Better Off Wed (16 page)

“I'm telling you, Annabelle. Maxwell sounded upset that you took the proofs.” Kate stood outside the bathroom and spoke through the door. We'd survived the night together, but we were having a hard time negotiating time in the one bathroom.

“You talked to him?”

“While you were in the shower just now. He said he left a couple of messages yesterday, too.”

“Did you tell him that I got run off the road and had to be taken to the hospital?” I dried off and put on my plush Willard Hotel bathrobe, last year's Christmas gift from their catering department. “Otherwise I'd have returned them right away.”

“I tried, but he kept talking about how upset the clients were when they couldn't see the photos. Should I call the bride and explain that we gave them to the police?”

“Don't bother.” Not likely to do any good, anyway.
A bride would cut you slack only if you produced a death certificate. “I'll be out in a couple of minutes and I'll deal with it.”

I wrapped a smoke-blue towel around my hair like a turban, trying not to make it too tight. The shower had washed off the last bits of makeup and the knot on my head shone like a shiny new penny. Maybe I'd let Kate have a go at downplaying it with pouty lips.

“Thanks for taking this morning's phone calls.” I passed the office on the way to my bedroom.

Kate had the phone pressed to her ear and she rolled her eyes, mouthing the words “Alice Freakmont.” Mrs. Pierce's death had elevated Alice Freemont to the role of our most demanding client. We called her Freakmont because she called at least once a day to freak out about something.

“What is it this time?” I whispered.

Kate covered the mouthpiece with her hand. “Is it okay for her bridal attendants to go bare-legged in July?”

“Tell her the latest trend is for bridesmaids to wear nothing at all under their gowns.”

Kate held the phone at arm's length while she laughed. Just the thought of Alice, arguably the biggest priss on the planet, telling her bridesmaids to go naked under their formal, A-line dresses made me feel better.

I continued into my bedroom and stepped out of my robe. I pulled on a white fitted T-shirt with my favorite jeans and did a deep knee bend to stretch out the seat. A little tight but wearable. I had to stop letting Richard cook. He didn't know how to make anything with less than a stick of butter.

“Yoo-hoo, anyone home?” Speak of the devil.

I stuck my head into the hallway and saw Richard
coming toward me in a navy suit. “We're conservative today, aren't we?”

He opened the jacket and flashed the melon-orange lining. “Fooled you. This is my mood-swing suit.”

Kate stepped out of the office. “Just what you need.”

Richard buttoned the jacket back up. “What are we up to today, ladies?”

“I have big plans to do nothing,” I said. “I'm still recuperating from yesterday, and I promised Reese I would stay out of trouble.”

“You were serious about that?” Richard followed me into the kitchen. “The other times you promised to stop snooping around you never did.”

“But now we have the clue that proves how the murderer poisoned Mrs. Pierce,” I said.

“So now you don't care about finding out who killed her?”

“You heard the detective,” I insisted. “They caught the killer.”

“But you aren't totally convinced, are you?” Richard gave me a suspicious look. I could tell he didn't trust me not to run off and try to solve the murder.

“My gut tells me the killer is still on the loose,” I shrugged. “If you have any bright ideas how to figure out who it is without making my head pound, I'm all ears.”

“We've talked to everyone involved in the case.” Kate squeezed by me and leaned against the counter.

“How much more will we really be able to find out?”

“We're the only ones who think the murderer is still at large.” Richard shook his head. “Maybe we're wrong.”

“To be honest, we can't afford to spend any more time running around looking for clues.” I poured my
self a cup of lukewarm coffee. “Kate and I have another wedding this weekend, which we've hardly had time to think about.”

“Luckily the bride and groom are laid back and the whole thing has been planned for months,” Kate said.

“I talked to them this morning. The rehearsal is still set for six o'clock tonight.”

I smacked myself on the head, then instantly regretted it. “I forgot about the rehearsal.”

“Don't worry about it, Annabelle.” Kate waved her hand. “I'm going to run it for you. You're not in any shape to deal with rowdy groomsmen at this point.”

