"What are you two looking at? Something spectacular, I would imagine."
Carla had slipped into the room during the hug fest. She stood next to the bed, absentmindedly running her fingers across the silky bedspread. Another woman dressed in a straight black skirt and white blouse glided through the doorway, carrying the vintage wedding dress ensconced in a clear plastic dry cleaner's bag. As Carla crossed the room to join Amy and Bridget, the woman unwrapped the dress, arranged it on the bed next to Amy's ensemble, and then quietly left.
When Carla reached the balcony's railing, she gasped. A tear rolled down her cheek as she turned to Bridget. "I don't know what I did to deserve a wedding like this, but thank you. Thank you so very much."
Bridget smiled as she took Carla's hand and cradled it between hers. "You and your future husband do so much for this community. You take care of the sick. He solves murders so families can get justice and closure for the loss of their loved ones. For all you do for the residents of Kellerton, this is the least I can do for you."
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
"So you don't care if he sees you, you just don't want him to see the dress?"
The tiny, bow-shaped rhinestone barrette clipped into the side of Carla's dark caramel-colored hair sparkled as she nodded. "I've kept the dress a secret for so long, I don't want to ruin the surprise this close to the ceremony, just because I have the munchies."
The best laid secret plans undone by a doughnut craving? Not if Amy had anything to do with it. The bride was hungry. Walking down the aisle with a growling stomach was not a good way to start a marriage.
She slid off the end of the plush bed where she and Carla had been hanging out for the last ten minutes, chatting about everything from comfortable formal shoes to snoring husbands. It had taken less time than Amy had imagined to get dressed. She thought she was going to do Carla's hair and makeup, but her friend had arrived with both tasks completed. It wasn't a snafu in coordination—it was Carla's way of making Amy's life just a little easier. Not that styling Carla's super short hair would involve much more than combing it and spritzing on some hair spray.
Now, instead of applying eye shadow, her task was to find a wedding dress cover-up. Amy twisted the brass skeleton key that was fitted into the lock of the massive, lion-footed armoire. She pulled open the doors and smiled. A white silk robe hung on one of the padded hangers. She swept it out and held it in front of herself to demonstrate its dress-covering potential. "Will this work?"
"I think so!" Carla giggled as she slid off the satin bedspread. "Whee! The bed is so big and luxurious, I feel like a little kid playing in Cinderella's castle."
All of the rushing around and worrying to prepare for the wedding was worth it to see her somber friend so excited and happy. A giddy Carla was a rare sight. Nobody deserved a fairy-tale wedding more than the emergency room nurse and her prince of a homicide detective.
The long, full robe easily covered the ethereal tea-length wedding dress. Every bit of billowy, white chiffon and the adorable faceted glass buttons on the waistband were hidden from view. After Operation Cover-up was complete they looked at each other.
"Do you know how to get to the kitchen?" Carla asked as she peeked over the balcony railing again to check out the scene in the atrium below. "Other than rappelling off the balcony and walking around the house until we find the kitchen door, I have no idea how to get there."
Amy had really, really tried to remember every twist and turn as Bridget led her to the dressing room. But getting smacked with awe over the supremely plush room had knocked the information right out of her brain. "Push the button. I have no idea how to get back to the kitchen either."
When Bridget left the room, she instructed them to push the doorbell-like button next to the light switch if they needed anything. Getting from a bedroom to the kitchen in an unfamiliar house normally wouldn't require the assistance of a guide, but Bridget Mahoney's massive maze of a house was far from a normal abode.
Ten minutes later they made it to their destination. They probably would've ended up in the garage without the help of the kindly older woman who had responded to their distress call. As they approached the cook's fantasy of a kitchen, it sounded as if a party had already started. Voices and laughter bounced down the hallway that Amy was sure wasn't the same one Bridget had escorted her through.
About a dozen people were gathered around the massive island in the middle of the room. The unmistakable scent of pizza made Amy's stomach gurgle with longing. She hadn't realized that she was hungry too. The chef Bridget had spoken with earlier slid a long-handled wooden peal into the glowing mouth of the wood burning oven set above the fireplace. He pulled out a sizzling pizza. The crust was puffy and lightly charred, topped with vibrant red tomato sauce, bubbling cheese, and big chunks of sausage.
