To Love and To Perish (6 page)

“My God!” I said, taking a step closer to the body.

“My curling iron!” Fern motioned to the chrome wand hanging down the back of Eleanor's neck.

Kate and I turned to look at Fern.

“Does this make me an accomplice?” he asked.

I put a hand on his shoulder. “I don't think you can be held accountable for someone using your curling iron to strangle her.”

Fern made a tiny noise in the back of his throat and sunk into the nearest chair. “This is horrible.”

I agreed. Eleanor's lifeless body sprawled across the riser, her arms and legs jutting out at unnatural angles. Bright red marks slashed her throat and the cord was still wound loosely around her neck.

Kate darted a glance at the body. “I don't suppose she decided to end it all in a really dramatic way.”

“Doubtful,” I said. “Someone took a big chance murdering her with all these people around.”

“Maybe she ticked off someone and they killed her in the heat of passion,” Kate suggested. “Eleanor could be really annoying with all her competitive bragging and snide comments.”

Fern nodded. “If I heard her talking one more time about all the celebrity weddings she did, I might have killed her myself.”

“No kidding,” Kate said. “Maybe someone finally snapped, having to hear about her million dollar weddings for the hundredth time.”

“Don't say that too loudly,” I warned, looking back at the door.

Fern grinned. “If only someone had told her that hosting a cable access cooking show does not make someone a celebrity. It would have saved us all a lot of pain and suffering.”

“You two are awful.” I folded my arms in front of me. “The woman is dead and you're making fun of her.”

“Well, I made fun of her when she was alive,” Fern said. “I don't want to be a hypocrite.”

Great. Now he'd decided to take an ethical stand.

“Let's get serious, you two.” I leveled a finger at Kate and Fern. “We have close to fifty wedding planners who are going to walk in this room any second and find us with Eleanor.”

“You're right,” Kate said. “This doesn't look so great. Especially since we found Carolyn a couple of days ago in a similar state.”

“Exactly.” I didn't want to think about what Detective Reese would say. “The police aren't
going to be thrilled with us, that's for sure.”

“But it's a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time,” Kate insisted. “We've just had really bad luck.”

“I'm not so sure about that anymore,” I said.

Fern studied me for a moment. “What do you mean?”

“Don't you think it's an awfully big coincidence that two of our competitors are killed almost right in front of us?”

Fern looked thoroughly confused. “Is this your way of telling us that you did it?”

“No.” I glared at him. “What if we're being set up?”

Kate's mouth fell open. “You mean the real killer wants it to look like we're killing our fellow planners?”

“Maybe,” I said. “I don't know for sure. I'm just trying to make sense of it all.”

“But why?” Fern wrung his hands. “Everyone loves me.”

“You could be right, Annabelle,” Kate said. “I wouldn't be surprised if some of the planners who've been doing this forever were threatened by how fast we've been rising in the ranks.”

Fern held up his hands. “Let me see if I understand correctly. Some of the established wedding planners get upset that a couple of upstart hussies are taking their business so they start to kill each other?”

“Upstart hussies?” I tapped my foot on the floor.

“I'm trying to get inside the mind of a killer, Annabelle. Don't take it personally.”

Somehow I didn't think that a cold-blooded killer would use the term “upstart hussies,” but I didn't want to debate the point.

Kate tapped her chin. “He has a point. Why would they kill other old school planners? Why not just kill us?”

I swallowed hard. “Maybe they plan to kill us, too.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Fern stood and put his hands on his hips. “This isn't funny. I don't want to be found with a blow dryer cord around my neck.”

“Do you suspect anyone in particular?” Kate asked.

“Aside from everyone in the hall?” I nibbled on my lower lip. “I think we have to assume that any of our colleagues could be the killer.”

Fern sat back down again and fanned himself with his hand. “I don't know if I can deal with this stress. It's very bad for my complexion.”

I took a deep breath and looked back and forth between Kate and Fern. “We have to find out who's been murdering D.C.'s wedding planners before they get to us.”

