To Love and To Perish (17 page)

“This is a fiasco,” I said, watching the bridal party cluster around the fallen priest. My eyes went instinctively to my wedding emergency kit in the corner, but I doubted that chalk or super glue would be able to fix this problem.

Kate clutched my arm. “What are we going to do?”

“I don't know,” I said. “He clearly can't finish the ceremony, and I doubt that there's an ordained minister in the crowd.”

“I'm ordained,” Fern said.

We all stared at him, mouths open.

“You?” Richard managed to say. “Since when?”

Fern crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Since they started ordaining people over the Internet. I thought it might come in handy one day.”

I grabbed Fern by the shoulders. “So you can legally marry people?”

“Of course.” He tapped his fingers on his chin.
“I haven't actually performed a ceremony yet, though.”

“There's a first time for everything,” I said. “Do you think you can finish the wedding?”

Fern raised an eyebrow. “Would I get to wear robes?”

“Sure,” I said, avoiding Richard's disapproving look. “We can get you robes.”

Fern's eyes danced. “I've always wanted to wear ceremonial robes.”

“This is your plan?” Richard said. “You're going to have the hairdresser officiate the ceremony?”

“Unless you have a better idea,” I said. “Kate can get the groomsmen to drag the priest back to the sacristy and then we can get him out of his robes and Fern into them. We'll get this ceremony back on track in no time.”

Richard put his hands on his hips. “With a drag queen standing in for the priest?”

“I beg your pardon,” Fern said.

“Do you or do you not have a green Jackie Kennedy suit and matching pillbox hat?” Richard asked.

“Green?” Fern gasped. “I'll have you know that it's peacock blue and it looks stunning on me.”

Kate looked intrigued. “You do?”

“I think I've proved my point,” Richard said.

My cell phone buzzed in my pocket and I turned to Kate. “I'd better answer this in case it's another wedding emergency. Can you handle the priest and Fern?”

“Don't worry, Annie. I'm on it.” She grabbed Fern by the arm and started off down the aisle.

I flipped open the phone. “Wedding Belles. This is Annabelle.”

“I'm glad I found you.”

The voice sounded familiar, but I couldn't place it right away. “Who is this?” I asked.

“It's Mike, I mean Detective Reese.”

“Hi, Detective.” I tried not to sound too pleasantly surprised. “I'm kind of in the middle of a wedding.”

“I know. I wouldn't bother you if it wasn't important.”

I looked nervously through the sanctuary doors. Kate's flirting seemed to be working because the groomsmen lifted the priest and carried him to the sacristy door behind the altar.

“I'm glad you called.” I said. “I forgot to mention something to you on my earlier message. If Lucille has any desire to finish the job she started with Margery, you should check on her at the hospital. She could be in danger.”

“Margery isn't in danger from Lucille.”

Typical. “Because you didn't think of it?”

“No.” Reese sounded impatient. “I don't think Margery is in danger because we found Lucille.”

“Good Lord.” Richard pointed to the altar as Fern walked out in black robes with an enormous silver cross around his neck that looked like it had been pulled off a wall. Obviously his own touch.

“Dearly beloved.” Fern opened his arms in a sweeping motion. We are gathered here today in the sight of God and these fabulously dressed witnesses.”

“I hate being right all the time,” Richard muttered.

“What?” I couldn't focus on Reese completely with Fern on stage. “Oh, you found Lucille? Well, that's a relief.”

“Not exactly,” Reese said. “She's dead.”

My mouth went dry and I tore my eyes away from Fern. “What do you mean?”

“We found her at her house strangled to death. Exactly like the other victims.”

“It doesn't make sense.” I shook my head. “If Lucille was strangled to death, then who's the killer?”

“I guess that's the million dollar question.”

“Are you there, Annabelle?” Reese asked. I nodded mutely, and then gave myself a mental shake. “I'm here. I think I'm in shock.”

“You should be in shock. Are you watching this?” Richard asked, gaping at the drama unfolding at the front of the church.

