by Laura Durham
“It’s been a while since I’ve been here,” Fern said, slipping off his green-velvet gloves. “Do you remember the time I gave all the officers makeovers?”
“I don’t think any of us will ever forget that,” Kate said. “Especially the officer who got the Dorothy Hamill pixie cut.”
Fern grinned and touched a hand to his own low ponytail. “That was very flattering for his face.”
I led the way to the front desk and gave the female officer on duty my most winning smile. “I’m here to see Detective Mike Reese.”
She stared at me, then her eyes shifted to my friends. Her stony expression didn’t change. “He expecting you?”
“He’s probably not expecting all of this,” Kate said under her breath.
“Tell him his friend Richard Gerard is here,” Richard said.
We all looked at Richard.
He shrugged. “What? We did a lot of male bonding yesterday. You can really get to know someone when you pick out a Christmas tree with them.”
After their exhaustive tree search, I was pretty sure Reese felt that he knew more about Richard now than he ever wanted to.
Reese looked up and saw us. I waved at him and assumed a look of oblivious innocence. As I saw him raise an eyebrow, I felt sure it hadn’t worked.
“So,” he said, walking over to us, “the gang’s all here.”
“We were at a party at the Cathedral when you texted me,” I said. “It was quicker to bring them with me.”
Reese pushed up his already rolled-up shirt sleeves. “Come on back. I want to show you something.”
The female officer at reception grudgingly lifted the swing gate so we could follow Reese.
“So I pulled all the security camera footage from any business near the Born Again Biker Church.” He rested a hand on my back as we gathered around a desk with him. “It’s in a strip mall that hasn’t gone through gentrification yet, so not all of the businesses have cameras, and those that do have them don’t keep them on all the time. That being said, I did manage to get one feed that shows us the front of the church.”
He typed something on his keyboard and a video began playing full screen. It was black and white and pretty grainy. It also appeared to only film every few seconds, so the footage looked jerky. We all leaned in to watch the view of the front of the church from a side angle. The glass double doors opened and closed a few times as churchgoers appeared to leave. I glanced at the time stamp. Around twelve thirty on Sunday afternoon. This would have been after the service ended, so we were probably watching the last stragglers. Several minutes passed on the video time stamp, and then a figure moved into the screen holding something. I heard myself suck in breath, and I saw Kate raise a hand to her mouth.
The figure, who wore a dark coat and a scarf covering their face, placed a baby carrier outside the door. Even with the delayed time and jerky footage, I could see the hesitation as the figure gazed down at the child before knocking on the glass and turning away quickly. Then the figure was gone from the screen, and the next thing we saw was the large figure of Mack coming outside and finding the baby.
Reese reached down and stopped the video. Fern sniffled and produced a handkerchief from his pocket, then dabbed at his eyes. I found myself blinking away tears as well.
Richard cleared his throat. “At least they had the good sense to knock on the glass. Considering how cold it was yesterday, the little thing could have frozen to death if no one knew to look for her.”
“It was someone who cared about her.” I leaned closer to Reese and felt comforted by the warmth of his hand on my back.
“Whoever it was, they had second thoughts,” Kate said, her voice breaking.
I nodded. “You could see them hesitate.”
“Too bad we can’t tell anything about them from the footage,” Reese said. “The face is completely covered, and they turn away from the camera when they leave.”
“We know it was a woman,” Fern said.
We all turned to him.
“We do?” Reese asked.
Fern pointed to the screen. “Back it up a bit.” When Reese rewound the footage, Fern waved his fingers. “See? Right there. A bit of her hair flies out of the scarf when she turns.”
Reese bent his face near the monitor. “Well, would you look at that?”
“Just because they have long hair doesn’t mean it’s a woman,” Richard said. “Have you seen the hair on some of Buster and Mack’s biker friends?”
Fern let out a short breath and pointed to the strand of blond hair on the screen. “It’s also color treated. How many Harley riders get highlights done?” He held up his hands. “Not that I’m saying they couldn’t use some face-framing color.”
“Are you sure?” I asked.
Fern folded his arms over his green velvet jacket. “As sure as I am that you haven’t had a haircut in six months, and Kate is about a week away from needing her roots touched up.”
“I’d take his word as expert testimony,” I told Reese.
Chapter 7
I ran the last few steps down the sidewalk and pushed through the glass doors of Lush, the bell above me ringing as I stamped my feet on the concrete floor to regain feeling in them. Kate and Richard were close on my heels, and I could hear Kate’s teeth chattering as she unwound the scarf from her neck.
We’d dropped Fern at his salon on the way after he’d remembered he had a full afternoon of society matrons who needed cut and color. We’d promised to fill him in on any new information on the search for the baby’s mama, and he’d promised Richard he’d keep his ear to the ground about any catering gossip.
“I haven’t been here in ages,” Richard said, walking further into the flower shop. “It’s like stepping into a greenhouse.”
I had to agree with him. Between the almost tropical heat, which must have been turned to full blast, and the heady perfume of flowers spilling out of the galvanized metal buckets lining the wall, it felt like we’d entered a hothouse. The back metal table held a bubble bowl with a partially finished holiday arrangement of red roses and holly leaves with remnants of trimmed flowers scattered around it. I noticed a pair of empty cappuccino cups on the table alongside a baby bottle.