“We're goners,” Fern whispered to me as all the guests from the OWP meeting were corralled into the Willard's 1401 Café across from the Crystal Room. The modern café looked completely different from the rest of the ornate hotel. Instead of marble, it featured plenty of sleek blond wood and glass.

“Don't panic,” I said. “The police want to keep us all in one place until they can question everyone.”

Fern led us to a small table near the back of the café. “Don't you mean they've trapped us with a murderer?”

Kate angled her chair so her back faced the wall. “We'd better lay on our toes unless we want to be next.”

Fern gave evil glances to everyone around him.

“Calm down, you two,” I said. “Nobody is going to try anything with an officer stationed at the
door and dozens of witnesses. Not that it would hurt to
stay
on our toes.”

Fern visibly relaxed and squeezed my hand. “Of course you're right. I'm just so upset that someone was murdered with my equipment. I don't even know if they make that curling iron anymore.”

“It's probably still usable,” Kate said.

Fern's mouth gaped open. “I hope you're not suggesting I use a murder weapon to style my brides' hair.”

Kate rested her arms on the table. “It's not like your brides would ever know. There wasn't any blood on it or anything.”

The color left Fern's face at the mention of blood, and he slumped onto the table. “I don't feel so good.”

“It's evidence anyway,” I reminded them. “You probably won't see it for a while.”

“Is it true?” Barbie slid her chair over next to mine. “Did you find Eleanor?”

“I'm afraid so,” I said, hoping that my terse answer would discourage her. Fat chance.

“I can't believe it.” Barbie shook her head and came as close to a frown as a person with all of their facial muscles deadened could. “She just told me about a huge wedding she was working on. Apparently for some Middle Eastern princess.”

Fern looked up and raised an eyebrow. “What did I tell you? This wasn't a murder. It was a justifiable homicide.”

“What?” Barbie perked up.

I shot daggers at Fern. “He's joking. Gallows humor, you know.”

“Oh.” Barbie looked deflated. “You're the hairdresser, aren't you?”

Fern sat up and threw his shoulders back. “Fern at your service.”

“Like the plant?”

Fern gave her a withering look. “It's short for Fernando. My mother was an Abba groupie.”

Kate almost slipped off her chair. “Really?”

Fern pressed a hand to his heart and sucked in air. “Did you think I was named after a house plant?”

Kate shook her head and spluttered. “Of course not.”

“Well, of all the ridiculous things.” Fern crossed his arms tightly in front of him and spun around in his chair so his back was to us.

Barbie hesitated as she turned her attention back to me. “I can't imagine who would have done this to her, can you?”

“Did you see Eleanor talking with anyone suspicious?” Kate asked, trying to avoid Fern's over the shoulder glares.

Barbie shook her head. “She manned the registration desk. She had to talk to everyone.”

“Right.” Kate leaned back in her chair. “So much for narrowing down the field.”

Barbie's eyes widened. “Are you trying to figure out who killed her?”

“No,” I said, perhaps a bit too forcefully. “We're not getting involved in this at all. Are we, Kate?”

Kate took my cue. “Absolutely not. We always let the police do their job.”

Luckily, Barbie didn't catch Kate's sarcasm or me kicking her under the table.

Gail walked over and sat in the empty chair next to Fern. Her usual reelection smile had vanished. “The police are ruining our holiday meeting.”

“I think the fact that one of our members was murdered actually ruined the meeting,” Kate said.

Gail ignored her and turned to me. “How much longer do you think this will take?”

Since when did I become the expert in police protocol? “As long as it takes to question everyone, I guess.”

Gail threw her hands in the air. “That could take all day. This is a disaster. One member dead, two taken away for grief counseling, and the rest of us stuffed like sardines in this restaurant.”

“Who got taken away for grief counseling?” I asked.

“Lucille and Margery,” Barbie jumped in before Gail could respond. “Apparently Eleanor's death pushed Lucille over the edge. The police brought in a grief counselor, and Margery went with her to make sure she'd be okay.”

I felt sorry for Lucille. She'd never been the toughest planner around, which I guessed was why she'd remained an assistant for so many years. At least she still had Margery for support.

