Irish Aisle are Smiling

by Laura Durham

  "He said that since I've been involved in so many of the investigations during your weddings, that we could design a wedding around it. Like those murder mystery theaters where one of the guests dies during the evening."

  "You're going to kill off one of your wedding guests?" Nothing screamed romance like homicide.

  "Fern thinks it would be fun to have the rest of the guests solve the murder," Leatrice said. "Unfortunately, he wants my sweetie pie to be the one murdered."

  I took another peek at Fern who was pawing through his shopping bags and showing the ladies his castle tea towels. "So let me get this straight, Fern wants to pretend that Sidney Allen--the groom at your wedding--has been murdered and make everyone solve it during the reception? Is your fiancé supposed to lie on the floor and pretend to be dead at his own wedding?"

  "That's exactly what he asked," Leatrice said with a giggle. "I've always thought you and my love muffin are simpatico, Annabelle."

  I suspected it was less about me being in tune with her love muffin and more about both of us being rational.

  "Don't worry," I said. "I'll talk to Fern. You don't have to have a murder themed wedding if you don't want to. Actually, I'd recommend you don't. I think we've all had enough murder at weddings for one lifetime."

  could hear Leatrice let out her breath with the long whoosh. "I knew you'd know what to do, dearie."

  "What kind of wedding do you want to have?" I asked. "And keep in mind you don't need to have a theme."

  "I was thinking of keeping it simple," Leatrice said. "Something small with just the people closest to us. You and Reese, Kate, Richard, Fern, Buster and Mac. And of course baby Merry and Prue."

  I swallowed a lump that had formed in my throat. The friends she'd named were all my friends. "Does Sydney Alan have any family or friends he wants to invite?"

  "No family. At least none he's close to. He might invite some of his best performers. And maybe a few of the caterers who have referred him the most over the years."

  The lump in my throat grew as I realized that Sydney Alan's friends and family consisted of a few work acquaintances and employees. It made me even happier that he and Leatrice had found each other. And it made me determined that their wedding was not going to be some crazy disaster.

  I looked back at Fern and Kate as they grabbed their luggage from the pile being unloaded from the minibus, and I noticed Kate pulling my small, wheeled suitcase along with her own. Fern snagged his Louis Vuitton duffel, and I noticed with some surprise that it wasn't the only bag in the pile with the signature interlocking "L" and "V." He'd been right about the ladies. They were more well-heeled than their sweatsuits would indicate.

  Don't worry," I said. "Kate and I will talk to Fern and then we'll come up with something small and simple that's perfect for you two."

  "I knew I could count on you to fix things," Leatrice said.

  I noticed Richard hurrying back out of the castle. "I've got to run, but don't worry. I've got everything handled."

  I hung up as Richard reached me.

  "I got all our keys," he said flipping through four paper folders. "Now I don't know about you, but I'm going up to my room and not coming out for hours."

  I took one of the keys. A few hours of solitude sounded perfect. Then I looked at the time on my phone and frowned. "We have a meeting with the events manager in two hours, and I was hoping to get some photos of the grounds before then. How does a one hour break sound?"

  Richard huffed out a breath. "It sounds like barely enough time for an outfit refresh, but I suppose I'll survive."

  "You don't need to change," I told him. "It's just a tour."

  He wrinkled his nose. "This outfit has dust from a recreated Irish village on it. I'd like to make a good impression on the event manager, thank you very much." He flicked his eyes down my jeans and sweater. "I trust you're being ironic with those jeans, darling."

  I'd never once in my life considered being ironic with my clothing, but I nodded. "Obviously."

  "Good." He spun on his heel. "I'll see you in an hour."

  Colleen rushed up to me, her bright green fanny pack jiggling around her waist, and grabbed my arm. "Was it all true?"

  I looked at her wide eyes and wondered if she'd snuck in a pint or two at our stop in Bunratty Castle. I did remember there being a pub in the attached village. "Was what true?"

  "All the stories about the cases you solved for the police during your weddings?"

