by Laura Durham
“Does he think you’re in danger?”
“He warned me to be careful.” Actually, he’d threatened to throw me in jail if I came within ten feet of the murder investigation, but Leatrice didn’t need specifics.
She gave a low whistle. “So that’s three people who have been murdered—all wedding planners—plus two more wedding planners almost killed.”
“I wouldn’t say that I was almost killed,” I said. “The other victim fared worse than I did. They admitted her to the hospital for a possible concussion.” I made a mental note to call the hospital and check on Margery later.
“This may be the first wedding planner serial killer in the history of violent crime.” Leatrice looked positively gleeful. “I wonder who would want to kill a bunch of wedding planners?”
“A bride?” I guessed. “Although it should be the other way around.”
“Do you have any suspects?” she asked as we drove along the Potomac River. Without leaves on the trees, it was even easier to see the stark white marble of the city’s monuments reflected in the water. The river looked like a sheet of gray glass today without the usual crowd of boats that packed the water during the warmer months.
I hesitated for a moment, but talking with Leatrice about the suspects seemed harmless enough.
“The first two victims are both older planners who have a lot of connections to each other. They actually had plenty of reasons to kill each other,” I said. “When it comes to motives, Carolyn’s husband stood to gain the most financially, but no one saw him at the crime scene and he doesn’t have any reason to kill the other victims. Several people could have killed Carolyn as revenge for being fired. Byron, Gail, and two sales clerks were all fired by Carolyn and weren’t too happy about it.”
“It sounds like the first victim wasn’t the most loved planner in town,” Leatrice said.
“Nope. She’d been around forever, but she’d also had lots of time to make enemies.”
“What about the other old-timer?” Bold words coming from someone who had the distinctive scent of Ben-Gay.
“Eleanor was more annoying than anything. Someone could have killed her so they wouldn’t have to hear her bragging about her fancy clients anymore. She took part in firing Byron, so he wasn’t a big fan of hers, either.”
“So they had Byron in common?” Leatrice said.
“And Maxwell. I always forget him. They both had affairs with him when they were all a lot younger. Actually, Carolyn used Eleanor’s affair to blackmail her into leaving the company.”
Leatrice’s eyes widened. “I imagined wedding planners being so prim and proper.”
I laughed. “Guess again.”
“What about the third victim?”
“Stephanie didn’t have much in common with the other two at all. She was young and new and everyone liked her,” I said. “Well, the old guard may not have liked her, but they don’t like anyone new. I can’t figure out why anyone would kill Stephanie.”
“She didn’t have anything in common with Carolyn or Eleanor?” Leatrice pressed.
I gnawed the edge of my lower lip. “She got friendly with Maxwell at the party before she was murdered, but I have a hard time thinking someone killed her because of that. Even if they were jealous.”
“It sounds like it’s the one thing that links them all together, though.” Leatrice hunted around in her glove compartment with one hand. “I wish I had something to write all this down on.”
“Shouldn’t you concentrate on the road?” I asked as we drove under the highway and swerved into the right lane. We were making record time to the airport. Probably because Leatrice either couldn’t read the speed limit signs or didn’t care about them. “But I was never involved with Maxwell and neither was Margery.”
Leatrice snapped the glove compartment closed. “Margery?”
“The other wedding planner who got attacked at the funeral home,” I explained. “Carolyn’s assistant.”
“So she probably had the same connections to Eleanor and the other planners who had it in for Carolyn?”
“She’d worked for Carolyn for almost twenty years, so she knew them all and worked either for them or with them. But nobody held Carolyn’s actions against Margery. She was only her assistant. And I didn’t have an affair with Maxwell or a history of working with the same people that Carolyn and Eleanor did, so who knows why I was targeted?”
“My guess would be that the killer wanted to keep you from poking around in the case.”
“That’s what Richard and Reese think,” I admitted.
“Those are all the suspects and clues? No photos or video footage?” Leatrice looked dismayed when I shook my head. “There’s not much to go on.”
