To Love and To Perish (12 page)

“Someone call an ambulance!” The shrieks of a woman's voice pulled me from what felt like a deep sleep.

I tried to open my eyes, but the bright lights made my head pound even worse. I moaned.

“One of them is alive. Hurry!”

Was she talking about me? Wait a second.
Them?
I forced my eyes open and found myself staring at a white stucco ceiling. I rolled my head to one side and saw a mahogany casket at the far end of the room. It must have been the viewing room I'd been poking around in right before someone knocked me out. I rubbed my temple and rolled to the other side. My blood went cold.

Only a few inches away from me lay Margery with a red gash across her forehead. Her eyes were closed and her head lolled to the side. I felt like I was going to be sick. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I could hear people starting to gather around me.

“Coming through, people.” Fern's voice was unmistakable. “I'm a hairdresser. I'm used to trauma.”

I opened my eyes and pushed myself onto my elbows as Fern kneeled down next to me. “How bad is it?” I touched the tender spot on my head.

“I'm not going to lie to you, darling.” Fern inspected my bump. “It's not pretty. The good news is that you've had worse hair days.”

“Thanks.” I sat all the way up and leaned against him. People began to cluster around Margery, who didn't seem to be moving. “Can we go somewhere else and sit down?”

“You're right.” Fern put an arm around me and hoisted me up. “There are too many stiffs in this room.”

We walked gingerly out to the lobby, and I sank into a blue wing-back chair.

“How long was I out?”

“It couldn't have been very long,” Fern said. “You only got here twenty minutes ago. Lucky for me I happened to come out into the hall right after Barbie screamed.”

“Botox Barbie found me?” So that was the high-pitched shrieking I'd heard. The woman had some lungs on her.

“She said she was on her way to the ladies' room when she saw the door standing open and your feet sticking out.”

“There you are.” Richard rushed up to us with Kate close on his heels. They both looked about five shades paler than usual. “The next time you get attacked, try not to wander off. I lost a year off my life.”

Kate pressed a hand to her mouth. “Are you okay?”

“I'm fine, I think,” I said. “It probably looks worse than it is.”

Richard looked at my head. “I certainly hope so.”

“What happened?” Kate took a seat in the matching wing-back chair next to me.

“I was headed to the ladies' room to get more tissues for Lucille and I saw an open viewing room with the lights out.”

Richard rolled his eyes. “And you took that as an invitation to go inside? Have you never seen a horror movie, Annabelle?”

“I was curious to see if they keep bodies in all of these rooms. Otherwise where would they keep all the caskets before the services?”

Fern glanced around him. “Do you really think there are corpses in all of these rooms?”

Richard tapped his foot on the floor. “Go on.”

“I was looking for the light switch when the door slammed shut on me.”

“What a surprise,” Richard muttered.

“Do you want me to continue?” I asked.

Richard pursed his lips. I could tell that he was torn between the desire to give me a proper scolding and the desire to hear my story. “By all means.”

“I opened the door to leave when I was hit on the head by something hard.” My hand instinctively went to the tender spot.

Fern gasped. “Someone was in the room with you?”

“No, they were in the doorway when I opened
the door to leave. I got blinded for a moment so I only saw an outline of a person. I have no idea who attacked me.”

“A bust,” Richard said.

“Excuse me?”

“They found one of those god-awful marble busts on the floor between you and Margery. That's what you were hit with.”

“Your feet were sticking outside the room, but Margery lay inside next to the bust,” Fern said. “It looks like Margery saw your feet and came in the room, then got attacked as well.”

“So whoever hit me must have still been inside the room when Margery came in,” I said. “Do you know if she's okay?”

“I'm sure they'll be fine,” Kate said.

“More people were attacked than me and Margery?” I asked.

“Not really,” Richard explained. “When Lucille saw Margery she fainted and hit the ground pretty hard.”

“Poor Lucille,” I said. “I don't know how much more she can take.”

Fern pulled out his handkerchief. “I don't know how much more any of us can take. This week has been a wedding planner bloodbath.”

“This is getting too dangerous for my taste,” Kate agreed. “Next time you might not be so lucky, Annie.”

I bit the edge of my lip. “But we're getting so close to the killer. I can feel it.”

“That's your head you're feeling, honey.” Fern patted my arm.

Richard gaped at me. “You don't honestly plan
on continuing to hunt for this serial killer yourself, do you?”

“I'm not hunting for him. I'm gathering information.”

“What if the killer knows about your little information gathering project and tried to get rid of you so you won't get any closer to finding him?” Richard asked. “Did you think of that?”

“You don't think this was another random wedding planner murder?” Kate said. “You think the killer targeted Annabelle because she knows too much?”

“Someone had to watch her go in the viewing room and then follow her with the marble bust,” Richard said. “I don't think any of these murders are random. Especially not this one.”

