To Love and To Perish (15 page)

“Are you sure?” Kate asked as she helped me gather the boxes of programs and favors the bride had left for us at the back of the church. I'd arrived back at the church right after everyone had left for the rehearsal dinner, and Kate was cleaning up. The darkened sanctuary was eerily quiet, and our voices echoed off the marble floors. “I can't imagine Lucille hurting anyone.”

“You'd feel differently if you'd heard her talk about how badly the other planners treated her. She held a grudge, that's for sure.”

“It gives me the creeps to think that she tried to kill you.”

“Tell me about it.”

“I wonder why she didn't try again now?” Kate asked. “Was there anyone else in the store?”

“I thought the same thing,” I admitted. “Margery hasn't been released from the hospital yet so I know she wasn't there. But there could have
been someone in the back that I didn't see. Or maybe Lucille got tired of killing people.”

“I can't believe that she tried to kill Margery, too. So much for them being best friends.”

“The stress of working together all these years could have gotten to her. Maybe Margery did something that annoyed her and Lucille snapped.”

Kate studied me for a moment. “That's comforting.”

“I'm not justifying what she did, but maybe she took as much as she could take and finally lost it.”

“So what are you going to do?” Kate asked.

“As soon as I get home, I'm calling Detective Reese to tell him everything.”

“He's not going to pleased that you went out looking for the killer on your own.”

“I went out looking for a flower girl basket,” I said. “I just happened to find a deranged killer.”

Kate grinned at me. “Do you know how many times I've heard that?”

“Very funny. Okay, I think we have everything,” I said, holding a plaid Burberry shopping bag in one hand. “Was this all the bride gave you for tomorrow?”

Kate nodded. “Shouldn't we take Leatrice with us, too?”

I felt like smacking myself on the head. “I completely forgot her.” I looked around to the pew where she'd been sitting. “Where did she go?”

“She's still there,” Kate said, walking over. “When she slipped all the way down in the pew, I
threw my coat over her so no one would see her in that god-awful outfit. Did you know that her skirt has a plug hanging from the back?”

“It lights up?” Only Leatrice wouldn't be deterred by a plug dangling from her clothing.

“It's not very practical, either. You'd have to stand right next to an outlet and not move a lot.”

“It's a Christmas tree skirt, Kate,” I said. “You're not supposed to wear it.”

“Don't worry,” Kate said. “You wouldn't catch me dead in it.”

I decided not to try to explain the concept of a Christmas tree skirt. “Did the coat hide her?”

I could only imagine how thrilled Kitty would be to have someone passed out during her daughter's wedding rehearsal, much less someone wearing a plug-in skirt. They liked glitz in Texas, but not this kind of glitz.

“No one even knew she was there. Well, except for the snoring.”

I groaned. “She snored during the rehearsal?”

“Only a little bit,” Kate said. “But once the priest started talking, nobody noticed the snoring.”

“I'm afraid to ask.”

“It's probably the first wedding rehearsal I've attended where the priest opened with a dirty joke instead of a prayer.”

I felt light-headed. If Kitty found out that I took the priest drinking before the rehearsal, she'd have my head. “Did Kitty or Lady say anything?”

“What could they say?” Kate said. “It's the groom's family priest. One side of the church found him hilarious.”

“I'm assuming it wasn't the Texas contingent?”

Kate's raised eyebrow was answer enough. “Personally, I can't wait to hear tomorrow's homily.”

I pulled the coat off Leatrice and handed it to Kate. “Help me get her to the car.”

Kate tugged Leatrice up by one arm. “Come on, sleeping beauty.”

“Father O'Malley, you naughty scamp,” Leatrice mumbled as I pulled her up from the other side.

Kate almost dropped her. “Did she say what I think she said?”

“Yes, Leatrice has a crush on the priest. Now could we keep moving, please?”

“This gets better and better,” Kate said. “I'm really looking forward to a wedding for once. I can't wait to see what the priest comes up with tomorrow.”

“Well, I'm counting down the hours until it's over,” I said. “Lady and Kitty can't think up any more ridiculous errands for us after tomorrow.”

“Finally,” Kate said. “The light at the end of the funnel.”

“So what happened when you told Detective Reese that you think Lucille is the serial killer?” Kate asked me as we stood in the vestibule of St. Patrick's the next afternoon. The organ played in the background, and the groomsmen milled about around us, adjusting their ties and vests before the guests arrived.

Enormous white and green floral arrangements flanked the doors to the sanctuary and filled the entrance with the pungent perfume of lilies. Matching clusters of white blooms tied with mint green satin ribbon had been tied to the end of every other pew, creating a floral pathway to the altar. The altar, which had been so stark and serene the night before, could hardly be seen amidst the profusion of flowers at the front of the church.

