by Laura Durham
I looked pointedly at his Irish coffee. "As long as it's not a champagne tea." I did not want Fern any tipsier than he already was.
"I could go for some tea," Kate said when we'd assembled on the pavement. "I haven't had a bite since breakfast, and I didn't even get to finish that because Annabelle made me come with her to--"
I elbowed her hard and she rubbed her side, but stopped talking. It wasn't common knowledge that we'd snuck into Betty Belle's room, and I wanted to keep it that way.
"Back on the bus in two hours, ladies," Fern called as the older women began to wander off in small groups. He glanced back at the driver and blew him a kiss. "Thanks, Seamus."
"I'd rather tour the property before having tea," I said. "I want to take some photos to send back so we can show our client we're actually working over here."
"Suit yourself," Fern said, extending his arm to Kate. "We'll try to save you some scones."
"I'm with Annabelle." Mack joined us. "I'd like to scout out the ceremony options. Apparently you can get married inside the Abbey tower or on the Abbey terrace with the Abbey as the backdrop."
"There's also a walled garden," Buster said. "In case the bride is too spooked by the body we found in the other one."
"Not that we're going to tell her, right?" I gave Buster and Mack a pointed look. "It isn't lying. It's just not telling her unless she asks."
"So if she asks us, we can tell her the truth?" Mack asked.
"If our bride randomly asks if we found a dead body in the gardens, you have my permission to tell her," I said, feeling relatively confident it was a safe allowance.
"We're going to look at the walled garden," Grace said from behind me.
I hadn't known she and her much quieter husband were behind us, and I jumped at the sound of her voice.
"We'll catch up to you later," Fern said as he pulled Kate with him toward the main building, and the newlyweds started walking hand-in-hand toward the grounds.
"I forgot they were still here," Richard said once they were out of earshot. "Do we think he speaks?"
"I've had enough groomzillas to be thrilled he isn't chatty," I said as we followed Buster and Mack toward the turreted Abbey tower. I paused in front and took a photo with my camera, glad the day had turned sunny and the gray building stood out against the background of a blue sky.
"If he's actually a groom," Mack said.
"What do you mean?" I asked, almost tripping over my own feet.
"Didn't you notice?" Mack rubbed a hand over his dark red goatee as he turned to me. "Neither of them are wearing wedding bands."
Chapter 20
"How could I have missed that?" I said to Richard as we stepped through the heavy wooden doors leading into the abbey.
"What do you mean?" He paused at the back while Buster and Mack strode across the rose-colored carpet toward the arched stained glass windows at the far end of the long room. "You never size up the engagement rings like you should."
He was right. I didn't do the one-glance jewel appraisals he and Fern were capable of doing. "I guess I'm focused on other things. Plus, it seems awkward to stare at someone's diamond during an interview."
"Trust me, darling. You want to spot a cubic zirconia before you get too far along in the process."
I knew in Richard's book, fake diamonds were right up there with fake handbags when it came to crimes against humanity.
"So do you think they aren't really married?" I asked, my voice echoing as I entered the small church.
He tilted his head back to gaze up at the high peaked ceiling crossed with wooden beams. "Who knows? All I know is they seem to have a lot of unplanned time for honeymooners."
"It could be they just aren't wearing nice jewelry because they're traveling," Buster said, his deep voice reverberating off the ceiling and sounding even louder than usual.
"I never thought about that," I said.
"Because you don't own fine jewelry, darling," Richard said. "Which is another topic for another day."
I thought about telling him I might be the owner of some real jewelry in the not-so-distant future since my boyfriend had mentioned marriage, but even thinking about it made my palms sweaty. I also didn't want to deal with Richard swooning in the middle of the abbey. He hadn't always taken my relationship with Reese in stride.
