Murder of a Wedding Belle (7 page)

“Yes.” Skye rose from her seat and moved to the door. “Someone murdered her.”

“Oh, my God!” Tabitha leaped off the bed in one fluid motion. “Dat ain’t no true.”

“Sorry, but it is.” Skye noted that Tabitha seemed genuinely upset. Her accent had increased, and she was now dropping the pitch down on the second syllable, and then raising it on the last syllable. “So, who do you think hated her that much?”

Tabitha held her hand to her chest. “Only person you can be sure is innocent is Riley. She’d never kill Belle less than a week before the wedding.”

Meeting of the Minds

W
hen Skye emerged from Tabitha’s room, Wally was coming out of the cabin to her right. “Any news on the twins?” she asked.

“They’re not at the Feed Bag or McDonald’s. Quirk is checking the churches now.”

Skye wrinkled her brow. She was missing something, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. “Did Liam share any helpful info?”

“He and the other groomsman drove Tabitha back here, arriving at one eleven a.m.; then he proceeded directly to his room, where he made several calls and went to bed at precisely two thirty. He went jogging at seven and didn’t observe anything unusual when he left. He returned from the park as the ambulance arrived.” Wally’s expression was dour. “Does that match what Tabitha told you?”

“Yes. Although she wasn’t as precise about the time. She claims she took a sleeping pill and wasn’t aware of anything until the siren woke her up.”

“I’m not sure I buy his story about jogging this morning.” Wally crossed his arms. “That would mean he only got four and half hours of sleep after drinking all night.”

“Gus did mention last night that Liam is a health nut,” Skye offered. “That probably means he didn’t drink as much as the others.”

“Let’s see what the next pair has to say.” Wally took Skye’s arm and steered them toward the adjoining cottage. “This one’s mine. Who’s up for you?”

“Iris Yee.”

“After I finish with Gus, I’ll take the best man over to Charlie’s office to question him so you can talk to his wife alone.”

“Got it.” Skye left Wally in front of number seven and made her way to cottage two She hoped Iris had calmed down enough to be coherent.

An hour later, Wally and Skye met again. Neither had obtained any useful information. The floral designer had regained her composure and claimed she and Belle had a professional relationship that worked well for them both. Gus and the Hathaways had stated that they knew Belle only in regard to her job and had no idea who would have wanted to kill her.

Just when Skye thought she might avoid being present when her cousin found out that Belle was dead, Riley, her mother, Anita, and her grandmother Dora showed up at the motor court. Skye wasn’t surprised to see them; she was only amazed it had taken them so long to hear about the murder. Scumble River’s grapevine usually rivaled the Internet for speed and inaccuracy.

Riley helped her grandmother out of the backseat of Anita’s Taurus, then spotted Skye and ran over to her. “What’s going on here?” She gestured to the police cars filling the parking lot. “We were at twelve o’clock Mass, and I knew something was up because my cell kept vibrating, so I went into the bathroom and I had a gazillion texts from Tab and Paige about some emergency having to do with Belle. So I got Mom and Gram and came right over.” The blond bride-to-be took a much-needed breath, then continued. “Please, please, tell me that Belle’s okay. There can’t be something wrong with her. Not six days before my wedding.”

Dora chimed in, “I’m sure it will be fine, baby girl.”

“Skye,” Anita ordered, “tell us everything’s all right.”

“Uh.” Skye glanced at Wally, who was talking to one of the county crime techs but plainly monitoring her conversation as well. She raised a brow; should she inform them of Belle’s death? He nodded, and she said gently, “I’m so sorry, but Belle was found dead this morning.”

“No!” Anita screamed.

Riley threw herself in her mother’s arms and burst into tears. Dora swayed, and Skye rushed over to catch the elderly woman before she fell. Supporting her great aunt, Skye herded Anita and Riley into the motor court’s office.

Once they were all inside and Dora and Anita had settled in the tiny reception area’s only two chairs, Skye leaned against the wall, uncertain what to do next. Surprisingly, none of the three women had asked
how
Belle had died, which was good because that information hadn’t been released yet.

Riley pulled herself together enough to fetch Dora a glass of water, but as soon as she was sure her grandmother was okay, she put her Frankenbride face back on. Currently she was crying and whining into her cell at her groom, who was en route from Chicago.