“That means that the killer probably knows that we were all poking around for information,” Kate said, looking a bit green. “He could come after any of us next.”

“Lots of people knew that we were asking questions about the murders,” I said. “Remember that both Barbie and Gail mentioned hearing about it?”

“Must you run around advertising what you're doing all the time?” Richard asked me. “Is your investigation really worth one of our lives?”

I opened my mouth to defend myself, but tears pricked the back of my eyes. Richard was right. I couldn't risk my life or anyone else's looking for the killer. I would never forgive myself if something happened to one of my friends.

“I'm sorry.” My voice cracked. “I never thought that I was putting us in danger.”

“That's okay, honey.” Fern squeezed my hand. “No harm done.” His eyes darted to my head. “Well, almost no harm.”

Richard fixed me with a serious look. “Will you promise to leave the detective work to the detectives from now on?”

I held up my hand, palm out. “I give you my word.”

“What a relief.” Richard sighed. “I thought you were going to put up a big fight.”

A nagging voice in the back of my head told me that I already had all the information I needed to find the killer. Putting the pieces together could hardly be called detective work, I reasoned with myself. What harm could come from thinking about the case?

I shook my head. “You don't have to worry about me. I'm hanging up my detective hat for good.” Not really a lie, I thought. More like an omission.

“I'm calling to get the scoop,” I said, sinking down onto my couch holding the phone to my ear with one hand and an ice pack to my head with the other. I'd convinced Kate and Richard that I was fine by myself and had scooted them out the door so I could do some armchair investigating in peace.

I knew Richard was right. I would never forgive myself if something happened to one of my friends because the killer thought we were poking around too close. But I could also never live with myself if more people died and I could do something to stop it. I just had to keep a low profile from now on. Catching up on industry gossip with Joni was the best way I could think of to find out everything that was going on without leaving my couch.

“Annabelle?” Joni sounded surprised. “I thought they took you to the hospital along with Margery and Lucille.”

“No. I'm fine. A doctor took a look at me but let me come home to rest.”

“Do you need someone to check on you?”

“Fern promised to stop by after he goes to Eleanor's memorial service this afternoon.”

Joni sighed. “I'm glad I don't have to video that one, too. One a day is plenty for me. Was Fern close to Eleanor?”

“No, he just loves the drama. He would have been a great professional mourner. He can cry at the drop of a hat.”

“That may come in handy. Eleanor didn't have any family that I've ever heard of and she drove everyone she worked with crazy.”

“She drove you nuts, too?” I rearranged myself on the couch. “I thought it was just other wedding planners she annoyed.”

“Imagine hearing that you're going to be doing a million dollar wedding for a major celebrity and then getting to the job and finding out the celebrity is the weather guy for Channel 7.”

I cringed. “That's bad.”

“No kidding. And if that wedding cost a million dollars then I'm Steven Spielberg.”

I laughed then felt guilty about making fun of Eleanor. After all, she had been murdered.

“But I can't imagine that someone killed her because she lied her head off,” I said.

“No, me either. I've been pushed to the edge by wedding planners before but I've never killed one of them.”

“Are we really that bad?” I knew what I thought of some of my colleagues but it was always interesting to hear what other vendors thought.

“Not you, of course,” Joni said quickly. “Or the other newer planners like Stephanie. But don't get me going about the ones that think they're practically celebrities themselves like Byron and Gail.”

“I guess Byron is a bit high maintenance.”

“Are you kidding me?” Joni was starting to get worked up. “I've done weddings for thirteen hours where Byron and Gail forgot to feed any of the vendors but set up a table with china and crystal for themselves and had the waiter serve them filet mignon along with the guests.”

My mouth dropped open. “You're kidding.” I felt guilty if I didn't join the other wedding vendors in the usual offering of limp club sandwiches. “I've never seen that side of them.”

“Trust me, Annabelle. If they think you can't do anything for them, they don't even give you the time of day. But I've had the last laugh. They have no idea how many brides I've steered away from them since that wedding.”

“Really?” I swallowed hard and made a mental note never to tick off Joni.

“Sure. Lots of brides ask me my opinion on planners and I give it to them.”

“So what do you think about the murders?” I tried to change the subject and see if Joni had heard anything I hadn't. “Who do you think could be out to kill wedding planners?”

“Take your pick on who wanted Carolyn and Eleanor dead, but there's only one person I know who had a motive to kill Stephanie.”

I held my breath. “Who?”

“Guess who Maxwell Gray had been referring
some of his brides to?” Joni didn't wait for me to guess. “Stephanie Burke.”

“Stephanie was getting business from Maxwell?”

“Either they were involved or he was hoping that they would be,” Joni said. “Either way, he was giving business to Stephanie and not to some of the other planners that he used to be involved with.”

“Like Carolyn and Eleanor?”