  I cringed even though Reese couldn't hear, because I knew what he'd say about Kate claiming we'd solved the cases for him. "I wouldn't exactly phrase it like that, but we have gotten sucked into a few investigations."

  She looked over her shoulder. "I can't talk now, but I'd love to ask you about something later."

  "Okay." The last thing I wanted was the spend the entire trip talking about our weddings gone wrong. Weddings seemed to be a subject that everyone loved to talk about and when you added murder to that, no one could get enough. I took a step closer to Colleen as the driver unloaded more bags onto the pile behind me. "I'm popping up to my room to change, but I'll be back down in an hour to walk around the grounds if that works for you. We need to check out the walled garden as a possible ceremony venue."

  She squeezed my hand. "Perfect. I guess it's my good fortune we ended up on the same bus."

  I tried to smile, but felt my ire rising. I had not wanted to spend the trip discussing the deadly side of my job. I followed Kate and Fern into the castle. I'd have to have a serious chat with both of them later.

  Chapter 8

  "Finally," Richard said, picking up his pace as we approached the black door within the stone wall. "I knew we'd find it even though the directions we were given were abysmal."

  We'd walked from the castle along the lake until we'd located the gate leading into the famous walled garden. Since this was one of the potential spots for a ceremony, I wanted to take plenty of photos to send back to our bride. I read the sign to the right of the door that read "Walled Garden" then the ones affixed to the door asking visitors to close the gate behind them and be advised of the deep pond in the garden. Ivy and tiny purple flowers climbed up the crumbling stone and made it easy to believe the garden was two hundred years old.

  "It's certainly authentic," Kate said, touching a hand to the stone.

  Fern tossed a new scarf over one shoulder--one with green Celtic symbols entwined along the border that he'd fastened with a silver Celtic brooch--another purchase from Bunratty village, I assumed. "It would make for a dramatic procession."

  Richard opened the door and we entered the garden. I inhaled the sweet scent of flowers. Even though it was only April, the beds were blooming with colorful blossoms and the lawn was green. I took out my phone and snapped a few photos.

  "Didn't you say one of the ladies was supposed to join us?" Fern asked striding forward.

  "She might have changed her mind," I said. We'd waited for her for an extra ten minutes before leaving the lobby, so I didn't feel guilty for going on without Colleen. "That reminds me." I shot a look at both Kate and Fern. "No more talking about the murders at our weddings."

  "Why not?" Fern asked. "Everyone loves hearing about it, especially my heroic part in the stories."

  I saw Richard raise an eyebrow as I continued. "I do not want people in Ireland to know our reputation. If we do end up doing more weddings here, I'd prefer not to be known as the wedding planners of death."

  Fern made a face. "Fine, but I always thought that nickname gave you an air of mystery."

  I glared at him. "Did you give us that nickname?" Fern loved nothing more than sharing juicy gossip or a giving a creative moniker.

  His cheeks colored and he focused intently on the bushes by the entrance. "I only ever said you were deadly efficient."

  I wasn't sure I believed him, but I let it go. Following the path over short stone bridge, we walked above the long rectangular pond filled with lily pads. My eyes were drawn to the flowering
bushes that lined the path past the water as I imagined our bride walking between them in her wedding gown. "This could work," I said.

  Fern strode ahead. "But it's not very Irish, is it?" He waved a hand. "I mean, there's a palm tree for goodness sake."

  "Ireland has a very temperate climate," Richard said, reading from his guidebook as he eyed the tall tree that looked better suited to a beach than a walled garden.

  "We just came from a castle with turrets," I said. "I don't think anyone will forget we're in Ireland just by seeing one palm tree."

  Fern shrugged. "We could always add some elements to make it more Irish."

  "Like what?" I put one hand on my hip. "Leprechauns instead of bridesmaids?"

  Fern beamed at me. "Great idea, Annabelle. I knew you'd get on board eventually. “He swirled his hands over his head as he walked forward. "The flower girls could toss shamrocks instead of flower petals. It would be adorable."

  "Maybe we could teach the bridal party one of those river dances," Kate said. "You know how Indian weddings do Bollywood dances?"