Fern had picked up the ceremony in the middle of the vows, where Father O'Malley had left off. “For better or for worse, for richer not poorer…”

He paused for the bride to repeat after him. Not completely inappropriate vows, nonetheless I was glad I couldn't see Kitty's face.

“I'm sending an officer over to the church,” Reese said.

“Do you really think that's necessary?” I didn't relish the idea of a police car outside the church, but the way this wedding was going, who knew if anyone would even notice?

“In sickness and in wealth…”

“Like you said, the killer may want to finish the
job,” Reese said. “I'm sending one to Margery's hospital room, too.”

“Okay,” I said numbly. “If you think it's a good idea. I'd better go before the ceremony ends.”

“Be careful, Annabelle,” Reese said. “There's still a killer on the loose.”

I dropped the phone in my pocket after hanging up. “Lucille is dead.”

“What?” Richard said. “I thought she was the bad guy.”

“Apparently not.” I felt very light-headed. “She's been murdered just like the others.”

Richard wagged a finger at me. “I told you she was too sweet-looking. You never believe me.”

I blinked back a tear as I thought of the kind, grandmotherly wedding planner. I felt awful for even thinking that she could have killed someone.

“She was too fragile to strangle someone anyway,” Richard said. “She must have been about sixty, right?”

“Yes, but Leatrice is eighty and I wouldn't consider her fragile.”

Richard rolled his eyes. “Leatrice is not a normal little old lady in any sense of the word.”

“True,” I admitted. “But if Lucille didn't do it, who did?”

“Your suspects are a dying breed,” Richard said. “If you wait long enough, you'll know who the murderer is because it will be the only person left alive.”

“If I wait any longer, I won't be left alive.” I brushed a loose strand of hair off my face. “If only we could find a pattern to the murders.”

“They're all wedding planners,” Richard said. “I'd call that a pattern.”

“But the victims don't make sense. Stephanie doesn't have any connection to everyone else. Even Lucille was an old-timer like Carolyn and Eleanor.”

“You aren't part of that crowd and the killer tried to get rid of you.”

“Probably because I meddled in the case,” I said. “Margery is part of that group, though.”

“So everyone fits except you and Stephanie,” Richard said. “The killer went after you because you were trying to solve the case, so now you're just missing the reason he killed Stephanie.”

“That's the answer to this whole case. I can feel it.”

“Why not try to figure it out without Stephanie? If she doesn't fit, eliminate her from the equation.”

I gave a weak laugh. “Maybe the killer goofed up and killed her by accident.”

My breath caught in my throat. What if the killer had made a mistake and meant to kill someone else at the party? I grabbed Richard's arm. “Where was Stephanie murdered?”

Richard took a step away from me. “In Maxwell's equipment closet. Why?”

“I'm sure it's dark in there, right?”

“Closets are usually dark, Annabelle.” Richard looked at me like I'd lost my mind. “That's why Maxwell was famous for his closet meetings.”

“His closet meetings?” I asked. “What are you talking about?”

“Let's just say he's been caught at more than
one party with a pretty young thing in a closet.”

I swatted at him. “Why didn't you tell me this earlier?”

“Ouch.” Richard rubbed his arm where I hit him. “I assumed it was common knowledge. Maxwell isn't the most discreet person in the world.”

“What if Maxwell set up two closet meetings at the party and the killer only knew about one?”

Richard rapped his fingers on his chin. “I wouldn't put a ménage à trois past Maxwell.”

“Stephanie doesn't look very much like the other planners, though. Even in the dark.”

“With her wild curly hair, it would be hard to mistake for any of the older planners, that's for sure,” Richard agreed. “They're the queens of the frumpy bob.”

I frowned and looked through the sanctuary doors at the long line of groomsmen and bridesmaids. From where I stood they looked like two rows of human clones since all the men wore identical tuxedoes and all the women had matching gowns and blond French twists.

I snapped my fingers. “Wait a second. Stephanie didn't have her hair down at the party. She wore it up.”

“You're right,” Richard said. “I remember thinking she looked more subdued than usual.”

