For Better or Hearse (7 page)

“You still think she's innocent?” Kate handed her keys to the Fairmont Hotel valet the next morning. We'd made record time from my apartment to the hotel after she picked me up. “They found blood on her Jackie O scarf.”

“Of course I believe she's innocent.” I stepped out of the car and smoothed out the wrinkles in my blue pencil skirt. Even though Detective Reese had momentarily shaken my belief in Georgia's innocence, I was still determined to help her. “Someone set her up. Someone who wants her out of the way.”

Kate came around the back of her car, tucking a white shirt into black boot-cut pants that left little to the imagination. “Who?”

“That's what we're here to find out.” I'd convinced Kate to join me in a little hotel reconnaissance on Georgia's behalf only after I threatened to turn the Egan wedding over to her. Our office code name for Hillary Egan was “Hillary Again” because she called
ten times a day and her wedding was still seven months away.

I led the way into the lobby of the hotel and made a beeline for the concierge desk when I saw that Hugh was on duty. He looked every bit the proper concierge, standing ramrod straight in his dark blue jacket and gold concierge pin. Despite his formal appearance, he served as D.C.'s command center for gossip. He knew everything that went on in the hotel and the city. The fact that he didn't mind sharing his information made him my favorite concierge.

He smiled when he saw us and held up a finger as he finished making dinner reservations for a guest. When he hung up the phone, he glanced around him. “What are you two doing back here? Run. Save yourselves.”

Kate laughed. “That bad?”

“It's like being on the
Titanic
,” he muttered, smoothing his tidy brown moustache with one finger. “We're down two people in three days.”

“You haven't lost Georgia for good.” I tried to sound more confident than I felt. “Once the police realize they've made a mistake by arresting her, I'm sure she'll be back to work.”

Hugh gave a quick shake of his head. “I doubt it. The general manager isn't thrilled about having one of his catering sales staff arrested for murdering his head chef.”

“But if they find out she's innocent, they have to give her back her job,” I insisted.

“They can find a hundred ways to fire her. If Mr. Elliott wants her gone, she'll be gone.” Hugh slid a map across to me. “This makes it look like I'm working.”

I took the map and flipped it open. “Do you think Georgia killed Henri?”

Hugh fingered the gold concierge pin on his lapel and thought for a moment. “No. She has a bit of a temper, but I wouldn't peg her as the violent type.”

Kate put an arm up on the marble countertop. “Annabelle thinks she was framed.”

Hugh's eyes widened and he looked positively giddy. “Really? Who do you think framed her?”

“That's where we thought you could help out. You must know who would want to get rid of Georgia.” I leaned in for the kill. “You know everything.”

Hugh blushed. “Not everything. I mean I do know a lot about what goes on here. Most of it is who's having an affair or who got drunk and made a fool of themself. That kind of thing. Not who's setting up someone else to take a murder rap.”

“Forget the murder, then,” Kate whispered. “Tell us the juicy stuff.”

I frowned at her. “We're not here for random gossip, Kate.” Kate made a face at me.

“I can tell you that Georgia wasn't always the most popular girl in the hotel,” Hugh said in a lowered voice as two hotel guests passed us. “The banquet captains complained that she changed her room diagrams at the last minute, and Mr. Elliott had to chase down her paperwork.”

“Those don't sound like reasons to frame someone for murder,” I said.

“You're right,” Hugh admitted. “As much as we all despise Mr. Elliott, I doubt he'd frame someone for murder. He's too spineless to do something like that. I'm sure that Georgia's arrest is a lucky break for him. He'd been searching for a way to get rid of her without looking like the bad guy. And as much as Georgia drove them crazy with last minute changes, the ban
quet staff really is fond of her. She could make you insane and make you love her at the same time.”

I looked pointedly at Kate. “I know the feeling.”

“Back to the drawing board.” Kate ignored me, squinting at something across the lobby.

I followed her gaze and did a double take. “Is that Ian?”

“Who?” Kate turned back to me, confused. “I didn't notice his face. I only got as far up as his jeans, which he wears very well.”

“The bandleader from Saturday.” As I watched Ian deep in a conversation with what looked like a hotel cook, I pulled my ponytail holder out and my hair fell loose down my back. “I wonder why he's here again. And who is he talking to?”

“He used to bartend in the hotel and returns to say hi every so often. The guy he's talking to is Emilio, one of the sous chefs.” Hugh grinned at me. “What I'm curious about is why you let your hair down.”

“What?” I put a hand through my hair. I knew I looked better with it down, even if I rarely wore it that way. “I got tired of it being up, that's all.”

Kate folded her arms across her chest. “I do believe you're flustered, Annabelle.”

“Don't be absurd. I'm not flustered,” I lied. “I'm confused that he never mentioned working here before. He made it sound like he didn't know Chef Henri.”