  I shook my head. "I was joking about the leprechauns. No way am I putting my name on a wedding with a Riverdancing bridal party. All the bridesmaids and groomsmen are American. It would be like a flurry of left feet."

  Fern frowned. "You've never been open to theme weddings."

  "Speaking of that," I said, seeing my opening and deciding to go for it. "I'm not sure if a murder themed wedding is the best choice for Leatrice."

  He spun his head around and his man bun bobbled on top of his head. "How did you know . . .? Oh, I see. She told you my ideas, didn't she?"

  "That you wanted to have the groom pretend to be dead for most of the reception?" I asked. "Yes, she mentioned it."

  "You want an elderly groom to play dead during his own wedding?" Kate asked. "Don't you think that's a little on the nose?"

  I swatted at Kate. "They aren't that old."

  Actually, I knew Leatrice was over eighty even if I wasn't completely sure how far along Sidney Allen was in his seventies. Still, I didn't like to think of Leatrice getting up there in years. She'd been one of the steadiest parts of my life since I'd moved to DC, even if she did drive me a little bit crazy. And after a recent scare, I did not want to be reminded of her mortality.

  "What ever happened to a classic wedding?" Richard asked, his voice raised. "White flowers, a white dress, a tiered wedding cake and champagne served at the reception. Now every wedding has to push the envelope. Pink wedding dresses, bridal bouquets made entirely our of succulents, wedding cakes that are actually Rice Krispy treats, signature drinks named after the couple's dog. Would everyone please stop trying to be unique and just have some taste?"

  He stomped off down the path leaving us all staring at each other.

  "Do you think it was the dead groom or the leprechauns that pushed him over the edge?" Fern asked after a moment.

  "I don't know, but neither helped," I said.

  "He's been a little high strung since we got here, don't you think?" Kate asked.

  Fern trilled two fingers against his chin. "More than usual you mean?"

  "I'll go talk to him," I said. "You two figure out the best place for a ceremony." I held up a finger. "A ceremony that does not include anything goofy."

  I could hear Fern grumbling as I walked away, but I focused on catching up to Richard who was already at the second set of stone steps leading up to a higher level of the garden.

  "So, was that just the jet lag talking or is something really bothering you?" I asked when I reached him at the top of the third stone step.

  He let out a breath. "You mean aside from the driving debacle followed by the even more catastrophic carpooling incident topped off by the insanity of our colleagues?"

  "Yes," I said. "Aside from that."

  He pursed his lips and looked away, then glanced back at me. "Fine. It's more than that. I called in to the office when I went up to my room. We've had no new inquiries since I've been away."

  "But we've only been here two days," I said. "Plus, it's April. Not exactly the busiest booking month."

  "Maybe not for weddings, but I usually book a lot of corporate work in the spring." He didn't meet my eyes. "I'm afraid the latest scandals have scared off my business for good."

  Richard had been convinced a recent and unfair murder accusation would tank his catering business, and I'd been just as convinced that it would all blow over.

  "We have a bunch of weddings together on the books, including this one which is about as high-profile as you can get in DC.," I reminded him. "How many caterers are spending the week in Ireland?"

  He gave me a weak smile. "True. Your clients have been the only things keeping me in the black. But you won't be able to force every couple to use me. It isn't good for your business."

  "Don't worry about my business." I put a hand on his sleeve. "You sent me leads when I was first starting out and didn't know anybody."

  "Anybody?" Richard said. "You didn't know any thing, darling. You were as green as they come."

  "Fine." I arched an eyebrow at him. "You still hired me. I'm just returning the favor. It's not like you aren't the best in the city."

  Richard gave a sniff. "Also true. I just hope this wedding will put me back in the spotlight."

  I linked my arm through his. "If a million dollar destination wedding for a Senator's daughter who's marrying a Silicon Valley genius doesn't do it, I don't know what will."

  "I hope you're right. I'm too old for a 'side hustle.'" He made air quotes. "If I have to resort to selling face cream door-to-door, promise me you'll put me out of my misery."

