For Better or Hearse (14 page)

“Where have you been?” Kate lay sprawled out on my couch wearing faded boot-cut jeans and a pink baby doll T-shirt. Her shoes were scattered on the floor and the new issue of Martha Stewart
Weddings
lay open on her lap. “I've been waiting for ages.”

When I'd given Kate a key to my apartment for emergency purposes, I hadn't imagined this being one of the disaster scenarios. “I had to get my car from the Fairmont. Leatrice and I ran into some trouble.”

“Leatrice?” Kate sat up. “Why would you take her…oh, hi, Leatrice.”

Leatrice still held tight to Ian's bare arm as they followed me inside. “Kate, dear. Have you met Ian?”

Kate looked at me, then looked at Ian wearing nothing but a tight black tank, and she arched a perfectly penciled eyebrow. “Looks like you had a more exciting day than I did.”

Leatrice rushed over to Kate and clutched her arm. “Would you believe that I got locked in a freezer?”

“A freezer? Where were you again?” Kate asked.

Leatrice pulled Kate down on the couch and readjusted Ian's shirt over her shoulders. “I gave Annabelle a ride to the hotel to pick up her car.”

“Leatrice insisted on seeing the murder scene,” I explained, clearing space on the cluttered dining room table for my purse. “And guess who we ran into while we were there?”

“Not a very pleasant man.” Leatrice wrinkled her nose. “What was his name?”

“Mr. Elliott,” I said.

Kate sat up straight. “You bumped into the general manager? What was he like? Could you tell he had plugs?”

I shuddered. “Like rows of corn.”

“That's what that was?” Leatrice shook her head. “I thought he had a condition that made his hair grow funny.”

“Mr. Elliott is pretty much like everyone describes him. Not very likable, and even less so when we mentioned the murders,” I said. “I don't see why everyone at the hotel thinks he's incapable of murder. He seems the type to me.”

“Elliott is a coward.” Ian scowled. “He's known for getting other folks to do his dirty work.”

Leatrice touched his hand. “Oh, do you know him, dear?”

“We go back a few years,” Ian said. “There's no love lost between us, I can assure you.”

Ian seemed to have more connections at the Fairmont than I'd realized. I wondered if anyone knew the whole story behind his past there, since he seemed reluctant to share. I made a mental note to ask Richard.
He'd forgotten more gossip about the event industry than most people in Washington had ever known.

“So how did you go from the Colonnade room to being locked in a freezer?” Kate asked.

“We ran into Darcy on her way to the cafeteria.” I walked over and moved a pile of magazines out of the seat of a chair so I could sit down. “Leatrice got distracted by the pastry chef and stayed with him in the kitchen while Darcy and I grabbed coffee down the hall.”

“Let me tell the rest.” Leatrice bounced up and down where she sat. “I watched the chef make these adorable miniature cakes. They looked exactly like wedding cakes, only for midgets.”

I'd never heard individual wedding cakes explained quite like that before.

“After he left, I stayed behind to look at all of the fancy appliances,” Leatrice continued. “The next thing I knew, someone pushed me into the giant freezer and locked the door. If Ian and Annabelle hadn't found me, I'd be a Leatrice-sickle.”

“It was Ian's idea to look in the freezer.” I smiled at Ian and noticed that his eyes were locked on me. I felt my cheeks flush and looked away. “We're lucky he knows so much about the hotel.”

Kate studied Ian for a second. “Lucky you were in the hotel. You're sure you don't still work there?”

“Ian's in a band, Kate.” Leatrice smiled. “He told me all about it on the way over here. Apparently the eighties are really hot now. Who knew I was back in style after all these years?”

I decided not to explain the concept of an eighties cover band to Leatrice. It would take way too long.

“We think someone knew we were in the hotel asking questions and pushed me in as a warning.” Leatrice readjusted her aviator scarf around her neck.

I glanced at Leatrice's scarf and goggles and shook my head. “Mr. Elliott, most likely, although I'm sure word got around fast that we were there.”

