To Love and To Perish (5 page)

“Are you sure you should have told the police gossip about Byron and Gail?” I asked Richard after the detectives had left.

“It wasn't gossip,” Richard insisted. “Byron and Gail both started out working for Carolyn. It's no secret that Carolyn tried to blacklist them when they each went out on their own. Of course, Byron worked for her about ten years before Gail came along, but it's the same story for each one.”

“I mean the part about them having an affair,” I said, then paused. “Wait a second. Is Byron really that much older than Gail? He doesn't look it.”

Richard winked at me. “Plastic surgery, darling. I said that the affair was purely speculation. No one can arrest you for sleeping around. If they could, half our industry would be in the slammer.”

“At least I'd be in the clear on that one.” I picked up the tray and walked to the kitchen.

Richard followed me. “I'm sorry your date fell through.”

“No, you aren't. You can't stand Ian.”

Richard pressed a hand against his heart in exaggerated shock. “That is not true. I merely think he isn't right for you. And he proved me right by canceling on you at the last minute.”

“It wasn't his fault. They got a last minute gig at a college in North Carolina and had to drive down today.” I replaced the coffee cups in the cabinets. “At least he came by to tell me in person.” I pointed to a white paper bag on the counter. “And brought bagels.”

“Hmmmmph.” Richard didn't seem impressed. “One good thing came from it. Leatrice left.”

I swatted at him. “Hey! That's not nice.”

True, Leatrice had left pretty quickly after Ian did. I think she seemed more disappointed about the whole thing than me.

Richard leaned his elbows on the kitchen counter. “Are you sure you don't have a little romantic competition from your nutty neighbor?”

“I think I can handle a rivalry with an eighty-year-old who runs around in a trench coat and a fedora.”

“Is she still trying to nab someone from
America's Most Wanted
?” Richard groaned.

“Do you have to ask?” I put the “Anne and Michael” cocktail napkins back on top of the stack. “And now she watches
Cops
, too. I hear her singing the theme song in the hall all the time.”

“At least that gives you fair warning that she's coming.”

“That and her battery operated clothing,” I said. “We should be grateful that she didn't want to stay and discuss the murder.”

“What's to discuss?” Richard took the last swig of his wine. “I, for one, don't want to relive the horror any more than I have to.”

I felt wobbly in the knees thinking about Carolyn's lifeless body swinging in midair. “You don't think Byron or Gail really had anything to do with the murder, do you?”

“I know neither one ended things on good terms with Carolyn, but a lot of people had issues with her. I don't think that's a reason to kill someone.”

I shook my head. “People have killed over a lot less.”

“What would Gail or Byron gain from Carolyn's death?” Richard rinsed out his wineglass and pulled down a paper towel to dry it. “That's a lot of effort to go to just to get back at someone.”

“You're right, but then who killed her?”

“That's for the police to find out, Annabelle.” Richard eyed me. “If you're thinking of getting any more involved in this mess than we already are, you've lost your mind.”

I waved off his concern. “Don't worry. You don't have to tell me twice.”

“Oh, I think I do. Do I need to remind you what happened the last time I warned you not to stick your nose in police business?”

“I was a different person then.”

“Two months ago?”

“My point is that I have no intention of investigating the death of Carolyn Crabbe. Detective Reese and his pudgy pal can have that all to themselves.”

Richard put the back of his hand to his fore
head. “You don't know how relieved I am to hear you say that.”

“I can't promise not to talk about it, though. I'm sure everyone will be asking about it at the Organization of Wedding Planners meeting tomorrow.”

Richard rubbed his temples. “You have an OWP meeting tomorrow?”

“At the Willard. All the wedding planners in town will be there, including lots of the old-timers who know the scoop on Carolyn and her possible enemies. I'm dying to find out all the people who had it in for Carolyn.”

“Be careful, Annabelle. The guest list could very well include a killer.”

“You worry too much, Annabelle,” Kate said as I pulled in front of the Willard Hotel's regal black and white awning wrapped in garland. “The most dangerous thing about the OWP holiday lunch will be Byron Wolfe if he has too much to drink.”

“I don't know why we have booze at a lunch meeting anyway. It isn't even noon.”

“If you ask me, it takes the edge off everyone.” Kate opened the passenger side door as I rolled to a stop and stepped out of the car. “Not a bad idea with this crowd.”

I handed my keys to the approaching valet. “To have them drink too much and get sloppy?”

“No.” Kate grinned at me. “It takes the edge off them if
I
drink.”