We'd been so busy with the wedding preparations in the morning that I'd barely had time to give Kate the details of my conversation with Reese the night before. Now that we were at the
church, we had time to breathe before the ceremony started.

“He was skeptical to say the least.”

Kate pulled a handful of cream-colored programs tied with brown satin ribbon out of a box. “You're kidding? He thinks you're making it up?”

“Not necessarily,” I said. “But he doesn't think I have any evidence.”

“What about her confession? Doesn't that count for something?”

“It wasn't really a confession of murder. More like Lucille complaining about some of the victims.”

“Which gives her motive,” Kate said. “Plus she was at every crime scene so she had opportunity.”

“That's what I said, but Reese reminded me that other people were at all the crime scenes as well. Like Byron, Gail, and us.”

Kate recoiled. “He doesn't consider us suspects, does he?”

“I don't think so,” I said. “But you never can tell with Reese. He's such a stickler for doing things by the book.”

Kate watched me rearrange the programs she'd fanned out on a table into two even piles. “Where have I seen that before?”

I stopped readjusting the programs and put my hands on my hips. “I'm not as bad as he is. I can be spontaneous.”

Kate looked at her watch. “Where are we on the schedule?”

I pulled the wedding day timeline from my suit pocket and scanned down the page. “Let's see. It's two-thirty. The bridal party is here and
tucked away, the organist is upstairs playing, and the guests should start arriving any minute.”

Kate pointed at the paper. “You forgot to put a check mark next to ‘2:25—programs set out in foyer.'”

I took out a pen and put another check mark on the schedule. “Good catch, Kate.”

She crossed her arms in front of her. “I rest my case.”

I folded the schedule in half and slid it back in my pocket. “Wedding days don't count. Brides pay me to be an obsessive compulsive neurotic for one day.”

“Then you should charge more,” Kate said. “You're very good at it.”

“And you could stand to be a little more neurotic and a little less va-va-voom.” I gave her outfit the once-over. “Would you like me to start with the too short skirt or the practically see-through blouse?”

Kate opened her mouth, then closed it again and decided to change the subject back to the murders. “So Reese told you that you were crazy and that was it.”

“No,” I said. “He promised me he would question Lucille today as long as I promised not to question anyone else.”

“Who could you question while you're running a wedding?” Kate asked. “No one involved in the case is working with us today aside from Richard and Fern.”

“That's what I said. Unless we need to go buy a spare guest book, we shouldn't have any contact with potential killers.”

“If we need another guest book we'll make it,” Kate said. “I think we should avoid run-ins with crazy people as much as possible.”

“I can't believe this is happening,” Fern cried as he rushed toward us looking very Edwardian in a snug fitting black velvet suit with a stand-up collar.

“So much for avoiding crazies,” Kate said.

I took Fern by the shoulders. “Calm down. What's the matter?”

“I ran out of hair spray.” Fern held up a metal cylinder and shook it. Nothing. “I packed double since the bride is from Texas but I still ran out. I planned for the ten Texas bridesmaids but I didn't figure on six girls in the house party as well. This is a nightmare.”

“House party?” Kate said.

Fern waved a hand in the air. “The second stringers. Like runner-up bridesmaids. If one bridesmaid can't fulfill her duties, these girls can step in.”

“Close enough,” I said. “It's a Texas tradition, remember? Lady explained it to us. They don't wear bridesmaids' dresses but they get a small bouquet and sit together on the second pew.”

Kate snapped her fingers. “They help greet guests and hand out programs but don't have to wear matching jewelry, right? Now I remember. It sounded like a better gig than being a bridesmaid.”

“Well, they're not coming to greet guests until I can get their hair pageant perfect. Half of the girls in there were Miss Texas something or other.”

I reached behind the propped open sanctuary
door and produced my metal emergency kit. I knelt down and snapped it open, folding out the stair-step tiers of compartments. Each level of the case held small boxes or bags of emergency supplies. Everything from straight pins, safety pins, and bobby pins, to fake rings, a dozen different colors of thread, and aspirin.

“Voilà.” I held up a miniature plastic bottle of hair spray.

Fern took it and examined it. “Well, this should do half of a head.”

“Make it last,” I said. “We have to start the ceremony on time, so those girls are coming down the aisle at three o'clock whether they're ready or not.”

“I'll do what I can.” Fern fanned himself. “Do I look red? Stress gives me hives.”

“You're fine.” I gave him a push. “You have less than half an hour.”

Fern shrieked and hurried off, then spun around on his heels. “I almost forgot. The mother of the groom asked me to tell you that the priest didn't get in the limo with the groomsmen. She hasn't seen him at all today.”

Kate turned to me, her mouth gaping open. “Have you seen the priest?”

