To Love and To Perish

by Laura Durham

  I felt sick thinking of poor Lucille and felt sicker looking at the plastic that Margery held between her hands. Did she plan on strangling me with it? I edged around the table away from her.

  “Lucille’s nest egg didn’t end up doing her much good,” I said. “Did she know about what you were doing with her money?”

  “I planned to tell her. I wanted us to run the business together. But things didn’t work out.”

  “Why did you have to kill her? She didn’t know anything,” I insisted. “She talked about how much she missed you and how worried she was.”

  A look of genuine regret flickered across Margery’s face. “I did it for both of us, you know. But Lucille never would have understood.”

  I darted a look at my phone but couldn’t tell if it had connected or not. “Did what for both of you?”

  Margery gave an exasperated sigh. “Surely you’ve put two and two together by now?”

  “You killed everyone for Lucille and then you killed her, too?” I took a step around the corner of the table and Margery followed.

  “Don’t say it like that!” Margery yelled, slamming a hand down on the table. “Lucille wasn’t supposed to die.”

  “So why did you kill her, then?” If I could keep Margery talking, maybe Reese’s police guard would arrive before she tried to add me to her list of victims.

  “She was going to ruin everything I’d done for us. She knew I’d been missing at all the crime scenes right before the bodies were found even though she would never admit it to herself. I always gave her a good excuse, but if anyone dug deeper, Lucille could incriminate me without even trying.”

  “I get that you killed Carolyn so you could buy the business, but why kill other wedding planners? What did they ever do to you? And what about Stephanie?”

  Margery’s face reddened. “Stephanie was a mistake. She shouldn’t have been wearing her hair like Gail does. They looked exactly alike.”

  “Especially without your glasses, right?” I said. “Lucille mentioned that you don’t like to wear your glasses but you’re blind without them.”

  “Very clever.” Margery wagged a finger at me. “I regret Stephanie but I’m not sorry for the others. Lucille and I slaved away under Carolyn for years with the promise that she’d make us partners one day. That day never came. While every other planner left the Wedding Shoppe and became successful, we stayed with Carolyn.”

  I nodded, finally understanding. “You thought your years of loyalty would pay off but instead you were looked down upon by all the planners who passed through the store.”

  Margery balled her hands into fists. “I trained them all and they became fancy planners while Lucille and I did Carolyn’s dirty work for twenty years.”

  “So you killed them because they left and you didn’t?” I punched Richard’s number again. “That doesn’t seem very fair.”

  “Fair?” Margery advanced on me, snapping her makeshift plastic rope. “Don’t you think I heard the comments they made about us? They all acted like they were better than us and didn’t give us the time of day. No one cared about what we thought. We were only Carolyn’s lowly assistants, and Carolyn made sure to keep us in our place.”

  “The old-timers are mean to everyone.” I took a baby step toward the door. “Do you think they’ve been welcoming to us, either?”

  Margery’s shoulders sagged. “That’s why I thought you might understand. You and Kate were treated badly as well.”

  “I do understand,” I said. “There have been plenty of times that I’ve felt the same way you do.”

  Margery’s face softened, then she set her mouth and gave her head a shake. “No, you’re trying to trick me. If you didn’t like Carolyn or Eleanor why were you so set on finding out who killed them?”

  I moved around the table, closer to the door. A few more feet and I could make a run for it. “I thought that if someone was killing wedding planners, I might be next.”

  “You would have been next if the bust hadn’t slipped in my hands at the last minute. You weren’t supposed to survive, but the marble proved to be tricky to hold.” She snapped the plastic. “I much prefer strangulation.”

  How comforting. “You hit yourself to throw people off your trail?”

  Margery looked pleased with herself. “I made sure to give myself a nasty looking gash, but nothing more serious than that. Not bad for a wedding planner’s assistant, don’t you think? No one would suspect one of the killer’s victims.”

  I had to admit that it was pretty clever.

  Margery made a clucking sound and took another step toward me. “You should have left well enough alone, Annabelle. Now you are going to be the next wedding planner murdered.”

  Chapter 39

  “You rang?” Richard strode through the door holding his phone out in front of him and looking agitated. “One call would have been enough, you know. You didn’t have to harass me.”

  Margery spun around, and I took advantage of the distraction to bolt for the door. It took Margery a second to react and chase after me. “Run, Richard, run!”

  Richard shrieked when he saw me heading straight for him, followed by Margery holding a plastic rope between her outstretched arms. He turned around and took off down the hallway, his arms above his head.

  “What the hell is going on?” he yelled over his shoulder. “Why are you chasing me?”

  “I’m not chasing you. Margery is chasing us!”

  Richard rounded the corner. “Why?”

  “She’s the killer!” I looked over my shoulder and gave Richard a push. “And she’s gaining on us!”

  We tore into the church foyer, and I could hear Fern wrapping up the ceremony.

  “By the power invested in me by Ordination. com…”

  “Outside,” I screamed to Richard, shoving him toward the doors. “Hurry!”

