by Laura Durham
I winced. “I guess it’s what you’d call too much of a good thing.”
“I guess so.” The detective gave me a brief smile. “So now we have to determine how the killer delivered the second medication to her.”
“By slipping it in her food or something?”
“That’s what we’re hoping to find out by testing the leftover hors d’oeuvres and plates for residue of the drug.” The detective pocketed his notebook and clicked the silver pen a few times before standing.
“Couldn’t she have accidentally taken the wrong medication?” I followed him to the door. “How can you be sure it’s murder?”
“It’s unlikely that she would have taken two types of pills within a few hours. We checked her prescription and her pill box. No sign of the second medication.”
“Which means that someone else knew what medication she took and mixed the two on purpose.”
Reese put a hand on my arm. “I appreciate the names, Miss Archer, but let the police do the investigating.”
“I’m not trying to . . .” I started, but the detective cut me off.
“Stick to wedding planning.” He grinned and gave my arm a small squeeze. “It’s less dangerous.”
What a condescending jerk!
“That’s what you think.” I pulled my arm away and swung open the door, making a point not to meet his eyes.
“Thanks again.” He gave a wave to Richard and stepped into the hallway. He caught the door with one hand as I tried to slam it shut and leaned close to me. “By the way, Annabelle, I like your hair.”
Chapter 16
I stood in front of the bathroom mirror after my morning shower and studied my haircut. A bad idea. I could never make my hair look as good as Fern did when he cut it. I always spent one day looking great and three months pulling my hair up so I didn’t have to attempt to style it. I blew my hair out and attempted to style the smooth layers. Hadn’t the ends turned under yesterday?
“Since when do you use a blow-dryer?” Richard poked his head in the bathroom, rubbed his eyes, and then stepped in to stand behind me. He’d slept in the khaki pants and white T-shirt he had on last night.
“Since I got this high-maintenance haircut.” I crimped the ends with my hands. “I’m going to have to quit my job to keep up with it.”
“That’s the price of beauty, Annabelle.” Richard yawned and covered his mouth. “Were you planning on using the kitchen this morning?”
“What do you think?”
“Right. Stupid question.” He walked back down the hall.
“What’s on the menu for today?” I called out.
Richard had brought in bags of groceries the night before and filled the refrigerator and cabinets. My kitchen must still be in shock.
“Just a couple of drop-off lunches for law firms.” His voice carried down the hall. “Pesto chicken on focaccia, espresso-rubbed steak salad, fruit with a tarragon glaze. That kind of thing.”
I abandoned the bathroom—and any hopes of my hair behaving—and joined Richard in the kitchen. I hoisted myself up on the counter next to the sink and let my feet swing from side to side.
“I just cleaned that, honey.” Richard motioned to the Formica counter. He opened the refrigerator and started to pull out cellophane bags.
“I guess there’s no chance of getting breakfast around here?” I pawed through the bags he put next to me. All produce. Not my idea of comfort food.
“Do I look like I’m running a diner?” He slapped a Styrofoam package of meat in the sink and thrust a paper bag in my direction. “I had a feeling this would happen, so I stopped in the bakery section last night.”
I peeked in the bag and sighed. “Blueberry muffins with a crumb topping. I’m in heaven.”
“I hope this means you’ll be staying out of my way?”
“You bet.” I slid down off the counter. “Kate and I agreed to do a little more snooping around, so as soon as she gets here . . .”
“I forgot.” Richard snapped his fingers. “Kate called while you were drying your hair to say that she’s going to be late.”
“How late?”
“She didn’t say. Something about going to visit a former boyfriend who works at the White House and getting more information about Boyd.”
“Very late.” I took a muffin out of the bag and bit into it, sending bits of crumb topping onto the floor. I sighed as I tasted the sweetness of the blueberries.
“Weren’t you just saying last night how you needed to catch up with client calls and paperwork?” Richard ignored my mumbled complaints about Kate as he pushed me out into the hall. “Now is your chance.”
