Murder of a Wedding Belle

by Denise Swanson

  Skye opened her mouth to respond, but the words died on her lips when Simon appeared at the lounge’s entrance and said to his mother with a stern look, “Remember, you need to stop serving anyone who has had too much alcohol. No exceptions.”

  “Sure, Sonny Boy.” Bunny walked off, not at all fazed by her son’s admonishments. “Gotcha.”

  Watching Bunny totter off, Simon half smiled. “She always has a scheme.” He turned his attention to Skye and shook his head. “But she’s worked really hard to make the alley a success.”

  “Are you here checking up on her?” Skye asked.

  “Nope.” He closed the distance between them and took her hand. “I just wanted to see you.”

  “Oh.” The tantalizing scent of his aftershave teased Skye’s nose, and it took her a second to pull her fingers from his grasp. “You agreed to wait until Sunday for my decision.”

  “And I will.” There was a faint trace of humor in the way he held his mouth. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t try and sway your verdict.”

  “Yes, it does.” Skye felt guilty. She should tell Simon no and be done with it. “I’m too busy to think right now, and you’re making it worse.”

  “Did you get my gift?” He stroked a finger down her cheek.

  “Yes, and I can’t accept it. I’m giving it back to you as soon as I have a minute.” Skye stepped out of his reach. “Now please leave so I can do my job.”

  “Okay. I’ll go.” Simon turned but looked back over his shoulder, his gold-flecked eyes smoldering. “The trip is yours. Either we go together or you take it with Boyd—which would be the biggest mistake of your life.”

  She watched Simon walk away, then took a deep breath and forced his words from her mind. She had a party to put on, and she wasn’t getting paid to think about her love life.

  Skye’s parents, along with her aunt Kitty and uncle Wiley, were the first to arrive. She hurried over to them, kissed everyone’s cheeks, and said, “Hi. You all ready for some food and fun?”

  “Men in there?” Jed, not one for small talk, jerked a thumb to his left.

  “Yes,” Skye answered. “The bar’s reserved for the bachelor party.”

  “Good.” He dipped his chin at May, said, “Later,” and walked away with his brother trailing behind him.

  Watching them go, Kitty said, “I sure hope that pair doesn’t have too many beers.”

  “You got the car keys, right?” May asked. “I don’t want to have to wrestle them from Wiley after he’s loaded.”

  “Yes.” Kitty nodded. “I took them from him in the parking lot.”

  “Good.” May smirked at her sister-in-law. “I’m sure glad you don’t drink, because I plan on having a margarita or two.” She looked at Skye. “That’s a pretty skirt.”

  “Thank you, Mom.”

  “But the top’s too tight. It shows all your rolls.”

  Skye restrained herself from tugging on the antique tan stretch-lace blouse; instead, she looked her mother in the eye and said pleasantly, “I don’t have rolls; I have curves.” May had surprised her again. Skye had thought her mother would object to her skirt, to either its metallic bronze color or the filmy silk chiffon material.

  “I only tell you things like that because I love you and want you to look as good as possible.” May exhaled a put-upon sigh, and when Skye didn’t react, she gave a brittle laugh. “Well, we’re here to have a good time, so let’s get to it. Where’s the girls’ party?”

  Skye directed her mother and aunt to the lounge, then greeted Riley, the next to arrive.

  Riley’s first words were, “Did your bridesmaid’s dress fit?” Riley had given it to Skye at the shower the night before.

  “Perfectly,” Skye assured her cousin, thinking, As perfectly as a hideous dress with too little front and no back can.

  After inspecting the place, Riley pulled Skye aside and said, “Try to keep the older women in the grill so the rest of us can have a good time.”

  “Oookay.” Skye drew out the word. What did her cousin want her to do, put up an electric fence?

  “And keep an eye on the guys,” Riley continued. “Zach’s been acting odd, and I think he’s up to something. Make sure he doesn’t get Nick into trouble.”

  Before Skye could respond, Yves Galois, the photographer, arrived. Riley grabbed his arm and started reeling off orders as if she were a waitress and he were a short-order cook.