I shook my head. “He was supposed to ride over with the guys.” I looked at my watch and felt my pulse start to race. The ceremony started in less than half an hour and we had no priest. Who said that being stalked by a killer was more stressful than a wedding?

“This had better be good, Annabelle. I'm in the middle of setup and once again I have the Tweedledums of the waiter world. Every time I painstakingly arrange a table so that the light hits it just right, someone comes along and moves it,” Richard said. Then his voice receded and I knew he held the phone away while bellowing to his staff. “If anyone moves these tables again, I will personally see to it that you never work in this town for the rest of your natural lives.”

Richard was catering the part of the Winchester reception being held at the Decatur House, so guests wouldn't get to him for several hours. I looked at my watch. His nervous breakdown was right on schedule.

I pressed my cell phone to my ear so I could hear him better. “I need you to do me a huge favor. It's a matter of life or death.”

“Really?” I knew that would get his attention. Richard was drawn to drama like a moth to a flame.

“Well, no,” I admitted. “But it is a really huge wedding emergency.”

“Oh please,” Richard sighed. “We're not saving lives here. It's only a wedding.”

“I dare you to say that to a bride.”

Richard mumbled something incoherent but undoubtedly snippy.

“I need you to run across the street to the Hay-Adams and find the priest. If you don't, this wedding is going to run late, and that means everything will run late. Including your dinner service.” I knew I had him there. He hated the thought of getting off schedule even more than I did.

“You lost the priest?” Richard gasped.

“We didn't lose him. We never had him. He didn't get in the limo like he was supposed to. I'm afraid he overslept or got confused and is waiting in the hotel.”

“Okay, okay.” I could hear him snapping his fingers. “People, people. I'm going across the street and will be right back. Don't even think of slacking off. I expect this place to be shipshape when I return.”

“Thanks, Richard. You saved my life.”

“I just know those waiters are going to wait for me to get back before they lift a finger. I wouldn't be surprised if they whip out pallets and take naps.”

I heard the sounds of street traffic as he left the Decatur House for the hotel. “Don't you think you're a little tough on them?”

“The last time I let a waiter take a break during a wedding because he wasn't feeling well, I found him ten minutes later making out with the bride in a coat closet. Mark my words, Anna
belle. If you let them, they'll walk all over you.”

“You're kidding? What happened to the bride and the waiter?”

“Who knows what happened to the bride? She's probably in a meaningful relationship with her yard boy. Not that I blamed her. The groom was a toad. But I'll tell you one thing—that waiter never worked for me again.”

I shook my head. “Juicy things like that never happen at my weddings.”

“That was nothing compared to the time I found the sexy divorcée mother of the bride in her car with a groomsman. Neither of them had on a stitch of clothing. Now that's something I wish I'd never seen. You won't catch me going in parking garages alone anymore.”

“What did you do?”

“What could I do?” Richard said. “I tapped on the window and handed her the final bill.”

I stifled a laugh. “I'll bet she paid up.”

“And gave me a nice tip on top of it. Okay, I'm at the Hay-Adams. How do I find this priest?”

“Do you see anyone who looks like a priest waiting in the lobby?”

“If someone was sitting here in a priest collar, I think I could have figured it out, Annabelle.” Richard gave me an impatient sigh. “There's no one here. What name is the room under?”

“O'Malley. Father O'Malley. Explain things to the concierge and see if he'll give you the room number.”

“This should be easy. I know this concierge. I think I've seen him at the Crow Bar before. It's hard to tell since he's not in leather, though.”

“Could we focus on finding the priest?”

“Fine,” Richard snapped, and then I heard muffled voices and laughter. This could take a while if Richard got caught up in a conversation and forgot why he was there. After a few minutes he came back on the line. “Got it. I'm on my way upstairs right now.”

I heard the elevator chimes. “Good work. Usually they won't give the room numbers out to just anyone.”

“Might I remind you that I am not just anyone, darling. Not only did I get the room number, but I also got a date for next week.”

“How come you can date someone who wears leather but I can't?” I protested.

“Do you have to ask?” Richard said. “This Ian fellow is no good for you, Annabelle. Mark my words.”

Great. Dating advice from someone who frequented the Crow Bar.

“Okay, I'm here. Room 326. The door is standing open a bit.”

“Maybe he left the door open because he expected someone to come get him for the wedding,” I said. “Go on in.”

“Yoo hoo,” Richard called. “Father O'Malley. I'm here to take you to—” Richard sucked in his breath.

“What's the matter?” I asked. “He's not there?”

“I don't see him.” Richard's voice shook as he spoke. “But I do see something splattered on the carpet.”

I felt very light-headed, and I clutched the phone tighter. “What do you mean?”

“Annabelle, I think it's blood.”