Murder of a Wedding Belle

by Denise Swanson

  Skye took as long as possible examining the supplies, but finally she had to finish. She had less than half an hour to get to the dress shop.

  As she and Wally walked to the door, she said to Angela, “I noticed the linens are costing us forty-three thousand and your fee is twelve thousand, so I can expect my check to be two thousand seven hundred and fifty, correct?”

  “I was hoping that deal was off now that Belle is out of the picture.” Angela’s lips formed a bitter line.

  Skye shrugged. “Well, if everything is perfect, it’s possible that I might waive my commission.”

  Angela’s expression was skeptical as she looked Skye in the eye. “Anything is possible if you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Huh? Skye glanced at Wally to see whether he understood Angela’s parting shot, but he appeared equally confused. Maybe she meant that perfection was impossible to achieve.

  Skye nervously checked her watch as Wally drove her to the dress shop. Riley would have a cow if she was late, and, worse, Anita would be on the phone complaining to May before Skye could say a word. Too bad they didn’t have Wally’s police car. They could really use the lights and siren about now.

  While they were stopped at a red light, Wally asked, “What’s your impression of Angela Beckman?”

  “As a psychologist, I’d say she has age issues.” Skye wrinkled her nose. “Which is not unusual in our youth-oriented society.”

  “I noticed a couple references to her not being that old. Anything else you picked up on?”

  “The outfit she was wearing was too young for me, let alone someone twenty years older than I am. And that Alice in Wonderland hairstyle . . .”

  “It did seem like something you’d see on a teenager, but, hey, I don’t keep up with the latest hairdos.” The signal turned green and Wally put the Thunderbird into gear. “Do you think that means anything?”

  Skye considered the question. “This is purely a guess, but the wedding industry deals primarily with twenty- to thirty-something brides.”

  “And?”

  “And according to the clippings in Belle’s file, Angela has been the leading linen consultant in Chicago for a long time, but she’s gotten a lot less press over the past year or so.” She tapped her chin with her index finger. “Maybe her ideas have gotten out of date.”

  “Yeah. Everyone’s always looking for the next big thing,” Wally agreed.

  “But working a platinum wedding like Riley’s could put her back on top.”

  “Which means Belle could make or break her career.”

  Skye gasped as a pedestrian darted in front of the car, then, when she could speak again, said, “What I’m confused about is that it appears Belle was shaking down all the vendors. If her father’s so wealthy, why would she need to do that? In fact, why would she even be working?”

  “Maybe she wants to be independent and earn her own living.” Wally slowed as brake lights flashed in front of them. “You know, show she’s not just another spoiled rich kid.”

  “Or, and this fits better with her personality, she wants to be famous in her own right. Be the celebrity wedding planner she claimed to be.” Skye recalled Belle’s jealousy of Paris Hilton. “But she still wants to live in the style to which she has grown accustomed.”

  “If I ever get to talk to her parents, I’ll ask them.” Wally double-parked in front of the dress store. “So, who do you think the linen lady mistook me for?”

  “I wonder. She sure was nervous about whoever she was expecting.” Skye shrugged. “Maybe it was Dr. Botox or someone bringing her the newest fountain-of-youth pill.”

  “Or the hit man she hired to off Belle coming to collect his fee.” A horn blew and Wally said, “Call me when you’re finished here and I’ll come pick you up.” They had agreed that he would tackle the DJ on his own while Skye attended the dress fittings.

  “Okay.” She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. “Good luck.”

  “You, too.”

  Skye watched the Thunderbird disappear into afternoon traffic, then reluctantly crossed the sidewalk and pulled open the door to the shop.

  She’d barely stepped inside when Riley threw herself into Skye’s arms and sobbed. “You’ve got to do something.” The young woman’s beautiful face was contorted, and streaks of mascara ran down her cheeks. “She isn’t here and she’s going to ruin everything.”

  CHAPTER 9

  Dressing the Part

  Skye guided her hysterical cousin through the deserted main showroom to a white velvet love seat in the rear of the salon. Once they were seated, she heard high-pitched voices coming from behind the back wall and guessed the other women were hiding from the furious bride.