  Yves rolled his eyes at Skye, then slithered out of the bride’s grasp with the excuse that he needed to fetch some equipment from his car.

  The rest of the guests began trickling in, and Riley greeted them with hugs and kisses, her Frankenbride face completely hidden. To see her sweet expression as she spoke to her older relatives, you would never know that a few minutes earlier she had been ordering Skye to keep them isolated from the real party.

  As Skye directed people to the proper areas and made sure both events were running smoothly, she thought about her cousin’s behavior over the past few days. Had Riley always been so self-centered and egotistical? Had her sense of right and wrong always been so skewed? Was Cora right about her, or was it just the wedding making Riley crazy? Skye didn’t know her well enough anymore to decide.

  After one last sweep of the bar and grill, Skye joined the women gathered in the lounge. Everyone had arrived, with the exception of Natasha and Jay Jordan. Nick didn’t seem upset by his father’s absence, and, for once, Riley was thrilled by Natasha’s failure to appear.

  Skye had just taken a seat when Riley raised her glass. “I want to thank everyone for their part in making my wedding the one I always dreamed of having.”

  Several of the woman commented on how adorable and charming Riley was, and Skye bit her lip. Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde had nothing on her cousin.

  Everyone drank; then Ilene piped up. “This sure is different from the normal nuptials in our family. Usually the weddings are just like the funerals, ’cept for one less drunk.”

  Skye agreed with her cousin-in-law’s assessment, but seeing the storm clouds chasing their way across Riley’s face, she quickly declared she had to check on the other guests and fled the room.

  Two hours later, Skye looked around the lounge. All the guests seemed to be having a good time. Several of the women were lolling on the sofas and chairs eating chocolates, drinking martinis, and talking, and she could hear the others singing along to the jukebox in the grill.

  Skye took a seat, tucking her legs under her, and relaxed for the first time that night. She had just taken a sip of her pomegranate martini when a commotion by the bar entrance drew her attention. She put her glass down, slid her feet back into her shoes, and hurried over. What in the world was going on?

  As she neared the bar, she saw the waiters jockeying for position in front of the glass doors and groaned. This couldn’t be good.

  Skye pushed her way through the young men and looked inside. Geez! Nick and his buddies were worse than the teenagers she dealt with at the high school. The last time she’d checked on them they were all behaving themselves. Now half a dozen of the men—though, thank goodness, not her father or uncle—were gathered around the pool table playing cards. This wouldn’t have been a problem except for three things: The waitresses had joined them; the game was strip poker; and the women were losing.

  Skye frantically sought the door handle. She had to get those ladies dressed and on their feet before Riley found out about this and killed them all—starting with Nick and finishing up with Skye.

  As she burst into the bar, Zach grabbed a topless waitress and pulled her onto his lap. When she squealed in protest, Liam leaped up and tried to pull her upright, causing Zach to hold on tighter and threaten his fellow groomsman.

  Skye cringed. The situation was turning ugly fast. The waiters had crowded into the bar behind her, and with her luck, the photographer would be next.

  Both Zach and Liam were standing, shoving and pushing each other. The other men formed a ring around them, eggi
ng them on, chanting, “Fight. Fight.”

  In a few seconds a punch would connect, or one of them would grab a beer bottle, and that would be it. If someone got hurt, no way Skye could cover it up.

  She kept her eyes on the combatants as she felt along the wall. Vaguely she remembered a workshop she’d attended on how to break up brawls. It was meant for adolescents duking it out in the hallway, but she hoped the same principle applied to drunken men. The instructor had warned them never to step between the aggressors. Instead he had suggested using the element of surprise.

  Without warning she flipped the toggle down and all the lights went out. In an instant, the raucous party noise fell away to complete silence; then Skye turned the lights back on and said, “Ladies, I suggest you put on your clothes and assume the duties I’m paying you for. Gentlemen, I suggest you sober up before your wives and girlfriends see you like this, or before Mr. Galois arrives with his camera.”