Mack appeared from the doorway that led to the back of the shop. He was decked out in his usual black leather pants and leather vest with chains that jangled as he walked. The only addition to the outfit was a black baby carrier attached to his chest, and I could see Merry’s chubby legs dangling beneath. Part of me was surprised the baby carrier wasn’t leather with his biker club’s emblem emblazoned on the front.
He held a finger to his lips. “She just fell asleep.”
I tiptoed toward him and peered at the tiny face pressed sideways against his T-shirt. “How long will she sleep?”
Mack shrugged. “Two hours? Two minutes?” He rubbed his eyes, and I could see how bloodshot they were. “We haven’t exactly worked out a sleeping schedule yet.”
Richard sniffed. “It doesn’t smell like a baby in here. You must be doing something right.”
Buster emerged from the back holding a plastic container of Lysol wipes and rubber gloves. “We aren’t getting much floral designing done, that much I can tell you.”
“Are you positive you want to take this on?” Kate reached out and touched the baby’s tiny pajama-clad foot. “There are some wonderful foster parents out there.”
Mack’s face darkened. “No foster care.”
“We didn’t come to talk about Merry,” I said. “Well, not directly at least.”
“If you’re calling about the changes for Saturday,” Buster said, holding up a yellow-gloved palm, “I already know. Darla called me an hour ago.”
“Darla called you?” I pulled my phone out of my purse. “She didn’t call me. What changes? It’s only a few days before the wedding. There can’t be any more changes.”
Kate waved a finger at me. “That right there is why Darla didn’t call you. I’ll bet she kn
ew you’d tell her no, but she thought she could sweet-talk the boys.”
I couldn’t imagine what additional changes they could have come up with only a day after we’d had the final meeting. I dropped my phone back in my purse. “Well? Did she sweet-talk you?”
Buster set the Lysol wipes on the metal worktable. “Unfortunately for her, sleep deprivation does not make me more open to last-minute changes.” He took off his rubber gloves. “Who needs a coffee besides me?”
Kate and I both raised our hands.
“It makes him a bear,” Mack said in a stage whisper with an apologetic smile to Buster. “Well, it does.”
Buster grunted at him as he moved in front of the large cappuccino machine and began fiddling with nozzles. “Debbie saw some Instagram post about holiday margaritas and wanted to add some mistletoe for garnishing.”
“I wonder what the bah humbug bride thinks about that,” Kate said.
I turned to Richard who was staring down at his phone. “It must have been the mistletoe margaritas from the Cathedral party. I can’t believe she saw posts from it so soon.”
“Believe it,” Richard muttered. “All anyone is posting is either closeups of their cocktails from the party or pictures of their listing in Capital Weddings.”
Mack’s face lit up. “Is the new list out already?”
“That’s right.” Buster turned from measuring coffee grounds. “I’d forgotten it should be hitting the stands soon.”
Kate shook her head while I made a frowny face. Both floral designers looked confused.
Richard sighed. “Oh, for heaven’s sake. My career may be finished, but I haven’t gone blind.” He glanced back at his phone screen. “That’s it. I need to call my office.”
He walked a few feet away and leaned against a high top table, his phone pressed to his ear.
“Richard Gerard Catering wasn’t on the list,” I said in a low voice, even though the sounds of Buster’s fancy machine made it pointless for me to whisper.
“What?” Mack looked from me to Kate. “That’s impossible. He’s one of the top caterers in town. He’s been on the list since they started it.”
“It’s true,” Kate said. “Not only did he not get top vote getter like he did last year, but his name doesn’t appear on the list at all.”
Buster glanced over our heads at Richard. “I’m surprised he’s so calm.”
“He was less than calm when he found out,” I said. “Actually, he shrieked and wailed so loudly we had to remove him from the OWP holiday party before security dragged him off.”
“That sounds more like Richard,” Mack said, jiggling the baby as she shifted in the carrier.
“So,” I said, realizing we’d drifted way off topic, “what happened with Darla?”
Buster handed Kate and me each an oversized white cup topped with frothy white foam. “Before I could give her my answer, she got squirrelly and hung up the phone.”
“I wonder if the bride busted her,” Kate said as she blew on her cappuccino.
I wrapped my hands around the round coffee cup so my fingers absorbed the warmth. “All I know is that if the bride spots a mistletoe margarita, it’s going to be a very one-sided wedding.”
“What kind of lunatic plans a December wedding when they hate winter and winter holidays?” Kate asked.
“We don’t know if she hates all winter holidays.” Buster twitched one broad shoulder up and down. “Maybe she’d be up for using blue and white and decorating with dreidels. Hanukkah is very overlooked when it comes to design inspiration.”
“From my short experience with this bride, I’m guessing that wouldn’t fly either,” I said, “although an ice-blue winter wedding would be stunning.”
“That’s it,” Richard rejoined us. “My career in this town is over. I’m kaput, done, finito.”
