Feeling rather proud of my self, I turned the handle.
But I never got a chance to see what was inside.
Before I even realized what was happening, pain exploded at the side of my head, a loud crack echoing through the air as the landscape danced in nauseating circles before my eyes.
Chapter Twenty
My head instantly throbbed as I struggled to keep the black fuzzing at the corners of my vision from taking over.
I spun around to find Anne standing behind me, something flat, dark, and menacing looking in her hands. What the hell was that thing? I squinted, trying to blink way the pain gnawing at my every nerve ending as I focused on it. Had she hit me with a cookie sheet?
I didn’t have time to find out as she swung the heavy metal square at me again. This time I ducked, instinctively diving to the right, and took off at a sprint in the other direction.
Anne dropped the pan to the ground with a clang and took off after me. Luckily, thanks to Dana’s gym regimen, I had a good head start, diving into the first white tent I saw.
Which was apparently set for my reception dinner as empty chafing dishes and piles of silverware graced the linen clad tables. Red linen. With big white hibiscus print on it. Then again, what did I expect hiring a flamboyant hairdresser as a wedding coordinator?
But I didn’t have time to linger on Marco’s tropical travesty décor further, as footsteps pounded behind me.
“There’s nowhere to run,” Anne yelled, pushing the flap back on the tent. “I know you’re in here.”
I grabbed the nearest thing I could find – a shiny silver chaffing dish – and spun around, whacking her square in the face.
I heard a crunch and a grunting sound as she staggered backward.
“Bitch! My nose!” she yelled, hands going to her face where I could see red liquid gushing between her fingers.
I fought back a wave of nausea and turned to run.
Unfortunately, Anne recovered quickly. I only got a couple of steps away before I felt her grab a handful of hair, yanking sharply.
“Uhn.” I cried out as my body followed my hair, stumbling backward on my heels. She whipped me around, throwing me toward a group of tables and chairs, where I landed with a thud, taking three place settings down to the ground with me.
I shook the stars out of my eyes to see her lunging again. I rolled to the right, quickly scrambling onto my hands and knees, crawling out of her reach.
Well, almost out of her reach. Damn those long willowy arms of hers.
A hand shot out and locked onto my ankle. I twisted right then left, kicking at her with my free leg as my eyes scanned the ground for a possible weapon. Spoon, napkin, butter knife. Shit, I knew we should have ordered steak.
Then I spied an orange plastic cooler with an Anaheim Angels sticker on the side stuck under the buffet table a foot away.
I clawed my way forward, my fingers digging into the soft grass. A couple more inches, one more… finally my fingers connected and I ripped the lid off the cooler, tossing it backward. It collided with Anne’s forehead with a satisfying thud.
“Ow! Bitch,” she spat out.
But she didn’t let go. I leaned forward, shoving my hand in the cooler and coming out with… a frozen tamale?
Without thinking, I threw it behind me too, hearing another thunk answer back. I grabbed another and another, chucking them behind me rapid fire.
“What the hell are you throwing at me? Burritos?” she screamed. Her grip loosened on my ankle just enough for me to wiggled free.
I leapt to my feet (wow, those step classes were really working. I’d never leapt to anything before.) and took off at a dead run for the back of the tent. I heard Anne following suit a step behind me. As I burst through the flaps I paused only a second to get my bearings. The hotel was dead ahead of me. But, since Mom had booked the largest garden in L.A. County for my “small and intimate” wedding, it was a full football field away. Or at least it seemed that far as I ran for my life toward the safety of lights, people, and snooty concierges.
I got as far as my tropical-flower laden altar when I felt a sharp shove between my shoulder blades, propelling me forward with a jerk. My arms flailed as I went down, grasping for anything to hold on to. I caught a vine. A big one. Only, as I hit the ground, it came with me, pulling the entire altar to the right. I watched in slow motion horror as the white lattice gazebo titled, then creaked, then fell forward, collapsing down on both Anne and me as she struggled to get a hold on my hair again.