  The waitresses leaped up, grabbed pieces of their discarded uniforms, and hurried away.

  “No need to get prissy.” Zach glared at her. “We were just having some fun.”

  Several voices chimed in, agreeing, and Skye was sure she was about to lose the battle when a voice behind her said, “What’s the problem here?” It was Bunny, and she sounded seriously ticked off.

  Liam, seemingly the only sober man present, said, “We were just having a friendly game of poker.”

  Bunny looked at the crowd that had gathered. “So, what’s everyone staring at?”

  One of the waiters snickered. “It was an extremely friendly game, all right.”

  “Shoo.” Skye waved the waiters away. “I’m sure the women in the lounge need some drinks or something.” Once they left, she asked the men, “Should I explain to Bunny, or are we all ready to act like mature adults?”

  The men muttered but dispersed, wandering over to the pinball machines and the TV. Within seconds, it was as if there had never been a problem.

  After giving a stern word to the waitresses, Skye and Bunny walked out of the bar. The redhead shook her head. “Boobs are to guys what teething rings are to babies. They feel good, especially when put in the mouth, but inevitably someone ends up crying.”

  Skye stifled a giggle, then headed back to the lounge. She had barely taken three steps when Riley pounced, demanding, “Where were you?”

  “Uh.” Skye knew that Riley would eventually hear about the strip poker game; she just didn’t want to be the one to tell her. “Checking on the men. Why?”

  Riley gestured with her thumb to the hallway that ran between the grill and the lounge. “You need to break that up.”

  “Break what up?” Skye couldn’t see anything.

  “Just go and do it.” Riley took Skye’s arm. “And don’t let her know I know.”

  As Skye entered the hall, she stumbled to a stop. There, in one of the waiter’s arms, was Paige, and she was kissing him as if he were a two-inch-thick steak and she was a recently lapsed vegetarian. Skye was going to kill her cousin.

  Skye tactfully cleared her throat. When that got no reaction, she moved closer, tapped the waiter on the shoulder, and said, “You need to get back to work.”

  His eyes fluttered open, and when he saw Skye, he jerked away from Paige, and said, “Uh, sorry.”

  After he hurried off, Paige said, “I suppose you’re going to run and tell Zach.”

  “Tell him what?” Skye turned to go, hoping she and Paige could pretend nothing had happened.

  But the matron of honor persisted. “Hey, I’m a flirt. I love to flirt. It’s what I do.”

  “Look. It’s none of my business.” Skye kept edging backward.

  “Zach’s not so innocent either.” Paige’s expression was inscrutable. “I’ve tried to change him, but it’s just no use.”

  “Well, like my grandma Leofanti used to say, that cake is baked. If you didn’t like the flavor, you should have picked a different slice.”

  Paige snarled, “I don’t want your down-home advice.”

  “Fine.” Skye hurried toward the lobby, in serious need of a breath of fresh air.

  Ten minutes later Riley was waiting for Skye as she reentered the building. She stood with her arms crossed and demanded, “What were you doing outside?”

  “I needed a break.” Skye looked her cousin in the eye. “I’ve been running around working on your wedding since eight this morning.”

  Riley ignored Skye’s irritated tone. “Did you get Paige and that guy to stop?”

  Before Skye could answer, the outer door burst open and a woman in a police uniform walked in. She stood with her hands on her hips and said, “I’m here to arrest Nick Jordan.”

  CHAPTER 21

  The Price of Beauty

  Skye woke up early Friday, sure she was forgetting something. As she showered and dressed, she ticked off the day’s tasks in her mind, starting with meeting Wally for a quick breakfast. Next, a brief stop at the country club to oversee the preparations there, then the bridesmaids’ trip to the spa, and ending with the rehearsal that evening.

  In forty-eight hours Skye would be free of responsibilities—except, of course, for the decisions she had promised Simon and Wally regarding her love life.

  She refused to contemplate that dilemma now, and as she drove to meet Wally, she realized she’d much rather begin her day with him talking about the previous night’s events than brood over her future.