Mack thumped him on the back and he staggered forward. “It’s only one issue of one magazine.”
Richard waved his phone in the air. “I just called into Richard Gerard Catering HQ and there has not been a single new inquiry since this morning.”
I glanced at the modern chrome clock on the wall and took a tentative sip of coffee, so I wouldn’t burn my tongue. “It’s only one o’clock.”
“But it’s the holidays,” Richard said. “These are our busiest weeks. We make more money in December than in any other month.”
“Odd how your business picks up and ours slows down,” Kate said.
“That’s one good thing we can say about weddings,” I said. “Not many in the dead of winter.”
The Douglas wedding was an anomaly. Rarely did we take weddings around the holidays because it was the one time of year we weren’t insanely busy. Of course, Darla and Debbie were repeat clients, and they never capped their budgets, two reasons we’d agreed to a wedding right before Christmas. Part of me wished we hadn’t, though, because I didn’t like having to finalize wedding details when I should be focused on decorating my tree and picking out presents. I hadn’t even gotten a present for Reese, and I knew if I didn’t act fast I’d be either paying for overnight shipping or giving him coupons for free hugs.
“But you have a lot of corporate parties coming up, right?” I asked as Richard paced small circles in front of me and muttered to himself.
Richard stopped pacing. “For now. What happens when the magazine actually hits the stands and word gets out I’ve been kicked off the list? This is a fickle town, Annabelle. One day you’re hot and the next you’re . . .”
“Listen.” I set down my cup and put a hand on his arm. “None of your regular clients will stop using you because of some silly wedding list.”
Kate added her hand to mine. “Don’t forget that we promised to help you find out who’s behind you getting taken off the list. If there’s a conspiracy, we’ll get to the bottom of it.”
“That reminds me.” I took my hand off Richard’s arm and reached into my purse for the image Reese had printed off for me. I held it up to Buster and Mack. “Does this woman look familiar?”
Mack squinted at the grainy black-and-white photo. “That’s a woman?”
“Fern confirmed it from the blond hair popping out of the scarf,” Kate said.
Neither man questioned Fern’s assessment as they leaned in to study the image.
“This is the person who left baby Merry in front of your church,” I told them. “Reese pulled footage from a nearby security camera, and it shows this woman putting the baby down and walking away.”
“This must be her mother,” Buster said, touching his pointer finger to the image. “And she has blond hair.”
Mack looked down at the tiny head lolling against his chest. “That makes sense. Merry has fair coloring, although her hair is just peach fuzz right now.”
“Do you know anyone who could be this woman?” I asked.
Buster shook his head. “It’s hard to say. Aside from the blond hair, there isn’t much to go on. You can’t see anything of her face except the tip of a nose and even that’s blurry.”
I looked at the grainy image. He was right. Although we now knew the person who abandoned Merry was a woman with blond hair, that only narrowed the field down to tens of thousands of people in the DC area.
“It was a long shot,” I said, setting the photo down on the nearby worktable. “What we really need to do is what the cops do—inspect the scene of the crime.”
“You mean the place where the little waif was left?” Richard asked. “What do you think you’ll find? A driver’s license the woman dropped and nobody noticed?”
I ignored Richard’s snarky comments. “From the video, we can tell what direction she approached from. It would be helpful to see where that is and what’s there.”
“You want a tour of the Born Again Biker Church?” Mack asked.
“That can be arranged.” Buster pulled out a key ring. “Since we’re deacons, I have a key.”
“What are we waiting for?” Kate rubbed her hands together. “I’v
e never been to a biker church.”
Mack motioned to Merry with his head. “I’ll stay here with her and mind the shop. There’s no way I’m taking her out of this carrier now that she’s actually sleeping.”
Buster led us toward the front door, but Richard didn’t follow.
“You coming?” I asked, looking back at him.
“I’ll stay with Mack,” Richard said, throwing an arm around the florist’s wide back and not reaching the other shoulder. “I have a few things to check out online anyway.”
I couldn’t help being suspicious. Since when did Richard voluntarily hang out with a baby and a florist?
“Suit yourself,” Kate said, tugging me by the sleeve.
As I walked through the glass door Buster held open, I cast a final glance at Richard and Mack, an odd couple if ever there was one, and hoped my gut feeling was wrong.
Chapter 8
“This definitely doesn’t look like any church I’ve ever seen.” Kate peered up at the sign stretching across the storefront of the worn-down mini mall. “Born Again Biker Church” was written in dark block letters with a red cross on each end of the sign. This was a far cry from the picturesque wooden clapboard churches or impressive stone cathedrals we usually found ourselves working in.
I’d parked my CRV in one of the spaces that butted up to the glass-fronted church, glad not to have to parallel park on the street for once, and I joined Kate on the sidewalk. I twisted to look at the businesses around us. The area was still mostly low warehouses and strip malls with operations not looking for much walk-by traffic: commercial kitchens, car repair shops, off-site storage. I knew that rent in this area of the city was lower, so spaces were larger and a little run-down.
I pulled the photo of the woman out of my purse and arranged myself at the proper angle. “She came and went from this direction.”