To Love and To Perish (8 page)

“I need to order fifty of the daisy clear frosted bags and a roll of the dotty yellow sheer ribbon.” I leaned back in my office chair as I placed my order with Bags & Bows. Kate and I were putting together hotel welcome bags for an upcoming wedding, and the bride's theme for the wedding was daisies.

The bride's bouquet was a clutch of daisies, sugar daisies would cover the wedding cake, and a pressed daisy adorned the top of her custom-made wedding invitations. It only made sense that the gift bags would feature daisies, but I felt very close to ODing on this wedding theme. In this case, Over Daisying.

The doorbell rang as I finished placing the order and hung up the phone. I glanced at the clock on my desk. Twelve-thirty. Too early for Kate to be back from the Container Store. I'd sent her off in the morning to buy bunches of little metal tins
to hold the candies and snacks for the welcome bags.

Of course, it wasn't too early for me to have made it to the shower. I groaned as I looked down at the fleece pants and hoodie I'd thrown on that morning. I'd only intended to return a few phone calls before showering. That had been hours ago and I hadn't budged from my desk.

“Annabelle? Are you there?” I recognized the Scottish accent immediately. Ian.

I felt a wave of panic. I couldn't let him see me like this. “Hold on,” I yelled. “I just got out of the shower.”

I flew down the hall to the bathroom and turned on the shower full blast while I tore off my clothes. I jumped in before testing the water and almost screamed because it was so cold. I danced in and out of the water as I soaped up and rinsed off in record time. I pulled a smoke-blue towel off the rack behind the door and dried myself as I ran to my bedroom.

“I'm coming,” I called out, throwing the towel to the floor and pawing through my underwear drawer. I clearly needed to do laundry because the only thing left in the drawer was the red mesh thong with white fringe that Kate had given me as a gag gift last Christmas.

“Great,” I mumbled as I pulled it on. What kind of sadist designed thongs anyway? Especially ones with fringe.

I tugged on my Seven jeans and a long-sleeved black knit top. A thong and trendy jeans. Kate would be so proud. I ran back into the bathroom
and swept on a coat of mascara, patted my face with pressed powder, and dabbed on some pink lip gloss. Tossing my head over, I fluffed my hair with my fingers then flipped it back up and let it fall into place. I looked in the mirror. Not bad for under five minutes.

“Coming,” I said as I rushed down the hall and skidded to a stop in front of the door. I took a deep breath and opened it.

Ian leaned against the door frame in a pair of jeans and a tight black sweater that zipped in front. His blue eyes held mine as he smiled at me. I felt my knees wobble. Oh boy.

He stepped forward and wrapped one arm around my waist, pressing his body fully against mine. He brushed a strand of hair off my face and ran a finger down my cheek and neck, pausing at the hollow in my throat. My heart pounded so hard that I was sure he could feel it, and I had to remind myself to breathe.

“I've been thinking about you,” he said, barely above a whisper.

I tried to say something but my mouth had gone dry.

“I left you a message earlier, but I decided that I had to come over and see you. I wanted to say hello and apologize in person for missing our date on Sunday.”

If this was how he said hello, I was almost afraid of what would happen on an actual date. “You're forgiven,” I managed to say.

“Is she okay?” Leatrice's voice jolted me from my trance. “Did she faint?”

Leatrice stood behind us in the hall wearing a
Santa sweatshirt and a green elf's cap with bells. I straightened up and took a step back. I had to remember to close the door in this building. Correction. Lock the door.

Ian's arm slipped from my waist and he turned to Leatrice. “She's fine.”

Comprehension dawned on Leatrice's face, and she turned pink under her heavy rouge. “I'll leave you kids alone, then.” She held out some folded-up pages of the newspaper. “I just came up to give Annabelle the newspaper clippings about the murders.”

“Murders?” Ian turned to me, one eyebrow cocked. “That's what the police were doing at your apartment the other day?”

“I meant to tell you but it's been a little crazy,” I said. “A wedding planner was killed at the Mayflower on Saturday and another at the OWP meeting on Monday…the Organization of Wedding Planners.”

Ian's smile faded. “You were at both places?”

Leatrice nodded with enthusiasm. “She found both of the bodies. Isn't that exciting?”

“A coincidence,” I said with a dismissive wave. “I barely even knew the first victim.”

“Two wedding planners being killed in a few days time doesn't seem like a coincidence,” he said.

“Who knew it was such a dangerous job?” Leatrice shook her head. “Annabelle's going to have to start packing heat in her emergency kit.”

I tried not to laugh. Leatrice had been watching cop shows again.

Ian studied me for a second, then took my hand
in his and pressed it to his lips. “You'll be careful?”

“Of course.” My voice came out as barely a squeak.

Ian gave me a slow wink. “Maybe you need a bodyguard.”

“That's a great idea!” Leatrice bounced up and down on her toes, the bells of her elf cap jingling. “I could stay with you at night with my pepper spray and safety horn.”

“No,” I said a little too forcefully. “I'll be fine.”

Ian leaned in close to me. “Maybe I should come over tonight and check on you just in case.”