I finished the first muffin before I reached my office. Peering in the bag, I stepped gingerly over the favor boxes on the floor and sat down at my desk. Only two more muffins. I had to make them last. Richard wouldn’t be happy if I came back for more food.
I opened my phone log and started dialing clients. Voice mail on the first three calls. I tried to make most of my client calls early in the morning or around lunchtime, so I could leave a message and not get stuck in hour-long conversations about bridesmaid shoes. Since it was morning, I hoped everyone had gone for a coffee break.
“One more thing I forgot.” Richard reached an arm around the doorframe, without showing his face. He dropped a piece of paper with a phone number on my desk. “Mrs. Boyd called while you were doing your hair.”
That settled it. I would never blow-dry my hair again as long as I lived.
“Anything else you’ve forgotten to tell me, Richard?” I raised my voice as he scurried back to the kitchen. “Like all my brides have decided to elope?”
I dialed Mrs. Boyd’s phone number and counted the rings. After the sixth ring, an out-of-breath voice answered.
“Mrs. Boyd?” This didn’t sound like the perfectly put-together political wife.
“Yes?” she snapped. “Who is this?”
Oh, no. Not another Mrs. Pierce. I didn’t remember her being like this when we met.
“Annabelle Archer from Wedding Belles. I’m returning your call.”
“Of course, Annabelle.” Mrs. Boyd’s voice warmed up. “Thank you for returning my call so promptly. It’s been a little crazy around here.”
“I understand.” I hoped she couldn’t hear my tone of relief.
“I called you to talk about selecting a caterer.” Mrs. Boyd rustled papers on the other end of the phone. “Now that we’ve booked the Meridian House for the reception, I hoped we could set up some tastings.”
I glanced down at my calendar. “When would be good for you?”
“I know it’s short notice, but anytime this week. Next week my husband goes out of town, so if we don’t fit it in soon we’ll have to wait until the beginning of next month.”
“I might be able to get a caterer to do a tasting for you this week. That way we can get the process started.”
“Could you?” Mrs. Boyd sounded pleased. “That would be perfect. We want a caterer who does French food well. We want this wedding to have the feel of a garden party in Provence.”
“That won’t be a problem. There are some fabulous toile linens that would be lovely for cocktails outside.”
“As long as they’re pink. We want everything to be pink.”
I winced. “Everything?”
“Everything,” Mrs. Boyd said. “Even the food needs to match.”
Great. The wedding would look as though it had been hosed down in Pepto-Bismol. I walked with my phone to the kitchen and waved my arms to get Richard’s attention.
“What are you doing tomorrow night?” I mouthed to him.
“Nothing,” he whispered back. “Why?”
I walked back to my office. “I’m certain that Richard Gerard Catering would be willing to do a tasting in your home tomorrow night.”
“He’s supposed to be wonderful, isn’t he?” Mrs. Boyd said. “Are you sure he’ll agree to such a short notice?”
“I’ll handle
it,” I assured her. “I’ll have him put together a menu today and fax it over to you.”
“Don’t forget our color scheme, Miss Archer.”
I thought such rigid color schemes had gone the way of color coordinating the bridesmaids with the punch. I heard Richard coming down the hall as I said goodbye to Mrs. Boyd.
“What are you up to, Annabelle?” He stood outside my office door, hands on his hips.
“Since you’re so gung-ho to cater, I figured you wouldn’t mind doing a tasting for Mr. and Mrs. Boyd tomorrow night.” I spun all the way around in my office chair. “It’ll give us the perfect opportunity to see how much Mrs. Boyd knew about her husband’s affair, and if Mr. Boyd had anything to do with the murder.”
Richard drummed his fingers on his hips. “And how do you expect to get this information out of them? Should I plan on putting truth serum in the food?”
“I guess I’ll just see how they react when I casually mention Mrs. Pierce. People usually give themselves away when they’re lying.”
