“How can I resist?” Marla accepted the treats, while conceding his marketing skills could teach her a few pointers. He made her feel special. “Jill was lucky to find you.”
Canfield beamed with pride. “She liked my orchids, so we worked those into her arrangements. They're so much more divine than lilies, in my opinion.” He gave a high-pitched giggle. “Of course, I'm an orchid enthusiast. I was so pleased that her affair was held at Falcon's new park. What a stroke of genius on his part to book her function on their opening weekend. Talk about a publicity coup in his favor!”
“Torrie set that up, and now she's dead.”
His face crumpled into a sad frown. “How true, and how tragic. I felt so sorry for the poor bride. Her own sister.”
Marla gave him a shrewd glance. “You stayed pretty much until the end. Do you usually do that at weddings?”
He shrugged. “I like to make sure everything is perfect for the reception. It's my reputation at stake, understand. Each signature event must be unique and memorable.” Opening a notebook, he withdrew a printed sheet of paper. “Now if I can just get your friend's name and the name of the groom, along with their addresses and phone numbers.”
“Uh, Nicole will have to contact you herself. I didn't write down that information.”
“All right. Is her affair similar to yours? How many attendants will you be having? Don't forget, if you run into any last-minute problems, give me a call. I'm good at managing unexpected snafus.”
Like murder? She blinked. “Thanks, I appreciate that. I'm having four bridesmaids plus a matron of honor.” Her brother's wife, Charlene, two friends, plus Brianna made up the bridal party, along with Tally. She'd been hesitant to ask Brie, unsure how the teen would react, but fortunately, the girl had been thrilled to be included.
He smiled. “Will you walk by yourself in the procession, or with your father?”
“My mother will precede me. My father is deceased.” No way she'd ask Roger to participate. She could just imagine Anita's stocky boyfriend waddling along, ruffling the rug underfoot so she'd trip when her turn came.
“What about the lucky groom? Who's attending him?”
Marla smiled at the way Canfield inspired confidences. How much had Jill told the man? “Dalton doesn't have any siblings, so my brother Michael will be his best man. He's asked four of his friends to be ushers.”
“They'll need boutonnieres. The groom's parents will be participating?”
“Yes.” How did they get on the subject of her wedding? Wasn't he supposed to be giving her information to take home to her hypothetical friend?
“Of course you're doing corsages for the mothers?”
“That's right.” She'd already made her selections.
“So that's seven boutonnieres, two corsages, one bridal bouquet, and five for your bridesmaids and maid of honor.”
Numbers swirled in her head. “Correct. Anyway, much as I would like to discuss my own details, I came to get info for my friend, remember?”
He pursed his lips. “So sorry, but I love to discuss weddings. Here are some pictures of the most common bouquet styles.” He pulled another book from the stack and flicked open the pages to a classic all-white collection. “The round nosegay is always popular. People used these back in the fourteenth century to mask odors. That's where the nosegay got its name. Get it? Nose?” He giggled.
“I see.” What she saw was that he made her lose concentration. If she didn't focus their conversation, she'd never get out of there.
“If your friend chooses to wear a formal gown, I'd suggest this cascade bouquet.” He showed her another picture. “Or for a more contemporary design, we can do wonders with calla lilies, orchids, and anthuriums. These can be simple but sophisticated.”
“How about candles, like at Jill's wedding?” she said in a desperate attempt to steer the conversation.
“At the ceremony, she can have flowers alone, or flowers plus candlelight. We have lots of options for the dinner tables, depending on the look she wants.”
“Could you give me price sheets for the different choices?”
“We have various packages available if your friend is cost conscious, but everything can be customized. I've included the info in this material.” He waved a packet. “Also, I can suggest colors for the table linens and chairs. It would help if your friend brings in swatches from the bridal dresses.”
Mute, Marla merely nodded.
“May I refill your wine glass, luv? You're looking a mite stressed.”
“I'm okay, thanks,” she said, her stomach roiling. All these details drove her mad on top of everything else: the new house, the day spa, the parents.