I raised an eyebrow and led the way up the stairs and through the revolving brass door into the hotel lobby. To call the Willard lobby ornate would be an understatement. Enormous marble
columns rose two stories in the air and a massive Christmas tree stood in the center of the lobby surrounded by wrapped boxes. Poinsettia trees in colorful Chinese planters were dotted throughout the room, making the lobby a riot of red. Some of the usual furniture had been moved to accommodate a life-sized gingerbread sleigh filled with presents and surrounded by fake snow. I took a deep breath and inhaled the sugary aroma of the royal icing that held the sleigh together.

“We're in the Crystal Room.” Kate motioned toward the long corridor on the other side of the lobby. Peacock Alley had been decorated with a series of frosted Christmas trees and tall birch branches that made it feel like we were walking through a forest.

“Well, if it isn't the two cutest little wedding planners in the city.” The nasal voice and sarcastic tone made my skin crawl.

Eleanor Applebaum stood behind the OWP registration desk outside the doors to the Crystal Room wearing a forest green polyester suit and a laminated name tag. Her mousy brown hair fell to her shoulders, and she sported feathered bangs. Eleanor had apparently stopped reading fashion magazines in the mid–eighties.

I forced a smile. “Hi, Eleanor. How are you?”

“Insanely busy, of course.” Eleanor gave us her best fake smile as looked us up and down. “I have so many brides that I can barely see straight. I really shouldn't be here today.”

“Don't let us keep you here, then.” Kate returned the smile as she found our name tags on the table and handed mine to me.

Eleanor's smile faltered for a moment. “Too bad about your recent run of bad luck with weddings. Maybe there are a few brides who haven't heard about it.”

“You mean the bad luck of having a wedding featured in the hottest wedding magazine around?” Fern walked up behind us and linked his arms through ours. “Let's go get a drink, girls.”

Eleanor pressed her lips into a white line as Fern led us from the registration table to the bar a few feet away at the base of a long set of wide red carpeted stairs.

“What are you doing here?” Kate asked after ordering a glass of white wine. “Not that we don't owe you for saving us from Eleanor.”

“Don't even give her a second thought. She blows more hot air than my hair dryer.” Fern didn't bother to lower his voice. “I'm doing the program for your meeting today, remember? The newest trends in bridal beauty from Washington's most deluxe hairstylist.”

“Of course.” I ordered a Coke from the bartender. “Are you ready?”

“My equipment is all set up in the Crystal Room. Now I need my model.” Fern glanced at his jewel-encrusted watch. “She should have been here by now. I'm going to run and check the lobby again.”

I took my Coke from the bartender and sized up the crowd as Fern pushed his way through it. Lots of wedding planners of all ages were milling around in Peacock Alley holding glasses of wine. It looked like I was the only person not drinking
today. I took a sip of my Coke. I knew I had to be on my toes with this bunch.

“Feeling lucky?”

“What?” I was pulled from my thoughts by the perky voice of Stephanie Burke.

“Do you want to buy a raffle ticket?” Stephanie asked, holding a roll of red tickets in front of me. “The money goes to our charity.”

Stephanie was one of the newest members of OWP and also one of the newest wedding planners in town. She had curly dark hair that she wore loose down her back and brightly lacquered pink nails. She'd gotten roped into being the OWP recruiting director almost as soon as she'd joined because she was bouncy and energetic and had no idea what a crappy job it was.

“What's our charity?” Kate asked.

Stephanie blinked a few times. “Something about helping indigent wedding planners, I think.”

“There are indigent wedding planners?” Kate looked concerned and began digging in her purse.

I tugged on Kate's sleeve once she had purchased a raffle ticket and Stephanie moved on. “Look over there. Byron and Gail.”

They were deep in conversation by the door to the Crystal Room, but it didn't look friendly. Byron held Gail by the elbow until Gail wrenched her arm free and stalked away, leaving Byron red-faced and fuming by himself.

“I wonder what that's all about,” Kate said.

“Lover's quarrel?”

“Doubtful.” Kate shook her head. “I don't get
the vibe from them. I wouldn't be surprised if they were involved at one point, but not anymore.”

I usually trusted Kate's instincts when it came to men and dating.

“Don't look now, but here comes Botox Barbie.” Kate downed her wine as Barbie Sitwell advanced on us, her collagen lips arriving well before the rest of her face. She'd teased her hair high off her forehead and gone about three shades blonder since the last time I'd seen her.

“Annabelle, Kate.” She gave air kisses all around. “I was so distressed to hear about what happened at your wedding. And about Carolyn, of course. You know I had my third wedding at the Mayflower.”

I'd never been able to determine how many times Barbie had been married, but I suspected she could keep her business afloat by planning her own weddings.

“It was pretty awful,” Kate said.

