by Laura Durham
“Don’t worry, Joni. After today, I’m going to lay low. I’ve had as much drama as I can take for one day.”
Fern burst through my front door and held up what looked like a small gray urn. “You are never going to believe what I got from Eleanor Applebaum’s funeral.”
Chapter 26
“Please tell me that isn’t what I think it is,” I said after I quickly hung up with Joni. “Tell me you didn’t steal the cremated remains of Eleanor Applebaum.”
Fern recoiled in mock horror. “Of course not.” He put the small urn down on my coffee table. “These were the favors.”
“There were favors at a funeral?”
Fern shrugged. “It was a funeral for a wedding planner. I have to admit it seemed a bit like a wedding. The programs had gold tassles, there was a string quartet, and we all signed a big picture of Eleanor instead of a guest book. Do you have anything to drink, darling?”
“In the kitchen.” I pointed without getting up. “So who was at the funeral?”
“Not as many people as were at Carolyn’s viewing but a decent turnout.”
“The way wedding planners are dropping, can you really blame people for not showing?” I called over my shoulder. “Anything good happen?”
“Nothing as juicy as your little drama earlier, of course. I could have sworn I saw Gail and Byron arrive together, but they made a point to avoid each other. Maxwell made an appearance but even he looked somber. His shirt was buttoned up all the way.”
“Why would Gail and Byron arrive together and then pretend not to know each other?”
“I could have been mistaken or they could just be that moody to speak to each other one minute then hate each other the next. You should have seen the decor for this shindig.”
“I heard that Eleanor didn’t have any family,” I said. “Who put it all together?”
“She must have left specific instructions because it was beautifully planned. I’ve never seen such breathtaking flowers at a memorial service. All in shades of pink. And I could swear she brought in specialty lighting.”
“How odd. It does sound like a wedding.” I picked up the miniature urn. “But why would someone give away little urns as favors at a funeral? It’s a bit macabre.”
“How else could they give everyone some of Eleanor’s ashes to take home?” Fern called from the kitchen. “Little plastic baggies would be gauche and the ashes would fall through tulle sachets.”
I screamed and almost dropped the urn. “Eleanor’s ashes are in here?” I carefully put the urn back on the table and started wiping my hands on the couch. “I thought you said you didn’t have her ashes.”
“I said I didn’t steal her ashes.” Fern walked back in the room with a glass of wine. “They gave them to me.”
I shuddered. “Are you telling me that Eleanor’s ashes were divided up and given to every guest who attended the memorial service?”
Fern sat next to me and gave me a nudge. “I’ll bet you wish you came with me now, don’t you?” He took a sip of wine. “Not everyone got them but I elbowed my way to the front before they all got snatched up.”
“Good thing,” I said, averting my glance from where Eleanor sat on my coffee table. “What are you going to do with it?”
Fern raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know. Do you want it? You could use it as a bud vase.”
“Not the urn.” I tried to keep my voice even. “What are you going to do with the ashes?”
Fern made a face. “I hadn’t thought that far.” He looked around my apartment.
“Don’t even think it,” I said. “You’re going to have to take her with you.”
Fern gasped. “After I go to all the trouble to bring you back a present from the funeral, this is how I’m treated?”
I folded my arms and leveled my gaze at Fern. “Not bad.”
Fern let out a sigh. “Do you really think so? I wasn’t a bit much? Should I have teared up?”
“No, it was good. The tears would have been over the top,” I reassured him. “But you’re still taking her with you.”
Fern put down his wine and picked up Eleanor. “Fine. I’d better go find something to do with her and get ready for tomorrow.”
“Isn’t tomorrow only Friday?” I asked, hoping I hadn’t lost track of the days. “The wedding is on Saturday.”
“You may not have to work tomorrow but I have to do the bride and her mother for the rehearsal dinner.” Fern groaned. “You know how picky Kitty and Lady are about their hair. I’ve blocked out the entire afternoon at the salon.”