“We can do gifts, too. You know, for the bridal party, as well as small remembrances for the wedding guests.” He twirled his hand in the air. “It depends on how elaborate your friend cares to go. Who's doing the cake? We can scatter rose petals on the cake table, or we could use orchids, my favorite.”
Ah, there's the opening she needed. “Speaking of wedding cakes, I'm wondering where Jill and Arnie bought their cake knife. Would you know? Was it from a gift shop or did you supply it?”
He shut the bridal album with an abrupt snap. “They bought their knife elsewhere, but I can show you our selections if you wish.”
“Who's responsible for setting it on the cake table?”
“That depends on your decorator.” Something flickered behind his gaze. “I can lay it out and surround it with flowers, or the bride can make arrangements with the caterer.”
“I see.” She folded her hands together. “Who was responsible at Jill's event? Pardon me for asking, but I'm wondering who touched it last.”
“Arnie gave the knife to me beforehand. I brought it in my van along with everything else.”
“So you placed it on the table beside the cake, before the ceremony even started?”
“My dear, I finished doing the ballroom before the bride even arrived.”
“Tell me about the orchids at Jill's affair. Her centerpieces were so magnificent. Is it hard to obtain such a large amount of orchids? Aren't they super costly?”
“I have good suppliers. Look at Orchid Isle if you want an example on a grand scale.” He beamed proudly. “Who do you think supplies Falcon with his plant stock?”
“Isn't that a job for a nursery?”
He cocked his head. “I guess your friend Jill didn't tell you. I'm part-owner of a nursery out in Davie. Her uncle helped me realize that ambition of mine.”
“I had no idea. So you don't just own a flower shop?”
He waved his hand. “My resources go much deeper, luv. I have collectors come to me, like Mr. Oakwood.”
“You said Jill's uncle was involved?”
“Eddy Rhodes made my dream possible. That real estate attorney can move mountains. He's amazing.”
“I suppose he'll be at Torrie's funeral on Sunday.” Interesting how Eddy's name keeps popping up.
“I'm glad you reminded me. I'm planning to attend.” His eyes misted. “Poor lady. I still can't believe such a tragedy could happen at one of my weddings.”
Poor you, you mean. “Did you notice Torrie talking to anyone who might have upset her?”
He shook his head, shuffling the papers in front of him into a neat pile. “My focus was on the bride, and on my exquisite designs. Have you heard anything about the investigation? I can't imagine who would have wanted to harm that unfortunate woman.”
“I'm not privy to the police reports.”
“Didn't you say your fiancé was a detective?”
So you noticed. “In Palm Haven. Dalton doesn't have jurisdiction on this case. Tell me, had you met Torrie before the wedding?”
“I ran into her a couple of times at Leanne's house.”
“Oh. I understand Torrie used her influence with Leanne to book her sister's wedding at Orchid Isle.”
“The dates worked out perfectly.”
“Hally said I should talk to Leanne
if I wanted to learn more about her relationship to Torrie.”
“Who?”
“Hally Leeds, the fashion reporter from Boca Style Magazine.”
“When did you speak to her?”
“Yesterday.”
“You're getting around, aren't you?” He must have realized from her expression that he'd sounded snippy, because then he tapped her arm and grinned. “I mean, you have so much to do with your own wedding coming up. I'm surprised you're wasting time chasing around town for your friends.”
“I'm glad to help out. I guess I'll see you on Sunday, then. Thanks so much for this information. My friend will be grateful. I'll tell her to get in touch with you and book her date as soon as possible.”
“That would be wise.” He stuffed the documents into the packet folder and handed it over. “Take these, and have her call me with any questions. We'll make sure her event is fabulous.”
His giggle followed her out the door, but it sounded hollow, like an insurance salesman trying too hard to be convincing.
CHAPTER NINE
* * *
Marla and Dalton filed into a row holding two empty spaces at the funeral home in Coral Gables. Already the pews were filled, many of them with familiar faces. Muttering her apologies as she slid her feet in front of several people, Marla gratefully sank onto the cushioned seat.