Charlie sat behind the counter, ignoring the women and gazing at the TV mounted in the corner opposite him. If the problem didn’t concern someone he loved or something he was in charge of, he wasn’t interested.

Riley finally clicked shut her phone and stamped her foot. “It’s not fair. I’ve been dreaming of this day since I was six years old. Nick claims even he can’t get another wedding coordinator this close to the date, and I want my wedding to be exactly how I planned.”

“I can do it, Riley.” Anita straightened in her seat. “Mother and I told you from the beginning we could put on your wedding.”

“Mommy.” Riley’s tone was sugarcoated steel. “It’s so sweet of you and Gram to want to help me, but you know we talked about that. It’s just too much for you two to handle.” She zeroed in on Skye. “You’ll just have to do it.”

“Me! But I can’t. I have no idea how to pull together a wedding like yours.” Skye was flabbergasted. “I figured you’d postpone the ceremony, or maybe simplify the whole shebang.” If Skye had even considered that Riley might try to rope her into taking over, she would have had a good excuse ready.

Anita spoke before Skye could say more. “Miss Canfield’s passing is a terrible tragedy, but it really has nothing to do with Riley.” She sniffed. “It’s not as if she were family.”

“But . . .” Skye trailed off, momentarily distracted by a blast of music from the TV set as Charlie channel surfed.

Anita jumped out of her chair, marched over to him, and held out her hand. “Give me that.”

Charlie clutched the black plastic device to his chest. “No one touches my remote but me.”

Anita stared at him for another second, then strode over to the TV, tore the electrical cord out of the back of the set, and returned to her seat, stating, “Unlike men, women don’t need to hold the remote control, because we have real control.”

Muttering angrily, Charlie lumbered to his feet and slammed out of the office.

Once he was gone, Dora said to Skye, “Please put on Riley’s wedding for her.” Moisture gathered at the corners of her faded blue eyes. “This may be my last chance to see my only granddaughter married.” Her voice broke. “And I’m not sure your grandma can wait either.”

As Skye hesitated, the office door opened and Wally signaled for her to join him outside. She nodded and said, “I’ll be right back.”

Wally took her hand. “We found the twins.”

“Where?” Skye felt her heart in her throat. “Are they okay?”

“They’re fine. They decided last night that they couldn’t stay at the motor court. It was, and I quote, ‘too icky.‘” Wally shook his head. “So, after the Hathaways dropped them off here, they borrowed the Hathaways’ rental car and drove into the city. They’re staying at the Ritz with their father, grandparents, and six-year-old uncle.”

“How did you find out?”

“When I called the groom to tell him his kids were missing, he told me.”

“Well, at least that’s one problem solved.” Skye scrunched up her face. “But you’ll never guess what Riley just said.”

“She wants you to take over for the dead wedding planner.”

“How did you know that?” Skye demanded.

“Elementary, my dear Watson. Riley’s a spoiled princess who wouldn’t dream of letting the death of one of her serfs interfere with her plans.” Wally smirked. “And as my grandpa used to say, scratch a dog once and you’ve found yourself a permanent job.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means she thinks you’re a pushover.”

“Is that what you think too?” Skye glared at him. “Because you’re both so wrong. No way am I trying to put on a million-dollar wedding.”

“Really?” Wally raised her hand to his lips. “Even for me?” He kissed the inside of her wrist. “I need to keep everyone together until we figure out what happened to Belle. If Riley postpones the wedding, all the participants will scatter. I can’t order them to stay put. I have no evidence against any of them, and their lawyers would be all over me.”

“Crap!” Skye paused to gather her thoughts. “Do you know what you’re asking me to do? This event is so over the top, I have no idea how to coordinate it.”

“I’m sure Belle had notes you can use.”

Skye nodded slowly, remembering the huge three-ring binder that Belle had referred to as her bible.

“I bet Jordan would shell out for an assistant or two for you.” Wally kissed her palm. “And I bet he’d pay you your weight in gold to do it.”

“Are you implying I weigh a lot?” Skye teased.

“Never. You know I like you fluffy.” Wally released her hand and cupped the back of her head. “I’m just saying a fool and his money can throw a heck of a party.”