Carla's unwavering smile got even wider when she saw Shepler at the end of the island. She abandoned Amy to join her groom and the pizza party. Food and some relaxed moments with her man, the perfect antidote to ward off the nervousness that Carla had admitted to before coming downstairs.
"I plan on this party lasting well into the night. Need to make sure everybody is well fed to start out the evening on the right foot," Bridget said to Amy.
"That's a great idea."
Bridget gestured at the lineup of pizzas scattered across the island's granite counter top. "Please, grab a plate and enjoy. I bet you've been so busy today you haven't had much to eat. There's one with fig preserves, prosciutto, and goat cheese next to the sink."
Amy couldn't resist trying the sweet and salty flavor pairing that none of the others had even touched. It was divine. Among the hungry crowd, she recognized Vince, the owner of the flower shop where Carla had ordered Shepler's boutonniere. Amy loved the incongruity of the spiked hair, tattoos, and heavy work boots sported by a man who worked with delicate flowers for a living. He looked intimidating, but his friendly smile and easygoing attitude quickly put customers at ease. Bridget must've hired him to add more blooms to the atrium space.
Three men dressed in blue jeans and black polo shirts embroidered with Castle Entertainment were chatting with a fourth man dressed in a tuxedo. Apparently, Bridget had added music and dancing to the reception. Yay! It had been a long time since Amy had slow danced with her husband. As she watched Carla and Shepler smiling at each other, Amy wished Alex was with her, but he wouldn't be arriving until later with the other guests.
"Excuse me. Could you get me a slice of that pizza?"
"The fig and prosciutto or sausage and mushroom one?" Amy asked as she turned to look at the person behind her who had made the request. She was surprised to see it was Thane. "Well, hello. What are you doing here? Moonlighting with one of the other businesses that are helping with the wedding?"
He shook his head slightly and glanced at Shepler. "Sausage and mushroom, please. I actually had to make a delivery. It seems that Mr. Shepler forgot to purchase a few things, like matching socks, a belt, and cuff links. Mrs. Mahoney's assistant called and asked me to bring a selection of the items for him to choose from." He held out his plate so Amy could deposit the pizza slice onto it. "I don't mind. It's nice to get away from the empty store. Plus this house is amazing, and I get a free meal. I'll never be able to afford even a luxury apartment if I keep working for a business that barely turns a profit."
Shepler had forgotten to buy accessories for his suit? The man whose career depended on him noticing little details had forgotten a boatload of things on his wedding day. How sweet to see the average human side of the juggernaut of a detective. She couldn't help but grin at him.
"What are you smiling about?" Shepler asked.
"I'm just happy for you and Carla. That the day is finally here for you to start your lives as husband and wife."
His eye twitched as a faint smile curved his lips. "I just wish I didn't have an open case hanging over my head right now."
Amy slid a slice of black olive focaccia onto her plate. "It won'
t be for much longer. The murderer messed up. He'll be in jail when you two get back from your honeymoon."
Shepler looked at the dark-haired man in a navy blue suit who was standing beside him noshing on pepperoni pizza. "Harry, meet Amy. The matron of honor you'll be walking down the aisle with. She's Carla's best friend and a bit of an amateur detective."
Carla had told her the story of how the men met at the police academy. Harry nodded a greeting to Amy. "Nice to meet you. I hope you're right. I'd be happy to slap the cuffs on somebody so Bruce can fully concentrate on his honeymoon duties. Just point me to the guilty person."
"Hopefully, I'll be able to do that soon."
The chef pulled a dish full of sizzling baked ricotta out of the brick oven. As soon as he slipped a spoon into the molten cheese Amy helped herself to some, spreading it on the square of olive-studded flatbread. Vince, from the flower shop, squeezed in beside her. He set his plate on the counter and pointed at the baking dish. "Can I have some of that?"
