by Laura Durham
He blinked a few times before his shoulders gave way, and he slumped over. “Okay, fine. I admit it. I’d watched him manipulate people for years at Inspire. Pushing people to do things then sitting back and watching the devastation without any personal repercussions. I thought he was despicable.”
His confession startled me. So did Kristina’s nodding.
“I felt the same way,” she said. “And it was my idea to threaten Jeremy. Brett and I noticed him scheming with Sasha, and we were convinced he was behind Veronica and Dina’s deaths. We decided there was no way he was going to get away with it again.”
“You thought he was the killer, too?” Kate asked.
“Of course.” Kristina pulled her legs out of the water. “He was the only person who made sense.”
Brett shook his head. “But I guess we were wrong. We probably shouldn’t have tried to take matters into our own hands, but . . .”
“We’re planners. We’re used to fixing things,” Kristina finished his sentence.
“See?” I whispered to Kate. “We aren’t the only people who meddle.”
I couldn’t help but smile as I looked at the two California planners who’d had the same theories we’d had. Even though they were way more glamorous than me, I felt we were kindred spirits. Too bad we’d all been wrong.
Carol Ann bolted upright in her lounge chair causing Seth to jump. “Do you think people will remember anything from the trip aside from the murders?”
“Of course they will.” Topher leaned across and patted her leg. “And it sounds like tonight will be one for the books.”
Carol Ann rubbed a hand over her face. “You have no idea how many months of hard work went into planning this trip. It was supposed to launch an entirely new division of our company. What resort wants to hire a company to promote them if the guests drop dead right and left?”
“I think it’s just bad luck,” Kristina said. “Veronica and Dina went on FAM trips all the time and nothing happened to them.”
“And you couldn’t have known that adding Sasha to the list would mean she’d bring Jeremy and then he’d end up being one of the victims,” I said.
Carol Ann swung her head in my direction. “Who said I added Sasha to the list?”
“The guys from Insider Weddings,” I said, trying to make my tone sound light even though I knew my words weren’t. “According to them, they had nothing to do with Sasha being here.”
Carol Ann’s face darkened and she gave her head a jerk, as if trying to shake something loose. She stood up, her face flushed crimson, and scooped her beach bag off the floor. “I’m not going to sit here and be accused.”
As we watched the woman stalk off, Kristina’s mouth gaped open. “What just happened?”
Kate looked at me. “Is it just me or did Carol Ann just move herself into the position of number one suspect?”
Chapter 27
“That was a bit of an overreaction,” Kate said as we swam back across the pool.
Seth and Topher had gone after Carol Ann to try to calm her down, but I doubted they would have much luck. The sweet Southern belle had looked seriously steamed.
I adjusted the straps of my peach halter-style one-piece suit as we approached the lounge chairs where Fern and Alan were lying, eyes closed and faces toward the sun. “Usually people don’t get that angry unless they have something to hide.”
Kate rested her arms on the ledge of the pool. “I’m with you that she sounded super guilty just now, but I still can’t figure out why she’d sabotage her own trip.”
I hoisted myself out of the water in one movement, pivoting so that I was sitting on the edge with my legs in the water. The warmth of the sun felt good as it hit my skin, and I stretched my arms behind me and leaned back to get the full effect. Twisting my head around, I noticed Fern’s mouth open as he snored softly. I put a finger to my lips to tell Kate we should talk softly.
“I know what you mean,” I whispered. “She’s talked about nothing but how important this trip is to launching the new division of her company.”
“Unless all of that talk is a diversion,” Kate said, keeping her voice low. “It does provide her with a sort of alibi. She could be a wolf in cheap clothing.”
“Sheep’s clothing?” I asked.
Kate shook her head at me. “Since when do sheep wear clothes?”
I let it slide and focused on the possibility of Carol Ann being the killer. “That would be pretty devious. To create an entire FAM trip as a diversion from your real goal of killing a bunch of the guests?”