“Thanks. You're right.” I sighed. “But I feel like there's something else I've forgotten about. Something important.”

Richard cleared his throat and pointed over the counter to the pile of plastic tuxedo bags stacked on the arm of the couch. “They've been sitting here for almost a week. Are you planning on keeping them?”

I cringed. “That's what I forgot to do. Return the tuxedos from the Pierce wedding. The fines will be more than the cost to rent them in the first place.”

“Maybe if you explain the whole story, the guy at the tuxedo shop will give you a break,” Kate said. “Don't you know him pretty well?”

“Yes, and after all the weddings I've sent him, he should let me have the tuxedos outright.”

“Do you want to go now and return them? I'll take you.” Richard, sounding eager to have a mission, went to gather up the garment bags. “I don't have anything to do since I'm still under police orders not to work.”

“Should you be going out so soon, Annabelle?” Kate asked.

I put my cup in the sink. “I'll be fine.”

“Okay, I'll hold down the fork while you're gone.”

Richard opened the door and let me pass. A smirk curled the side of his mouth. “Now that I'd like to see.”

“Sauro's is two blocks down on the left.” We exited Dupont Circle onto Nineteenth Street and drove past a series of formal restaurants catering to business executives. Waiters were sweeping off the sidewalks in front. Warm enough to eat outside if you could handle the exhaust fumes.

“I'll drop you off, then circle the block for street parking.”

I'd have been finished before he found a space. Not the easiest place in the world to park. “Why don't you park in one of the garages?”

“No, thank you. The last time I let a parking attendant have my car he readjusted the seats, reprogrammed my radio, and jammed my roof open.”

“That's right. I remember it rained that day.”

“Exactly.” Richard pressed his lips together as he pulled over. “I looked like an absolute fool driving around in a convertible holding an umbrella.”

“Fair enough.” I stepped out onto the curb, dragging the garment bags behind me. “I'll be waiting.”

I pushed the glass door to Sauro Custom Tailor open with my hip. Mr. Sauro appeared from the back of the shop and took the bags from me, laying them out across the counter.

“Another successful wedding?” He flashed me a smile as he thumbed through the bags, moving his lips as he counted. Mr. Sauro looked the same as he always did, a tape measure around his neck and silvery hair showing traces of once being dark. His hands were worn from hemming and tucking thousands of suits over the years. I wondered how many grooms he'd seen come through his store.

“You could say that,” I said. Most people who knew Mrs. Pierce would call it a great success.

“Almost a week late.” He gave a low whistle, and then winked at me. “Don't worry about it.”

“Thanks, Mr. Sauro. I promise it won't happen again.”

He waved off my apologies and opened the top bag. “Let me check the pockets. Don't want to end up with an extra wallet.”

“I haven't even opened the bags, so I hope all the components are there.” I sat down on the step stool in front of the wall-length mirrors and watched Mr. Sauro hang the suits on a metal bar as he inspected them.

“When will we see your groom in here picking out his wedding clothes?”

“Not for a while.” I felt myself blush. “I'm too busy with work right now to think about marriage.”

Mr. Sauro made clucking noises. “I have a feeling the right man will walk into your life soon.”

Richard swung open the glass door and stumbled into the shop. “The best spot I could find is two blocks away in an alley. I'm starting to perspire.”

“Well, we're almost finished here.” I stood up so Richard could sit on the stool.

“Take your time. I'm not going back out there until I cool down.” Richard took off his jacket and fanned himself with a brochure for After Six formalwear. “One drop of sweat and this shirt will be ruined.”

“A cigarette lighter and an empty plastic baggy.” Mr. Sauro held up the two items. “That's all I found in the pockets.”

I took both from him as he went into the back of the store. I rolled the thin, silver lighter my palm. Not the cheap, drugstore variety. I would need to call around and try to find its owner. I began to wad up the plastic bag when some white powder fell out onto my hand. I opened the bag and shook it, causing a small pile of white to gather in the pointy corner.

“Richard, take a look at this.”

“You've never seen a sandwich bag before?” Richard held his shirt away from his body with his fingertips.