As Amy scooped a mound of the gooey white cheese onto the plate, he snatched his phone off the bracket on his belt. He scowled at the screen. His eyebrows pulled together as he read something. He shook his head slightly and replaced the phone in its holder. When he looked back at Amy, his friendly expression had returned.
All of the people helping with the wedding continued to chat and eat for another ten minutes until Bridget suggested the wedding party might want to do a practice run of the ceremony. The officiant from the hospital chapel had arrived and was waiting in the atrium.
Amy slipped into the caterer's kitchen to check on the food prep. Everything was still right on track. In fact, JoJo and her helpers had even been able to grab a few slices of pizza for their dinner. All of the food that didn't need to be refrigerated was already in the reception room, waiting for the party to begin.
When Amy returned to the main kitchen the meal was wrapping up. Many of the people were looking at their phones, catching up on anything they might have missed between working and eating. She hung back near the refrigerator and watched, counting uniforms. People from at least half a dozen businesses were eating a pre-wedding dinner, from parking valets to DJs and videographers. Carla and Bruce may not have invited many people, but Mrs. Mahoney wasn't going to settle for a low-key wedding in her house.
A few minutes later, Bridget led the way to the atrium. Finally, Amy and Carla got to see the space without the bug-eye, overhead view through the hexagonal roof windows. The glass-walled room was like a miniature forest in a fairy fantasyland. The wedding party wandered around the brick paved paths for a few minutes, examining the twinkling lights strung through the trees and stopping to admire the bubbling wrought iron fountain tucked in the corner of the room.
Amy discovered brass nameplates staked into the ground at each tree's base. Small palm trees grew next to plum, apple, lemon, and orange trees. Delicate white and purple orchids, their roots tucked into moss-filled baskets, hung from some of the branches. The pastel blooms added color to the trees, some of which were already sporting immature fruit. White folding chairs were arranged in the open space in the center of the room. It was a bit humid, but not nearly as warm as Amy had expected.
As they ran through the sequence of the simple ceremony, Amy found it hard to stand still. She switched her weight from foot to foot, while she held her white daisy bouquet in one hand and Carla's vintage rhinestone one in the other, as the bride and groom practiced exchanging rings. She stopped fidgeting when Carla glanced over her shoulder and said, "Please make sure you don't stand on that loose brick during the ceremony. It's hard to concentrate on repeating vows with the thumping."
After the second practice Bridget announced that the guests would start arriving soon, so practice time was over. Carla and Shepler led the way out of the atrium, holding hands as they strolled along the winding path. Amy edged closer to Harry and whispered, "Would you by any chance have handcuffs with you right now?"
His dark, bushy eyebrows shot up as he looked at her. "I thought you were married."
She hadn't thought about how her question would be taken. The heat of mortification stung her ears, but she pressed on. "I am. I…the killer is here in the mansion."
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
When they walked back into the anteroom that adjoined the atrium, Amy noticed that most of the white wicker furniture had been removed while they were rehearsing. The garden furniture had been replaced with a portable bar and small tables that held trays of cheese and crackers. Bridget waved Carla over to chat with the bartender. Harry beckoned for Shepler.
Once she had the attention of both of the detectives, Amy rushed through a whispered explanation of how she had figured out that the murderer was eating pizza with them half an hour earlier. Manners were the killer's undoing. He kept wiping his face with napkins as he was eating. Grease from the meats and cheese acted like makeup remover. By the end of the meal the bruises on his jaw, garnered from the tussle with Chuck, were showing through the concealer he had used to hide them.
Shepler frowned. "I've had forensics analyze the videos of the break-ins. He's the right size and stature. I did notice there was something odd about his face today, but I couldn't pinpoint what it was. Now that Amy has pointed it out, he was wearing some sort of makeup." He glanced at Carla, who was still chatting with Bridget, then focused his gaze on Harry. "Let's go see if we can find out where he went."
Harry nodded his consent. "If he's gone, don't worry about it." He clapped his hand on Shepler's shoulder. "You're getting married today, my man. There's a whole police department that will be happy to round this guy up so you don't have to."