Kate pulled herself out of the pool and stood dripping beside her lounge chair before she reached for the fluffy beige towel rolled up at the end. “When you say it like that it sounds pretty messed up. I’m not sure if I can picture Carol Ann as that much of a schemer. Or that much of a psychotic killer. And what’s her motive?”
I stood up and waded through the ankle-deep water around my lounge chair until I could sit down. I lay down on the towel I’d draped across the chair earlier, enjoying the heat of the terry cloth and letting the water on my skin evaporate in the sun. Kate stretched out next to me, dropping the straps of her bikini and tucking them into her black bandeau top, although with the small amount of fabric covering her, I didn’t think tan lines would be much of an issue.
“There must be a motive we don’t know about,” I said quietly. “It seems like too much of a coincidence that she managed the guest list, and the people who ended up on it had a shared history that apparently got them murdered.”
Kate’s eyes lit up as she noticed a frothy green drink on the table next to her. She leaned over and took a sip from the long pink straw “We’re assuming all the deaths are connected. It’s entirely possible that someone offed Jeremy because he was a nasty person.”
I tapped my fingers on the towel. It hadn’t occurred to me that the same person might not have committed all three murders, but Kate had a point. Jeremy had plenty of enemies who might have seen an opportunity to get rid of him amid a string of murders. There were even people on my own team who might have considered it.
Fern jerked awake and leaned over Alan, who appeared to still be asleep. “Who are we talking about?”
“Carol Ann,” Kate said. “She freaked out when we confronted her about putting Sasha on the guest list. Annabelle thinks she must have a reason to have killed everyone.”
Fern’s eyes grew wide. “You do? Sweet little Carol Ann? How could anyone with that accent be a cold-hearted killer?”
“We’ve come across innocent-looking killers before,” I said. “Even really good-looking ones you thought could never be guilty, remember?”
Fern shook his head. “Such a tragedy.”
“If you ask me, the sweet ones are more likely to be killers.” Kate took a long sip of her drink. “All those cheerful Lily Pulitzer patterns and repressed emotions can’t be good for you.”
Kate could never be accused of repressing herself with her clothes since most of her wardrobe consisted of outfits I considered too tight, too short, and altogether too much.
Fern nodded. “I’m surprised all serial killers don’t wear hair bows.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “If we go by that theory, every sorority house at every big Southern university would be packed with serial killers.”
“Sounds about right to me,” Kate muttered.
Fern tucked a few loose strands into his topknot. “I’m not saying they’re all practicing, but the inclination is there. Trust me. I’ve done enough of their big hair to know.”
“Okay.” I picked up my slightly melted lychee martini and stirred the contents with my straw. “I guess with that twisted logic we’ve established that Carol Ann could have killed all three people. But we haven’t determined why she would have or even how she did it.”
Alan’s eyes fluttered open. “Am I having a bizarre dream or are you all discussing serial killer sorority girls?”
Fern patted his shoulder and giggl
ed. “Definitely a dream, sweetie.”
Alan sat up and looked at the empty martini glass on the side table next to him. “That drink was stronger than I thought. Am I already hungers?”
I sighed. “We were actually talking about the possibility of Carol Ann killing the three victims.”
“The trip organizer?” Alan asked, rubbing a hand across his closely trimmed dark beard. “I thought she was cut that her FAM trip was ruined by the murders?”
“We think that may be a ruse to throw us off her trail,” Fern said.
I snapped my fingers. “Do you remember how the drink delivered to Dina was supposedly from Carol Ann? What if it really was from Carol Ann after all?”
“So like perverse psychology?” Kate asked.
Alan looked confused. “Does she mean reverse psychology?”
“Maybe,” Fern said under his breath. “We never really know.”
“Carol Ann was obviously at the dinner the first night, and she had access to the tables before guests arrived, so it would have been easy for her to slip something into Veronica’s water glass or the wine that was pre-poured,” I said. “And she could have sent Dina the poisoned cocktail.”
