To Love and To Perish

by Laura Durham

  “It is the best view in the city.” Lucille had a faraway look in her eyes. “I’m sure it will be beautiful with all the holiday decorations up. What are the bride’s colors?”

  “Chocolate brown and mint green. She didn’t want to get too Christmasy, but she wanted colors that fit the season. I just hope we all don’t freeze to death outside in this weather.” I rubbed my hands together to warm them up. “So do you have a flower girl basket in the Liberace collection?”

  “Is the bride from South Florida?” Lucille asked as she led me to the shelf with the heavily beaded wedding accessories.

  “No, Texas,” I said. “Good guess, though.”

  Lucille giggled. “It’s one of our favorite games. We try to guess what collection people will like by how they’re dressed when they come in the shop. If they’re wearing crystals or peasant skirts they usually go for the Sierra collection, and if they’re wearing fancy high heels they go for the Vera Wang.”

  “What if they’re wearing a business suit and old sneakers?”

  Lucille winked at me. “The Cherished Moments.”

  “You seem to be feeling better,” I said. “How’s Margery doing?”

  Lucille’s smile faltered for a moment. “Much better. She’s been having headaches, so they’re keeping her in the hospital for another night to make sure her head injury isn’t serious. I’m glad you didn’t get hurt too badly, dear.”

  “Thanks. I was luckier than Margery, I guess.”

  Lucille’s cheeks flushed. “I’m so embarrassed about fainting at the funeral home. People must think I’m a real softie.”

  “Of course not,” I lied. “What a huge shock to see Margery like that. You probably thought she’d been murdered.”

  Lucille shivered. “I don’t know what I’d do without her. She’s always been the tough one around here. She would ask for raises from Carolyn for both of us because I was too scared and she stuck up for me with the other planners.”

  “Were other planners mean to you?” I pulled the clear plastic box that held the Liberace flower girl basket off the shelf.

  Lucille pressed her lips together until they turned white, then seemed to remember I was there and relaxed into a vacant smile again. “Some of them considered me a dingbat and never gave me the time of day.”

  “Really? I never heard that.” It didn’t surprise me, though. My wedding industry colleagues weren’t the most accepting people.

  Lucille patted my hand. “Aren’t you sweet? You and Kate have always been kind to me. Not like the others.”

  “Which others?”

  Lucille took the boxed flower girl basket from my hands. “Let me open this for you. They tie them in the box pretty tightly. You don’t want to be trying to get it out right before the wedding.”

  Lucille pulled and tugged at the basket as she walked back up toward the register. “Margery is so much better at this than I am,” she muttered as she strained against the plastic ties that secured the basket to the box. “I don’t have her arm strength.”

  “Which wedding planners treated you badly, Lucille?” I asked, trying to keep my voice casual.

  “The big ones. Gail, Byron, Barbie.” She went behind the cash register, produced a pair of scissors and began hacking at the box. I hoped there would be something left of the basket when she finished. “Carolyn didn’t help matters by telling people how forgetful and fragile I was. But Carolyn was wrong. I don’t forget things. I never forget anything.”

  I stepped back from Lucille so I wouldn’t be in the path of the flying scissors. “The old guard wasn’t very nice to anyone, Lucille. Eleanor pretended she didn’t remember me the first twenty times we met.”

  Lucille looked up. “Really? She made comments about me still being Carolyn’s assistant after so many years, but she was unpleasant to everyone so I didn’t take it too personally.”

  I wondered if Lucille had taken it personally enough to kill her. I studied the sweet, white-haired lady and wondered if she’d taken things personally enough to kill everyone. I swallowed hard. Maybe Lucille was right, and she wasn’t as fragile as everyone thought she was.

  “Did Stephanie treat you badly?” I asked.

  Lucille pulled the basket free of the box. “Stephanie? What a sweet girl. Reminded me of myself when I first started out in the wedding business. Full of dreams and high hopes.” Lucille’s smile faded. “At least she didn’t have to live long enough to see her dreams disappear like I did. There’s nothing worse than that.”

