A Wedding Tail

by Casey Griffin

  Mouse, mouse, mouse, mouse …

  Zoe shook off the sudden anxiety. This was the rescue center, after all. It was practically a second home to her, a place where she spent much of her free time. A safe haven. Not to mention, she was surrounded by a collection of professional security guards and San Francisco’s finest. Besides, she could hear Levi’s voice drifting over from the speakers in the distance, and it comforted her.

  She searched the menu for any clips filmed on the day of their brunch at the restaurant. She found one. It had been created half an hour before they left. And Holly Hart was interviewing a very much alive Chef Glazier.

  “This is Holly Hart reporting from the restaurant House of Glass. I’m with Chef Glazier, world renowned chef and caterer for this year’s biggest event, the joining of our favorite devoted doggy duo, Aiden Caldwell and the Dachshund Rescue Center spokesperson, Piper Summers.” She turned to the chef. “Chef Glazier, can you give us a sneak peek of the wedding menu?”

  “Well, they haven’t made a final decision yet. As we speak, they are sampling my signature dishes—”

  Zoe frowned and pressed fast forward, skipping over their banter. She’d had no idea this had been going on in the kitchen while they ate lunch. Holly must have come in after the interview, pretending like she’d only just arrived.

  Zoe slowed down again when it looked like Holly was giving her sign off. In the next video, Hey, You was still in the restaurant kitchen. Chef Glazier was showing him around. By the looks of it, they were in the delivery area where the body had been found.

  “What kind of stuff do you get delivered here?” a man asked. Zoe realized it was Hey, You. She’d never actually heard him speak.

  He continued to ask mundane questions about the delivery area while the chef insisted he return to his guests. Zoe supposed that was why Holly asked the questions and he was stuck behind the camera. But when he continued to press the chef about wanting to see the bay door open, it was obvious. He was distracting the chef.

  Fed up, the chef turned back to the kitchen. Zoe’s view of the scene jiggled as Hey, You chased after him. “Wait!”

  But then the chef paused on the threshold of the kitchen. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  All she could see was the chef’s back blocking the view of his work station, but Holly answered.

  “I thought I might contribute to the momentous occasion,” she said. “You know, I’m not half bad in the kitchen. I make a mean soufflé.”

  But the chef wasn’t buying it. He swiped at something on his cutting board. “What is this?” He smelled it and touched a finger to his tongue. “Sesame seed?”

  “This isn’t what it looks like,” she said.

  He glanced from her to the dessert balls, freshly powdered with the deadly stuff. “You know about her allergy,” he said, more like an accusation. “You plan to poison my customer.”

  “Okay, it’s exactly what it looks like,” she said. “But it’s not like it’s going to kill her,” she reasoned. Zoe still couldn’t see Holly’s face, but there was no hint of remorse or guilt in her voice.

  “Both of you stay right here.” The chef shook a finger at her. When he turned to face Hey, You, his cheeks were flushed, his eyes bulging with fury.

  Hey, You wasn’t bothering to aim the camera. The chef’s chest filled the frame, the buttons of his coat shaking as he continued to rant, threatening police and lawyers. Then mid-sentence he trailed off, his voice gurgling in the back of his throat.

  Chef Glazier fell forward. He crumpled at Hey, You’s feet. Holly stood behind him, holding the steak knife. It dripped with the chef’s blood.

  Zoe yelped and covered her mouth with her hand. She sank to her knees, feeling the damp earth soak through her dress. She wanted to scream, to run. She suddenly felt so alone and exposed, but she couldn’t seem to drop the camera. She couldn’t tear her eyes away.

  “Jesus. Holy Shit, Holly. What did you do?” Hey, You asked. “What did you just do?”

  But Holly still didn’t look sorry. In fact, she looked irritated, like someone just brought her a Pepsi instead of a Coke. “Well, I didn’t plan for this to happen, did I?”

  But Zoe couldn’t help but notice she’d put on leather gloves at some point. That was why only Zoe’s fingerprints had been found on the knife.