Kate turned to her side and propped herself up on one elbow. “What about Jeremy?”
I closed my eyes and thought back to the night at the villas. Lots of people had been up from their seats during dinner. I tried to remember what I’d seen when I’d looked around the long table. Had Carol Ann been one of the missing guests?
“What happened to washing your hands of the case?”
I snapped my eyes open at the sound of Richard’s voice. He stood behind my chair, his hands on his hips.
“Where have you been?” Kate asked, raising her cocktail to him. “You’re missing all the fun in the sun.”
Richard cocked an eyebrow at me. “It sounds like what I’m missing is more amateur sleuthing.” He glanced at the pale mark on his wrist where his Gucci watch usually resided. “When I left you no more than an hour ago to go get a massage, you were determined to lay out in the sun and forget all about the murders.”
“I tried,” I said.
“She did.” Kate nodded. “When we got here, she was in full sun-worshipping mode. I mean, as much as she could be while wearing SPF one thousand.”
Richard’s head swiveled to look at Kate. “So are you the one who sucked her back in?”
“Me?” Kate gave him an affronted look. “When have I ever talked Annabelle into doing something she shouldn’t?”
“Where should I begin?” Richard asked.
Kate ignored his remark. “We only started discussing the case again because Carol Ann freaked out when Annabelle mentioned adding Sasha to the guest list. I guess she didn’t like being busted like that so she stormed off.”
Richard scanned the pool area. “When was Carol Ann here?”
“Technically, she was over there.” Fern pointed at the cabana across from us then gave Kristina and Brett a finger wave. “Annabelle and Kate swam over while Alan and I stayed here and worked on our tans.”
“We were having a lovely conversation until I mentioned Sasha,” I said. “Then she ran off and Seth and Topher went after her.”
“Well, that explains what I saw in the lobby just now.” Richard tapped a finger against his upper lip.
I sat up. “What did you see?”
“Topher was comforting a sobbing Carol Ann, while Seth was with Dahlia and Kelly at the front desk trying to arrange an early flight home for the three women.”
“She’s leaving before the farewell party?” Alan asked.
“Or making a run for it,” I said.
Chapter 28
“Do you see her?” Fern peeped over my head at the sea of guests dressed in white as they fanned out across the hotel’s lawn that abutted the beach.
At one end of the green lawn, a low stage held an ornately carved gold backdrop and a pair of high-backed wooden ceremonial chairs. A collection of neutral-hued sofas and chairs topped with batik-print cushions faced the stage and guests had already begun staking out the best seats. Waiters in white jackets circulated through the crowd with trays of tropical drinks served in hollowed-out pineapples and adorned with colorful paper umbrellas as Balinese music filled the air. The late afternoon light was soft as the sun dipped below the tree line and cast gold over the surface of the ocean.
“She has to be here,” I said, inhaling the scent of freshly mowed grass that overpowered the usual scent of salty ocean water that clung to the air. “Topher said she, Kelly, and Dahlia weren’t able to rebook their flights home.”
Fern gave a low whistle. “Two things I can’t believe. One—there aren’t any available flights off the island for a week. Two—you actually curled your hair.”
I put a hand to the bouncy curls that fell around my shoulders. “You like?”
Fern winked at me. “If I didn’t know better, I’d even say you used a styling product.”
A woman from the hotel staff walked up to us and swiftly wrapped us in sarongs and lemon-yellow sashes, topping Fern’s head with a traditional Balinese hat that strongly resembled a white napkin tied in a fancy fold.
I glanced around and noticed the other guests also getting outfitted. “This must be part of the ceremony.”
“I like yours.” Fern nodded to my pink sarong, adjusting his forest green one and frowning. “Do you think mine is too subdued?”
“You look great,” I assured him, weaving my way across the flat expanse of grass and taking a cocktail from a waiter along the way. “The hat makes up for the dark color.”