Luckily, Anne took the brunt of it, her eyes rolling up into her head, momentarily stunned. I wriggled out from underneath her as she struggled to lift the heavy beams off her legs. I rolled to the left, just as she freed herself and rolled right. Both of us coming up on opposite sides of the mangled structure. Only her side was closer to the hotel. Damn.
We stood there in a sort of standoff, our breath coming hard, knees bent, ready to bolt either way should the other lunge first.
“You killed Gigi,” I said, trying to distract her. If I could inch to the right just a couple steps, I thought I could make a break for it.
Anne grinned, showing off a row of white teeth that looked eerily like the Cheshire cat in the sparse moonlight. “And here I thought you were just some dumb blonde.”
I narrowed my eyes. “No, you’re just some psycho brunette.”
She laughed, a high-pitched kind of cackle that held more menace than humor. And I realized my insult wasn’t too far off the mark. There really was something seriously wrong with this chick. I should have known. I mean, really, what normal person doesn’t like chocolate?
“Where is Allie?” I asked, watching her eyes dart to the left, then right, as if looking for a way to get the jump on me.
“Wouldn’t you like to know, Miss Nosey? You know, everything was going fine until you showed up.”
“Yeah, I get that a lot,” I mumbled. “Does he have her?” I asked.
Anne’s eyes clouded for a moment, then narrowed. “Oh, you know about him, then, do you?”
I nodded. “No way did I think you were smart enough to pull this off on your own.”
I know, maybe not the brightest plan to piss off the psycho. But the longer I could keep her talking, the greater the chance some hotel employee would see the standoff in the wedding garden.
“Shows how much you know!” she shouted. I glanced toward the hotel. Sadly, we were too far away for anyone to hear us.
“How so?” I stalled.
“Allie was my idea!”
Ah ha. Now we were getting somewhere.
“So, you did kidnap her?”
“Of course.”
“And kill Gigi.”
“That old cow. She looked right through me. I was happy to see her gone. It was so simple. I just showed up at her studio, told her that my uncle had forgotten something for the samples and, when her back was turned, hit her with a cake knife.”
I fought down a wave of sickness, remembering the scene. “But it wasn’t your idea to kill her, was it?” I asked, treading carefully.
Anne faltered. Then shook her head. “No. I did it for him. I love him. I’d do anything for him.”
Geeze, I loved my family too, but no way was I offing my Uncle Mickey’s ex girlfriend in Bocca.
“But why Allie?” I asked. I glanced back toward the hotel, again. I could see a group of businessmen in suits drinking scotch on the back patio. Could they see us in the dark out here?
“Because he found out she was Gigi’s daughter!” Anne shouted. “Duh!”
And I’d been the one to give Anne this bit of information. I mentally kicked myself. I so owed Allie after this. If there was an after this, I decided, seeing the way Anne’s eyes had taken on a crazed look talking about her beloved uncle.
“And now your uncle has her?” I asked.
Anne cocked her head to the side. But instead of answering right away, a crooked smile took over her face. There went that Cheshire cat loo
k again. “You really have no idea where she is, do you?” she asked.
I paused. “Uh, sure I do.”
But, as Ramirez had pointed out many a time, I was a terrible liar. And Anne didn’t buy that for a minute. Instead, she jumped right at me, lunging over the altar debris and hitting me square in the chest, knocking us both backwards into a row of folding chairs. They toppled over with a domino effect that rippled on for three whole rows, taking the delicate ribbon and floral edging with it.
Her hands went around my throat, instantly cutting off my air supply. I clawed at her fingers, kicking my knee upward to catch her in the gut. Her grip loosened as the wind went out of her. I rolled sharply to the left, knocking into the little white table that held the guest book. It went flying, landing in the flowerbeds. Anne grabbed a handful of my hair and thunked my head against the hard earth.
“Uhn.” I tried to ignore the lump I was sure I’d have tomorrow, clawing at her face with my free hand.
She jerked out of the way, rolling us to the left, knocking into a glass terrarium full of monarch butterflies. I grabbed a handful of her hair and we went right, taking down a table full of wine bottles and little bubble blowers. I winced. Marco was going to kill me.
That is, if I ever got out alive.