  Except maybe being strangled by a photographer’s cable, I thought. Lucille might not have been fragile, but she didn’t seem too mentally balanced, either.

  “So how much do I owe you for the basket?” I said, trying to keep my voice from shaking.

  Lucille punched in some numbers on the computerized cash register, still holding the scissors in the other hand. “Let’s see. With tax it comes to $27.48.”

  I fumbled in my wallet for my Wedding Belles corporate credit card and slid it across the wooden counter to her.

  Lucille swiped the card and handed it back to me. “Do you need a bag?”

  I bobbed my head up and down. I’d never even considered that someone as sweet and seemingly innocent as Lucille could be the killer. She certainly seemed to have the motive, or at least she thought she did.

  My throat went dry. That meant that she’d tried to kill me as well. She knew I’d been asking around about the murders, and she also knew when I went out into the hall at the funeral home. It would have been easy for her to come find me and hit me over the head.

  But why would she attack Margery? Maybe Margery had started to suspect her or knew some incriminating evidence about Lucille. It didn’t make me feel any better to know that Lucille was capable of almost murdering her best friend and that I was alone in the store with her.

  I hurriedly signed the receipt that Lucille put on the counter and grabbed the handles of the paper bag. “I’d better get back to the rehearsal. I told Kate where I would be, and she’s expecting me any minute now.”

  “Are you okay, Annabelle?” Lucille came around the counter. “You look a little pale.”

  “I’m fine,” I said a little too forcefully as I stepped back toward the door. I had to get out of there so I could tell Kate that we’d been wrong.

  Lucille wasn’t the most harmless wedding planner in town. She was the most insane. And in this business, that was saying something.

  Chapter 31

  “Are you sure?” Kate asked as she helped me gather the boxes of programs and favors the bride had left for us at the back of the church. I’d arrived back at the church right after everyone had left for the rehearsal dinner, and Kate was cleaning up. The darkened sanctuary was eerily quiet, and our voices echoed off the marble floors. “I can’t imagine Lucille hurting anyone.”

  “You’d feel differently if you’d heard her talk about how badly the other planners treated her. She held a grudge, that’s for sure.”

  “It gives me the creeps to think that she tried to kill you.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “I wonder why she didn’t try again now?” Kate asked. “Was there anyone else in the store?”

  “I thought the same thing,” I admitted. “Margery hasn’t been released from the hospital yet so I know she wasn’t there. But there could have been someone in the back that I didn’t see. Or maybe Lucille got tired of killing people.”

  “I can’t believe that she tried to kill Margery, too. So much for them being best friends.”

  “The stress of working together all these years could have gotten to her. Maybe Margery did something that annoyed her and Lucille snapped.”

  Kate studied me for a moment. “That’s comforting.”

  “I’m not justifying what she did, but maybe she took as much as she could take and finally lost it.”

  “So what are you going to do?” Kate asked.

  “As soon as I get home, I’m calling Detective Reese to
tell him everything.”

  “He’s not going to pleased that you went out looking for the killer on your own.”

  “I went out looking for a flower girl basket,” I said. “I just happened to find a deranged killer.”

  Kate grinned at me. “Do you know how many times I’ve heard that?”

  “Very funny. Okay, I think we have everything,” I said, holding a plaid Burberry shopping bag in one hand. “Was this all the bride gave you for tomorrow?”

  Kate nodded. “Shouldn’t we take Leatrice with us, too?”

  I felt like smacking myself on the head. “I completely forgot her.” I looked around to the pew where she’d been sitting. “Where did she go?”

  “She’s still there,” Kate said, walking over. “When she slipped all the way down in the pew, I threw my coat over her so no one would see her in that god-awful outfit. Did you know that her skirt has a plug hanging from the back?”

  “It lights up?” Only Leatrice wouldn’t be deterred by a plug dangling from her clothing.