Hugh groaned. “Everyone who worked here during the past ten years knew Henri. None of us were spared.”

Kate nudged me with her elbow. “I think he's spotted you, Annabelle. He's coming this way.”

Ian wore a white T-shirt that covered most of the tattoos on his biceps, but I caught myself staring at the
hard curves of his arms anyway. I tried to smile as naturally as possible with Kate snickering behind me.

“We meet again.” Ian kissed my hand and then Kate's, and nodded at Hugh. “You know I have a weakness for redheads.”

“I do now.” Hugh arched an eyebrow at me, and I could bet that it would be a matter of minutes before the entire city heard the story.

Ian met my eyes with his own blue ones. “And long red hair, too.” He winked at me. “I knew you would be trouble the moment I saw you.”

“What are you doing here?” I stammered. Not my most eloquent moment.

His eyes flitted to Hugh, then back to me. “The lads left a power cord the other night so I'm picking it up. Lucky for me I ran into you. Wouldn't you call this fate?”

“I don't know.” I looked back to Kate for help, but she just smiled at me. For once it seemed like she didn't mind sharing the spotlight. Of course, I knew she'd be teasing me about this for years to come.

“What are you doing on Friday night?” he asked.

My mind blanked for a moment. “I have a rehearsal for a wedding.”

“All night?”

“No, but after that I should get ready—”

“Good. Plan on dinner with me, then. You have to eat, don't you?” He kissed me quickly on the cheek and left with a wave to Kate and Hugh before I could say a word. The light scent of his cologne lingered on me, and I inhaled deeply as he walked out the glass doors of the hotel. Kate had been right about his jeans. He looked awfully good in them.

Kate gave a low whistle. “That was impressive.”

I raised an unsteady hand to where he'd kissed my cheek. “I think I have a date.”

Kate wore a look of admiration. “That guy is smooth. You definitely have a date.”

Hugh let out a breath. “I think
my
knees are weak.”

“I think I'm going to throw up.” I hadn't had a real date in so long, the thought of one nearly brought on a panic attack.

“Don't worry.” Kate threw an arm around my shoulders. “I'll bring you up to speed and give you some tips.”

I laughed. “Now I'm really scared.”

“It's about time you had a little fun. D.C. women focus too much on their careers,” Hugh said, then gave a small wave to someone behind me. “Speaking of all work and no play…”

I turned as Darcy walked up, taking short fast steps, her long dark hair swinging behind her. She pushed her glasses up onto the top of her head and rubbed her temples. Her eyes were bloodshot and had dark circles underneath.

“Have you come to help?” She slumped against the concierge desk.

Kate stared at her. “What happened to you? You look awful.” Leave it to Kate to be subtle.

“You try doing the work of two people,” Darcy complained. “It's impossible to keep up.”

“Kate doesn't even do the work of one person.” I sidestepped as Kate swatted at me.

Darcy managed a weak smile, and then wrinkled her brow. “Do you guys need anything from catering? Please tell me you aren't one of the twenty proposals that Georgia left in her inbox. And I've only gotten halfway through returning all her messages.”

“No, we only came by to find information to help clear Georgia,” I said. “We promised her we'd try to help.” From the look of things, Georgia didn't need to worry about Darcy wanting her job.

“Yes, please! Did you see her?” Darcy's eyes widened. “They wouldn't let me in because I'm not family.”

I nodded. “She swears that she didn't kill Henri, and she thinks someone is setting her up.”

Darcy looked at Hugh. “Who would want her gone bad enough to do that?”

Hugh shrugged. “My only guesses were Mr. Elliott or one of the captains.”

Darcy frowned. “Not the captains. They're all bark. Mr. Elliott would love any excuse to fire her, but I can't imagine him being involved in a murder. He's more the type to wait for someone to hang themselves.”

“Sounds charming,” Kate said.

Hugh leaned over the counter. “Does Mr. Elliott know about the fight?”

Darcy leveled a finger at him. “No, and if you tell anyone…”

“You know I would never spread rumors that would get Georgia in trouble.” Hugh recoiled at the accusation.

“What fight?” Kate asked.

“This is just between us, right?” Darcy motioned for us to come closer. “No one knows about this except for Hugh. If the police or Mr. Elliott found out, Georgia would be done for.”

Kate made a zipper motion across her lips. “You can trust us.”

Darcy took a deep breath. “Henri came up to Georgia's office. He was steamed about the pricing of a
menu she'd done. I didn't hear most of it because they closed the door, but when he opened the door to leave, I heard him threatening to tell Mr. Elliott that Georgia had no idea how to do her job. Georgia yelled back that she wished he was dead and threw a glass paperweight from her desk at him.”

Kate sucked in air. “Did she hit him?”

“She missed and hit the wall instead,” Darcy continued. “Henri stormed out.”

