Patricia answered, but there was a lot of background noise. “Hello?”
“Patricia, are you with Leo?”
“Carlotta, if this is you, I can’t hear you. It’s too noisy.”
“Are you with Leo?” she shouted.
“Leo? He’s about to go on stage and I’m missing it! I have to go.”
Carlotta turned to Coop as another burst of applause sounded from the runway area. “Leo’s going onstage. If I’m right, his ex-wife might’ve already planted the poison on him.”
“How?”
Her mind sprinted over the cases she was familiar with. Jeremy Atwater chewed gum obnoxiously…for Greg Pena, swishing mouthwash had been his last act of vanity…runner Jeffrey Oxblood got dosed in his water bottle…and overweight Simon Markhall ate tainted food. The answer hit her like a thunderbolt.
“Leo dips snuff, and Patricia mentioned how much his ex-wife hates it. I’ll bet she put the poison in the can.”
“That’ll do it,” Coop said. “I’m calling 9-1-1 to get an ambulance on standby in case we need it.”
Carlotta sent a text to Jack. Leo Tennyson in danger; think ex-wife Kaitlin is Groom Slayer, might be in crowd, 30s, dark hair.
Although if the woman was there to watch her handiwork and see Leo die onstage, she was probably in disguise.
Carlotta rushed the door of the area sectioned off for the runway show. The room was packed with several hundred people, many of them standing behind and around the seated audience. Her heart sank with the realization that finding the woman would be next to impossible. But she took consolation in the fact that medical help was on the way if Leo collapsed, and even if Kaitlin Tennyson escaped, the police would eventually catch up with her.
Applause sounded. She glanced to the stage to see Jarold Jett was once again emceeing the show. He stood behind a slim podium and entertained the audience with an ease and good humor that belied his underlying anxiety. After he was told yesterday’s accident might not have been an accident, she suspected he was on edge.
Indeed, he kept dabbing at his shiny brow, and glanced often toward his beautiful fiancée, redheaded Sabrina Bauers, who sat in the VIP area near the stage.
Jarold introduced Leo Tennyson to great applause. Leo emerged with an athletic swagger, wearing a black tuxedo and a Gwinnett Braves ballcap. She could see he held a dip of snuff under his lower lip, but he looked fit and tan. She spotted Coop standing near the front of the stage, also studying Leo, poised to spring into action if the man fell ill.
To her great relief, Jack and Salyers appeared next to her. “I got your text,” Jack said. “What’s going on?”
In as few words as possible, she told them what she and Coop had learned. “Coop is keeping an eye on Leo, and an ambulance is on the way.”
“What does this Kaitlin Tennyson look like?” Salyers asked.
“I met her only once—she’s maybe five eight and slender, dark shoulder-length hair.”
Jack frowned. “That’s not much to go on.” He settled his serious gaze on her. “How sure are you about this?”
Doubts crowded her mind. Jack had accused her more than once of making a mountain out of a molehill. What if she wrong?
But what if she was right?
She lifted her chin. “I don’t know if I have all the details correct, but the big pieces fit.”
He nodded. “Okay, let’s find this woman.”
“Wait,” Carlotta said. “Coop mentioned one of the shooting victims had put up a fight—what if Kaitlin has bruises she’s trying to hide?”
“Okay, so maybe look for someone wearing a scarf, or sunglasses?” Salyers asked.
Then the last piece fell into place in Carlotta’s head, and she nearly thumped herself on the forehead. “Or a wedding veil.”
They turned and scanned the room. Between models and hostesses, there must have been over a hundred brides milling around.
“Great,” Jack muttered.
“I have an idea,” Carlotta said, then pulled up Patricia’s phone number again and pushed send. “Answer,” she murmured.
She did. “Carlotta, for goodness sake, I’m trying to watch the show!”
“Patricia, do you know what kind of wedding gown Leo’s ex-wife wore in her wedding?”
“What? I can’t hear you.”
She cupped her hand over the mouthpiece. “This is important, Patricia. What kind of dress did Kaitlin wear in her wedding with Leo?”