“Well, we know that Byron lied about leaving the Mayflower for the church when he really stayed at the hotel where Carolyn was killed.” I spotted the yellow and white terminal on my left and motioned for Leatrice to take the first exit for Ronald Reagan National Airport.
“That’s pretty incriminating. How did you find out?”
I unfolded the piece of paper where I’d written down the flight information. “Gail. She and Byron work together a lot.”
“The same Gail who got fired by Carolyn? Are you sure she isn’t telling you to set him up and make herself look good?”
I directed Leatrice to the arrivals section of the airport complex. “I’m not sure of anything and I wouldn’t put it past her. She and Byron are supposed to be friends, but she ratted him out to us. And I’m not so sure they aren’t still friends.”
“Some friend,” Leatrice said. “Who do you think would be capable of strangling three people?”
“I’d say Byron if I didn’t think he was too prissy to pull it off. Gail is vicious enough to do it, but I’m not sure of her motive to kill Margery or me even if she was jealous enough of Stephanie to commit murder. If the victims were strangled in some sort of autoerotic asphyxiation, I’d bet money on Maxwell. But I really don’t see him as a murderer.”
Leatrice cocked her head to one side. “Auto what?”
“Nothing important.” I didn’t relish the idea of explaining S&M to Leatrice. “My point is that I have plenty of suspects but no idea who really did it.”
Leatrice swung the car in front of the baggage claim entrance and slammed it into park.
“Wait here. I’ll be right back,” I said as I hopped out of the car. “All I have to do is find an Irish priest.”
“Will any Irish priest do, lassie?” A stocky man with a head full of bushy white hair called out in a thick accent.
I stopped and turned around. “Are you Father O’Malley?”
“Aye.” He picked up his slightly battered suitcase from the curb. “I’m here for the Kelly-Winchester wedding.”
I gave a sigh of relief. I’d found the priest. Now I just had to deliver him safely to the wedding rehearsal. This should be a breeze.
“I’m Annabelle Archer. The wedding planner.”
“A wedding planner? They hired you to plan their wedding?” The priest scratched his head. “How marvelous!”
“The car is right here.”
Father O’Malley’s eyes widened when he saw the yellow stretch Ford. Leatrice leaned out and waved as she popped the trunk. I helped him hoist his suitcase inside, then opened the front passenger side door for him and jumped in the back.
Father O’Malley lowered himself into the passenger’s side and gave a start when he saw Leatrice. “Are you a wedding planner, too, young lady?”
Leatrice giggled and I rolled my eyes. Pretty suave for a priest.
“I’m her neighbor and driver.” She held out her hand. “Leatrice Butters. You can call me Lee Lee.”
My mouth almost hit the ground. Lee Lee? This was new. “Leatrice, this is the priest for tomorrow’s wedding. We’re taking him to the church for the wedding rehearsal.”
“Do we have some time to spare?” Father O’Malley looked back at me.
“A bit,�
� I said, pointing Leatrice to the exit heading back into the city. “Would you like a driving tour of the monuments?”
“I hoped we could stop somewhere for a pint before going to the church.”
“A pint of what?” I couldn’t imagine wanting ice cream in weather like this. I glanced at the ruddy-cheeked priest. “Do you mean you want to stop for a drink?” He looked like he’d already had a few.
“You do have pubs in Washington, don’t you?”
Leatrice’s face lit up. “Oh yes, let’s go to a pub. I’ve never been to one.”
The priest turned and winked at me. “That’s a good girl.”
I rubbed my temples as I imagined what Kitty would say when I showed up at the rehearsal with an inebriated priest. I didn’t even want to think about arriving in an ancient Ford driven by an equally ancient driver in a sequined Christmas tree skirt.
The murder investigation had just become the least of my worries.