I walked halfway up the aisle, running my hand across the smooth tops of the wooden chairs arranged in rows of threes. Arched windows on the sides let in natural light and the stained glass in the main windows was so light it barely cast any color into the room. I expected a building as old as the abbey to be musty, but since the space had been renovated and looked as modern as a new church on the inside, the only scent was that of the floral arrangement on the altar table.
"It's intimate," Mack said as he touched a hand to the pink garden roses in the arrangement.
"That's code for too small, isn't it?" I asked, making a mental calculation of the space. I pulled out my phone and snapped a few photos.
"Unless Halsey wants to cut her guest count," Buster said, flipping open the folder for her wedding.
I shook my head. "We wouldn't even be able to fit her father's colleagues from the Hill in here."
"You really should sell more of your clients on elopements," Richard said. "A ceremony in here would be charming."
I narrowed my eyes at him. "You mean I should talk my clients out of hiring me? Remember, they don't hire me, I can't recommend you."
"Never mind," he said. "You make an excellent point, darling."
Buster joined us in the middle of the room. "I think we can safely cross this space off our list."
I sighed. "I suppose it's good we saw it."
"The Corrib Suite in the other building can hold up to one hundred and seventy guests," Mack said. "It has windows that overlook the estate."
"Look who studied," Richard said.
Mack grinned at him. "Annabelle did send us a ten-page dossier before we left. I assumed there would be a quiz."
I put my hands on my hips. "You know I like to be prepared. And the trip isn't over." I shifted my eyes to Richard. "There still may be a quiz."
"Why don't we check out the Oriental Express Pullman cars next?" Buster suggested. "It's still early enough that they won't be setting up for dinner yet."
We left the abbey and followed the path across the front of the main building and around the side. Our minibus was no longer idling at the base of the sweeping stone staircase that led up to the front door, and I assumed Seamus had found a parking lot in the back. All around the historic house stretched perfectly manicured grass, and as we rounded the gray octagonal section of the buildings, I realized most of the lawn was a huge golf course.
"Does the groom play golf?" Richard asked. "Every castle and historic home here seems to have a golf course."
"We're thinking of taking up golf," Mack said, his leather pants creaking as he walked.
"Really?" I tried not to sound too shocked, but I knew golf clubs were notoriously strict about attire and I didn't know my biker friends owned any clothing that wasn't made of cow.
Mack nodded eagerly. "We're excellent at mini golf. How different could it be?"
"Do you see any giant windmills?" Richard said, dodging me as I tried to jab him with my elbow.
"I think you guys would be great," I said. "But do you have time for a new hobby between your business, your motorcycle club, and the baby?"
"Probably not," Mack said. "We may have to wait until we're retired, although we always envisioned opening a B&B once we hung up our florist shingle for good."
"A B&B?" I didn't even try to suppress the surprise in my voice this time. "I had no idea."
"It's an idea we toss around when the brides are driving us crazy," Buster said. "You know, move out to the country, buy a big old house, renovate it, and open up a B&B."
"Obviously this would be after baby Merry is all grown up." Mack sniffled. "I can't even think of that without crying."
>
It still surprised me that such tough-looking guys were total marshmallows. I rubbed Mack's arm. "That's still a long way off."
"I think it sounds divine," Richard said. "We all should be planning for life after brides. Let me know if you need someone to be in charge of the breakfast part of your B&B. Annabelle can tell you I make scones to die for."
As we continued on the path down toward the Pullman cars, my mind raced. I'd never given much thought to my life after brides. I'd been going full-force building Wedding Belles for over five years, and it had never occurred to me to think about what I would do afterward. Would there even be an afterward or would I plan weddings until I dropped? That wasn't an appealing prospect.
Despite what people thought, wedding planning was a physically demanding job, and wedding days required me to be on my feet for over twelve hours. My entire body ached at the end of the night, and it took most of the next day to recover. I doubted I could hack it in another fifteen or twenty years. Or that I'd want to.
"Have you really thought about what you'll do after you give up catering?" I asked Richard.