“I have to admit that for once I’m looking forward to a wedding.” I stood and walked with Fern to the door. “After the past few days, a wedding will be calm in comparison. We haven’t had a single meltdown by the bride or one middle-of-the-night phone call from the M.O.B. It should be smooth sailing.”
Fern tapped the miniature urn on my door frame as he walked out and gave me a wink. “Knock on wood.”
Chapter 27
“Are you sure this is such a good idea?” Kate asked as I handed her the gift basket to be delivered to the Hay-Adams Hotel.
I followed her from my office to the front door of my apartment. “The mother of the groom requested a bottle of Jameson’s Irish whiskey to be delivered to the priest’s room before he arrived. I’m just following orders.”
“It’s a huge bottle.” Kate shifted her weight to balance the basket on her hip, which barely held up her low-rider jeans. “This basket weighs a ton.”
“Are you sure you don’t mind doing the errands for the Winchester wedding?”
“You shouldn’t be driving around after what happened yesterday at Carolyn’s viewing. The only other thing I have to do is inventory the rentals at the hotel. Once I drop this at the front desk, I’ll do a quick count to make sure everything is there, then come back and pick you up for the rehearsal.”
“Thanks, Kate.” I opened the door for her. “I’m going to stay here and make the final changes to the timeline. Call me if you need anything.”
She looked back as she started down the stairs. “You’re sure you’re going to stay here and keep out of trouble?”
“After what happened yesterday?” I gave her a shocked look. “Trust me. I’m looking forward to a quiet day.”
I closed the door after her and walked to the kitchen. I opened the refrigerator and scanned the bare shelves. A few cans of Diet Dr Pepper sat next to some cartons of leftover Chinese food. I took a can of soda and popped it open. Breakfast of champions. I started down the hall to my office but was stopped by my doorbell.
“Hold on a sec,” I called as I went back and opened the front door, expecting to see Kate. “What did you forget?”
Instead Ian stood on my doorstep in snug jeans and his leather jacket zipped halfway over a black T-shirt.
“I just got your message this morning,” Ian said, his brows furrowed. “My cell phone has been acting up. Are you sure you’re okay?”
I’d almost forgotten that I’d called him after my run-in at the funeral parlor. I wasn’t sure why I’d felt the need to call him, but I felt better already just from seeing him. “I’m fine. It was nothing really.”
He stepped closer to me and lifted a hand to my head, brushing his fingertips lightly over my bruise. His blue eyes met mine. “It doesn’t look like nothing.”
“The doctor said that since most of the force landed on the side of my head, it didn’t cause any major trauma.”
Ian cocked an eyebrow. “You’re speaking American again.”
I smiled. “If someone tried to kill me, they missed.”
“I don’t like the idea of someone trying to kill you, even if they missed.” Ian frowned. “You need to be more careful.”
“I can take care of myself.” I tried to keep the irritation out of my voice. “You could have called me back, you know. You didn’t have to rush over here to check on me.”
“If I called, you might get irritated at me like you are
now and not let me bring you breakfast.” He held out a white paper bag. “That, and we have to leave for a gig later today, so if I didn’t see you now, I might not see you for a couple of days. I wasn’t sure if I could last that long.”
I felt my pulse quicken and my anger melt away. “Oh.” I stepped back to let him inside and focused on the paper bag so I wouldn’t have to meet his eyes. “Bagels?”
He shook his head. “Chocolate croissants from Patisserie Poupon.”
My stomach growled instinctively. “My favorite. How did you know?”
Ian smiled. “I have my ways.”
He followed me into the kitchen and unpacked the contents of the paper bag on the counter, peeling the pastries from sheets of white translucent paper. I handed him a can of Diet Dr Pepper from the refrigerator.
“It’s all I have,” I said. “You should probably know that I don’t keep a well-stocked pantry.”
He grinned as he took the can from me. “That means we’ll have to go out a lot.”
I felt my cheeks begin to flush. “That doesn’t sound so bad.”
He handed me a flaky chocolate croissant. “Good. I hoped it wouldn’t.”