“Sure,” I said. “Oh, wait. I forgot that I have to go to an industry party. I promised Richard I'd be there since he's catering.”

“What about afterward?”

“Okay. I should be back by nine.”

Ian stroked the top of my hand. “Until tonight, then.” He kissed me lightly on the cheek, then left, closing the door behind him and leaving Leatrice inside.

She clapped her hands together. “This is so exciting, dear. It's been ages since you've had a date.”

“How do you know?”

Leatrice raised an eyebrow at me. “I am the president of the neighborhood watch, remember?”

How could I forget? She asked visitors for their ID in the hall, and once she'd almost made a citizen's arrest when she thought a pizza boy looked suspicious.

“It's no big deal,” I said.

“Are you kidding?” Leatrice began gathering the papers on my coffee table, making little jingling noises as she cleaned. “We need to do some serious work on this place before tonight. And you are planning on doing something with your hair, aren't you?”

“Of course. I've been working all morning and I just got out of the shower. I didn't have time to fix my hair yet.” Why was I explaining this to Leatrice?

She gave me a relieved smile. “That's good to know, dear. Now where do you keep your cleaning supplies?” She paused and looked worried. “You do have cleaning supplies, don't you?”

Before I could protest, the phone in my office rang. I rushed down the hall and grabbed it before the call went to voice mail.

“Wedding Belles. This is Annabelle.”

“Annabelle, it's Gail.”

It took me a second to connect the voice to the OWP president. “Hi, Gail.” I tried not to sound surprised that she'd called. Gail rarely made time for any of the new planners like me.

“Are you going to Maxwell's housewarming party for his new studio?”

“I planned to stop by,” I said hesitantly. Since when did Gail care if I would be at an industry event?

“I heard you and Kate were trying to find out information about Carolyn.” She lowered her voice. “I can't talk now but I have some information you might want.”

People thought we were snooping around in
the murder investigation? That was the last thing we needed. “What kind of information?”

“Now isn't a good time. Someone could overhear me. Find me at the party.”

Like that would be a good place for a quiet conversation. She probably wanted to tell me dirt I'd already heard. “I'm not really interested in more idle industry gossip, Gail.”

“This isn't gossip. It's information that the police will want to hear and that Byron Wolfe would kill to keep quiet.”

The phone went dead, and I dropped into my chair. Information that Byron would kill to keep from the police? Maybe he already had.

“Gail really said that?” Kate asked as she maneuvered her car through the streets around U Street to find parking. Maxwell's new studio was in a loft near U Street, an area that had recently gone through a transformation from scary to stylish. “Why would she rat out her own partner?”

“They aren't really partners. They buddy up a lot.”

“Still. I thought they were thick as leaves.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Do you mean thick as thieves?”

“Whatever.” Kate wedged her car into a marginally legal parking space. “Byron must have really done something to tick off Gail if she's willing to implicate him in the murders.”

I stepped out of the car and readjusted my black wrap dress. “She didn't say that the information implicated him in the murders, only that he would kill to keep it quiet.”

“Same thing.” Kate clicked the alarm on her car and walked around to join me on the sidewalk. Her snug red angora sweater didn't leave anything to the imagination, but at least she'd paired it with simple black pants. Even if they were pretty form-fitting.

“It would be nice to find out something besides reasons why Carolyn and Eleanor would want to knock off each other,” I said.

“No kidding. So far everything we've learned proves how much the two women hated each other.” Kate led the way down the sidewalk, and I tried to keep up in my high heels. Now I remembered why I loved wearing flats, even though these shoes did make my legs look great. “Which would be helpful if they weren't both dead.”

We reached a brick building with an arched entrance and Kate punched in a code on the entry keypad. The door buzzed and we went inside.

“Maxwell is at the top, right?” Kate looked around the small foyer for an elevator, and then her eyes settled on the staircase in front of us.

I sighed and slipped off my shoes. “The fifth floor.”

We trudged up silently and paused to catch our breath when we reached the top.

“I really need to go to the gym,” Kate panted.

“Do you belong to a gym?” I asked, slipping my shoes back on and pressing the doorbell.

“Fine. So I need to join a gym, too.”

The door opened, and Jim smiled when he saw us. Richard's top banquet captain was tall and thin with a shaved head and pale blue eyes. I'd
never seen him wearing anything but a tuxedo, and I had a hard time imagining him looking less than formal.

“Hey Jim, how's it going?” I stepped inside the studio.

Jim darted a glance over his shoulder. “Let me say that Richard will be glad to see you two.”

“That doesn't sound encouraging,” Kate said.

“I never knew that wedding planners could be so demanding.” Jim shook his head. “Or drink so much.”

“You'd be surprised.” I took a look around the room.

With high ceilings, hardwood floors, and minimalist chrome and black furniture, the penthouse loft looked every bit the photographer's studio. It was a nice change from Maxwell's old office, which had been decorated to look like a harem. Of course, the harem look fit his personality better. I wondered how his seduction routine would work in such stark surroundings.