Barbie pulled us close to her in a huddle. “I heard she was hanging by a veil.”

“I don't know if we should talk about it,” I said.

“I would never have mentioned it if Margery and Lucille hadn't told me about it first.” Barbie put a finger to her lips. “You know I despise gossip.”

About as much as she despised cute pool boys and alimony payments.

“Lucille and Margery are here?” I looked around the hallway. “I'm surprised they felt good enough to come today.”

“They're a bit of a mess, actually.” Barbie looked
behind her as she spoke. “They didn't know if they were going to stay for the whole meeting. Not that I blame them.”

“Lucille didn't take Carolyn's death too well,” I said.

Barbie touched a hand to her shellacked hair. “She's always been sensitive. I've heard she cries every time someone cancels their wedding.”

“We never get emotionally attached to our brides,” Kate said. “Probably because they're all insane.”

I glared at Kate. “She's kidding.”

“You don't have to apologize to me.” Barbie giggled. “I know exactly what you mean. Even I've been known to turn into Bridezilla from time to time.”

“Isn't that the truth,” Gail Gordan said as she joined our conversation. Gail wore her dark hair in a French twist and rarely had a hair out of place. “Don't forget that I coordinated your last wedding.”

Barbie threw her arm around Gail's shoulder. “Who better to plan a wedding planner's wedding than the OWP president herself?”

Gail had managed to be president of the organization more times than anyone on record. No one else had been able to take the internal politics and back-stabbing for more than a year without having a meltdown. Gail survived mainly because she was responsible for most of the internal politics and back-stabbing.

“Great place for the holiday lunch, Gail,” I said.

“Isn't it?” She gestured at the brightly decorated
trees around us. “No one can touch the Willard's Christmas decor.”

“Too bad we didn't get to chat more at the Mayflower on Saturday,” I said. “You and Byron seemed really busy.”

“Byron was a lifesaver.” Gail's cheeks reddened. “We were trying to get our bride over to St. Matthew's Cathedral on time. You know how the monsignor there can be.”

“So you both left with the bride for the church?” I asked.

“Pretty much.” Gail's eyes didn't meet mine. “I got in the limo with the bridal party, and Byron walked over since there wasn't room.”

“Too bad you missed all the drama at the hotel,” Kate said.

Gail bit her lower lip. “Will you excuse me a moment? It looks like our registration desk needs help.”

“Don't take it personally,” Barbie whispered. “She avoids any mention of Carolyn since they had that falling out when they worked together and Carolyn fired her.”

“When was that?” I asked.

Barbie tapped her chin. “About ten years ago, I guess.”

Kate's eyes widened. “And she still can't talk about her?”

“It's been a long healing process.” Barbie drained her wineglass and looked toward the bar. “Does anyone else need another drink?”

We shook our heads as Barbie teetered off, passing a highly agitated Fern heading straight for us.

“This is a disaster,” he said when he reached us. “My model is a no-show.”

“Are you sure?” I asked.

“Well, we start in five minutes and she's nowhere to be found.” Fern wrung his hands. “I'm going to look like a fool in front of every wedding planner in town.”

Kate patted his arm. “Can we do anything?”

“Since you asked, I did have an idea.” Fern gave us his most ingratiating smiles.

I began to shake my head. “Please tell me it isn't what I think it is.”

“You must admit, you'd make a perfect example of a ‘before' look, Annabelle.” Fern took us by the elbows and propelled us through the crowd.

I sighed. “Promise me you won't give me a beehive.”

“And no cutting,” Kate warned.

Fern held up a hand as we reached the door of the Crystal Room. “Scouts' honor. You won't regret this, girls. Trust me.”

Fern pulled open the door and we slipped inside the dimly lit room. With only the light coming through the windows on the opposite wall, the towering pale green marble columns that dominated the room gave an almost eerie glow. Round tables draped in gold cloths took up most of the room except for a space at the front that had been set up with a riser and podium.

“My table is already in place.” Fern led us through the tables toward the riser. “I came early and put all my equipment out so I'd be ready to go as soon as people sat down for lunch. I want to
dazzle everyone before they get too involved in their salads.”

“Good thinking,” Kate said. “Strike while the iron is not.”

“Exactly,” Fern said.

I shook my head and decided not to correct them.

“What is this?” Fern shrieked as he got closer to the front. “My table is a mess.”

He ran the last few steps and stopped short when he reached the riser. He clamped his hands over his mouth. I stepped around him and Kate to get a better look, and I froze when I saw what they were both staring at.

Eleanor Applebaum lay sprawled facedown on the riser with what looked like the cord of a curling iron wrapped around her neck.

This wasn't looking like a good week to be a wedding planner.