“Um…old fashioned…Gibson Girl-style, I think. Leo hated it.” A gasp sounded over the phone. “Leo!”
On the stage, Leo Tennyson was down. The crowd gasped, frozen for a few seconds as Coop leapt onto the stage. The sound of an ambulance siren grew louder.
“I’ll get the paramedics,” Salyers said, and ran toward an exit.
“What kind of wedding dress are we looking for?” Jack asked.
“Gibson Girl.”
He gave her a clueless look.
She motioned with her hands. “High neck, puff sleeve at the shoulder, then tight on the arms. And look for a hat with a veil.”
They split up. By now, most of the crowd had pressed toward the stage to get a better look. She kept an eye out for anyone peeling off to the exits, especially brides.
And spotted one.
Wearing a Gibson Girl-style dress. High neck, puff cap sleeve at the shoulder, fitted sleeve on the arm, and jaunty hat, with a veil pulled down over the bride’s face. She was moving at a fast, steady pace in front of a wall of red roses which were trending now because of a recent Kardashian wedding. Carlotta moved to cut her off before she reached the exit.
The bride turned her head and made eye contact with Carlotta. It was Kaitlin. When she recognized Carlotta, she picked up her long skirt and made a run for it.
“Kaitlin, stop!” Carlotta shouted, sprinting after her.
The woman didn’t stand a chance in her little side-button boots with the kitten heel. Carlotta tackled her, sending them both rolling into the wall of roses like a couple of bowling balls.
Carlotta came to a stop on her back. She lay still for a few seconds, praying she hadn’t broken anything vital, like her nose. Then she opened her eyes and spit rose petals out of her mouth.
Jack’s face appeared over her. “You okay?”
“Never better. Kaitlin?”
“She’s not going anywhere, snapped an ankle.”
“Leo?”
“Having his stomach pumped as we speak. Coop just gave me the thumbs up.” He extended his arm and helped her stand. “Anything broken?”
“I don’t think so, but I’m going to be sore tomorrow.”
He guided her to a chair. “Sit tight while we clear everyone out.”
“Are you coming back?”
He gave her a defeated smile. “Don’t I always?”
Within a few minutes, the room was vacated except for the group close to the incident. Sabrina Bauers comforted Jarold. His assistant Nia stood nearby, looking pensive. Edward sat a few chairs away. From the looks of the frazzled show director Melissa Friedman, this might her last Wedding World Expo. Coop and Rainie had left so, she suspected, Rainie could submit a story on what had happened to run in tomorrow’s paper. Patricia had ridden to the hospital with Leo and texted Carlotta he was feeling fine, considering he’d almost been murdered.
Carlotta studied the group, trying to put the final pieces together. Something still didn’t seem right.
And then suddenly, it did.
“Are we free to leave?” Sabrina asked. “We have a plane to catch, and I’m afraid Jarold is quite upset. This entire week has been one disaster after another.”
“Lucky for Jarold,” Carlotta said.
They all turned to look at her.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Sabrina asked.
“Why don’t we ask Nia?”
Heads swung toward Nia, who looked panicked. “I d-don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I believe you do,�
�� Carlotta said.
The woman pressed her lips together. But her gaze darted all around.
“Nia?” Jarold said.
The girl’s face crumbled. “No one was hurt.”
“When?” Jarold asked. “What are you saying?”
“It was Sabrina’s idea.”
“That’s a lie,” Sabrina said.
“What’s a lie?” Jarold asked.
Sabrina blanched. “Whatever she was about to imply.”
All eyes went back to Nia. “Sabrina wanted me to do something to get your social media stats up. She had me fly ahead to scout out the show so I could look for a good opportunity to set up something that could go viral.”
“Shut up, you idiot!” Sabrina hissed. “She’s lying, Jarold.”
“Sabrina said the commercial shoot was the perfect chance to set up an accident while the cameras were rolling.”
“I could’ve been killed!” Jarold roared.