I gave the crowd a cursory glance and saw the usual suspects. It looked like an OWP meeting with dimmer lights and fancier clothes. I reminded myself that I definitely wanted to stay alert tonight because parties for people who planned parties usually got pretty wild. Maybe the fact that we could rarely attend a party and actually have a drink made wedding planners get a little out of control. Whatever the reason, I'd seen enough at past parties to know to keep my wits about me.

Richard saw us from across the room and
rushed over. “Remind me never to cater an industry party again. Party planners are the worst guests.”

Kate suppressed a smile. “They're giving you trouble?”

“Some of the guests are complaining that there are too many carbs, while the vegetarians are upset that there's too much meat. They're impossible.” Richard held up his hands. “And the worst part is they're all three sheets to the wind and starting to get way too friendly with each other.”

Kate tugged at my sleeve. “Is that Alexandra dirty dancing in the corner with Maxwell's assistant?”

I cringed as I recognized our favorite cake baker getting very friendly with the handsome Latin photographer. They both looked pretty tipsy and were getting friendlier by the moment. I looked at my watch. “How late are we?”

“People arrived early and haven't given the bartenders a moment's rest,” Richard said. “It isn't pretty. Frankly, I can't believe I wore Dolce & Gabana for this.”

A waiter came up and whispered in Richard's ear. He gave an impatient sigh. “I don't know why I bother to write up event timelines if no one reads them. I'll be right back.” He pointed a finger at me. “Don't even think of leaving.”

Kate turned to me after Richard left. “Should we try to fight our way to the bar?”

“Yoo hoo!” Fern's voice carried above the crowd, and I recognized the enormous rings on his hand waving above people's heads. “Over here, girls.”

We pushed our way to where Fern stood next
to a high-top table draped in silver lamé. He wore a green velvet suit with a tapered jacket and peg pants, and had an enormous opal pendant around his neck.

He pulled us close to him. “I would have come over to you but this crowd is getting a little rowdy, and some of the women have been giving me funny looks.”

“How drunk are these people?” Kate said.

“Well, our host has been knocking back martinis since I arrived.” Fern motioned to where Maxwell sat on a dark leather couch with a woman in a low-cut black dress draped over him. His long blond hair was feathered off his face and he wore his gray silk shirt open almost to his waist. He reminded me of a slightly geriatric Fabio. “He's been getting quite friendly with that woman on his lap.”

“That's Stephanie Burke.” I put my hand over my mouth. I hadn't recognized her right away with her hair pulled up. Her trademark was her wild mane of curly hair, and she didn't look like herself with a sleek bun. “She's one of the newest wedding planners in the city. I didn't even know that she knew Maxwell.”

Kate smirked. “It looks like she does now.”

I shook my head “Poor thing. She hasn't been in the business long enough to know about his reputation.”

“We could warn her if you happen to have a crowbar to pry them apart,” Kate said.

“At least she's in good company,” I said. “Half of the planners in this room have fallen prey to his charms.”

Kate made a face. “I know he was supposed to
be handsome when he was younger, but he must be at least fifty or sixty by now.”

“I don't think he's gotten the memo,” Fern said. He made a megaphone with his hands. “If your chest hair is gray, doll, it's time to button up the shirt.”

I averted my eyes from Maxwell. “Is there anyone he hasn't made a move on?”

Kate nudged me. “Lucille and Margery.”

“I wouldn't be so sure,” I said. “He's an equal opportunity Casanova.”

“No, I meant look, it's Lucille and Margery.”

“You're kidding.” I peered through the crowd to where the women sat at a cocktail table looking like the only other sober people at the party. “I didn't think Lucille could manage to look sadder, but she does.”

“I don't blame her,” Fern said. “She did just lose her job.”

Kate and I turned to him. “What?”

“Didn't you hear? Carolyn's husband inherited the Wedding Shoppe and decided to sell the business. He gave everyone notice this morning. I guess the business won't close right away, but they have to find new jobs soon.”

“That's horrible,” I said. “Poor Lucille and Margery. They've worked there for almost twenty years.”

“I didn't even know Carolyn was married,” Kate said.

“I don't think she and her husband got along too well,” Fern said. “She would be spinning in her grave if she knew he planned to sell the business she spent years building.”

“I would have thought she'd leave it to Lucille and Margery.” Kate glanced over at the two subdued women. “After all their hard work, it would have been the nice thing to do. Especially if she didn't get along with her husband.”

“I doubt she thought she'd die so soon,” I reminded her. “And Carolyn wasn't known for being fair or nice.”

Fern's mouth twitched up in a smirk. “She probably planned to take everything with her. We always say that this is a job from hell.”

“But why get rid of it so fast?” Kate shook her head. “I'm sure the store makes a decent profit.”

“He must not have wanted to run a wedding planning company,” I said. “Even a successful one.”

Fern tucked an errant strand of dark hair back into his ponytail. “I wonder who the buyer is.”

“Whoever it is, they snapped it up pretty fast.” I tapped my chin. “I guess now we know who benefited most from Carolyn's death.”

“Her husband or the person who bought the business?” Kate asked.

“Both, I guess,” I said. “Are you thinking what I'm thinking?”

“We need to find out who was so eager to buy the Wedding Shoppe,” Kate said.

Fern rubbed his hands together. “I think we have some new suspects.”