  “Natasha sent a message that she’s not coming today,” Riley howled, and collapsed next to Skye. “She says she found a dress in California she likes better, and she isn’t wearing the one I picked, so there’s no need to be here for the fitting.”

  Skye had already guessed that Riley’s future stepmother-in-law was the cause of the problem, and putting her arm around the distraught blonde, she asked, “Does it really matter that she won’t be dressed the way you want?”

  “Yes!” Riley wailed, tears welling up again. “You don’t know her. I’m sure she picked a gown that isn’t in the color palette I’ve selected, and, no doubt, one that will put the spotlight on her instead of me.”

  “No one can outshine you.” Skye dug in her tote bag, pushing aside a notebook, a canister of pepper spray, and her cell phone, until she found a packet of tissues. Handing one to Riley, she soothed, “We can’t force her to wear the dress you chose, but we can make sure she’s not in any of the pictures, except the ones of the family, and I can put her table at the reception out of the lighted area. Does that sound like a solution?”

  “No.” Riley blew her nose. “I have a better idea.” The dewy young girl suddenly turned into a scheming vixen. “I want you to spill a glass of something hideous on her before the ceremony. Then we’ll happen to have the original dress I chose available, and unless she wants to spend the day with a giant stain across her chest, she’ll just have to wear it.”

  Skye opened her mouth to protest, but the look in her cousin’s eye stopped her, and instead she said, “Fine.” There was no way she was spilling a drink on Natasha. Skye could only hope that on the day of the wedding, Riley would be too preoccupied to notice. “Shouldn’t we start our fittings now?”

  “Right.” Riley sniffed, and then nodded. “I won’t let that awful woman ruin my day.”

  “Thatta girl.” Skye paused. “By the way, since I’m new to the business, is it customary for the wedding consultant to meet with the groom by himself or only with the bride and groom as a couple?”

  “Well, I don’t know what’s customary”—Riley stood, wiping away the last of her tears—“but my friends told me never to let Nick and Belle meet without me. Not that I would ever leave Nick alone with a gorgeous girl like Belle anyway. Though, if you want to talk to him without me, feel free.” Apparently not realizing she had just insulted Skye, Riley took her cousin’s hands and pulled her to her feet. “Now, let’s go have some fun. I love trying on clothes, don’t you?”

  “Sure.” Skye wrapped her arms around herself. “Who doesn’t?” The store was freezing, which was good. Didn’t objects contract in the cold? Maybe the low temperature would help her fit into her dress. She just prayed it wouldn’t take butter and a miracle to get the zipper up.

  “Wait until you see what I picked for you all to wear,” Riley squealed. “It’s fabulous.”

  Skye shuddered. Since her cousin’s bridesmaids were from different geographical areas, and Riley had chosen the bridesmaids’ dresses without them, she’d had the women phone in their measurements. So this was the first time anyone other than the bride would see her selection.

  Undaunted by Skye’s silence, Riley chattered on, “Madam Olga says these dresses are the hottest style this season, and they flat
ter any figure.”

  “And I bet we can use them again after the big day, right?” Skye had been in enough weddings to know all the platitudes that brides and dress-shop owners used to persuade the bridesmaids to pay big bucks for hideous ensembles.

  “Why would you want to do that?” Riley blinked. “Everyone will have seen you in it already.”

  “Of course.” Skye hid a smile. “How gauche of me.”

  Skye followed Riley, intent on getting through the fittings as fast as possible. When they entered the waiting area, Riley’s mother and grandmother were seated on matching armchairs, while Tabitha and Paige shared a sofa. Hallie was curled up on a settee all by herself, looking miserable. Skye speculated that the girl had trouble functioning without her twin.

  An elegant lady in her early sixties stepped forward and offered Skye her hand. “I am Madam Olga. You must be the missing maid of honor.”

  “Yes. Skye Denison.” The older woman’s skin was smooth and soft, but her grip was firm. “Sorry for the delay. Did Riley explain that I’ve taken over for Belle?”

  “Yes,” Madam Olga said after a moment. “Such a shame when someone so young passes away.”