“And like Gail. I heard that she was pretty upset about it.”

I snapped my fingers. “You're right. I saw her fighting with Maxwell at his party right before Stephanie was found dead.”

“There you go. I wouldn't put it past Gail to whack Stephanie in a jealous rage or to do it to protect her business.”

I sat up and put my ice bag on the coffee table. “That would explain why Gail was so eager to set Byron up to take the fall. She must be trying to divert attention away from herself. But would she really murder someone out of jealousy?”

“I'd be careful if I were you, Annabelle. These people are as dangerous as they are obsessive-compulsive. I wouldn't put it past them to have a prioritized to-do list for the murders.”

“Don't worry, Joni. After today, I'm going to lay low. I've had as much drama as I can take for one day.”

Fern burst through my front door and held up what looked like a small gray urn. “You are never going to believe what I got from Eleanor Applebaum's funeral.”

“Please tell me that isn't what I think it is,” I said after I quickly hung up with Joni. “Tell me you didn't steal the cremated remains of Eleanor Applebaum.”

Fern recoiled in mock horror. “Of course not.” He put the small urn down on my coffee table. “These were the favors.”

“There were favors at a funeral?”

Fern shrugged. “It was a funeral for a wedding planner. I have to admit it seemed a bit like a wedding. The programs had gold tassles, there was a string quartet, and we all signed a big picture of Eleanor instead of a guest book. Do you have anything to drink, darling?”

“In the kitchen.” I pointed without getting up. “So who was at the funeral?”

“Not as many people as were at Carolyn's viewing but a decent turnout.”

“The way wedding planners are dropping, can you really blame people for not showing?” I called
over my shoulder. “Anything good happen?”

“Nothing as juicy as your little drama earlier, of course. I could have sworn I saw Gail and Byron arrive together, but they made a point to avoid each other. Maxwell made an appearance but even he looked somber. His shirt was buttoned up all the way.”

“Why would Gail and Byron arrive together and then pretend not to know each other?”

“I could have been mistaken or they could just be that moody to speak to each other one minute then hate each other the next. You should have seen the decor for this shindig.”

“I heard that Eleanor didn't have any family,” I said. “Who put it all together?”

“She must have left specific instructions because it was beautifully planned. I've never seen such breathtaking flowers at a memorial service. All in shades of pink. And I could swear she brought in specialty lighting.”

“How odd. It does sound like a wedding.” I picked up the miniature urn. “But why would someone give away little urns as favors at a funeral? It's a bit macabre.”

“How else could they give everyone some of Eleanor's ashes to take home?” Fern called from the kitchen. “Little plastic baggies would be gauche and the ashes would fall through tulle sachets.”

I screamed and almost dropped the urn. “Eleanor's ashes are in here?” I carefully put the urn back on the table and started wiping my hands on the couch. “I thought you said you didn't have her ashes.”

“I said I didn't
steal
her ashes.” Fern walked
back in the room with a glass of wine. “They gave them to me.”

I shuddered. “Are you telling me that Eleanor's ashes were divided up and given to every guest who attended the memorial service?”

Fern sat next to me and gave me a nudge. “I'll bet you wish you came with me now, don't you?” He took a sip of wine. “Not everyone got them but I elbowed my way to the front before they all got snatched up.”

“Good thing,” I said, averting my glance from where Eleanor sat on my coffee table. “What are you going to do with it?”

Fern raised an eyebrow. “I don't know. Do you want it? You could use it as a bud vase.”

“Not the urn.” I tried to keep my voice even. “What are you going to do with the ashes?”

Fern made a face. “I hadn't thought that far.” He looked around my apartment.

“Don't even think it,” I said. “You're going to have to take her with you.”

Fern gasped. “After I go to all the trouble to bring you back a present from the funeral, this is how I'm treated?”

I folded my arms and leveled my gaze at Fern. “Not bad.”

Fern let out a sigh. “Do you really think so? I wasn't a bit much? Should I have teared up?”

“No, it was good. The tears would have been over the top,” I reassured him. “But you're still taking her with you.”

Fern put down his wine and picked up Eleanor. “Fine. I'd better go find something to do with her and get ready for tomorrow.”

“Isn't tomorrow only Friday?” I asked, hoping I hadn't lost track of the days. “The wedding is on Saturday.”

“You may not have to work tomorrow but I have to do the bride and her mother for the rehearsal dinner.” Fern groaned. “You know how picky Kitty and Lady are about their hair. I've blocked out the entire afternoon at the salon.”

“I have to admit that for once I'm looking forward to a wedding.” I stood and walked with Fern to the door. “After the past few days, a wedding will be calm in comparison. We haven't had a single meltdown by the bride or one middle-of-the-night phone call from the M.O.B. It should be smooth sailing.”

Fern tapped the miniature urn on my door frame as he walked out and gave me a wink. “Knock on wood.”