Fern touched a hand to the hat that perched high above the ponytail at the nape of his neck. “I do love a good hat.”
“You’re here,” Kate said as she teetered up to us in high cork-heeled shoes. “Alan and I were having a hard time chasing people away from our couch.”
I saw Alan a few feet away in a burgundy sarong, stretched across the better part of a beige sofa. He waved us over, sitting up as we joined him. “People are frothing for these prime seats.”
“So much for keeping track of Carol Ann,” I said, resting my pineapple drink on a dark rattan side table.
“Are you kidding?” Kate swept an arm wide. “This is a prime location to watch for her. We’re close to the stage and in the center of the lawn.”
Fern sank into the sofa. “It’s like a very comfortable stakeout. Much better than that one we did in Leatrice’s car.” He wrinkled his nose. “Do you remember? The nearest public restroom was three blocks away.”
I remembered very well and felt grateful that I didn’t have to deal with Leatrice and her obsession with amateur surveillance on top of everything else. Knowing her, she’d be hiding in the bushes right now with infrared sensors.
I took a seat next to Alan. “Have you seen Carol Ann yet?”
“No,” he said, adjusting the white cloth hat on his head. “But I see Dahlia so her boss must be here as well.”
I swung my gaze to follow his, spotting the usually bubbly blond assistant standing unsmiling beside the bar, her Lucite clipboard clutched tightly in one hand. The stress of the trip, the murders, and her hysterical boss had clearly taken a toll. Kelly walked up to her, her cat-eyed glasses glinting in the setting sun, and whispered in her ear until Dahlia nodded. I looked around, knowing that Carol Ann couldn’t be far.
“Aren’t these delicious?” Grace plopped down beside me as she took a sip from her pineapple. Her dark hair was pulled back into a low bun and she’d tucked a pink orchid behind one ear.
“Be careful.” Alan wagged a finger at her. “I think they’re deadly. Blow the froth off more than one, and you’ll be falling on the floor.”
“After this trip, I’m not sure self medicating is such a bad idea.” Grace pulled out her phone and began scrolling through her pictures. “I wanted to show you something since we were talking about Marilyn yesterday. I completely forgot I’d saved these.”
I sat
forward as she held up the screen. I recognized Dina, Veronica, and Jeremy in the photo but not the thin woman with them. “Is that Marilyn, the woman who died?”
Grace nodded. “I guess I’d remembered incorrectly. Jeremy must have still been friends with them when everything went down because this was taken at that Inspire conference.”
I took the phone from her to get a better look at the one person in the photo I’d never met. She was pretty, with sandy blond hair that fell to her shoulders, but her smile looked forced. And vaguely familiar. “I feel like I’ve seen her before. Do you know if she ever did an event in DC?”
Grace thought for a moment. “I’m not sure. Her business was starting to take off when everything imploded around her. I know her husband had political contacts, so she may have planned something for one of their congressmen in Washington.”
Alan looked over my shoulder at the photo and shuddered. “Everyone in that picture is dead now.”
I stared at the image and felt a chill pass through me. It felt unsettling to look at a photo of smiling people who had all died unnatural deaths. I studied Marilyn’s face more closely.
“She doesn’t look happy in this photo.” I passed the device back to Grace.
Grace glanced at the image. “She was always a bit manic. Most of the time she was up, but she did have downturns.”
“I didn’t think you knew her well.”
“I knew about her more than I knew her, but we’d spoken a few times.” Grace explained. “You know how it is in the wedding industry. People’s reputations precede them.”
That was true. Thanks to Fern’s love of gossip, I knew things about wedding vendors in DC I’d never even worked with.
“It sounds like Marilyn wasn’t the most stable person,” I said. “Why would her friends push her into something if they knew she might not be able to handle it?”
Grace took a long sip on her straw, emptying the pineapple and sucking up air. “They may not have understood. Marilyn seemed happy most of the time.”