  “Isn’t it?” Skye wondered whether the salon owner knew that Belle had been murdered or had been told she died some other way. “We’re all saddened by her untimely death.”

  After a moment’s silence, Madam Olga clapped her hands together and a young woman appeared. “Patricia, please show these ladies to their fitting rooms.” She gestured toward the row of doors lining a hallway behind her. “Your gowns are waiting for you. Patricia will help you into them.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Skye sent up a silent prayer of thanks. At least they each had their own rooms. She’d been afraid she would have to strip in front of the other bridesmaids.

  Madam Olga indicated Anita and Dora. “I’ll take care of these ladies personally.”

  “What about me?” Riley screwed up her face. “Who’s going to help me?”

  “My dear, after you’ve approved your wedding party’s attire, we’ll turn our full attention to you,” Madam Olga responded in a regal tone. “Everyone assists the bride. Meanwhile, one of my staff will bring you some refreshments.”

  “Lovely.” Riley sank down on one of the vacated chairs. “That’s more like it.”

  Skye was shown into a ten-by-ten space containing a raised dais in front of a three-way mirror. The bridesmaid’s dress hung from an elaborate gold hook on the wall, and she cringed as she examined it. It was very, very pink, the bodice consisted of two swathes of shirred silk that formed an X between the breasts, and the dress was completely backless.

  Shit! Shit! Shit! How in the world was she going to wear it? Skye was amply endowed. There was no way she could go without a bra, and even a strapless one would show underneath this dress.

  “You know”—Patricia stood in the doorway watching Skye’s reaction—“it has built-in support.”

  Skye nearly sank to her knees in relief. “Really?” Now, if the dress just fit, she’d be a happy camper. She’d even be willing to overlook the fact that the enormous skirt’s ruch-ing resembled the inside of a casket lid.

  “Yes.” Patricia tilted her head. “We can also use double-sided tape to make sure you don’t pop out at an awkward moment.”

  “Like there would ever be a good time to pop out,” Skye muttered as she sat on the bench to take off her shoes.

  Patricia snickered, then said, “This dress makes a real fashion statement.”

  “If I wanted to make a statement, I’d wear a sandwich board.”

  Hiding a smile with her hand, the sales assistant closed the door after saying, “I’ll be back in a moment to assist you.”

  Surprisingly, when the woman returned and zipped up the dress, it was actually a little too big. She tsked. “Did you add a couple of inches to your measurements when you phoned them in?”

  “No.” Skye’s cheeks reddened. “Well, maybe a smidge. Just to be on the safe side.”

  “You girls never tell us the truth.” Patricia tsked again. “Either you tell us the size you wish you were or add a little so it won’t be tight.”

  “Sorry.” Skye turned her head to see the back of the dress. “But it’s fine.”

  “Fine is not good enough at Madam Olga’s. We will take it in. Wait here while I send the seamstress to you.”

  “No, really.” Skye tried to stop the departing saleswoman. “What if I gain weight?”

  Patricia shot her a stern look. “Don’t.”

  Once Skye was pinned and her appearance approved by Riley, she changed back into her regular clothes and sat in the waiting area with her cousin. A couple of minutes later, Tabitha and Paige joined them, followed by Hallie, who immediately pointed to her cell phone, mouthed the words Excuse me, and disappeared.

  As they waited for Dora and Anita to finish, Riley popped a finger sandwich into her mouth and chewed reflectively. “I’m not sure I like the bridesmaid’s dresses.” She furrowed her brow, then took a sip of Perrier. “I suppose it’s too late to change my mind.”

  “Yes,” Skye squeaked, alarmed at the thought of trying to get four new gowns by Saturday.

  “I guess you’re right.” Riley paused and turned to look at Tabitha and Paige. “Do either of you not like the dresses?”

  Paige’s lips parted, but Skye frantically shook her head, and the redhead closed her mouth.

  “Soooo.” Riley drew out the single syllable, indicating her annoyance. “Do you love them?”

  “They’re perfect for your Pink Fantasy Fairy Tale theme,” Skye offered.

  “Yes.” Riley nodded, satisfied. “They are.” She bit into a petit four. “Did you know that Belle tried to change them behind my back?”