"Most of the men in my family have died young," he said with a wistful look. "I always assumed I'd be a brilliant flame that burned out far too soon." He let out a huff of breath. "Then a voodoo priestess in New Orleans told me I'd live until ninety and messed up all my plans. Now I have to think about the future. If that lady reading my chicken bones hadn't terrified me, I would have given her a piece of my mind."
I didn't know what to say to that, so I followed him mutely, both pleased he wouldn't die young and disturbed he was putting his faith in a chicken bone prediction. As dismissive as Richard was about Fern's ghost sightings, I knew he did put stock in voodoo, probably because he hailed from near New Orleans. I also knew he was the owner of more than one voodoo doll, and I made it a point to stay on his good side so he wouldn't get one that looked like me.
We rounded the corner and were greeted by two burnished gold lion statues flanking the entrance to the maroon Pullman cars. A pair of black lanterns perched over the arched doorway and hanging baskets of multicolored flowers hung on either side. The hotel had built a patio around the cars that were joined together lengthwise and hedges surrounded one side of the stone platform while garden boxes edged the other.
"It's fun to think one of these cars was used in the filming of the old movie version of 'Murder on the Orient Express,'" I said.
"It was also used to carry the remains of Winston Churchill back to his ancestral home for burial," Richard said, reading again from the dog-eared pages of his guidebook.
A shiver went through me as Mack clutched my arm. "Do you think we should go in?"
"It's been totally restored," I said. "People dine here every evening."
Mack bobbed his head up and down but didn't make a move to enter.
I tugged him forward. "I'll snap a few photos, you and Buster can see how you might decorate it, and we'll leave."
Richard tucked his guidebook under his arm and led the way, pulling open the door and holding it for me. It took my eyes a moment to adjust as I stepped inside. The carriage was narrow with lots of dark wood and burgundy upholstery that seemed to suck up the light. Lace curtains hung in the windows, allowing the afternoon sun to slip through, but no lights were on. Crisp white clothes hung over the tables in anticipation of dinner and vases of flowers mingled with folded napkins and crystal stemware.
"It feels like we stepped back in time," I whispered.
Richard gave a small groan as he took in the setup. "It appears that fan fold napkins will outlast us all."
"I think it looks nice," I said, feeling my shoes sink into the plush burgundy and gold carpet.
Buster scratched some notes in his folder. "It might work for a bachelor party or a small rehearsal dinner, but I don't think it would hold Halsey's numbers."
I scanned the length of the train car and counted the number of bench seats with high upholstered backs. "You're right. We'll have to bring another wedding over here to use it."
"That's the attitude," Mack said.
I gave a final look before turning to go, and my eye caught a flash of something poking out from a banquette at the end. I nudged Richard. "Do you see that?"
He squinted and frowned, walking ahead of me and stopping abruptly when he reached the booth. He staggered back a few steps and made a strangled squeak.
"What is it?" I felt my stomach clench as I approached him and slapped a hand over my mouth when I saw what had caused the color to drain from his face.
It wasn't hard to figure out that the bright red hair attached to the woman crumpled on the floor belonged to Nancy.
Chapter 21
"What did I tell you about those Pullman cars?" Fern asked, his voice low and his face stricken as he and Kate huddled together, their arms wrapped around each other.
"At least she wasn't dead," I said, watching Nancy being attended by paramedics in yellow and green jackets.
Richard sucked a breath into a paper bag and looked up at me. "She looked dead." He hung over at the waist trying to slow his hyperventilating. It had taken a moment when the paramedics arrived to determine that Richard wasn't the one who needed medical attention. Luckily, Fern had already made a visit to the gift shop and had a paper bag at the ready when he and Kate rushed out of the house to join us.
"Whoever did this left her for dead," Mack said, his eyes not leaving the elderly woman's prone form.