Anne’s hands went around my throat again as she rolled me up against a palm tree, the little white lights hot against my back. I felt her fingers squeeze until gurgling sounds erupted from the back of my throat. I twisted right and left, turning my head side to side, but it was no use. For a stick figure, she was freakishly strong. And she had me completely pinned. I felt my limbs going heavy, fog starting to fill my head, my vision fuzzing at the edges.
This was it. And my first irrational thought as the wave of unending dizziness swept over me was that I never got to be a wife. Ever since we’d gotten engaged, all this wedding stuff had taken on a life of its own. I’d forgotten that it was really all just the means to an end. An end where I’d fall asleep in Ramirez’s arms every night. Where I’d wake up every morning to the sound of his shower and the smell of freshly brewed coffee. Where we’d sit on the sofa and watch movies without worrying about which one of us had to drive home in an hour for an early morning. Where I knew that no matter how horrible my bed-head was in the morning, he’d still love me anyway. Where no matter how many cases took him away in the middle of the night, I knew he’d always come home to me. Our home. Where one day we’d start a family, watch it grow, and hold hands on the front porch as we turned into old, wrinkly, prunes who only had eyes for each other.
That was the part I wanted. That was the part I’d said yes to in Paris. And I was damned if some skinny homicidal freak was going to rob me of it.
As I felt my vision fade, my fingers grasped along the ground for anything I could use as a weapon. Just as my head felt like it was about to explode, my fingers wrapped around something long and smooth. I swung wildly in front of me, and felt the pressure on my throat release as a wine bottle collided with the side of Anne’s head.
She fell off me, rolling to her hands and knees as I dragged in deep, painful breaths of air. But I didn’t care, nothing had ever felt so good.
Anne stood up, shaking bits of green glass from her hair. And grabbed another discarded bottle, swinging it my way. “Bitch!” she yelled.
I ducked just in time, scrambling up off the ground and diving behind one of the giant tiki heads. She was a step behind me, the wine bottle slicing menacingly through the air.
I ducked down and shoved at the tiki head with all my might. It wiggled a little. I threw my shoulder into it, and shoved like my life depended on it. Which, if the crazed look in Anne’s eyes was any indication, it did.
The tiki head tilted forward, slowly leaning on one edge. I shoved one more time and felt it tip forward. I heard Anne scream, and then the sickening crunch of the tiki landing on top of her, pinning her body to the ground.
And apparently Anne wasn’t the only thing it hit. Because within seconds, hundreds of tiny, winged butterflies filled the air, fluttering up into the night sky.
I watched them, panting as I crumpled to the ground, my legs giving out entirely. Marco was right. They really were kind of spectacular.
* * *
Fifteen minutes later the air was filled with the sound of sirens, my perfect shambles of a wedding site bathed in flashing blue and red lights, crime scene tape holding back a mob of curious hotel patrons that now couldn’t seem to keep their eyes off the garden. (Where had they been half an hour ago?)
I was seated in the last row of what was supposed to be my wedding venue watching paramedics try to pry Anne’s screaming, swearing form from beneath a giant tiki head as I fielded questions from a very confused rookie cop in a starched blue uniform.
“So, you followed your caterer here?”
“Yes.”
“And she attacked you?”
“Yes.”
“Because she killed your wedding planner?”
“Yes.”
“And you pinned her with a giant tiki head.”
“That about sums it up.”
He gave me a funny look, then jotted something down in his notebook. Probably a note to self never to get married.
“Maddie!”
I looked up to find my entire wedding party running toward me. Mom, Faux Dad, Larry, the Ramirezes and everyone else, all jogged across the lawn toward the flashing lights. (Well, most of them jogged. Mrs. Rosenblatt mostly waddled.) But the man leading the pack was the only one I noticed. Ramirez.
Shoving the uniformed cop aside, I fairly leapt into his arms as he ducked through the crime scene tape.
“Are you okay?” he asked, his arms instantly around me.
For a moment I couldn’t respond, my throat clogged with emotion. “Yeah,” I finally squeezed out.