  Holly hastily wiped the knife on the chef’s pant leg before putting it back down next to the cutting board.

  “Shit,” Hey, You said. “You just stabbed someone.”

  The world tilted like Hey, You just about dropped the camera, and Zoe got a glimpse of Chef Glazier’s body lying face down. Blood seeped through his white coat, the stain growing bigger.

  She shut her eyes and when she opened them again, Hey, You had placed his camera on the counter. He was bent over the body.

  When he stood back up, he said, “Oh my God. He’s dead. We have to do something.”

  His words seemed to change something in Holly. Her face went blank for a moment. “You’re right. You’re right. Oh, my God. We have to do something.”

  “Good, okay. We should call the police and—”

  But Holly wasn’t listening. She reached down to the body. “Come on. You grab his upper body. I’ll grab his feet.”

  “What?”

  “Well, I can’t very well get blood on me. This is Dior for shit’s sake.” She tugged at her outfit. “Use your brain.”

  “But I don’t understand,” he said. “He’s dead. We need to call the police.”

  “The police?” Now Holly did look affected. She looked downright scared. “But then they’re going to blame me.”

  “Yes.” He nodded. “Because you killed him.”

  “You were here too.”

  “Tricking someone into eating a few seeds is one thing,” he said. “But this? This is cold-blooded murder. I mean, shit, Holly.”

  Holly covered her face with her hands. A sound not unlike a sob came out of her, but Zoe thought it was far from the real thing.

  “After working together for all these years,” she said. “After everything we’ve been through, you’d turn me in just like that?”

  Holly stepped over the body until she was close enough to place a hand on Hey, You’s chest. When he didn’t move, she laid her head against his shoulder. “I thought you’d do anything for me. We’re a team.”

  “Team? You do nothing but boss me around.” But he sounded less panicky and more confused as he stared down at the top of her head on his chest.

  “That’s only because I’ve been fighting my true feelings for you.”

  He swallowed. “Feelings?”

  “Don’t deny it. I know you’ve wanted me since the first day we worked together. I’ve wanted you too.”

  Her hand slid down his chest to his crotch. He jumped as she clutched it.

  “Ooh. See? You can deny it all you want, but your true desires are obvious.” As she rubbed the front of his pants, Zoe could see his eyes roll into the back of his head and his resolve begin to waiver.

  “I need you,” she said. “I want you. And you want me, too.”

  “Yes,” he said.

  She rubbed faster. “But we can’t be together if I go to jail.”

  “No.”

  “I can’t take it anymore,” she said. “I want you. Now.”

  “Now?”

  “Yes.”

  “We can go to my place,” he said.

  “No. I can’t wait that long. We can do it in the van.” She leaned in close, like she was about to kiss him. “But first…”

  His eyes closed and his lips quivered as they searched for hers, but she pulled away, disappearing beneath the counter. When she popped back up, she was holding a pair of feet.

  “Grab his arms. Hurry. Before someone comes back here.”

  He did as she asked, grunting from the dead weight. “Where are we going to hide it?”

  “Just shut up and lift with your legs.”

  They moved off camera.
A moment later, the kitchen’s double doors swung open, and the server came in with her tray.

  “Chef Glazier!?” she called, scanning the kitchen for signs of him. When no one answered, she shrugged and loaded the desserts onto the tray.

  The moment the doors swung closed behind her, Hey, You, and Holly returned to clean up the blood on the floor. Hey, You reached for the camera and the screen went blank.

  Zoe now knew Holly was the one behind everything. Her van, the bombings, the murder. Everything. Hey, You had known she was up to something, or at least, suspected it. She recalled chasing him down an alley after her office was bombed. He’d been gathering footage of her. Evidence.

  Zoe knew she should take the camera and run. Run to the police. Run to Bob. Run to someone and tell them what she’d found, but something made her click on the most recent video. The last one.

  With a shaking finger, she hit play.

  By the heavy breathing, she could tell that Hey, You was hiding in the woods. In the very spot she was standing on, she realized. He was filming the dance floor.