Now that she had time to look around in the hushed silence, broken only by the sounds of an organ playing in the background, she noted the generous flower displays surrounding the casket in front. Different colored orchids were among the varieties. Had Philip Canfield donated those baskets? A table off to the side held framed photos showing Torrie in happier times.
“We do photos at Jewish funerals.” She leaned toward Dalton so no one else could hear her. “However, we don't send flowers. Usually, people bring food to the family afterward or give charitable donations in the deceased's memory.”
Looking darkly handsome in his fitted sport coat, he gave her a glum glance. “Thanks, I'll remember that.”
“Jill said she'll be sitting shivah at home until Thursday. I'd like to get over there tomorrow.”
Patting her hand, he nodded. “You're a good friend.”
“Speaking of friends, I got so busy yesterday that I couldn't call Tally back. I can't wait to find out what she has to tell me.” She studied the lock of his peppery hair that stubbornly tumbled onto his forehead. His temples had gotten grayer since she'd met him. “Do you think she's pregnant?”
He lifted his eyebrows. “They've been trying long enough.”
“Tell me about it.” She'd be thrilled for Tally but feared it would separate them further. Tally had gone New Age on her, and now she'd talk about cribs and diapers and all that production that went along with babies.
Her attention diverted when the music swelled and the minister walked in. Jill and Arnie sat in the front row along with Scott Miller and some other people Marla didn't recognize. She crossed her legs, preparing for the eulogies to follow. Loathing funerals, she checked her watch at frequent intervals, hoping they could make it to their appointment at the country club. She and Dalton needed to review several details with the caterer.
Despite her resolution not to get teary-eyed, she couldn't help herself from getting choked up when Scott spoke about his wife. In the front row, Jill's shoulders shook with silent sobs. Marla cast a subtle glance around. She spotted Leanne Oakwood with tears trickling down her cheeks. Her husband sat stoically at her side, his mother flanking him. Sitting directly behind the Oakwoods was Philip Canfield, wearing a somber suit.
“This isn't that much different from a Jewish funeral,” Marla commented to Dalton on their way to the cemetery after the service concluded. Police cars escorted their procession, sirens blaring, traffic being held at intersections until they passed. “The minister conducted the service, and then Torrie's close family and friends spoke about her life. What's different seems to be the flowers and our customs in the days that follow.”
“We had three-hour wakes for two days before my grandfather's funeral.” Focused on the road, Dalton gripped the steering wheel. “When Pam died, we had calling hours at the funeral home for a couple of nights before the service.”
“So Christians have friends stop by to express their sympathy in the days before the funeral,” Marla said, trying to understand, “whereas we sit shivah afterward—three days for Reform Jews, and seven days for more religious denominations.”
Gentiles even sprinkled dirt on the casket, she noticed at the graveside ceremony. Bowing her head while the minister recited a prayer, she remembered sprinkling Israeli dirt on her father's coffin.
When the service concluded, people dispersed. She almost liked that better than Jewish funerals, where the guests lined up in two parallel rows and mourners walked down the aisle between them, accepting their condolences and pats on the back, along with their scrutiny. Here friends and family stood in different groupings speaking quietly before commuting to Scott's house for food and drink.
Marla saw they had time to spare, so she angled toward the Oakwoods. Jill and Arnie were surrounded by family, including Eddy and Alexis and their cousin Kevin. They appeared to be involved in an earnest discussion, so she didn't want to interrupt. Leanne looked somewhat lost, standing aside while her husband and his mother carried on a conversation.
“How are you, Leanne?” Marla said, alone since Dalton had wandered off to make a phone call. “We met at Jill's wedding, remember?”
“Sure, you were one of the bridesmaids.” Leanne smiled, lines crinkling her eyes. She wore her tinted reddish-brown hair in a cute pixie cut with bangs feathering her arched eyebrows. A cool breeze blew, and she tightened the maroon scarf around her neck. It provided the only splash of color against a black suit.