I took a bite and had to stop myself from moaning out loud. The combination of the buttery pastry and the rich chocolate was heavenly. Ian moved close to me and tilted my chin up toward him. I held my breath as he brushed my lips with his fingertips.
“You have bits of croissant on your lips,” he whispered, his face only inches above mine. He leaned down and his lips met mine so gently I almost couldn’t tell he was kissing me except for the heat that surged through my body. I sunk into the kiss as he wrapped his arms around me and buried his hands in my hair. I dropped my croissant on the counter and lifted my arms to encircle his neck. He pressed his body against mine and his kiss became deeper and more urgent.
“Annabelle!”
It took me a moment to realize that it wasn’t Ian who called out my name. It was Leatrice. I sprang back from Ian as I heard her come into my apartment. When would I remember to lock my door?
“In the kitchen,” I yelled, straightening my shirt.
Ian reached over and brushed my lips with his thumb. “You still have crumbs,” he said softly.
I smiled at him and noticed that his eyes burned with heat. For the first time he looked dangerous to me. I took a breath to compose myself as Leatrice bounded into the kitchen.
“There you are, dearie.” She saw Ian and her face lit up. “I didn’t know you were visiting, too.”
“I brought breakfast.” Ian motioned to the croissants abandoned on the counter.
Leatrice rubbed her hands together. “Shall we take them to the dining room table and have a proper breakfast?”
Ian glanced at his watch. “I actually should be going. We have to head down to Charlottesville for a gig tonight and the lads will kill me if I don’t help them load the truck.”
Leatrice’s smile drooped. “Can’t you stay for a while? I wanted to tell you all the things I heard on the police scanner this morning. Tonight is a full moon, you know. People go crazy when there’s a full moon.”
“I’ll be back on Saturday,” he said more to me than Leatrice. “Can we pick up where we left off?”
I felt my cheeks get red and started to nod when I remembered the Winchester wedding. “I can’t. I have a wedding at The Hay-Adams on Saturday.”
“How about Sunday?”
“It’s a date,” I said, walking Ian to the door with Leatrice close on my heels.
Ian opened the door and stepped into the hall. He gave me a lingering kiss on the cheek and waved at Leatrice.
“See you on Sunday,” she called out, waving as he disappeared down the stairs.
I turned to Leatrice once we’d gone back in my apartment. “What are you wearing?”
She spun around and the bright red felt skirt belled out around her. The skirt was decorated with vividly colored sequined appliqués of nut-crackers, angels, and wrapped presents. “It’s called a Christmas tree skirt. Do you like it?”
“You’re wearing a Christmas tree skirt?”
Leatrice looked at me like I was an idiot. “Well, it is the Christmas season. This is a very popular item on the Home Shopping Network. I’m sure you’ll see other people wearing them around.”
“I doubt it.” I didn’t have the heart to break it to her that the skirt was meant to wrap around the base of a Christmas tree. At least she was in season.
Leatrice stared at me for a second. “Why do you have crumbs in your hair, dear?”
My cheeks burned as I ran my hands vigorously through my hair to get rid of the croissant crumbs that Ian had obviously left behind.
Leatrice’s eyes bugged out. “And what happened to your head?”
“I had an accident.” I tried to be as vague as possible. “Nothing serious.”
Leatrice sank onto my sofa. “Did you fall?”
“Not exactly,” I confessed.
“You mean someone did that to you?” She clapped her hand over her mouth. “I knew I should have stayed with you and been your bodyguard.”
Luckily, my cell phone rang before Leatrice could ask me any more questions. I grabbed it off my coffee table and flipped it open.
“Wedding Belles. This is—”
“Annabelle, it’s Lady Margaret Winchester.” I’d never heard Lady in a rush before. “Could you do me a huge favor? We need someone to pick up the priest from the airport and take him to the church for the rehearsal.”