“Or the girl who was asking all the questions about the case,” Leatrice said.

“Darcy has been helping us, Leatrice,” I explained. “She's on our side, I promise.”

Leatrice shrugged. “People can surprise you. Don't you remember that older man with the heavy accent who used to live here? He disappeared only a few days after I saw him on one of those shows about former Nazis who were in hiding.”

“He didn't vanish, Leatrice. He moved away. And he was from Russia, not Germany.” I turned back to Kate. “So, did you have any luck today?”

“You might say that.” Kate stood up and headed to the kitchen. “I'm thirsty. Anyone want anything?”

Leatrice and Ian both shook their heads no. I followed her into the kitchen and stood behind her as she studied the contents of my refrigerator. “Well, are you going to tell me, or what?”

Kate put a finger over her lips. “I'm not so sure we should be telling everyone what we're discovering. First your car disappears, then another chef is murdered, and now Leatrice gets pushed in a freezer? I'm on Richard's side. I don't like the way this is going.”

“You're afraid to say anything in front of Leatrice and Ian?” I whispered.

“Not Leatrice, of course. Not that I'd put it past her to create a crime that she could solve.” Kate found a can of Diet Coke behind stacks of Chinese take-out
cartons and popped it open. “I don't trust Ian. I mean, what do we really know about this guy except that he seems to be at the Fairmont every time we turn around?”

“He did used to work there.”

“Exactly my point.”

“Not only is Ian the one who helped me find Leatrice, but he doesn't have dark hair.” I peeked my head through the opening between the two rooms and saw Leatrice inspecting Ian's tattoos. “He's been nothing but nice since the beginning. I certainly don't believe he has anything to do with the murders. First Leatrice suspects Darcy of being a killer, and now you think Ian might have done it. I think we have enough suspects with real motives to worry about without dreaming up new ones.”

“You're probably right. You certainly couldn't mistake that hair for brown, even at a distance.”

“I was planning on asking Richard if he knew any gossip about Ian, anyway.” I sighed. “Will that make you happy?”

“Good thinking. If he's done anything remotely interesting in the metropolitan area in the past ten years, Richard will know,” Kate said. “And you won't see me standing in the way of a possible romance between you and a tattooed rock star who wears a skirt. I wouldn't miss seeing Richard go into cardiac arrest for all the brie in China.”

She was right. Richard would have a fit if I started dating Ian. He considered himself the arbiter of my nonexistent love life, and I knew Ian wasn't his idea of a suitable match. Not that he'd approved of any of the would-be suitors I'd tried to scrape up in the past few years.

“Is that the business line ringing?” Kate craned her head around the corner.

“I'll get it.” I darted out of the kitchen and down the hall. The phone was only on the third ring when I snatched it off my desk. “Wedding Belles, this is Annabelle.”

“Annabelle, it's Detective Reese.”

“Detective?” My pulse fluttered, and I steadied my voice. “What did you think of the videotape?”

“Not much. The plastic case was empty.”

“What?” I stammered. “That's impossible. I know it was there when I brought it to you. Maybe someone at the station misplaced it.”

“Another conspiracy theory?” He laughed harshly. “Listen, Annabelle. I appreciate that you think you're trying to help your friend and that you really believe she's innocent, but I think she'd be better off without your help.”

I felt like I'd been punched in the stomach. “But we found evidence that proves she couldn't have been the murderer. It was on that tape. You have to find it.”

“We don't have time for a scavenger hunt right now.” His voice was firm. “We're running a murder investigation.”

“I understand that, but—”

“I don't think you do understand. We've been compiling evidence and testimony, and all of it points to Miss Rhodes.”

“But she's being set up,” I cried. “Don't you see that? How do you explain another murder at the hotel while she was in custody?”

“We found no evidence that Gunter's death was anything more than an accident.”

“Oh, come on.” I couldn't keep the irritation out of
my voice. “Two deaths in less than a week and you think it's a coincidence?”