  A twig snapped.

  Zoe spun, thinking it was behind her, but she was still alone. It had been behind Hey, You. The camera spun to face the sound. It was Holly.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked.

  “I came to stop you,” he said. “You can’t do this.”

  She took a step forward, but he blocked her.

  “Get out of my way,” she said.

  “Give it up. It’s over.”

  “It’s not over yet,” Holly told him. “I’ve tried too hard to fail now.”

  Zoe’s breath left her in a grunt. The camera shook in her hands. It wasn’t her. It wasn’t Zoe that Holly was after. It never had been.

  “You’ve failed,” Hey, You said with finality. “You can’t undo it.”

  “There’s one way.”

  And by the tone of her voice, Zoe knew what that way was.

  The whole time, she’d assumed someone was out to get her. Was sabotaging her. But it wasn’t about Zoe. It was about Piper. It was about stopping the wedding by whatever means necessary, by ruining the dress, hurting the wedding planner, landing the bride in the hospital.

  But nothing had been able to work. And now that the wedding had taken place, there was only one way to “undo” it.

  Zoe dropped the camera. “Piper.”

  She didn’t watch the rest. She didn’t find out what happened to Hey, You because Holly had gotten past him. She was already at the reception. Nausea rose hot inside her, and she had to fight the urge to pass out from the overwhelming panic.

  Scrambling to her feet, she was already moving to grab Freddy, stumbling with anxiety. Was she too late? Would she find Piper in time?

  The screen had been so bright, the woods so dark. She tried to blink away the images of Chef Glazier’s body, his blood.

  She reached down to grab Freddy, but her heel caught on something. A plant, or maybe a root. Unable to find her balance, she fell forward.

  Pain exploded in her knee. Her shins scraped against rough bark. Her arms flew out, and she braced herself for impact. But her chest and face landed on something soft, cushiony.

  Groping through the dark, she pushed herself up and found herself nose to nose with Hey, You, his sightless gaze facing her. He was dead.

  A soundless scream escaped her, like a high-pitched whistle of wind through a broken window.

  She clambered back, clawing at the ground, kicking the stiff body. It flopped away from her, the lifelessness making her panic all the more.

  Freddy found her in the dark, his tail wagging happily, like he’d found the biggest mouse ever and deserved a treat.

  A sob escaped Zoe. Grabbing her doxie, she half-crawled, half-stumbled out of the woods, back toward the party. She just hoped she wasn’t too late to warn Piper.

  33

  Bird-Dog

  Zoe rushed onto the dance floor with Freddy clutched in her arms. Her muddy dress, wrapping around her legs with each frantic step, threatened to trip her.

  Barging past dancing couples, she clipped a shoulder, sending someone spinning. She ignored their cry of surprise and pushed her way through the bodies. Finally, she spotted Bob dancing with Marilyn.

  She gripped his arm and he turned, eyes wide. “Oh, Zoe. You startled me.”

  Marilyn pulled away from her dancing partner and gave her the once over. “Zoe, dear. You look like you’ve been dragged through a hedge. Literally. What’s wrong?”

  “Bob,” her voice was raspy from running, from fear. Her grip tightened on his arm. “Bob, you have to go get the police.”

  “Why? What’s happened?”

  The gentle, older man transformed before her. The lighthearted sparkle that had been in his eyes while he was dancing with Marilyn faded and his look became unreadable. He wasn’t the man she spent every Sunday pancake brunch with. He was the law now, and in his eyes, she was on the other side of it. A criminal waiting to be arrested.

  Despite the urgency of the situation, she became aware of the dancers slowing down around them. They were forced to step past their frozen group. They eyed her with curiosity. Bob seemed to notice too, and drew her away from the dance floor, out of earshot.

  It occurred to Zoe that what she was about to say could cause mass panic among the happy wedding guests. She lowered her voice and leaned close enough so not even Marilyn could hear. “There’s a body in the woods. He’s been murdered.”