The paramedics had taken Nancy off the Pullman once they'd determined she still had a faint pulse, and she lay stretched out on the paving stones surrounding the train cars. From what I could gather from the conversation between the men working on her, she'd been hit on the head. Although it had knocked her out, the blow hadn't been hard enough to kill her. But who did it? I looked around. No evidence of security cameras pointing toward the train cars. So much for that idea.
I was glad to be out of the stuffy train car and breathing fresh air, even though the sun was beginning to sink lower in the sky, slats of gold light peeking through the trees and the temperature dropping. I rubbed my arms, more to combat the feeling of finding Nancy's body than to ward off the chill.
"Someone clearly wanted to do away with her," Buster said.
"But why?" Kate asked.
That was the million dollar question, I thought. Why were members of this tour group of seemingly harmless old ladies being targeted?
I watched as Nancy moved her head and her eyes fluttered open. I felt my entire body relax. At least we weren't dealing with another murder scene. Not that a woman being attacked and nearly killed wasn't a big deal, but I didn't relish the idea of leaving a dead body at every wedding venue.
"If I didn't know better, I'd think we were being set up." Richard pulled another breath into the paper bag, then coughed and spluttered, dropping the bag and pulling a five Euro note from his mouth.
Fern giggled and reached for it. "Sorry about that, sweetie. I dropped the change in the bag."
Richard wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and began digging around in his man bag, no doubt for sanitizer. Or new lips.
"What do you mean?" I asked, watching from the corner of my eye as they moved Nancy to a gurney.
Richard produced a small container of hand sanitizer and squirted a liberal amount into his palms. "The killer used Kate's scarf to commit murder and then someone planted Colleen's luggage tag in her room. And now we happen to be the ones to find Nancy on an outing Fern planned? I wouldn't be surprised if a criminal mastermind had plotted this to ruin us."
"Someone's trying to ruin us by killing American retirees?" Kate cocked an eyebrow. "That seems like a stretch. If they wanted to get us, why not just try to murder us?"
Richard's mouth gaped and his eyes darted at the hedges as if a killer might leap out. "Why not indeed?" He passed the sanitizer to me, and I shook my head. He thrust it at me. "We just found a dead body on a train that once carried a dead body. If there ha
s ever been a time to use antibacterials, darling, this is it."
"Let's all calm down a bit." I took the clear plastic container, pouring a few drops of the fast-drying liquid into my hands. "I know this situation isn't great, but I don't think we're in danger."
"Not great?" Richard's voice rose a few octaves. "'Not great' is bandage dresses on women over forty or micro bangs on anyone. This is a disaster."
"Nancy?" The shriek made us all turn as the rest of the tour group spilled out of the side of the house.
I didn't know many of the other women by name, but I recognized the woman who'd yelled out as Deb, Myrna's right hand woman. Myrna was stone-faced beside her.
I stepped forward to intercept the group as they reached the patio. "She's going to be okay. She just has a bump on the head."
Richard made a noise behind me and the ladies glanced over at him, their faces registering confusion.
I took Myrna's arm. "Don't listen to him. He just had a shock when we found her."
"Found her?" Deb craned her neck to watch as the paramedics tightened Nancy's straps on the stretcher. "Where was she?"
"Why wasn't Nancy with the rest of your group?" I asked. "I thought you all went off together from the bus."
"We did." Deb didn't take her eyes off Nancy as she pressed a hand to her throat. "We decided to have tea first, just like your friends." She motioned to Kate and Fern with her head. "We went inside the house and several ladies went off to the powder room. I assumed she was one of those, although she didn't come back to the restaurant. We saved her a seat, though."
"So after you walked into the house, Nancy disappeared?" I asked.
Myrna cast her eyes to the side. "I think she came into the house with us. I know she was with our group when we started up the stairs from the bus."
"But you can't be sure?" I pressed her, knowing that it was a short walk from the front of the house to the Pullman cars off to the right side.
"I guess I can't," she admitted. "But why would she have been all the way over here?"