He pulled back, running an assessing look over my person. A few cuts, bumps, a nasty bruise forming on my neck. And I could feel a hell of a headache brewing. But I was essentially okay.
Once he finished looking me over, he glanced around the scene I’d created. “Wow, when you stay out of trouble, you really do it with style.”
I couldn’t help a smile. “Thanks.”
“I’m not sure that was a compliment.”
“I know.”
He grinned down at me. Then he gestured to Anne. “So, she killed Gigi?” he asked.
I felt the corners of my mouth heading north, my spine straightening. “Yes. I got a full confession. She also kidnapped Allie.”
“Wow.”
“Guess this means I win, huh?”
Ramirez looked down at what I was sure was the biggest shit eating grin ever pasted on my face. His eyes crinkled at the corner, his own lips twitching.
“Damn. I guess it does. All right, you win, Springer. You’re a kickass detective.”
Have I mentioned how much I love this man?
I wrapped my arms around his neck, kissing him square on the lips. I might have even used a little tongue had the entire L.A.P.D. not been watching (not to mention my mother), but as it was, I restrained myself.
“Maddie, honey!” Mom and the gang finally broke through the police barrier, enveloping me in a series of group hugs that I was sure were going to leave bruises tomorrow. Everyone was talking at once, Mom alternating between jaw-dropping awe and tears, Dana doing a series of “ohmigod”s and Marco eyeing the cute paramedic with an earring. Finally Ramirez corralled them all into one of the reception tents and sat me down alone.
“So,” he said, going into cop mode, “tell me exactly what Anne said to you.”
So, I did, relaying the entire story. “She said she did it because she loved him,” I finished.
“That makes sense,” he said, his eyes doing a slow survey of the scene. “My captain picked him up an hour ago.”
I froze. “He did?”
Ramirez nodded. “We suspected him from the beginning. When we learned why Gigi visited her attorney, it seal
ed it. Only problem was, with the airtight alibi, we knew he must be working with an accomplice.”
“Her attorney talked to you?” I asked, dismayed. And here I thought we got on so well with Kaufman.
Ramirez grinned at me. “A warrant helps. Hey, you wouldn’t happen to know anything about a blonde in heels who had him draw up a prenup, would you?”
Guilt heated my cheeks. “Nope.”
“Hmm,” he said. “Yeah, I didn’t think so.”
“So, uh, anyway,” I said, clearing my throat. “After you arrested him, did he tell you where Allie was?”
He shook his head. “No. He swore he didn’t know. But I have a feeling Anne may be a little more forthcoming.” He gestured to the woman, still squirming and shouting curses as the tiki was lifted from her right leg. I winced, looking away. The way that leg was bent was definitely not natural.
“I don’t know,” I said. “I’m not sure she’ll talk. She seems pretty devoted to her uncle.”
“Her uncle?” Ramirez gave me a funny look.
I nodded. “Yeah, Fauston. He’s the one who told her to kill Gigi.”
Suddenly the mammoth grin that I’d been doing ever since Ramirez conceded defeat was on the other face. His eyes twinkled down at me. “Honey,” he started.
Uh oh. I’d gone from crack detective to honey. This did not sound good.
“We didn’t pick up Fauston,” he continued. “We arrested Gigi’s ex. Seth Summerville.”
“Summerville?” I felt my jaw drop open. So much for my big gloating win.
Ramirez nodded. “After talking with her attorney, we learned that Summerville and Gigi had never actually finalized their divorce. Gigi was still hung up on him and had stalled the proceedings. That is, until Spike proposed to her. She called her attorney to have papers drawn up to dissolve the marriage with Summerville right away.”
“So she was going to say yes to Spike?” I made a mental note to tell him. While nothing would bring his girlfriend back, I had a feeling it would help.
“It would seem,” Ramirez went on. “Only Summerville wasn’t happy about it. See, his company was in trouble. Big time. He’d over-invested and with the real estate market in a slump, he’d gotten in over his head. He was on the verge of bankruptcy and losing everything. But, as long as he was married to Gigi, he could still borrow against her business.”
High Heels Mysteries Boxed Set (Books 1-5) Page 124