“I’m going to go to all the hassle of throwing together a last-minute tasting just so you can see if you get a reaction?” As the doorbell rang, Richard turned on his heel and stomped down the hall. “That detective got it right, Annabelle. You should leave the investigating to the police.”
I followed him to the living room. “You might get a catering job out of this, too. It’s not a total waste.”
“Maybe you can talk some sense into her,” Richard said to Kate as he let her in. He appraised her acid-green skirt slit up to midthigh. “Maybe not.”
“Just wait until you hear what I found out about William Boyd.” Kate tossed her hot-pink plaid purse on the couch.
Richard jerked a thumb in my direction.“Wait until you hear what she’s gotten us into.”
“You go first, Kate.” I perched on the arm of the couch and let Kate stretch out across the rest. Her skirt was clearly too tight to sit up in.
Richard went back into the kitchen where we could watch him through the open shutters. “I hope you don’t mind if I listen from in here. Not all of us can spend all day playing private eye.”
“Somebody is in a lovely mood.” Kate kicked off her heels.
“Ignore him,” I said. “Tell us what you found out.”
“So I went to the White House to visit Jack, that guy I used to date last year. Do you remember me talking about him?”
“The one who laughed like a girl?”
“No.” Kate propped her head up against a cushion. “The one who had a shoe fetish.”
“I think so.” I needed a chart to keep them straight.
“Anyway, I paid Jack a visit this morning. We had a great time catching up and swapping work stories. We even set a date for dinner tonight.”
“Please tell me this is going somewhere,” Richard said, his voice muffled behind a cabinet door.
“It just so happens that his office is only a few doors down from Boyd’s, and he filled me in on some pretty interesting fireworks that went on last week.”
“Mrs. Pierce?” I leaned forward.
“You got it.” Kate swung her legs off the couch and inched herself into an upright position. “Jack didn’t hear anything specific, but he said Clara did plenty of yelling when she visited Boyd.”
“I wonder what they were fighting about.” I stood up and paced the room.
“The rumor around the office is that she must have threatened to tell his wife about their affair. What else could it be?”
“That would do it.” Richard heaved a chef’s knife up and it landed on the cutting board with a thud.
“No one heard exactly what they fought about, but everyone heard what Boyd said after Clara left.” Kate stood up and walked behind the couch to lean over the counter into the kitchen.
I couldn’t believe she would tease us like this. “Well, what did he say?”
“Jack said that Boyd fumed all day and stalked around the halls saying that Clara wouldn’t get away with it, and that he would shut her up once and for all.”
“Anything else?” Richard eyed Kate.
“Just that he would kill that meddling witch.” Kate grinned. “That’s all.”
“Bingo,” I said. “I think we’ve found our murderer.”
“Just because he threatened to kill her?” Richard gave a little snort. “If I remember correctly, darlings, you both made similar threats.”
“We weren’t serious.” I walked to the counter and grabbed a strawberry when Richard turned away. “But if Clara had been about to ruin our lives by exposing a secret, maybe we would have been.”
“She ruined my life for a while,” Kate said under her breath.
“People make idle threats, then get over it all the time.” Richard returned to the big, glass bowl of fruit salad and pursed his lips. He glared at me. I stopped chewing and tried to swallow the berry whole. How could he miss a single strawberry?
“Water under the ridge,” Kate said.
“Bridge,” Richard and I said simultaneously.
“Most likely a lover’s spat.” Richard moved the salad bowl to the other side of the kitchen. “They probably forgot about it long before the murder.”
I wiped my mouth on my sleeve and ignored Richard’s disapproving glare. “When was the fight?”
“That’s just the thing. They wouldn’t have had time to forget about it,” Kate said. “It happened the day before the wedding.”
I whooped. “See, I told you the tasting would be a good idea.”
“What tasting?” Kate asked.
“The one I arranged for Richard to do at the Boyds’ house tomorrow night. It’ll be the perfect opportunity to sniff out more clues.”