“Not one with white stuff like this in it. Besides, why would one of the men have a sandwich baggy in his pocket?”

Richard walked over and took the bag from me “Well, what do you think it is?”

“I think it's poison.”

Richard shrieked as though he'd been burned and dropped the bag to the floor. “How could you let me touch it? I've been contaminated. Where's a sink? I need to get this off my hands.”

“Not that kind of poison,” I said. “The blood-pressure medication that caused Mrs. Pierce to die.”

Richard reached down and retrieved the bag, holding it away from him by the edges. “So whoever killed her carried the straws around in this bag, waiting for the right time to drop them in her drink?”

“It makes sense, doesn't it? If only we could determine whose tuxedo this came from, but they're all alike.”

“Were Dr. Pierce's and Dr. Harriman's tuxedos both in the pile we returned?” Richard ran a fingertip along the row of hanging black jackets.

I nodded. “The bride wanted all the men to match so she asked her father and stepfather to rent the same style as the groom and groomsmen. I counted eight tuxedos total, so they're all here. It could have been either of them.”

Richard jerked his hand away from the tuxedos. “Think about it, Annabelle. The murderer's clothes have been sitting in your apartment all week, and we didn't even know it.”

“The question is, does the murderer know I've been sitting on this evidence?” I carried Richard's suit jacket in one hand and the plastic baggy in the other. He walked in front of me, taking up most of the sidewalk by holding his arms out so they wouldn't touch his body.

“That would explain why you've been a target.”

“It didn't even occur to me that the killer's clothes were in that pile of tuxedos. Now I understand why someone broke into my apartment.”

“Why did he put his tuxedo in with the others to be returned if he didn't want anyone to find the evidence?”

“Maybe he forgot about the baggy in all the commotion following the murder.” We rounded the corner into a narrow alley where Richard's car sat between two
TOW AWAY ZONE
signs. A white slip of paper peeked from underneath his windshield wiper.

“There's no such thing as the perfect crime.”

Richard took the parking ticket from the windshield and folded it without looking inside. “Don't they say that when a murder is committed the killer makes a hundred mistakes?”

“Something like that.” I opened the passenger door. “Aren't you going to look at the ticket?”

“It's a fake. I always put that out when I park illegally.”

“I wouldn't suggest using it when we park at the police station.”

“You're serious about going there now, Annabelle?”

“We should give this evidence to Reese as soon as possible.” I lowered myself into the leather seat. “I'm not crazy about the idea of hanging on to it any longer than I already have.”

“But isn't this more evidence against Dr. Harriman, the person we don't think did it?”

I shrugged. “I guess so, but it could've been Dr. Pierce just as easily.”

“Or any one of the groomsmen.”

“Why would the groomsmen want to kill the bride's mother?” I raised an eyebrow. “They didn't even know her.”

“Just a thought,” Richard mumbled. “They did meet her, after all. After I met Mrs. Pierce the first time, I wanted to kill her.”

I rubbed my temples. “Just drive.”

“I'm warning you.” Richard eased the car out of the alley and edged his way into traffic. “The District Two police station isn't glamorous, and it certainly isn't clean.”

“We won't stay long. I'll just hand this over and leave. I don't want to take up time the police could be using to build their case.”

“So now you're admitting that Dr. Harriman might be the killer?” Richard drove around Dupont Circle and headed down Massachusetts Avenue, passing embassy after embassy.

“Finding the traces of poison in the tuxedo rules out our female suspects. Mrs. Boyd may have threatened to kill Mrs. Pierce, and Bev may have wanted her beloved best friend out of the way, but a man carried the poison straws in his pocket.”

“Such a shame, too. Helen Boyd would have made a spectacular Lady Macbeth.”

“The killer also had to know which medicine Mrs. Pierce took, which drug would kill her when mixed with her medication, and have easy access to prescription drugs.”

Richard went around another traffic circle without slowing. “Which both Harriman and Pierce did, since they'd both lived with her and they're both doctors.”