  “It’s not very practical, either. You’d have to stand right next to an outlet and not move a lot.”

  “It’s a Christmas tree skirt, Kate,” I said. “You’re not supposed to wear it.”

  “Don’t worry,” Kate said. “You wouldn’t catch me dead in it.”

  I decided not to try to explain the concept of a Christmas tree skirt. “Did the coat hide her?”

  I could only imagine how thrilled Kitty would be to have someone passed out during her daughter’s wedding rehearsal, much less someone wearing a plug-in skirt. They liked glitz in Texas, but not this kind of glitz.

  “No one even knew she was there. Well, except for the snoring.”

  I groaned. “She snored during the rehearsal?”

  “Only a little bit,” Kate said. “But once the priest started talking, nobody noticed the snoring.”

  “I’m afraid to ask.”

  “It’s probably the first wedding rehearsal I’ve attended where the priest opened with a dirty joke instead of a prayer.”

  I felt light-headed. If Kitty found out that I took the priest drinking before the rehearsal, she’d have my head. “Did Kitty or Lady say anything?”

  “What could they say?” Kate said. “It’s the groom’s family priest. One side of the church found him hilarious.”

  “I’m assuming it wasn’t the Texas contingent?”

  Kate’s raised eyebrow was answer enough. “Personally, I can’t wait to hear tomorrow’s homily.”

  I pulled the coat off Leatrice and handed it to Kate. “Help me get her to the car.”

  Kate tugged Leatrice up by one arm. “Come on, sleeping beauty.”

  “Father O’Malley, you naughty scamp,” Leatrice mumbled as I pulled her up from the other side.

  Kate almost dropped her. “Did she say what I think she said?”

  “Yes, Leatrice has a crush on the priest. Now could we keep moving, please?”

  “This gets better and better,” Kate said. “I’m really looking forward to a wedding for once. I can’t wait to see what the priest comes up with tomorrow.”

  “Well, I’m counting down the hours until it’s over,” I said. “Lady and Kitty can’t think up any more ridiculous errands for us after tomorrow.”

  “Finally,” Kate said. “The light at the end of the funnel.”

  Chapter 32

  “So what happened when you told Detective Reese that you think Lucille is the serial killer?” Kate asked me as we stood in the vestibule of St. Patrick’s the next afternoon. The organ played in the background, and the groomsmen milled about around us, adjusting their ties and vests before the guests arrived.

  Enormous white and green floral arrangements flanked the doors to the sanctuary and filled the entrance with the pungent perfume of lilies. Matching clusters of white blooms tied with mint green satin ribbon had been tied to the end of every other pew, creating a floral pathway to the altar. The altar, which had been so stark and serene the night before, could hardly be seen amidst the profusion of flowers at the front of the church.

  We’d been so busy with the wedding preparations in the morning that I’d barely had time to give Kate the details of my conversation with Reese the night before. Now that we were at the church, we had time to breathe before the ceremony started.

  “He was skeptical to say the least.”

  Kate pulled a handful of cream-colored programs tied with brown satin ribbon out of a box. “You’re kidding? He thinks you’re making it up?”

  “Not necessarily,” I said. “But he doesn’t think I have any evidence.”

  “What about her confession? Doesn’t that count for something?”

  “It wasn’t really a confession of murder. More like Lucille complaining about some of the victims.”

  “Which gives her motive,” Kate said. “Plus she was at every crime scene so she had opportunity.”

  “That’s what I said, but Reese reminded me that other people were at all the crime scenes as well. Like Byron, Gail, and us.”

  Kate recoiled. “He doesn’t consider us suspects, does he?”

  “I don’t think so,” I said. “But you never can tell with Reese. He’s such a stickler for doing things by the book.”

  Kate watched me rearrange the programs she’d fanned out on a table into two even piles. “Where have I seen that before?”

  I stopped readjusting the programs and put my hands on my hips. “I’m not as bad as he is. I can be spontaneous.”