“Well, I have an important meeting this afternoon,” Gail said. “I can't afford to sit around here twiddling my thumbs all day.” She stood up. “I'm going to go talk to the police and see if I can't speed things up.”

The uniformed officer who'd been guarding the door approached our table. “They'd like to see you now, Miss Archer.”

I motioned to Kate and Fern. “Only me?”

Gail opened and closed her mouth a few times before stalking off. I followed the officer out of the café and across Peacock Alley to the Crystal Room.

The ballroom that had previously been so calm and serene now buzzed with activity. Light filled the room and officers swarmed around the riser at the front. I walked to where Detectives Reese and Hobbes stood facing the body. I couldn't help notice how Reese's dark green sweater fit snugly over his broad back and tapered to his narrow waist. There was no such tapering for Hobbes, whose own striped sweater looked a little lumpy around the middle.

I cleared my throat, and Reese turned around.

“Good, you're here.” He took my arm and led me to one of the nearby tables. “I wanted to talk to you privately before you're questioned.”

I couldn't help feeling pleased as I sat down and folded my hands in my lap. I gave Reese a weak smile. “I know you're probably really upset that I found another body.”

Reese arched an eyebrow, and I noticed how green his eyes looked against his sweater. “Why would that upset me?”

“I swear I had nothing to do with it. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

Reese held up a hand to stop me. “I don't think you killed her, Annabelle.”

I let out a long sigh. “That's a relief.”

“I don't know if you should be so relieved,” he continued. “These aren't just two unrelated murders you happened onto.”

I swallowed hard. He confirmed my worst suspicions. “You think they're connected?”

Reese gave a curt nod. “The murders have the same M.O.'s. It's pretty clear that we're looking for a single killer for both murders.”

I took a shaky breath as his words sunk in.

Reese placed his hand over mine, and I felt the warmth spread up my arm. “You need to watch your back, Annabelle. We may have a serial killer on the loose. And one of the things that connects both of the deaths is you.”

“What about the rest of us?” Richard's voice crackled through my cell phone.

“You're upset that two murders aren't linked to you as well?” I rubbed my temples and ducked behind a mannequin wearing a pink cocktail-length bridesmaid's dress.

Kate and I were meeting a bride and her mother at Promise bridal salon for the final fitting, and we'd arrived early. The bright and cheery salon had glass walls on two sides overlooking busy Wisconsin Avenue, one of the arteries that ran straight through the city. A wall of white billowing wedding gowns lined a back wall, and some of the most dramatic dresses stood on mannequins in the windows. Glass display cases held an impressive array of jeweled tiaras, feathered combs, and designer bridal shoes. There was even a display of trendy bridesmaids' gifts ranging from monogrammed makeup bags to preppy totes.

“Don't be absurd,” Richard said. “I just don't
know why they think the only common element in both deaths is you. You didn't find the bodies alone.”

“I'm not the only link. They warned Kate, too. She was there both times as well.” I sighed. “I promise never to stumble onto another corpse without you.”

“At least you could have called me immediately. I had to hear it from our secretary who heard it from Gail's assistant.”

“Gail has an assistant? I thought she used Byron as her assistant.”

“You're missing my point, Annabelle.”

“Fine. I'm sorry I didn't let you know right away. It won't happen again.”

Richard sniffed. “Apology accepted. I'm only concerned about your well-being, you know.”

“You hate getting scooped.”

“You wound me, darling. After all the sacrifices I've made for you.”

I rolled my eyes. I could imagine the manufactured tears welling up in his eyes. “Oh, jeez.”

“Did you roll your eyes at me?”

“Here they come,” Kate called from across the salon. I looked out the glassed front of the salon and saw a pair of petite blondes approaching in long caramel-colored fur coats.

“I have to go, Richard. Are we still on for dinner tonight?”

“Well, I suppose so. But if you stumble onto another violent crime and get so busy that you forget to call me, don't worry. I'll understand.” If he got any more dramatic he'd have to get a slot on late night TV.

“I'll see you then.” I flipped my phone shut and dropped it in my purse as the glass doors opened and Lady Margaret and Kitty Winchester made their entrance.