"Where are they going?" Carla asked from across the room as the men sprinted out the door.
Amy clasped her hands behind her back. "Ummm…I'm not supposed to tell you, but they're working on something special for your honeymoon."
She forced herself to smile. Lying was not her strong point, even if it technically wasn't a lie. Shepler would be a much happier camper if he put the killer behind bars before heading to the North Carolina mountains.
"Okay." Carla stretched the word out as she fixed a questioning stare on Amy. "I'm just going to pretend I believe you."
Bridget cleared her throat. She gestured to a woman dressed in a black skirt and white blouse who was standing in the doorway where the men had exited. "The guests don't need to see the bride before her grand entrance. Time to get you back up to the room to relax for a few minutes. Alicia will take you there."
"Go ahead." Amy glanced around the room hoping to find a blinking neon sign of an excuse to offer so she could stay behind. Her search landed on Bridget. "I need to chat with Bridget about the food. I'll join you in a few minutes."
Carla left after nailing Amy with another suspicious look. Amy turned to Bridget, who raised an eyebrow and asked, "What's really going on, Amy?"
Before she could explain anything, several sets of heavy footsteps thundered into the tile-floored room. It was Shepler and Harry. "His car's still here," Shepler said. "Mrs. Mahoney, we could use some assistance from your staff."
Saved from an awkward explanation by the dashing detectives. After a quick rundown about what was happening, Bridget left with the two men, leaving Amy in the room with the bartender. She looked at him and said, "Well, I guess I'll go check on the bride."
She walked out the exit that Carla and her guide had taken. There was an elevator to the right. The room where she and Carla had gotten ready overlooked the atrium, so if she took the elevator to the third floor it should be easy to find.
The door on the opposite side of the elevator opened when it reached the third floor. The long hallway that stretched ahead for as far as she could see seemed familiar. But the mansion probably had many hallways. She crept forward. The heels of her white patent peep-toe pumps sank into the plush carpet. As she moved down the hallway she glanced back and forth at the paneled doors. They all looked exactly the same. She stopped and looked ba
ck at the elevator. Should she go back down and ask the bartender for help?
When she turned back to the almost endless hallway, a spot of pink caught her eye. She hurried toward the out-of-place splash of color in the white and wood-tone color scheme of the hallway. A sign with Bride printed on it hung from the glass door handle. Hurray for the hostess who thought of every…little…detail.
Amy took a deep breath and knocked on the door. She hadn't thought of how to break the murderer-on-the-loose news to Carla, but it was too late to come up with anything to help soften the blow.
The door latch clicked as a hand clamped over Amy's mouth. A silver knife blade appeared in front of her face as Carla pulled the door open and asked, "What the hell?"
She was wondering the same thing.
"Shut up and do as I say, or you're both going to die," Thane said as he pushed Amy into the room while staying attached to her back like a gigantic, lethal parasite.
Oof. Amy's toe caught in the deep carpet pile. Thane's hand slipped off her mouth as she pitched forward. She windmilled her arms to try to prevent a face plant. Carla grabbed her by the elbow. Amy slapped her hand on the wall to regain her balance. She whirled around. Thane flicked the knife blade to cue Carla to shut the door.
"Lock it," he commanded after it swung closed. "Then both of you go sit on the bed."
Amy looked at Carla as they complied with the demand. Carla's calm-under-pressure demeanor was in full force while Amy wanted to throw herself facedown on the bed and bawl. Why couldn't she have realized who the murderer was before she told everybody at the pizza party that he was about to be arrested? Recipes didn't turn out well if the steps weren't followed in the correct order. She had done the murder-solving equivalent of baking eggs before putting them into a cake batter.
Her arms felt like overcooked spaghetti, so it took two attempts before she managed to hoist herself up onto the end of the high bed. Even Carla's feet didn't hit the floor. They sat side-by-side, their feet dangling, like two little girls facing down a monster that had crept out of the closet.
Doughnuts & Deadly Schemes (Culinary Competition Mysteries Book 3) Page 19