I gulped. “You didn't tell the police?”

Darcy reddened. “I guess maybe I should have, but I know Georgia didn't kill him. She didn't really mean what she said. It was the heat of the moment. We've all joked about wishing Henri was dead. I knew if I told the police, it would look bad for Georgia.”

“When was the fight?” I asked.

Darcy cringed. “The morning of the wedding.”

Kate put a hand to her mouth. “The same day Henri was murdered?”

Darcy nodded. She was right. Georgia had motive, evidence linking her to the victim, and no alibi. It looked very bad indeed.

“You look like you need a drink, darling.” Richard perched on the edge of an upholstered bench as Kate and I collapsed onto the beige sofa in his office sitting room. The couch was a sleek, modern design, more angles than cushion, and my back immediately regretted the choice.

I shifted around, trying to get comfortable. “I wish. Isn't a bride meeting us here, though?”

“Viola Van de Kamp and her mother, Louise.” Richard looked at his watch. Ever since he'd gotten a Cartier, he checked the time with a regularity that bordered on compulsive. “They're three minutes late.”

“That name sounds familiar.” A little red light went off faintly in the back of my brain, but my mind swirled with questions about Georgia and her connection to Chef Henri's death. Was it a coincidence that Henri died only hours after he so enraged Georgia that she threw a paperweight at him? If Georgia was on the verge of being fired, would she do some
thing desperate to keep Henri from threatening her job?

Richard cleared his throat. “So you girls have been out and about already today?”

Kate leaned her head back against the back of the sofa. “Annie wanted to poke around at the Fairmont. Ask a few questions about Georgia.”

“Any luck?” Richard looked back and forth between us.

“No,” I confessed. “We actually found out that Georgia had an incriminating fight with Henri the day of the murder. She screamed that she wished he was dead and hurled a paperweight at him.”

“She missed, though,” Kate added.

“Heaven help us.” Richard rolled his eyes. “Now I like Georgia as much as anyone, but do you really think you can find anything that will convince the police she's innocent?”

“If I don't help her, who will? She's all alone and about to lose everything.” I felt my jaw tighten. “I know she'd do the same thing for me.”

Richard put up his hands. “Okay, okay. Just asking. Personally, I think she should plead temporary insanity. Anyone who gets blood on an Hermès scarf has clearly lost her mind. I'd acquit her in a second.”

I laughed despite my best efforts not to. “Very funny. But she didn't get blood on the scarf. She was framed.”

“You don't say? Who framed her?”

Kate leaned forward and cupped a hand around her mouth. “We're still working on that minor detail.”

“You can make all the jokes you want, Richard, but we're going to find out who really killed Henri and set Georgia up.”

“As long as you do it after we meet with the Van de Kamps.” Richard stood up and unbuttoned the bottom button on his black suit jacket. He never liked his jackets buttoned all the way because he claimed it looked too uptight. “They're interested in wedding planners, not a crime fighting duo. And they haven't signed my contract yet, so a few mentions about how fabulous I am would be appreciated.”

“You're sure these are good clients, right?” I asked. “Not a bride who thinks that decorating the reception with origami is a good idea?”

Richard put a hand on his hip. “You're still steamed about that, aren't you?”

“I can make paper cranes in my sleep,” Kate complained.

“This is a Potomac family who wants to throw a big bash for their only daughter. I guarantee you won't be doing arts and crafts for them.” Richard jumped as the doorbell rang.

The door opened and I heard footsteps in the foyer. Richard rushed forward to greet them, but all I could see as Mrs. Van de Kamp rounded the corner was blue eye shadow and lots of it. It took me only a second to recognize the girl in the shapeless dress behind her mother. I looked at Kate, whose eyes widened in recognition and fear.

It was Viola the Vegan.

“Weren't you two at the bridal tea?” Viola eyed us warily. She looked less than thrilled to be there, and I had a feeling there had been some sort of coercion involved.

“You must be Mrs. Van de Kamp.” I stepped forward and took the mother's hand. I turned to Viola and forced a smile. “And you must be the bride.”

Viola barely took my hand. “You must be a genius.”

Kate and I exchanged glances. The last thing we needed was to deal with Bratty Bride for the next year. Richard laughed nervously and motioned for us to sit down.

I took my seat on the couch. I avoided looking at Richard for fear I might be overcome with the need to bludgeon him to death. “Tell us about your wedding plans so far.”

“Isn't that why we'd hire you?” Viola slouched down in an armchair. “To plan the wedding?”

I liked this girl less every second. The faster I could get out of this, the better. I turned to the mother. “Have you set a date?”

“We're looking at next fall, but we want to see what your availability is before settling on a day.” Mrs. Van de Kamp sounded desperate, and I could see why. “You come highly recommended from Richard.”