“With her hair up, she could easily pass for another wedding planner,” I said. “Especially in the dark.”

“Doesn't Gail wear her hair up all the time?” Richard asked. “She certainly falls in the same category as the other victims.”

“And she used to have a thing with Maxwell, and she argued with him at the party,” I said.

“Even if the killer intended to kill Gail instead of Stephanie, that doesn't tell us who the killer is,” Richard said. “We're right back where we started.”

I glanced through the doors again. “And the ceremony is going to end any minute.”

“If Fern ever wraps up his homily,” Richard said. “Who knew you could stretch a metaphor about marriage and fashion for so long?”

“I need to run to the bridal room and get the bride's things before she and the groom come out and get in their car,” I said. “This is one bride who will notice if her makeup bag isn't there. Can you stay here and open the doors if they come out?”

Richard gave a mock bow. “I live to serve.”

I made a face at him as I headed down the side of the church to the bride's holding room. Not surprisingly, the room looked like a war zone. Garment bags were draped over chairs and makeup littered the large wooden table in the center of the room. Finding the bride's tiny white cosmetic bag wasn't going to be as easy as I thought.

I pawed through the duffel bags scattered on the sagging green upholstered couch in the corner and found the black bag I'd seen the bride arrive with. Her makeup bag had to be inside. I tugged on the zipper but it wouldn't open. I jiggled it and tried again. Crap. It was stuck. I looked at the clock on the wall and pulled harder. Nothing. By the time I got it open, the bride would be long gone. I tried not to panic. Who was good at opening things? Not Richard. He might wrinkle his
outfit. Not Kate. She might break a nail. I wished I was stronger.

Then it dawned on me who was known for her strength. My heart started pounding. Why hadn't I thought of it earlier? I knew who could strangle someone and push them over a balcony and who had been at every crime scene. Plus, she had a connection to all the victims except for Stephanie. Now I was sure that Stephanie had been a mistake, because the killer didn't have the best eyesight. It would have been easy for her to mistake Stephanie for someone else in a dark closet. I dropped the duffel bag and reached for my cell phone.

“Hello, Annabelle.”

I looked up and sucked in my breath. Margery.

“Surprised to see me?” Margery took a step inside the room.

I swallowed hard. “Shouldn't you be at the hospital?”

Margery laughed harshly. “Recovering from my fake concussion?”

“I'm not sure what you mean.” I tried to speed dial Richard on my cell phone without looking. “I'm glad to see you up and about, though.”

“I doubt that.” Margery took a step toward me. She wore the same brown suit that she'd worn at the Mayflower, but today she looked disheveled and a bit crazy. “Surely by now you've figured it out, haven't you, Sherlock?”

“Figured what out?” I took a few steps to the side so the table stood between us.

“From what Lucille said, I was sure you were on to me. When she called me after you left the Wedding Shoppe, I knew that you were too close for comfort.”

I tried to remember if Lucille had said anything incriminating about Margery. “Lucille didn't say anything about you. Honest.”

“I find that hard to believe.” Margery pulled one of the plastic garment bags off a chair and pulled it taut. “When she told me that you came by the store for a flower girl's basket, I knew that you must be pumping her for information. You probably didn't even have a flower girl in the wedding.”

“But I did need a flower girl basket,” I said. “Did you kill Lucille because you thought she told me something about you?”

Margery twisted the plastic into a coil. “Lucille knew too much, even if she didn't know that she did. She heard me talking to my lawyer on the phone about the shop and eventually she would have put it all together.”

“So what if Lucille knew you talked to a lawyer about taking Carolyn's husband to court?”

Margery laughed. “Maybe I gave you too much credit. I wasn't taking Mr. Crabbe to court. I was buying the business from him.”

I staggered back a few steps. “You're the secret buyer?”

“It wouldn't have been secret forever. There's no crime in buying a business from a willing seller, and with Carolyn gone, her husband was more than willing to get the store off his hands.”

I couldn't hide my shock. “You have enough money to buy the entire business?”

