an entire tray full of drinks had been poisoned was very low. I took a tentative sip of the drink, enjoying the tartness of the citrus blend after so many fruity tropical concoctions over the past few days.

  “Have you met Topher and Seth?” Carol Ann asked as she waved over two men I didn’t remember seeing before. “Their flight out of New York got delayed, then they got stuck overnight in Amsterdam, so they just arrived today.”

  The taller of the two men had brown hair touched with gray at the temples and a stylish amount of stubble. He extended his hand. “Seth with Saint Events.”

  “And I’m Topher.” The other man had chocolate-brown wavy hair and eyes that matched behind square-framed hipster glasses. “The T in the Saint.”

  “I get it. S plus T is the abbreviation for saint.” Fern swatted at Seth’s arm. “Very clever, boys.”

  The two men smiled warmly and laughed. I liked these guys already.

  Topher watched Carol Ann as she flitted away to another group, then he leaned in to us. “I heard things haven’t been going so well.”

  “Not unless you consider a body count to be a good thing,” Richard said.

  “Poor Carol Ann,” Seth said. “She’s been working so hard to launch this FAM trip business.”

  “Who do you think is behind it?” Topher asked Richard.

  Richard had been eyeing the men warily since they’d walked up, but I could see his usual reserve and competitive nature thawing when Topher asked for his opinion.

  “We’re letting the police handle things,” Richard said, giving me a pointed look.

  “But the two women were friends, so it’s hard to imagine the deaths are unconnected,” Kate added, hooking her arm around Topher’s as a waiter invited us downstairs for dinner.

  “There’s a lower level?” Fern asked, following the crowd down an outside marble staircase.

  I put a hand on Richard’s arm when we reached a landing in the stairs. “Look at the pool!”

  Below us stretched a long rectangular p
ool with the words ‘Eat,’ ‘Pray,’ and ‘Love’ bobbing on the surface in brightly colored letters. Lights shone from above, illuminating the blue water and the floating words. I knew that Bali’s tourism had surged since the popular memoir had been published, so a nod to the famous book set in Bali didn’t surprise me.

  “That must be the pool decor Buster and Mack mentioned,” Kate said, twisting around in front of me.

  “How did they match the font from the book cover?” Richard asked, clearly impressed.

  “And what are they made of to float like that without drifting off to the side?” Fern said.

  I leaned over the staircase. “They must be tethered to the bottom with weights. What a fun idea.”

  Topher turned around and caught Seth’s eye. “We should try something like this in New York.”

  “Way ahead of you,” Seth said. “I’m already figuring out how we’re going to find the designers and get all the details.”

  “We can hook you up,” Kate said. “The guys who are doing all the design work are friends of ours from DC.”

  “Really?” Topher said, looking over the top of his glasses. “I always forget that DC has decent talent.”

  I put a hand on Richard’s arm as I felt him bristle next to me. “Take it as a compliment,” I whispered. “You know New York is usually ahead of the curve.”

  When we reached the bottom of the stairs, we walked to an open-air terrace much like the one above us. While the one we’d come from had been filled with lounge furniture, this one was set with a single table stretching from end to end. In contrast to the neutral decor in the cocktail area, the long table was covered in an orange cloth with a lush runner of hot-pink-and-orange flowers filling the center and spanning the entire length. As I got closer to the table, I could see that each place setting featured a gold-beaded placemat and a pink napkin wrapped with an ornate gold ring. Miniature gilded birdcages sat above the napkins and held orange tags with names written in gold.