“But you weren’t,” Sabrina said, splaying her hands. “It all worked out—you didn’t have to finish that hideous commercial, no one was hurt, and your social media exploded.” She smiled. “Win…win…win.”
In the stunned silence, Salyers stepped in front of Nia. “Why don’t you and I go down to the precinct and talk about this some more? You, too, Ms. Bauers.”
Sabrina Bauers protested until Salyers threatened to handcuff her. Sabrina looked at Jarold.
“You have to come with me, to help them understand this is all just part of the business.”
Jarold looked at her as if he were seeing a stranger. “You’re on your own.”
Sabrina sputtered and shouted until they were out of earshot.
Carlotta touched Jarold’s arm. “Are you okay?”
He looked dazed. “Just trying to process it all.” He emitted a sad, little laugh. “All this time I’ve been worried about what strangers might do to me, and it was the people closest to me who almost got me killed.”
Jack walked up and nodded to Jarold. “A car is outside to take you to the airport. I’ll help you with your bag.”
“Thank you, Detective.” Jarold patted Carlotta’s hand. “If I ever decide to open a wedding boutique in Atlanta, I’m going to hire you to run it.”
Carlotta smiled. The idea of someday leaving Neiman’s was a little exhilarating, actually.
Jarold looked at Jack. “Don’t you think Carlotta would make a beautiful bride someday?”
Jack surveyed her with his glittery gold eyes in a way that made her toes curl. “Yes, she would.”
“Well, when that day comes,” Jarold said, “call me and I’ll design you a gown fit for a queen.”
She laughed. “I will, thank you.”
“I’ll walk out with you,” Edward said to Jarold. “If that’s okay.”
Jarold looked surprised, then he nodded. “I’d like that.” The men headed toward the exit.
Jack gave her a little smile as he backed away. “You did good today.”
She angled her head. “Thanks, Jack. See you around?”
“Probably.” He winked, then turned and followed the two men out the exit.
Carlotta walked toward the exhibition hall, rubbing a bruise on her arm. Most of the booths were either empty or closing down. The area resembled a wedding reception hall the day after the ceremony—littered with bits of trash and stray balloons, with confetti in strange places.
It was a little sad.
She was pulling up Hannah’s phone number when she spotted her friend walking toward her. “I was just about to call you.”
“When I heard the sirens, I figured you were involved,” Hannah said dryly. “But they wouldn’t let me back there. What happened?”
“One groom slayer, subdued.”
“Wow. So you were right?”
“Looks that way. What a week, huh?”
“A week of my life I will never get back.”
Carlotta laughed. “Do you want to grab some dinner?”
“I…can’t,” Hannah said, then gestured vaguely in the direction of the HAL Properties booth. “I have a family…thing I can’t get out of.”
And obviously, Carlotta wasn’t invited to attend. “I understand,” she said. Even though she didn’t.
“How about dinner tomorrow night?” Hannah asked.
“Sure, call me.”
She watched Hannah walk away and wrestled with the old familiar feeling of rejection. It cut deeper when it came from an unexpected source.
She rode the train home and walked the remaining few blocks from the station in the dusk, happy to breathe fresh air after being cooped up in the exhibition hall most of the week.
As she walked up her driveway, she discreetly surveyed the house next door, looking for any signs of shifty activity. There were none. Johnson what’s-his-name was probably sitting in front of his computer, stitching together photos of sidewalks and street signs and wishing he’d gone into porn like the rest of his photography friends.
When she walked into the townhouse, she was comforted by the beep of the security system that let her know it hadn’t been breached since she’d set it that morning. On the other hand, she’d been hoping Wes would be there because she really didn’t want to eat dinner alone.
She pulled out her phone and texted him. Coming home soon?
A few minutes later he responded. Staying with Chance tonight, pasta salad in the fridge.
She sighed, hoping he and Chance weren’t doing something criminal. She wondered, too, how the next few months were going to play out with Wes and Liz. But it was too much to think about tonight.