“This is getting much too Nancy Drew for my taste,” Richard griped.
“They won’t know we’re there to find information. Mr. Boyd could never expect us to know that he threatened Mrs. Pierce’s life the day before she was killed. I don’t think even the police know that.” I winked at Kate. “What were the chances of you dating someone who overheard all this?”
“With Kate, I’d say the odds weren’t bad.” Richard blew Kate a kiss.
“Ha, ha.” Kate turned her back to Richard and flounced back to the couch. “I wouldn’t mind getting to snoop around inside their house. It looks amazing from the outside. Not that I’m thrilled about the idea of hanging around a murderer. If Boyd did do it.”
“I’d be willing to bet that he had something to do with her death.” I tapped a finger on my chin. “And tomorrow night will be the perfect opportunity to find out.”
Richard glanced up from slicing pieces of focaccia and rolled his eyes. “What could possibly go wrong with this plan?”
Chapter 17
Everything that could possibly go wrong today already has.” Richard polished a sterling silver knife with the dish towel tucked into the waistband of his pants, then placed it on the Boyds’ long, mahogany dining table. Everything about the room, from the floors to the walls to the claw-foot table, was dark wood.
“That’s a good thing.” I set an oversized pink-rimmed base plate in front of each of the tall chairs. “If nothing else can go wrong, then dinner will be perfect.”
“First, I couldn’t get the grade of filet I wanted. I had to settle for choice.” Richard set a ruler on the table to see if the silverware was even on both sides of the plate. “Then Party Settings delivered the wrong dessert plates. Wait until you see them. They look like hospital china, which means I’m going to have to paint the plate with raspberry coulis to cover it up. And, of course, I couldn’t find the wine that matched the pink peppercorn sauce anywhere in the city.”
“Remember that this tasting is just so they can sample your food. This isn’t the final menu for the wedding.” I patted his arm. “I think you’ve done an amazing job considering the short notice I gave you.”
“I’m almost positive that this is the least amount of time I’ve ever had to pull together a formal dinner,
” Richard snipped. “No other caterer would dare to try.”
“You get full marks for bravery.” I set a white plate with a scrolling pattern on top of the charger. Classic and formal, yet not boring. Richard considered matching people’s personality and tableware an art form.
“I’m not the brave one. You’re trying to catch a murderer,” Richard said. “Where do you think he is anyway?”
We hadn’t seen anyone since Mrs. Boyd let us inside two hours earlier. I glanced at the grandfather clock in the corner. Half an hour left before we were scheduled to start the tasting.
Kate wedged an ivory taper into the crystal candelabra in the middle of the table. “Didn’t you hear Mrs. Boyd say he had a doctor’s appointment right before this?”
“I bet we have time to snoop around a little before he gets here,” I whispered.
“Snoop around?” Kate almost dropped her handful of candles. “That’s not part of the plan.”
“Mr. Boyd’s office is right across the foyer and the door is partly open.” I tugged at Kate’s arm. “If we’re going to do this, let’s do it right.”
“You’re nuts.” She pulled away from me. “What if he comes home early and we get caught?”
“Doctor appointments always run late, so there’s no way that Boyd will get here on time,” I assured her.
“What if Mrs. Boyd comes back downstairs?”
“That’s why Richard’s going to stand guard for us.” I looked tentatively at Richard.
“Leave me out of this.” Richard started out of the dining room, and I ran to catch him. “If you think I’m going to be around when you two get hauled off to jail, you’re out of your mind. I’ll tell you where I’ll be. Crawling out the kitchen window.”
“Please, Richard. Kate and I will only poke our heads in for a second.”
Richard allowed himself to be prodded across the foyer.
“After two minutes, you’re on your own,” he huffed.
“Stand out here and if you hear anyone coming, give us a signal.” I pushed the door to Mr. Boyd’s study open the rest of the way.
“Would a flare suffice, or were you thinking more along the lines of exotic bird calls?”