“Sure,” I agreed, grabbing a pen and writing the flight information down on the back of a nearby magazine. I was glad Kate wasn’t around to see me caving in to a client’s last minute request again. “I’ll be there.”
“You’re a lifesaver,” Lady said. “I’m running to have my tiara refitted, but call my cell if you need me.”
I’d never heard of a tiara fitting, but nothing brides did surprised me anymore. I snapped my phone shut.
Leatrice stood with the door opened. “You’re in no condition to drive with that welt on your head so consider me your wheel man.”
I sighed, too tired to argue about it. My nice, quite afternoon had officially been shot to hell.
Chapter 28
“You’re sure you don’t want to take my car?” I asked as we got in Leatrice’s yellow Ford Fairmont circa 1980-something. I could only imagine the impression we would make on the priest by driving up in a car as long as a school bus with an eighty-year-old driver sitting on a pile of phone books and wearing a pair of prescription flying goggles.
“Not when we’ve got a classic car at our disposal.” Leatrice rubbed the dashboard and a cloud of dust surrounded us. I think she confused old with classic. I knew that when my brides requested a classic car for their wedding they meant a pristine Rolls-Royce, not a car with sagging interior fabric and missing door handles.
“This baby purrs like a kitten.” Leatrice put the key in the ignition, and the motor rumbled to life with a violent grinding sound. Leatrice had clearly never heard a kitten purr.
She didn’t bother to look behind her as she pulled out from the two spaces on the street that her car took up. It had been no use trying to convince her that the trip would be boring, and I hadn’t been fast enough to lose her on the stairs.
“This is so exciting.” Leatrice clapped her hands as we drove through Georgetown. “A day in the life of a wedding planner.”
“Being a wedding planner is far from exciting, Leatrice. Most days I make phone calls and work with contracts. Yesterday was not the norm.”
Holiday wreaths hung from every streetlight, and signs proclaiming sales hung in each shop window in the fashionable Washington neighborhood. Delivery trucks and double-parked cars didn’t make it any easier to weave our way through the usual gridlock and impatient holiday shoppers. Having a car longer than most of the delivery trucks also seemed to be a drawback.
Leatrice turned around in her seat to face me while we stopped t
o let a group of tourists cross the street. Her eyes looked enormous through her prescription goggles. “You haven’t told me what happened yesterday.”
Oops. “I assumed you’d heard on your police scanner.”
“Heard what? Did I miss something big?” She practically bounced out of her seat as she thumped herself on the forehead. “I knew I should have gotten a second scanner for the bathroom. I try to be quick but I lose precious moments in the shower.”
“It wasn’t a big deal in the end.” I tried to gloss over the attempted murders in the hope that she wouldn’t get all worked up about them. “A couple more wedding planners were attacked, but no one ended up dying.”
“The police think it was the same perp?” Leatrice used law enforcement jargon as much as possible.
I held my breath as we swung onto M Street and veered onto Key Bridge without signaling. “A slightly different weapon, but they’re assuming it’s the same person.”
Leatrice rapped her fingers on the steering wheel. “The first two victims were both strangled. What did he use this time?”
“Three victims,” I corrected her. “A third wedding planner was strangled at an industry party Wednesday night.”
Leatrice gasped. “I can’t believe I missed that, too. This is awful. I’m definitely going to get a second scanner. So how were the latest victims attacked?”
“I guess there wasn’t anything in the funeral home to choke someone with so the killer used a marble bust.”
“Blunt force trauma instead of asphyxiation. Curious.” Leatrice looked at my bruise and narrowed her eyes at me. “Were you one of the people to get attacked?”
“Technically yes,” I said. “But I didn’t get hit very hard. I’m fine.”
“Does Detective Reese know about this?” Leatrice reached over and opened the glove compartment, then pulled out a cell phone that looked as old as her car.
“Of course. He showed up at the funeral parlor and questioned everyone,” I said, hanging on to the door handle as we took the exit for the GW Parkway toward the airport. I glanced at the cell phone as Leatrice put it back in the glove compartment. “Is that a rotary dial?”