After a thoroughly satisfying kiss, Skye stepped out of his arms and said over her shoulder as she went back into the office, “You owe me big-time for this.”

“With all my worldly goods, I thee endow.”

The sincerity in Wally’s voice brought tears to Skye’s eyes, and she was still wiping them away when she stepped inside.

Riley rushed over to Skye. “Has something else happened? One more thing and I’ll kill myself.”

“Nothing bad has happened.” Skye resolved to treat her cousin as she would a high-strung kindergartner—with a soothing but firm hand. “You need to pull yourself together if you want me to take over as your wedding coordinator.”

“Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” Riley squealed and enveloped Skye in a huge hug. “You’re the best.”

“Yes, I am.” Skye squeezed her cousin back, then extracted herself from Riley’s stranglehold. “Here’s the deal. Nick gives me whatever Belle was getting and covers the cost of two helpers.” The new no-kill animal shelter that had just opened up in Stanley County would be getting a nice donation out of this, Skye decided.

“We’ll give you twenty-five percent of Belle’s fees—it’s what we still owe her.” Riley had suddenly dropped the girlish persona. “And fifteen dollars an hour for each of the two assistants.”

“Fine.” Skye already knew who she wanted to hire, and both of them would be happy to get nearly twice Illinois’s minimum wage. “And if the wedding goes as planned, I want a bonus.”

“Name it.”

“Nick pays for
any
wedding dress I pick out,
whenever
I get married.” Skye figured that if she said yes to Wally, considering his family’s wealth, she would need a fancier dress than she could afford on her salary.

 

Skye and Wally were silent during the five-minute ride from the police station to his house. It had been a grueling twelve hours, and although her hangover was long gone, her head still throbbed—this time from too much caffeine and sugar. The only things edible at the PD came out of a vending machine, and Skye had overdosed on Diet Coke and Kit Kat bars.

They had reinterviewed everyone at the motor court, then moved on to the other members of the wedding party, but had run out of time before getting to the vendors. In her few spare minutes, Skye had called the caterer with the final guest count and studied Belle’s notebook.

As Wally turned the squad car into his driveway, she looked at the four-room bungalow. Although Wally was the son of a Texas oil tycoon, he lived modestly, and no one in Scumble River other than Skye knew about his affluent background.

Passing through the enclosed back porch, which contained a washer, a dryer, and an ironing board, they stepped into the homey kitchen, where the tangy smell of barbeque greeted them. When Wally flicked on the overhead light, Skye saw that the table was set with a red-and-white-checkered cloth and heavy white dishes.

She gestured around the room, then pointed to the plate of brownies on the counter and asked, “Dorothy?”

A few years ago, after his divorce, Wally had a hired a housekeeper who came in a couple of days a week to clean and do the shopping, laundry, and occasionally cook a meal. The tricky part was that Dorothy Snyder was one of Skye’s mother’s best friends, and Skye always wondered whether she reported their every move to May.

“Yes. I called her when I realized that it would be too late for us to eat at the Feed Bag.” Scumble River’s only restaurant stopped serving at six p.m. on Sunday. “I asked if she had time to fix us something.” He shrugged off his navy nylon Windbreaker embroidered with SCUMBLE RIVER POLICE.

“And I guess she said yes.”

“Yep.” Wally unbuckled his utility belt and draped it over the back of a kitchen chair. “She said she was bored and would be happy to help us out.”

“Let’s see what Dorothy’s whipped up for us.” Skye lifted the lid of the Crock-Pot. “Yum, beef barbeque.” Moving to the fridge, she opened the door. “Potato salad and baked beans.”

“Sounds good.” Wally yawned and rubbed the back of his neck. “She’s a great cook.”

Skye noticed the exhaustion in Wally’s eyes. “You’re tired.” He’d been up late last night because of her. “You should have let me go home so you could get some rest.” She knew he had the eight a.m. shift the next day.

“I’m fine.” Wally yawned again. “I just need a shower.”

“Why don’t you go ahead, then? By the time you’re finished, I’ll have everything on the table.”

“Or you could join me.” His voice was a seductive promise. “It’ll help you forget about today.”