  We burst through the doors, and I saw the police car pulling up in front of the church.

  “Help!” Richard cried. “She’s after me!”

  He ran to the police officer, who leapt out of the car with his gun drawn.

  “Not me.” I pointed behind me. “It’s her.”

  Margery skidded to a stop when she saw the officer, then turned and ran toward the street.

  “Don’t let her get away,” I cried to the officer, and then took off after her.

  Richard followed me. “Now we’re chasing her?”

  Margery darted across the street without looking. In a flash I saw her bounce off the hood of a silver SUV and land on the pavement. The driver of the SUV jumped out of the car while traffic screeched to a stop around Margery.

  I rushed over and knelt beside Margery with Richard behind me while the police officer radioed for an ambulance from his squad car. As I looked at Margery’s twisted neck and blood trickling out the corner of her mouth, I knew it was too late.

  I looked up at Richard. “She’s dead.” I sat back on my heels and covered my face with my hands.

  “What? You’re sad?” Richard bent over at the waist, panting for breath. “Might I remind you that she just tried to kill both of us.”

  The church doors opened and the sound of festive organ music spilled out along with the bride and groom, followed by the bridal party and families. Everyone stopped and stared at the flashing lights of the police car and the body in the street. Kitty’s mouth hung open as Kate and Fern pushed through the crowd and hurried forward.

  The police officer looked up at Fern as he approached us. “At least the priest can administer last rites.”

  Richard’s eyebrows popped up and disappeared beneath his bangs. “It’s official. I’m in hell.”

  Fern pressed his hands together in a prayer pose. “Did I hear someone call for a priest?”

  Richard pointed a warning finger at him. “Don’t even think about it.”

  Fern shook his head at Richard and whispered to the cop, “It’s such a shame. No one respects the clergy these days.”

  Chapter 4
0

  “I can’t believe that Margery killed all those people,” Kate yelled from my kitchen as she searched through the contents of my refrigerator. “There’s nothing in here.”

  “I’m stunned,” Richard said, looking up from where he lay draped across the couch.

  “About Margery being a serial killer?” I asked. I was still processing the whole day and felt a bit shell-shocked. I leaned back in the armchair across from Richard and slipped off my shoes. “I can’t believe she almost got away with it.”

  “No. I’m stunned that your refrigerator is devoid of food.” He clearly was not.

  “Can we order something?” Kate asked. “I’m starved. The meanie caterer didn’t feed us at the wedding.”

  I looked at the wrought-iron clock on the wall. “If any place is still open at this hour.”

  “Well, I thought dinner was scrumptious,” Fern called from the bathroom, where he was touching up his hair.

  “That’s because you were seated at one of the guest tables and actually ate,” I said. “The rest of us had to scrounge for leftover hors d’oeuvres in the kitchen.”

  “Might I remind you that the police kept everyone at the church for so long that once the guests got to the reception I barely had time to rush them through three courses, much less serve dinner to the staff?” Richard said. “If the band asked me for food one more time, I was going to cut their wires. Don’t people eat before they come to work?”

  Kate walked out from the kitchen and made a face at Richard behind him. “Those of us not lucky enough to score a seat at the head table haven’t eaten all day.”

  “Well, they usually seat the priest at the wedding reception,” Fern said, joining us in the living room. “I was only following tradition.”

  Richard sat up. “You weren’t really the priest. How many times do I have to tell you?”

  Fern ignored him. “I thought it was a lovely wedding reception. You should have tasted the rack of lamb, girls. It was divine.”

  “That’s it,” Kate said. “I’m ordering pizza.”

  I heard tapping at the door and started to get up when Fern waved for me to sit down again.

  “I’ll answer it, doll. You were running around all night. Once I gave the prayer at dinner and touched up the bride’s hair, my evening was a breeze.”

  Fern opened the door and Leatrice bounded in. She wore a three dimensional reindeer sweatshirt with a red light-up nose and a puffy blue menorah hat.

  She plopped down on the couch next to Richard. “Tell me everything. You know they never give details on the police scanner.”

  “To make a long story short,” I said, “the wedding planner killer is dead.”

  Leatrice looked enraptured as she sank back on the couch, her hat jiggling above her.

  Richard eyed the hat and whispered to me, “Is that what I think it is?”

  “Interesting hat, Leatrice,” I said. “Where did you get it?”

  “Holiday sale last year at Filene’s.” She reached up and patted the stuffed fabric candles. “You don’t see many Christmas hats with candles, do you?”

  “That’s because it’s a menorah,” Richard muttered.

  Leatrice rubbed her hands together. “So who was the killer? The sleazy photographer?”

  “I wish,” Kate said. “We could do with one fewer of those in this business.”

  “It was Margery, one of Carolyn’s assistants.” I said.

  Leatrice scratched her head. “Margery? Was she a suspect?”

  “Actually, she was one of the victims,” I explained. “Or we thought she was. She was the other person hit on the head who survived.”