  She pulled into the McDonald’s parking lot a little after eight and found Wally waiting inside his squad car. She liked that he never seemed upset if she was a few minutes late, unlike Simon, who didn’t bother to hide his displeasure.

  After a quick kiss, they went inside. The restaurant was busy, and it took a while to get to the front of the line, then a little longer to order because the girl behind the counter was one of Skye’s students and wanted to tell her about her new beau.

  Skye smiled and nodded, happy the teen wanted to confide in her. Once the girl finished extolling the boy’s virtues, Skye and Wally got their food, grabbed napkins, and headed toward their favorite back-corner booth.

  As soon as they were seated, Skye asked, “What happened with Brian Cowden? Did he admit to being at the Brown Bag with Belle?”

  “Eventually.”

  “Did he give you a hard time?”

  “He tried.” Wally took a healthy swallow of coffee, then winced as the hot liquid burned his tongue. “He’s a big guy, and he uses his size and appearance to intimidate people.”

  “Are you okay? I mean, I can see you’re all right, but ... He didn’t attack or anything, did he?”

  “I’m fine. I contacted the LaGrange police for backup before I went to pick him up, and Mr. Cowden became much more docile once he looked out the window and saw that I wasn’t alone.”

  “Thank goodness.” Skye tore open two packs of Sweet’n Low and stirred the contents into her tea. “So, what happened?”

  “I took advantage of the LaGrange police department’s offer of their interrogation room. It took a while to convince Mr. Cowden to cooperate, but he eventually told me the whole story.”

  “Which is?” Skye took a bite of her Egg McMuffin.

  “Turns out he and Belle did go for a few drinks after their meeting at the country club.

  “And?” Skye glared. She hated it when Wally teased her like this, trickling out information and making her beg for each tidbit.

  “And that led to a quickie in her motel room.” Wally crunched into his McGriddle.

  “Then afterward something happened.” Skye wiped her mouth with her napkin. “And he killed her.”

  “Not according to him.” Wally leaned forward and lowered his voice. “He claims that he left her alive and well at eleven, and we know that she was still breathing at one o’clock when Hallie heard her.”

  “Do you believe him?”

  “Well, one of the reasons Cowden didn’t want to admit to being with Belle at the Brown Bag is that he’s married.”


  “Good reason.”

  “His wife swore he was home before midnight.” Wally drained his coffee cup. “And when you consider I had just told her he’d been screwing around on her, I kind of doubt she’d provide him with a false alibi.”

  “So he’s off your list of suspects?”

  “Let’s just say he’s been moved to the bottom of the page.” Wally crumpled up the wrappers from their food and put them on the tray. “I finally got Belle’s financial records. She was depositing two thousand dollars a week into her account like clockwork for the past six months. With her kind of business, there really shouldn’t be any regular income.”

  “Hmm. What could it be?” Skye paused, then snapped her fingers. “I know. It’s probably an allowance from her parents or income from a trust fund.”

  “That would make sense.” Wally nodded. “I’ll check with the Canfields’ attorney.” He took the pad from his pocket and made a note. “How were the bachelor/bachelorette parties?”

  “Wild. In fact, I was so busy putting out fires, I didn’t get a chance to ask the bridal party if they knew anything that Belle’s family might want to keep out of the media. So I’ll talk to them about it this afternoon when I see them at the spa.”

  “So what happened that was so wild?”

  Skye told Wally about the strip poker game ending with the waitresses half-naked, and the matron of honor and the waiter making out in the hallway. She ended with, “Then a policewoman showed up to arrest Nick.”

  “Martinez arrested Nick?” Wally reached for his radio. “For what?”

  “Being a bad boy.” Skye smirked; it was her turn to dole out info in dribs and drabs.

  “What?” Wally’s eyebrows disappeared into his hairline. “If we arrested men for that, we’d have half the guys in town in jail, and the other half on probation.”

  “The policewoman wasn’t Martinez. She turned out to be a stripper.” Skye snickered. “I thought Riley would kill the poor woman before I got her out the door.”

  Wally hooted. “Who hired her?”