Lady Margaret Winchester and her mother, Kitty, were from Dallas and looked every bit the part. They had matching blond, bouffant hairdos that a wind tunnel wouldn't budge and perfectly applied makeup. They were the only people I knew who would dare to wear real fur in such a politically correct city.

Kate rushed forward to greet them, and I prayed that she wouldn't curtsy. It had taken a bit of convincing for Kate to believe that “Lady” wasn't a title but a first name not uncommon in the South. I had to agree, though, if there was American royalty, the Dallas born and bred Winchesters would be it.

“Do forgive us for being late.” Kitty's voice dripped slow and thick like molasses as she handed her coat to Kate. She wore a stunning blue suit that probably cost more than I made in a month, and her ears glittered with enormous sapphire and diamond earrings. “I hope you weren't waiting too long.”

“Not at all,” I said. I stepped forward to help Kate with the mound of fur draped over her. I took one of the coats and hung it on the coatrack by the door as Jessica, the stylish young salon owner, appeared. Jessica wore a fuchsia dress with a narrow belt and a knee-length bell skirt that looked remarkably like one of the bridesmaids' dresses from their casual collection.

“I apologize for my delay,” Fern called out as
he burst inside the salon along with a blast of frigid air.

Lady's face lit up. “We didn't know you were coming.”

Fern tossed his long black coat on top of Kate and linked his arm through the bride's. “I never miss a fitting, sweetie. I help with the whole look, you know. The hair is just the finishing touch.” He turned to Kitty and winked at her. “Is that an Escada suit?”

“Why don't we see the dress?” Jessica gestured to the back of the salon. “You're going to be thrilled with the alterations.”

Fern picked up a feathered hair comb from a glass display as he followed Jessica and Lady to the back. “Have you considered wearing feathers with your tiara?”

I made a mental note to restrain Fern from outfitting Lady in a feather headdress before the fitting was over.

“Now, Annabelle…,” Kitty held my arms so that Lady walked out of earshot. Her forehead furrowed into rows of wrinkles. “I need your advice.”

“I promise he'll be perfectly appropriate on the wedding day.”

“I'm not worried about Fern.” Kitty gave a wave of her hand and smiled. “We're having some problems with the groom's side.”

I nodded solemnly. Problems with the groom's family were nothing new with this wedding. I'd finally convinced Kitty that she couldn't do anything about the groom's mother selecting a hot pink fringed gown to wear to the wedding, but I
knew it was killing her inside. I hoped she didn't want to rehash Gowngate again.

“You know that some of the groom's family is coming over from Ireland.” She waited for me to nod before she continued. “I'm concerned that they might get intoxicated at the wedding.”

Might? I didn't know how to respond. The Irish weddings I'd planned were some of the wildest parties I'd ever attended, with guests dancing and singing until the wee hours. I suspected that had something to do with the fact that they were usually drunk before the ceremony even began.

“You see, many of the guests are from our church in Dallas and they don't drink at all,” Kitty continued. “Do you think there is a way to keep the drinking under control?”

Not invite the Irish guests,
I felt like saying. Instead I plastered a big smile on my face. “We could have a separate nonalcoholic bar with some fun drinks like flavored tonics and lemonades. We can pass them out as well. That way people are encouraged to take something nonalcoholic instead of going to the bar.”

“Great idea,” Kitty said. “Let's do that.”

I knew the reality was that guests who wanted a drink would find the bar no matter what we did. We could have showgirls passing out lemonade and that still wouldn't make it more appealing to people who wanted a real drink. Of course if alcohol was a problem, I suspected showgirls weren't on the approved list, either.

Kitty and I continued to the back of the salon, where Lady stood on a round platform in her
wedding dress, looking at her reflection from all angles in the ornately carved wall-sized mirrors. Fern knelt on the ground next to her, fussing with the veil.

Kitty pressed her hands to her cheeks. “You look more beautiful than you did the night you won the Miss Dallas pageant.”