Margery's face twitched. “I've socked away my money for years, and Lucille gave me some of her savings to invest. Between the two of us, we have
a nice nest egg. More than anyone would have expected.”

I felt sick thinking of poor Lucille and felt sicker looking at the plastic that Margery held between her hands. Did she plan on strangling me with it? I edged around the table away from her.

“Lucille's nest egg didn't end up doing her much good,” I said. “Did she know about what you were doing with her money?”

“I planned to tell her. I wanted us to run the business together. But things didn't work out.”

“Why did you have to kill her? She didn't know anything,” I insisted. “She talked about how much she missed you and how worried she was.”

A look of genuine regret flickered across Margery's face. “I did it for both of us, you know. But Lucille never would have understood.”

I darted a look at my phone but couldn't tell if it had connected or not. “Did what for both of you?”

Margery gave an exasperated sigh. “Surely you've put two and two together by now?”

“You killed everyone for Lucille and then you killed her, too?” I took a step around the corner of the table and Margery followed.

“Don't say it like that!” Margery yelled, slamming a hand down on the table. “Lucille wasn't supposed to die.”

“So why did you kill her, then?” If I could keep Margery talking, maybe Reese's police guard would arrive before she tried to add me to her list of victims.

“She was going to ruin everything I'd done for us. She knew I'd been missing at all the crime
scenes right before the bodies were found even though she would never admit it to herself. I always gave her a good excuse, but if anyone dug deeper, Lucille could incriminate me without even trying.”

“I get that you killed Carolyn so you could buy the business, but why kill other wedding planners? What did they ever do to you? And what about Stephanie?”

Margery's face reddened. “Stephanie was a mistake. She shouldn't have been wearing her hair like Gail does. They looked exactly alike.”

“Especially without your glasses, right?” I said. “Lucille mentioned that you don't like to wear your glasses but you're blind without them.”

“Very clever.” Margery wagged a finger at me. “I regret Stephanie but I'm not sorry for the others. Lucille and I slaved away under Carolyn for years with the promise that she'd make us partners one day. That day never came. While every other planner left the Wedding Shoppe and became successful, we stayed with Carolyn.”

I nodded, finally understanding. “You thought your years of loyalty would pay off but instead you were looked down upon by all the planners who passed through the store.”

Margery balled her hands into fists. “I trained them all and they became fancy planners while Lucille and I did Carolyn's dirty work for twenty years.”

“So you killed them because they left and you didn't?” I punched Richard's number again. “That doesn't seem very fair.”

“Fair?” Margery advanced on me, snapping
her makeshift plastic rope. “Don't you think I heard the comments they made about us? They all acted like they were better than us and didn't give us the time of day. No one cared about what we thought. We were only Carolyn's lowly assistants, and Carolyn made sure to keep us in our place.”

“The old-timers are mean to everyone.” I took a baby step toward the door. “Do you think they've been welcoming to us, either?”

Margery's shoulders sagged. “That's why I thought you might understand. You and Kate were treated badly as well.”

“I do understand,” I said. “There have been plenty of times that I've felt the same way you do.”

Margery's face softened, then she set her mouth and gave her head a shake. “No, you're trying to trick me. If you didn't like Carolyn or Eleanor why were you so set on finding out who killed them?”

I moved around the table, closer to the door. A few more feet and I could make a run for it. “I thought that if someone was killing wedding planners, I might be next.”

“You would have been next if the bust hadn't slipped in my hands at the last minute. You weren't supposed to survive, but the marble proved to be tricky to hold.” She snapped the plastic. “I much prefer strangulation.”

How comforting. “You hit yourself to throw people off your trail?”

Margery looked pleased with herself. “I made sure to give myself a nasty looking gash, but noth
ing more serious than that. Not bad for a wedding planner's assistant, don't you think? No one would suspect one of the killer's victims.”

I had to admit that it was pretty clever.

Margery made a clucking sound and took another step toward me. “You should have left well enough alone, Annabelle. Now you are going to be the next wedding planner murdered.”