Chapter 29
“Sorry I’m late,” Kate said as she rushed up to me in the back of St. Patrick’s Catholic Church. I’d heard the distinctive sound of high heels on marble as soon as she entered the church foyer, despite the loud chatter of the bridal party waiting for the rehearsal to begin. “We were missing the linens for the cocktail tables and the brown velvet chair cushions.”
“Did you call the rental company?” I rubbed my arms to keep warm. Kate had changed from her jeans into a short black dress with a deep scoop neck. It made me cold just looking at her.
“They’re sending the stuff over first thing in the morning. How’s the rehearsal going so far?”
“We have most of the bridal party here.” I cast a glance around at the blond bridesmaids and the tall, dark groomsmen. The combination of a Texas-Irish wedding produced a very attractive bridal party. “All we need is a bride and we’ll be good to go.”
“A bride running late for the rehearsal? What a surprise.” Kate craned her neck around me and peered into the sanctuary. The lights were dimmed and the sanctuary was illuminated by the glow of chandeliers hanging above the rows of dark wooden pews. The church was almost a miniature cathedral with a towering domed ceiling and ornate stained-glass windows throughout. An enormous crucifix hung over the alabaster marble altar table, and the cross reflected in the high sheen of the aisle.
“Wait until you hear what I found out at the Hay-Adams…Um, Annabelle. Is that Leatrice sitting in the back row?”
I gave a tiny nod without looking her in the eyes.
“What is she doing here?”
I put a hand to my head and began to massage in small circles. “Don’t ask. I spent the last hour in a bar with an Irish priest and an eighty-year-old.”
“Excuse me?” Kate’s eyebrows disappeared under her blond bangs. “All you have to do now is get yourself a duck and a rabbi and you’ll be set.”
I glared at her. “You’re a riot.”
“Leatrice at a bar? I didn’t even know she drank.”
“She doesn’t.” I motioned with my head as Leatrice began to slide lower in the pew. “That’s part of the problem.”
Kate looked around the foyer. “Where’s the priest you went bar-hopping with?”
“Shhhhh.” I motioned for her to lower her voice. “He’s back in the sacristy with the monsignor. You’d never know he downed three beers in an hour aside from the slightly slurred speech. But that may just be his accent. I can’t really tell.”
Kate’s mouth fell open. “Wasn’t the bride’s mother worried about people drinking at the wedding?”
“I’m sure she didn’t think she’d have to worry about the priest,” I said.
“This should be an exciting rehearsal.”
“To say the least.” I glanced nervously around the foyer for Kitty. “What did you want to tell me about the Hay-Adams?”
“I got a chance to talk to David, the catering director, while I inventoried the rentals.”
“The one who calls you ‘babe’?”
Kate smiled. What I might consider sexist, Kate took as a compliment. “Exactly. He mentioned that they had a nice wedding last Saturday with one of our colleagues.”
“Who?”
“None other than our Botox poster girl.”
“Barbie?” I said. “So she was working right around the corner from us.”
“Not only that,” Kate continued. “Did you know that Barbie wasn’t as friendly with Carolyn as she liked people to think? Barbie begged her for a job once when she was between husbands and Carolyn turned her down and hired someone else just to be mean.”
My mouth fell open. The Hay-Adams stood only blocks away from the Mayflower Hotel. Barbie could have jumped in a cab and made it to the Mayflower and back before anyone would have missed her.
Kate waved her hands. “Wait, there’s more. Did you know that Barbie’s latest husband is loaded, and she bragged to David about her husband buying her something really big that people would be stunned by?”
“Like her lips?”
Kate gave me an exasperated sigh. “Like a business? Like the Wedding Shoppe?”
“She said that?”
“No,” Kate said. “I came up with that on my own. But it’s a possibility, don’t you think?”
There was a greater possibility that the “big” surprise Barbie got so excited about involved some sort of plastic surgery, but I hated to burst Kate’s bubble.
“Did David notice her missing during their wedding last Saturday?” I asked.
“He said that she went out for a smoke a few times and stayed outside for a while.”