  Bob stepped back in shock. His mask from earlier slipped. The one that he’d worn when he pretended he didn’t know she was going to be arrested, like she was some common criminal to be deceived.

  The expression hidden beneath tore at her. Horror, disgust. Did he really believe she was capable of the murder? He obviously believed she should go to jail.

  When she took her next breath, it almost sounded like a sob. “Look, I know the police are waiting to arrest me. But I didn’t kill the man.” She gripped him by the shoulders. “You have to believe me because there’s something more important—”

  Bob held up a hand. “Wait. Arrest you?” Understanding dawned on his face, as he was clearly reviewing their encounter in the parking lot. He shook his head. “They’re not here to arrest you. They’re here to protect you.”

  Zoe blinked, trying to make sense of what he was saying. “From what?”

  Glancing around, he slid his arm through hers and led her around the side of the house where the music was quieter. Marilyn anxiously followed, but Bob held up a gentle hand. The woman watched them leave, picking at a thread in her wrap.

  When they were far enough away, Bob took on the stance of a man just having a nice chat with a friend. He placed his hands in his pockets casually, as though everything was normal. But what he said next was anything but normal.

  “They’re here to protect you from the San Fran Slayer.”

  Zoe’s legs trembled. She braced herself against the porch railing, but her arms were shaking so violently that she slid ungracefully onto the steps. Freddy slinked to the ground in front of her, but she held his leash tight.

  “What?” she managed to breathe.

  Bob took a seat next to her, as though they were taking in the night air together. It felt so wrong. As though they were relaxing while Piper’s life was on the line.

  “They found evidence on Chef Glazier’s body consistent with the slayer case,” he said. “They know it wasn’t you.”

  “Are you sure it’s the slayer that killed the chef?” She shut her eyes. The images she saw on Hey, You’s camera were still there, forever burned onto her retinas, of Holly killing Chef Glazier. If the chef was killed by the slayer, that meant Holly …

  “Yes, we’re sure. Considering the attempts on your life recently, they’re taking you into police custody for your protection after the wedding.” He eyed the trees surrounding them. “But if you found a body, maybe the slayer’s already here.”

  “She is.”

 
Bob’s head whipped toward her. “How do you know it’s a female? We’ve never released information about the sex.”

  Zoe could feel time slipping away. Every moment they sat there was another moment lost. They had to find Piper before Holly did something to her. Before she was murdered by a serial killer.

  “Listen to me Bob. The slayer is Holly Hart.”

  “How—”

  “There’s no time to explain. But it’s not me she’s after. It’s Piper.”

  Bob’s wide eyes scanned the party, but his gaze was distant, as though realigning all the facts, all the evidence in his mind.

  “And she’s here now,” he said, stunned.

  He sprang to his feet with the energy of someone half his age. “I’m going to go get the police from the property gates. You stay here.” He made as though to leave, but at the last second, he turned back. “And Zoe? It’s important that no one knows anything is wrong. If Holly is alerted that we’re on to her, it might make her act sooner.”

  “Act?” Zoe swallowed. She was suddenly on her unsteady feet. “I have to go find Piper.” She began backing away, dragging Freddy with her.

  Before she got far, Bob grabbed her arm. “Zoe, it’s too dangerous.”

  “She’s after Piper, not me.”

  “But if you get caught in the middle—” he began.

  “Bob,” Zoe said. “It’s Piper.”

  “You can’t help her if you wind up dead yourself.” She felt Bob squeeze her arm, as though trying to relay the importance of what he said.

  But his words didn’t convince her to stay behind. It only made her more desperate to find her best friend.

  As Bob went for the police, Zoe took a deep breath and pushed it all down—the fear, the anxiety, the guilt that somehow she could have prevented this. If only she’d figured it all out sooner.

  But at that moment, all that mattered was saving the bride from a serial killer in Manolo Blahniks. She never thought she’d miss the normal wedding woes, like ill-fitting wedding dresses, and drunk uncles.

  Zoe spotted Aiden near the dance floor. Picking Freddy up, she crossed over to him, in a totally not-jittery or too-anxious way.