Feeling chilled, Marla folded her arms across her chest. She'd worn a short-sleeve dress and should have brought a sweater. Hopefully, it would warm up soon. Her stomach growled; one o'clock meant she was due for lunch. “It was kind of you to help Jill book her wedding at Orchid Isle.”
Leanne's mouth turned down. “What a disaster. Falcon was upset about the negative publicity.”
Oh, yeah? Every time my name is linked in the news to a murder, I get a surge in business.
“I'm so sorry.”
“Don't feel bad for us. Poor Torrie.” Leanne dabbed at her eyes with a tissue. “She didn't even have the chance to spread her wings that she'd so longed for.”
“What do you mean?” Was Leanne talking about the possible promotion at work? Torrie may have been hopeful, but her ascension up the career ladder had not been assured.
Leanne shot a venomous glance toward Griff Beasley, who stood among a cluster of employees from Boca Style Magazine. A couple of young females appeared to be enthralled with whatever he was saying. “She thought that two-timer was her ticket to adventure. She couldn't have been more wrong.”
Marla opened her mouth, but before she could pose another question, Philip Canfield sauntered in their direction. He'd draped a bright red scarf around his neck. “Lo and behold, my two favorite ladies.” He air-kissed each of them in turn. “Leanne, my lovely, cheer up. Our dear Torrie wouldn't want her friend to look so sad.”
To Marla's surprise, Leanne grasped his arm. “You're always around for support. I don't know what I'd do without you.”
A private look passed between them, making Marla wonder about their relationship. Wasn't Philip gay? He certainly gave that impression with his flamboyant clothes and effusive gestures.
Falcon's mother took them in at a glance and strode over. “Do I know you?” She wore an expensive black dress and veiled hat.
“I don't believe we've formally met.” Marla extended her hand. “I'm Marla Shore, Jill and Arnie's friend.”
“You can call me Cornelia.” She turned to her son. “Falcon, I'm getting chilly. It's time for us to leave.”
“Yes, Mama.” His shoulders hunched.
“How a
re you, Mr. Oakwood?” Marla regarded him with a level glance.
“How can anyone feel under the circumstances?” He glared at her from behind his spectacles. “Terrible affair, this. Who'd have thought such a beautiful wedding would end in tragedy?”
The man sounded as though the only tragedy was the inconvenience to his schedule.
Philip slipped away, while Leanne stood with her eyes downcast. Cornelia's gaze narrowed, scrutinizing her daughter-in-law. Marla could sense the palpable tension in the air.
“My fiancé is waiting.” She pointed to where Dalton stood, signaling to her. “I'd love to chat with you some more, but I have to go. Please excuse me.”
Leanne gave her a genuinely warm smile. “You know, it made me feel better to talk to you. If you're ever in Coconut Grove, stop by and we'll have tea.”
“Could I have your number so I can call first? I may take you up on your offer.” Sooner than you think, pal.
After exchanging business cards, Marla turned and bumped elbows with someone.
“Sorry,” said Kevin, Jill's cousin. He introduced Marla to his wife, Dana, a woman with strawberry-blond hair and rosy cheeks, who looked like she'd come off the boat from Scandinavia. Her low-cut black lace dress seemed too risqué for a funeral, by Marla's standards.
“How do you do?” Dana fingered the pearls on her neck. “Jill was just talking about you.”
Marla smiled when Dalton caught up to her. “Really? This is my fiancé, Dalton Vail. Dalton, you've met Kevin Rhodes, and this is his wife, Dana.”
Dalton lifted his eyebrows. “You're the guy who's in real estate, right?”
Kevin gave a vigorous nod. “Jill mentioned that you knew about our quagmire with the oil lube company. I understand you own a rental property yourself?”
Marla shifted her purse, her heels sinking into the soft earth. They stood on a grassy expanse at the edge of the street so as not to trespass on anyone's grave. “My ex-husband and I bought it together. He sold me his share, so now it's all mine.” Only after she'd kept Stan from going to jail by solving his third wife's murder.
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