“I didn't call you to debate this.”

“Then don't let me keep you, Detective,” I snapped, and hung up the phone. My hands shook with anger and I felt tears prick the back of my eyes.

“Is everything okay?” Kate peeked around the doorway.

“No.” I dropped the phone back on my desk. “That was Detective Reese calling to say that the video wasn't in the case we dropped off and telling me not to waste any more of his time.”

Kate's eyes widened. “You're kidding. Our evidence is gone? Now what do we do?”

“Well, the police won't help us. They won't even listen to us anymore.” I shrugged. “It's up to us to find the real killer on our own or Georgia's going to prison for murder.”

“Would anyone care to explain to me what those two are doing here?” Richard appeared in the office doorway and jerked a thumb in the direction of Leatrice and Ian in the living room.

Kate jumped. “Don't sneak up on people like that.”

“Sorry,” Richard said. “The door was open. Leatrice and Ian are debating where she should get her first tattoo, and you're out of your mind if you think I'm going to be a part of that discussion. The idea alone will give me nightmares for weeks.”

I glanced at my open desk calendar. “Do we have a meeting I forgot about?”

Richard narrowed his eyes at Kate. “I was summoned for an urgent discussion about some new evidence. I was also instructed to bring empanadas, so this had better be good.”

My stomach growled at the sight of the burgeoning white paper bag in Richard's hand. “Are those Julia's Empanadas?”

The hole-in-the-wall empanada shops decorated in neon yellow and red didn't look like much from the outside, but they turned out some of the most decadent savory pastries in the city. I'd developed a serious addiction to the spinach and cheese variety, while Kate loved the one filled with sweet pear. We were lucky they didn't have a shop within walking distance or we'd have to enter a twelve-step program or Weight Watchers.

Richard clutched the bag close. “Yes, but no empanadas for anyone until I know what's going on.”

“Yoo-hoo.” Leatrice's voice carried down the hallway. “We're going to run downstairs for a second. Ian's never seen a real police scanner before. Anyone want to join us?”

“No, thanks,” I called out, sticking my head into the hall. “You two have fun without us.”

“Suit yourself, dear.” Leatrice had Ian by the hand as she pulled him out the door.

Ian gave me a wink and a helpless shrug as he disappeared from view. I almost felt sorry for him, but better him getting the scanner tutorial than me. Once the door closed, I led Kate and Richard to the living room.

Richard gave my dining room table a cursory glance. “Have you ever actually used this?”

“Don't be ridiculous. Of course I have.”

“For dining?” Richard asked.

I stuck my tongue out at him and began clearing the papers off the table. “We can use it now.”

Richard dropped the paper bag on the table and disappeared into the kitchen. Once he was out of sight, Kate delved into the bag, pulling out empanadas wrapped in translucent sheets of white paper.

“They're still warm,” she moaned.

Richard emerged with a stack of plates, silverware, and paper napkins and began setting the table as I cleaned it off. He pushed Kate out of the way and arranged all the empanadas on a dinner plate in the center of the table, then took a seat at the head.

“Now before anyone takes a bite, I want some explanations,” he announced as Kate and I took chairs opposite each other. “Don't think I don't know what's been going on, Annabelle.”

I threw my hands in the air. “Nothing has happened with Ian, I swear. Nothing yet, at least. Yes, I agreed to go out with him, but I'm not even sure if we're still on.”

“What?” Richard's mouth fell open. “You're seriously considering dating a straight man who owns leather pants? Have I taught you nothing?”

“I can't believe you told Richard,” Kate muttered, taking a golden brown empanada from the plate and shaking her head.

“I thought that's what we were talking about.” I gulped.

“Well, it is now.” Richard shook a finger at me. “I've seen you make some dating blunders, Annabelle, but nothing on this scale before.”

“Talk about the pot calling the kettle back,” Kate said under her breath.