  "I'm pretty sure the face creams are sold over Facebook these days."

  He put a hand to his forehead. "Even worse."

  Fern bustled up to us, separated our arms by inserting himself between us, and propelled us forward by the elbows. "Kate and I have had a brilliant idea about the ceremony. And before you ask, there are no dancers or green top hats involved."

  "Thank you," I said. "I know that was a sacrifice."

  "You have no idea." He stopped us at the foot of the bridge. "Since you want classic but none of us want boring, Kate thought we could flip it around for the processional."

  "I hope you don't mean have people walk backwards," I said.

  He shook his head. "Instead of walking in from the stone gate, we have the stone gate be the ceremony backdrop."

  I stared at the tall stone arch flanked by two ball topiaries with greenery-covered stone walls extending in both directions. "That's not a bad idea. It's pretty the way it is, but if we did some floral decor it could be stunning."

  "You like?" Kate asked from the middle of the bridge. "We thought we'd have the bridal party be staggered on the steps of the bridge and the bride and groom in the middle."

  I left Fern and Richard to join her. "It's the highest point so all the guests could see them." I scanned the gardens from my vantage point then twisted to face the arched entrance. "But the gate is still high enough to see over. You know, it just might work."

  "There's more. "Kate rubbed her hands together. "I thought we could fill the water below with flowers in the bride's colors."

  "Unless she likes the look of lily pads better," I said, stepping to the side and looking over at the water. My eye caught on something bright green peeking out from under the bridge. I blinked a few times as I realized it wasn't a natural shade of green. I clutched the stone wall and leaned over to get a better look as my heart began to hammer in my chest. I jerked back up and stumbled off the bridge, pressing my hand to my mouth.

  "What?" Kate gaped at me and ran to the side of the bridge to look over. "Is that . . .?"

  "Is there something in the moat?" Fern asked as he joined Kate on the bridge.

  "It's not a moat," Richard said. "It's not technically around the castle."

  "Moat, pond, whatever," Fern said, peering down and sucking in air. "There's a body down there." He looked up and met
my eyes, his own round with surprise. "That lady you were talking to at dinner. The one with the fanny pack."

  I looked away so I wouldn't have to get another glimpse of the wet gray hair fanned around her head as Colleen floated face up in the water. Dead.

  Chapter 9

  "I can't believe it." Betty Belle sat on a low upholstered chair in the lobby of Dromoland Castle as Fern patted her hand. "She said she wanted to go see the gardens, but I never expected . . ."

  "There, there." Fern produced a handkerchief with a flourish and handed it to the sniffling woman. "You couldn't have known."

  After we'd reported finding Colleen's body floating in the long garden pond--with Fern running ahead shrieking the whole way back to the castle--we'd been waiting with the genealogy tour group in the lobby. The local Gardaí had arrived and reported directly to the walled garden while the hotel staff had been doing their best to keep us corralled and calm, not an easy task since we were spread out across the hotel's entrance.

  I glanced over at Myrna, the steel-haired leader of the tour group, as she stood next to one of the standing suits of armor flanking an ornately carved wooden desk. An arrangement of white lilies topped the desk and even from a few yards away I could smell their sweet scent. Myrna's lips were set in a hard line as she spoke to one of the hotel employees, and she appeared to be giving the suits of armor a run for their money when it came to being intimidating. Deb, the woman Betty Belle had deemed a "lackey" hovered near Myrna holding two cups of tea.

  Even though heavy drapes hung at the windows and tapestries covered the walls, the gray stone walls along one side of the long lobby made the space feel cold. Crystal chandeliers hung from the wood crossbeamed ceiling and lightened up the maroon carpeting and matching walls, but it still felt very much like the castle it was. I rubbed my arms to warm up from the chill I hadn't been able to shake since seeing Colleen floating in the water.

  "How are you holding up, hon?" Nancy asked, patting Betty Belle on the shoulder.

  Betty Belle blew her nose into Fern's handkerchief. "Aside from my roommate being found dead you mean?" She gave a small shake of her head. "I'm sorry. That was rude of me."