  Leatrice’s eyes lit up almost as brightly as the nose on her sweater. “That was a ruse to throw people off her trail?”

  “Not bad, huh?” Kate said.

  Leatrice bounced up and down on the couch. “What was her motive?”

  “Since Carolyn didn’t make her a partner in the business like she promised, Margery plotted to kill her and buy the business from her husband. She killed the other planners because they looked down on her for being an assistant.”

  “You know the old saying,” Kate said. “Hell has no fury like a woman’s thorn.”

  “Margery had gone a bit insane,” I said.

  Richard scooted away from Leatrice. “After all those years of planning weddings, who could blame her?”

  “Oh, good. Another perk of the job to look forward to,” Kate said.

  Leatrice clapped her hands. “I can’t wait to tell Ian.”

  “Well, he’ll be over here tomorrow,” I said. “You’re welcome to stop by to say hello.”

  “Oh, no.” Leatrice shook her head. “He’s on his way over tonight.”

  I jerked up in my seat. “How do you know?”

  “Because I called him when I saw you come home. I knew he’d want to be here when we talked about the murders.” She lowered her voice. “Do you know, I think we might have another case to solve? There may have been something funny in those drinks last night.”

  Richard raised an eyebrow. “You mean like alcohol?”

  “Maybe we were drugged,” Leatrice continued. “I’ll bet that priest was really a spy sent to infiltrate the U.S.”

  Leatrice saw a conspiracy around every corner.

  “A spy, indeed.” Fern looked highly affronted.

  “She’s not talking about you,” Richard said. “She’s talking about the other priest.”

  Leatrice stared at Fern. “You’re a priest?”

  The doorbell rang, and I leapt up to answer it. Detective Reese stood in the hallway, his hands jammed in the pockets of his jeans. His dark blazer looked like it had been slept in.

  “Oh, hi.” I was surprised to see him. I looked around for Hobbes. “Do you have more questions for me, Detective?”

  Reese glanced into my apartment and lowered his voice. “Actually, I just got off work after finishing all the paperwork on the wedding planner case and you were on my mind.”

  “Probably because I was involved in the case,” I said. “I have a habit of ending up in your work a lot.”

  “That’s not always a bad thing.” He smiled at me, and his hazel eyes deepened to green. “There are certainly worse things to have on my mind.”

  My pulse quickened, and then I remembered that Ian was on his way over. I wasn’t used to juggling two men at one time. I gulped as I returned his smile. As Kate would say, I was between a clock and a hard place.

  Acknowledgments

  Huge thanks to all the readers who have been so supportive and encouraging. Special thanks to Alison, Anne, and Monte for the great stories; to Ric for the constant inspiration; to Jenny for helping me get it right; to Jessica and the women at Promise for the great party; to the Rector Lane Irregulars for the good advice; to Susan for making traveling fun; to The Mystery Chicks for being such a great bunch to hang out with in cyberspace; and to my dear friend, Noreen, for believing in me.

  Thanks to my wonderful agent, Peter Rubie, and to the fabulous folks at Avon—Jeremy, Danielle, and my amazing editor, Sarah Durand. As always, thanks to my wonderfully supportive husband and family. I couldn’t do it without you.

  About the Author

  LAURA DURHAM has been named Washington, D.C.’s top wedding planner for the past three years by Washingtonian magazine, has been featured in numerous national wedding magazines, and is the author of a wedding planning guide. After graduating from Duke University and stumbling into wedding planning nearly ten years ago, she’s lost count of the number of weddings she’s planned. So far, though, no one has been murdered at any of them. She is the author of two previous mysteries featuring Annabelle Archer: Better Off Wed, which won the Agatha Award for Best First Novel, and For Better or Hearse. You can visit Laura and get more glimpses into the real life of a wedding planner at www.lauradurham.com.

  Visit www.AuthorTracker.com for exclusive information on your favorite HarperCollins author.

  Praise
for LAURA DURHAM’s

  Annabelle Archer Mysteries

  “A perfect marriage of murder and mirth…[that] sparkles like a champagne cocktail.”

  Nora Charles

  “Delightful mystery…. Cozy readers will love this invitation to a wedding to die for.”

  Nancy Martin, author of Drop Dead Blonde

  “Laura Durham and her flair for witty characters and murder amidst matrimony are a match made in mystery heaven.”

  Ellen Byerrum, author of Hostile Makeover

  “Laura Durham has given her readers [a] reason to celebrate.

  Elaine Viets, author of Just Murdered

  Annabelle Archer Mysteries

  by Laura Durham

  TO LOVE AND TO PERISH

  FOR BETTER OR HEARSE

  BETTER OFF WED

  Copyright

  This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  TO LOVE AND TO PERISH. Copyright © 2007 by Laura Weatherly. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.

  EPub © Edition NOVEMBER 2008 ISBN: 9780061979019

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  About the Publisher

  Australia

  HarperCollins Publishers (Australia) Pty. Ltd.