  “No. How did you find out?” Tabitha asked.

  “‘Cause I overheard her on the phone.” Riley licked frosting off her fingers. “She was telling Madam Olga to say they were unavailable when she talked to me.”

  “Did you confront her?” Skye questioned. When Riley nodded, Skye asked, “What did she say?”

  “At first she tried to deny it, but when I wouldn’t back down, she claimed she just thought the other dresses I had been considering were better and wanted to make sure my wedding was perfect.”

  Paige had been silent while Riley talked, but suddenly she said, “She really was a conniving witch.”

  “I think that’s because when she was running around being the Canfield heiress she always got her own way,” Tabitha offered. “These past couple of years, actually working for a living and having to cater to rich brides, must have been tough for her.”

  “Maybe.” Riley shrugged, clearly losing interest in the conversation.

  Skye frowned. Why had Belle been working for a living? She and Wally had come up with some theories, but if Belle really didn’t like her job, why didn’t she go back to being a socialite? Skye would be interested to see what Wally found out when he checked on that. In the meantime, she needed to catch Madam Olga alone and see what the shop owner had to say about Belle’s attempt to switch the bridesmaids’ dresses. What was the real story behind that?

  A voice interrupted Skye’s thoughts. “Riley, Madam Olga is ready for you now.”

  Riley glared at the doorway. “Mom, why don’t you have your dress on?” Anita was wearing her street clothes and wiping her forehead with a tissue. “You know I wanted to see you in it.”

  “Sorry, honey.” She sank into a chair. “Don’t worry, it looked fine, but I had a terrible hot flash and I didn’t want to stain it with sweat, so I took it off.”

  “Poor Mom.” Riley handed her mother a tumbler of ice water. “Anything I can do?”

  “I’ll be fine in a minute.” Anita held the glass to her forehead.

  “Where’s Grandma?” Riley asked. “She didn’t show me her outfit either.”

  Anita took a gulp of water, then answered, “Mom’s not feeling too well. This outing was too much for her. She’s rest
ing in Madam Olga’s private parlor and will be out a little later.”

  “Should I go check on her?” Riley wrinkled her brow. “Should she be alone?”

  Skye marveled at the sudden appearance of the “nice Riley.” Her cousin switched personalities faster than most women changed clothes. “I’ll check on Dora,” she offered.

  “What a good idea, dear.” Anita fanned herself. “That way Riley can try on her dress.”

  “Great.” Skye was glad for an excuse to be alone for a moment. And maybe she’d be able to nab Madam Olga for a little chat.

  “Don’t take long,” Riley ordered. “I want you all here for my grand entrance.”

  “I won’t.” Skye kept her face expressionless. “I wouldn’t miss it for anything.”

  Skye and Riley went opposite ways in the hallway. Skye wasn’t sure where Madam Olga’s parlor was but figured it was away from the fitting areas. The first room she tried was obviously a work space. Racks of garment bags, a couple of sewing machines, and a large table took up most of the area.

  She was about to close the door when a container of bright silk rectangles caught her attention. Why would the dress shop have a box of loose labels? The dresses should come with labels already sewn inside.

  Glancing over her shoulder to make sure no one was around, Skye slipped inside. Next to the carton of labels, which all bore famous designer names, was a dress with its original label neatly removed and new one pinned in its place, ready to be sewn. Was Madam Olga selling counterfeit designer clothing? And if so, had Belle somehow been involved?

  As Skye stepped out of the workroom, Madam Olga appeared at the end of the hallway. She quickly closed the space between her and Skye and said, “What were you doing in there? That room is off-limits to clients.”

  “Sorry.” Skye struggled to maintain an innocent expression. “I was looking for Mrs. Erikson.”

  “I don’t believe you. You didn’t have to go inside the room to see she wasn’t there.” The older woman’s mouth tightened. “You’re a troublemaker, just like your predecessor.”

  “Belle was a problem?” Skye quickly regrouped, recognizing this as a chance to question the dress-shop owner. “Speaking of her, why did she try to make Riley switch her choice of bridesmaids’ dresses?”