“In this weather? I didn’t know that Barbie smoked, did you?”
“No, but Barbie and I aren’t real tight,” Kate said. “She could be one of those secret smokers.”
I reluctantly agreed. “It would explain the voice.”
“Didn’t Barbie find you and Marjorie at the funeral home?” Kate lowered her voice. “Maybe she found you because she’s the one who attacked you.”
I shivered. “Fern did say that he walked out in the hall right after Barbie found us. What if she claimed to have discovered our bodies when really she hadn’t had time to leave the crime scene before Fern saw her? I can understand that she hated Carolyn, but what does she have against me or Marjorie?”
“Or Eleanor and Stephanie, for that matter?” Kate said. “I guess it’s not a great theory after all.”
“Annabelle, Kate.” Kitty Winchester’s face barely peeked above the thick collar of her gray fox coat as she flounced through the sea of bridesmaids and groomsmen to reach us. “Just who I needed to see.”
“Is Lady with you?” Kate asked.
“Well, yes.” Kitty motioned behind her to the only blonde covered from head to toe in a white fur coat. “But we have a bit of an emergency.”
My breath caught in my throat. Wedding emergencies weren’t good.
“We left the flower girl’s basket back in Texas. Could you find us a new one by tomorrow?”
I let out a breath. This wasn’t an emergency. A real emergency consisted of sending the grandmothers off to the wrong wedding or a bride’s veil getting flushed down a toilet. This was a tiny blip on the wedding radar screen and was nothing we couldn’t handle.
“No problem,” I said. “I can even get one that matches the guest book and ring bearer’s pillow.”
Kitty pressed a hand to her throat, and then looked past us to the altar. “I’m so relieved. Now I should go introduce myself to the priest since he flew in all the way from Ireland.”
“This should be interesting,” Kate said as Kitty flounced down the aisle.
I glanced down at my watch. “I’m going to run to the Wedding Shoppe and get the flower girl basket before the store closes.”
“You’re leaving me to run the rehearsal?” Kate asked, her voice edged with panic.
“The priest will run it,” I reassured her. “All you have to do is line people up.”
“I thought you said the prie
st was drunk.”
I held up a finger. “I said he may be drunk. I can’t tell for sure.”
“What about Leatrice?” Kate jerked a thumb in the direction of Leatrice’s head, barely visible above the pew and sinking lower every second.
“Make sure she doesn’t mingle with people,” I said. “She’s wearing a Christmas tree skirt.”
Kate folded her arms across her chest. “I don’t even know what that is, but if Leatrice is wearing it I’m assuming it’s weird.”
“I promise I’ll be back before you can even miss me,” I said, backing out of the foyer toward the main doors of the church.
“The pathway to hell is lined with good inventions,” Kate grumbled.
Chapter 30
“Hello!” I pushed open the front door to the Wedding Shoppe and stepped inside, grateful they were still open and glad to be out of the frigid weather. I pulled off my gloves and laid them on a nearby table that was stacked with colorful wedding planning guides. “Is anyone here?”
Lucille appeared from the back of the shop. “Can I help you?” Her face softened when she saw me. “Oh, Annabelle, it’s you.”
“Sorry to be coming in right before you close on a Friday night, but we have a bit of a flower girl emergency.” My eyes scanned wall shelves that were crowded with glittering white wedding accessories. Everything from purses to garters to photo albums filled the store from end to end. “The wedding is tomorrow and the bride’s mother forgot the flower girl basket.”
Lucille smiled, and she looked better than she had in days. “If there’s anyone who understands a wedding crisis, it’s me. Where’s the wedding?”
“The ceremony is at St. Patrick’s, the cocktail reception is at the Hay-Adams, and the dinner and dancing are at the Decatur House.”
“I love the Hay-Adams. Are you using the roof?”
I nodded. “We’re bringing in tons of heaters since it will be so cold, but the bride had to have guests overlooking the White House for cocktails.”