  Kate looked at her watch. “Where are we on the schedule?”

  I pulled the wedding day timeline from my suit pocket and scanned down the page. “Let’s see. It’s two-thirty. The bridal party is here and tucked away, the organist is upstairs playing, and the guests should start arriving any minute.”

  Kate pointed at the paper. “You forgot to put a check mark next to ‘2:25—programs set out in foyer.’”

  I took out a pen and put another check mark on the schedule. “Good catch, Kate.”

  She crossed her arms in front of her. “I rest my case.”

  I folded the schedule in half and slid it back in my pocket. “Wedding days don’t count. Brides pay me to be an obsessive compulsive neurotic for one day.”

  “Then you should charge more,” Kate said. “You’re very good at it.”

  “And you could stand to be a little more neurotic and a little less va-va-voom.” I gave her outfit the once-over. “Would you like me to start with the too short skirt or the practically see-through blouse?”

  Kate opened her mouth, then closed it again and decided to change the subject back to the murders. “So Reese told you that you were crazy and that was it.”

  “No,” I said. “He promised me he would question Lucille today as long as I promised not to question anyone else.”

  “Who could you question while you’re running a wedding?” Kate asked. “No one involved in the case is working with us today aside from Richard and Fern.”

  “That’s what I said. Unless we need to go buy a spare guest book, we shouldn’t have any contact with potential killers.”

  “If we need another guest book we’ll make it,” Kate said. “I think we should avoid run-ins with crazy people as much as possible.”

  “I can’t believe this is happening,” Fern cried as he rushed toward us looking very Edwardian in a snug fitting black velvet suit with a stand-up collar.

  “So much for avoiding crazies,” Kate said.

  I took Fern by the shoulders. “Calm down. What’s the matter?”

  “I ran out of hair spray.” Fern held up a metal cylinder and shook it. Nothing. “I packed double since the bride is from Texas but I still ran out. I planned for the ten Texas bridesmaids but I didn’t figure on six girls in the house party as well. This is a nightmare.”

  “House party?” Kate said.

  Fern waved a hand in the air. “The second stringers. Like runner-up bridesmaids. If one bridesmaid can’t fulfill her du
ties, these girls can step in.”

  “Close enough,” I said. “It’s a Texas tradition, remember? Lady explained it to us. They don’t wear bridesmaids’ dresses but they get a small bouquet and sit together on the second pew.”

  Kate snapped her fingers. “They help greet guests and hand out programs but don’t have to wear matching jewelry, right? Now I remember. It sounded like a better gig than being a bridesmaid.”

  “Well, they’re not coming to greet guests until I can get their hair pageant perfect. Half of the girls in there were Miss Texas something or other.”

  I reached behind the propped open sanctuary door and produced my metal emergency kit. I knelt down and snapped it open, folding out the stair-step tiers of compartments. Each level of the case held small boxes or bags of emergency supplies. Everything from straight pins, safety pins, and bobby pins, to fake rings, a dozen different colors of thread, and aspirin.

  “Voilà.” I held up a miniature plastic bottle of hair spray.

  Fern took it and examined it. “Well, this should do half of a head.”

  “Make it last,” I said. “We have to start the ceremony on time, so those girls are coming down the aisle at three o’clock whether they’re ready or not.”

  “I’ll do what I can.” Fern fanned himself. “Do I look red? Stress gives me hives.”

  “You’re fine.” I gave him a push. “You have less than half an hour.”

  Fern shrieked and hurried off, then spun around on his heels. “I almost forgot. The mother of the groom asked me to tell you that the priest didn’t get in the limo with the groomsmen. She hasn’t seen him at all today.”

  Kate turned to me, her mouth gaping open. “Have you seen the priest?”

  I shook my head. “He was supposed to ride over with the guys.” I looked at my watch and felt my pulse start to race. The ceremony started in less than half an hour and we had no priest. Who said that being stalked by a killer was more stressful than a wedding?

  Chapter 33