She put on a comfy sleep shirt and padded to the fridge to find a covered bowl of her favorite pesto pasta salad, topped with olives and pine nuts. Food was Wes’s way of apologizing. She scooped a bite of the creamy, zesty pasta into her mouth and murmured, “You’re forgiven.”
She grabbed a beer and carried the bowl to the living room, then settled in to watch bad weeknight television on their bad TV. When she was full, she stowed the leftovers, and walked around the kitchen and living room surveying the damage to the walls from Wes’s less-than-expert installation of the security system. She finished her beer staring up at the round disc of a listening device that might have saved her life the night Abrams had attacked her.
She wondered if anyone was still monitoring it—her mother?
“Where are you, mother?” she said aloud. “Don’t you miss us at all?”
The doorbell rang, spooking her. She wondered if Hannah had changed her mind about hanging out. And there was the neighbor next door.
And what if Valerie was monitoring the device, and simply waiting for the right time to stop by and catch up over a cup of coffee?
Despite the absurdity of the notion, her pulse ticked higher as she walked to the side window and pulled aside the curtain.
Jack waved at her.
Carlotta swung open the door. “Hello, there.”
His tie was loose and his jaw was shadowed. He leaned on the door frame. “Hi.”
“What brings you to this part of town?”
“Your sandbox,” he said, then pulled her into his arms and nuzzled her ear. “Can I sleep in your bed tonight?”
“Not if you plan to sleep,” she murmured.
He closed the door behind him and practically carried her to her bed. He knew the way.
They shed their clothes and he kissed a path to the place that made her cry out. He knew the way.
Then he covered her body with his and stroked into her so deeply and so fully, it was as if he were claiming every inch of her for himself. He slanted his mouth over hers and took her breath, then gave it back, slowly jackknifing his body into hers over and over to carry them to a frightening height before they crashed over the edge together.
Afterward, Carlotta lay still, recovering…shaken. With Jack, the sex was always intense and satisfying, but something was different this time. Something had shifted.
“I can’t stay awa
y from you,” he breathed into her ear. “I love…this.”
She closed her eyes, and listened to the sound of his heart beating against hers. “I love this, too.”
Chapter Thirty
“THREE GRAND FOR YOU,” Chance said, counting out the bills. “And three grand for me.” He grinned. “Man, that was one marathon game.”
“Yeah,” Wes agreed, leaning over to the stuff the wad of bills into his sock. He hadn’t slept since getting out of bed the previous morning, was running on the fumes of energy drinks and Snickers bars. And the high of winning a decent pot.
“You played like your life was on the line.”
Which it was, kind of. “Thanks.”
“What are you taking, man?”
“Taking?”
“Ritalin, Adderall?”
“No, nothing.”
“Something made you uber focused, you didn’t make a single mistake.”
“Just motivated, I guess.”
“What are you going to do with the money?”
“I’m going to buy a ring.”
“What kind of ring?”
“An engagement ring.”
Chance’s eyes bulged. “You’re getting married?”
“If she says yes.”
“Wait—which chick are you asking?”
Wes scoffed. “Liz. She’s having my baby, and I’m going to do the hard thing.”
“The hard thing?”
“Yeah, you know…the thing you don’t want to do, but you know you should. The hard thing.”
Chance looked at him as if he were insane. “Whatever, man. When are you going to pop the question?”
“Today, I guess. As soon as I buy the ring. I mean, she’s going to start showing soon, and I don’t want people thinking badly of her, you know?”
“That’s cool.”
“How are things with Hannah?”
Chance shrugged. “Okay, I guess. I don’t know—I still think she’s hiding something, but I can’t put my finger on it.”
“You don’t think it’s another dude?”
“Naw…once a girl gets a ride on my johnson, no other guy’s gonna measure up.”
“Uh-huh. So where’s the best place to buy a ring?”
“Pawn shop.”
“Really? Do girls like that?”
“That’s the great thing about diamonds, man—she’s not gonna know. Put it in a fancy box and throw a bow on top, and she’ll think you went to the mall.”
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