Richard faced Kate. “Don't even get me started on your dating life. We don't have the time.”

“Hey, I'm on your side,” Kate said. “I think Ian is all wrong for her.”

I picked out a spinach empanada and cut into it, letting the steam escape. “You also think he should be one of our suspects.”

“Which is one of the main reasons I think he's all wrong for you,” Kate mumbled through a mouthful of food.

Richard stared at Kate. “Why would he want to kill Henri?”

Kate shrugged. “I haven't worked that part out. It just seems like he happens to turn up whenever Annabelle is at the hotel. Including today when Leatrice coincidentally got locked in a freezer.”

“I heard you were at the Fairmont today.” Richard shook a finger at me. “I thought you were letting Kate do the snooping from now on.”

I didn't bother to ask Richard how he knew. He always had his sources.

“I was,” I explained. “But they found my car, and Leatrice was the only person around to give me a ride to the hotel.”

“She drives?” Richard gasped.

“Sort of,” I said. “Anyway, she ended up getting pushed into a walk-in freezer and Ian helped me find her.”

“This is exactly why I said you shouldn't meddle in this murder business anymore.” Richard rapped his hand on the table. “I hate being right all the time.”

“Don't get all worked up,” I said. “Ian found Leatrice before it was too late.”

“A knight in shining armor,” Richard mused, then looked at Kate. “Convenient.”

“You two are impossible. Can't someone be nice?”

“Take it from me, darling.” Richard took my hand. “If a man seems too good to be true, it's because he probably is. Remember when I thought I'd found Mr. Right and it turned out he liked to sleep naked holding a ceremonial dagger across his chest?”

Kate nearly choked on her empanada. “I thought I'd had some rough dates.”

“If that wasn't bad enough, he kept me up all night playing the lyre. And he was an English professor.” Richard shuddered. “Imagine what fetishes a rock singer would have.”

“If you know anything about Ian, I'm all ears.” I tapped my fingers impatiently on the table. “But I say we should be focusing on the most likely suspects, like the remaining chefs and Mr. Elliott.”

Kate snapped her fingers. “The chefs. That's what I wanted to tell you before I got distracted by the empanadas.”

“What?” I stopped my fork in midair. “Did you find out something today?”

“You know I had to run by the Willard Hotel to pick up some new catering packets. While I was there, I thought I'd chat with some of the waiters as they set up the ballroom.”

“Good thinking, Kate,” I said. “Some of those guys have worked there for over twenty years. They probably know a ton about the different chefs who've come and gone.”

“And guess who came and went from the Willard?” Kate grinned.

“We already know that Marcello and Henri were sous chefs together there. That's not new.”

“But we didn't know that Emilio and Jean were prep cooks at the Willard at the same time.”

“You're kidding.” I sucked in my breath. “So Marcello knows Emilio and Jean?”

“It would seem so,” Kate said. “Talk about a coincidence, huh?”

“Don't tell me you're back on this again,” Richard
groaned. “How many times do I have to explain to you that my chef was working at the time of the murder? He couldn't possibly have killed Henri.”

“Maybe he didn't have to,” I said. “Maybe he had an accomplice do the dirty work for him.”

“I wonder which one did it.” Kate wiped her mouth with a napkin. “We should find out how well Marcello knew each of them.”

“Stay away from my chef.” Richard stood up and threw his napkin down. “We have a huge party at Evermay tomorrow night, and if you upset him, heads will roll. And when I say heads, I mean yours.” He picked up his half-eaten empanada and stormed out the door.

Kate sighed. “By the look on your face, I can tell where we're going after our wedding rehearsal tomorrow night.”

“Don't worry,” I assured her. “Richard will never know we're there.”

“We're going to sneak into a private party, question his chef about his connections to a murder, and then leave without Richard finding out?”

“Exactly,” I said, with more confidence than I felt.

Kate put her head in her hands. “One good thing about this plan is that we don't have to worry about the murderer threatening us anymore. Richard is going to kill us first.”