“But of the two, only Harriman had access to Mr. Boyd before the tasting, so he could have killed both victims.”

“Which means that someone else tried to run you off the road.”

“Maybe he sent his new wife to deal with me once he was arrested. But he seemed so pleasant when Kate and I talked to him at the bride's house.”

Richard drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “A real Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. How did he know you'd have the tuxedos, though?”

“I announced to all the men in the wedding that they should leave their formalwear with the coat check at the end of the night and I'd return them. He must have
forgotten all about the baggy when he dropped off his tuxedo.”

“Probably too excited about Mrs. Pierce's death.” Richard sped through a yellow light to cross Wisconsin Avenue, and then veered off into a neighborhood with alternating colonial and Cape Cod-style houses. After several blocks, he slowed and parallel parked beside a low brick building with several police cruisers in the adjoining lot. Grass covered the front lawn of the building, and a web of tree branches provided shade for the cars. Not how I'd imagined an urban police station.

“This isn't so bad, Richard.” I stepped out of the car and crossed the street. I didn't see the bustle of police officers and shady characters I'd expected. It looked almost deserted. “From the way you described it, I thought there would be convicts in leg shackles being dragged away for floggings.”

“Where did you get that absurd idea?” Richard strolled across the street buttoning his jacket. “I stand by my assessment of the bathrooms, though.”

We walked up the sidewalk to the glass double doors. As Richard reached for the metal push bars, both doors flew open. A group of officers rushed past us. Richard stumbled backward onto the pavement, and I tripped over him, landing cleanly in his lap.

“I don't believe it.”

I gazed up at the source of the deep, mocking voice. Reese. Who else? I tried to push myself off of Richard, who made high-pitched gasping noises. Reese pulled me up by one hand with such strength that I bumped against his chest. I'd never been so close to him before. I backed away and felt my cheeks flush.

“We were looking for you, Detective. We wanted to give you this.” I held out the plastic baggy.

Reese took the bag and cocked an eyebrow. “Thanks. I can never get too many of these.”

“For heaven's sake, Annabelle.” Richard stood up and flicked specks of dirt off his hands. “Stop blushing like a schoolgirl and explain what it is.”

I shot daggers at Richard. “We found it in the pocket of one of the wedding tuxedos. We think the killer used it to carry the straws filled with poison.”

“See the white powder in the bottom?” Richard poked at the bag with his pinkie finger.

Reese held the bag up. “Whose tux did it come from?”

“That's where things get confusing.” Richard twisted to dust off the seat of his pants. “Annabelle collected all the tuxedos from the wedding party and the fathers. They've been sitting in her apartment since Monday night, waiting to be returned.”

“After the burglary,” Reese said.

Richard took a step toward Reese. “We think the killer remembered the evidence in his jacket and came looking for it. But we hadn't yet brought them in from my car, so he didn't find anything.”

“Did they all realize that you would have the tuxedos, Annabelle?”

“I told all the men who were part of the wedding that I'd take their clothes back to the shop for them.”

“Pretty nice of you.” Reese gave me a half grin. “Do you do that for all weddings?”

I returned his smile. “I told you I'm full service.”

“Does the bag help at all, Detective?” Richard took off his jacket. I noticed Reese's eyes pause on the orange lining.

“I'll have the lab run some tests on it. I have a feeling you're right about this powder. Combined with the evidence we have from Boyd's murder, this should lock Dr. Harriman away for a long time.”

“You determined that he killed Boyd, too?” Richard hooked his jacket on his finger and swung it over his shoulder.

“Mr. Boyd died from an overdose of a cardiovascular drug, not poisoned soup. We found the needle mark.” Reese gave Richard a quick nod. “You're off the hook.”

Richard gave an exaggerated sigh of relief. “Free at last.” You'd have thought he'd been locked in solitary confinement for a month.

“That explains everything but my accident.” I looked between Richard and Reese. “We still have to figure out who tried to kill me.”

“I don't think you have anything to worry about, Annabelle.” Reese squeezed my arm. “You can hang up your detective badge. Our case against Dr. Harriman is airtight.”