So much for saying we were already booked, if she intended to plan the wedding around our availability. Leaving the country to get out of it seemed a bit extreme.

“I need to get married before Jupiter goes retrograde, Mother.” Viola gave an exasperated sigh. “So it has to be before October seventeenth.”

Then again, maybe relocating the business overseas wasn't such an outrageous plan.

“Come again?” Kate did little to hide her curiosity.

Viola rolled her eyes as if we were idiots for not knowing the star charts. “After Jupiter goes into retrograde, it won't be good for me to enter into any unions. That includes marriage.”

“Absolute nonsense,” her mother snapped. “I will
not rearrange a wedding based on what a telephone astrologer told you.”

Viola crossed her arms in front of her. “Fine. Then I won't come.”

Richard jumped up and rushed to the wooden sideboard by the window. “I forgot to offer everyone some champagne. We always start off the wedding planning with a toast.”

This was new. I suspected Richard had made it up to force everyone to have a drink and loosen up. Not a bad plan.

“Why don't we worry about the date later and talk about general style,” I said as Richard briskly tore the foil off a champagne bottle. “What's your vision of the wedding?”

“I want an outdoor ceremony,” Viola started before her mother could speak. “Something very rustic. No formal gardens. And I want to use lots of seasonal flowers and leaves.”

Okay. Not a bad start. An outdoor, autumn wedding could be beautiful. Maybe this wouldn't be a disaster after all.

“What colors were you thinking for bridesmaids?” Kate asked.

“They're going to be called wood nymphs, not bridesmaids, and I thought they could be in body stockings with leaves sewn on.”

I bit my lip to keep from laughing. This would be one bridesmaid—oops, wood nymph—outfit that no one could ever claim to wear again.

Mrs. Van de Kamp gave a muffled cry. “You can't make your friends wear leaf pasties to your wedding.”

“Bridesmaids dresses are stupid.” Viola squared her
shoulders. “So are bouquets. I want them to carry floral tambourines instead.”

Now this I wanted to see. Although I doubted she'd have any friends left after she told them they were wearing leotards and shaking tambourines down the aisle. I could see Kate begin to tremble with silent laughter next to me.

“Champagne anyone?” Richard rushed over with a round metal tray of crystal champagne flutes.

Mrs. Van de Kamp took a glass and downed it in one gulp. Even under her tire track blush, I could see her cheeks burn with anger. I didn't blame her.

“Is it sulfite free?” Viola gave the tray a suspicious glance.

“No.” Richard spun on his heel away from her. “Better not have any.”

“I think we should do this at a later date, once Viola has had an opportunity to rethink her ideas.” Mrs. Van de Kamp stood and jerked Viola up by the sleeve. “Thank you, ladies. Richard.” She pulled the girl all the way across the room and out the door as Kate and I hurried to stand up. The door slammed behind them.

Richard held the tray of champagne in one hand and downed glass after glass with the other. “What the hell was that?”

“Exactly my question.” Kate turned to him, her mouth hanging open. “You call those clients normal?”

Richard hiccuped. “I might have misjudged.”

“Might?” Kate and I said in unison.

“Okay,” Richard admitted. “They're awful. Can I make it up to you with dinner?”

“This one is going to cost you.” Kate walked over and snatched the last glass of champagne off the tray
before he could. “I'm in the mood for a French martini at Mie N Yu.”

Richard put the tray down. “Shall we end the work-day early and try to snag the loft table?”

“Let me run to the ladies' room while you call ahead,” I said over my shoulder as I walked down the back hall. I paused outside the doors to the bathroom and kitchen, which were side by side. Whose voice was that? I stepped closer to the swinging kitchen door and pressed on it enough so it opened a fraction of an inch.

“I owe you a debt of gratitude for what you did.” Marcello spoke in hushed tones. “We all do.”

Why the secrecy and whispering? I leaned forward so I could see through the sliver of an opening. Marcello stood to the side holding a cordless phone.

“After all these years, he got what he deserved.” Marcello gave a soft chuckle. “Finally, his career was the one put on ice.”

Ice? I straightened up with a jerk. Could he be talking about Henri? Who else?

“I only wish I could have seen the look on his face,” Marcello added.

I pressed against the door to see more clearly, and the hinge creaked.

Marcello froze. “Hold on a second. I think I heard something.”

With my heart pounding, I let the door go and spun around. I ran back to the front of the house, passing Kate and Richard in the sitting room. I kept running to the foyer, motioning them to follow me.

“Wait for us,” Kate cried, grabbing both of our purses.

Richard stood holding an empty glass of champagne
as Kate hurried away. “What's the rush? They're holding the table for us.”

“Come on.” I gave a nervous glance toward the kitchen door. “I'll tell you once we're out of here. It's about Henri's murder.”

Richard's shoulders sagged. “Again?”

I nodded. “A suspect just moved to the front of the line.”