Lady beamed. The ivory satin ball gown had a heavily beaded strapless bodice and a champagne-colored sash that cinched the waist and draped down the back of the cathedral-length train. A sparkling diamond necklace, which I didn't doubt was real, rested on Lady's exposed neckline. With her pageant hair and picture-perfect smile, she did look like she could have stepped off a Miss America runway.

“It's a French bustle.” Jessica poked her head from behind the dress, where she held up the skirt.

“Will you number or color code the ribbons?” Kate asked. She'd been as scarred as I'd been a few years ago when a bridal salon had forgotten to number the strings that we were supposed to match up and tie underneath a gown in order to bustle it. We'd finally resorted to using dozens of safety pins to make the bustle work, and neither of us wanted to do that again.

Jessica smiled. “We'll number them.”

Fern stood and put a hand on his hip. “Is there any way to get a longer veil? This barely extends past the train. I've had longer bathrobes.”

“We do have a longer one in stock,” Jessica said. “Are you sure you want one so long?”

“Oh, yes.” Lady beamed at Fern. “That's exactly what the dress needs.”

Jessica disappeared in the back and came back with another veil. Fern pulled the old one out of Lady's hair and slid the new veil in, then ran around behind her to unfurl it.

He clapped his hands together. “Perfect.”

Lady nodded. “How to I keep the veil out of my face?” She pushed the frothy white tulle behind her shoulders, and it fell forward again.

Jessica produced a blue spray bottle from behind a display case. “Hair spray.” She held the veil off Lady's face and sprayed a fine mist over the transparent fabric, then waited a few seconds for it to set before letting it go.

Lady moved her head and the veil stayed in place. “Amazing!” She turned to me to say something, but I anticipated her question.

“Don't worry, Lady. We always have hair spray with us,” I assured her.

Jessica gave me a conspiratorial smile. A bridal salon had to have almost as many tricks to fix bridal mishaps as a wedding coordinator, and I'd gotten some of my best quick fixes by watching the dress consultants at Promise.

Lady spun around on the platform and blinked away tears. “I can't believe I'm getting married this Saturday.”

“Don't ruin your makeup, sugar,” Kitty said. “We have a luncheon after this.”

Lady gave herself one more blinding smile in the mirror before stepping down and swirling into the dressing room. “Remind me to pick up the white fox stole from Neimans, Mother. Oth
erwise I'll freeze getting from the Bentley to the church.”

Leave it to a Dallas bride to wear a fur coat to her wedding.

Kitty turned to me once Lady had disappeared into the dressing room. “Now, don't forget that we have two boxes of Devil Pickles being shipped to you for the welcome baskets.”

How could I forget that they were doing themed welcome baskets with only items from Texas? I'd had boxes from the Lone Star State arriving at my apartment for a month.

“What about the guest book and pillow?” Lady called from behind the purple velvet dressing room curtain.

“Would you girls do me a huge favor?” Kitty pulled a platinum credit card from her purse. “I'm afraid we won't have time to buy a guest book and ring bearer's pillow. Could you get them for us?”

“You want me to take your credit card?” I hesitated as she held the card in front of me.

“Don't worry.” She pressed it in my hand and winked at me. “I've got lots more.”

“It would be our pleasure,” I said as Kate gaped at me. Only days ago I'd sworn that I would not get suckered into running errands for clients, and especially not the bizarre ones that Lady and Kitty had come up with over the past few months. Kate and I had already spent an afternoon picking out a selection of wedding lingerie for Lady to approve, and then another day trying to return what she didn't like.

“You're a doll.” Kitty walked to the front of the salon and threw her fur coat around her shoul
ders. “Remember that Lady loves beads and crystals. Something to coordinate with her dress would be perfect.”

“Do we need another trail for my hair?” Lady asked Fern, coming up behind us and pulling her coat off the stand.

Fern gave a quick shake of his head. “Don't you worry. I know you Texas girls like it full.”

Lady smiled and turned to her mother. “Are we all set?”

“The girls are going to take care of everything for us.” Kitty patted me and Kate on the arm as she opened the glass door. “I don't know what we'd do without you two.”

Kitty and Lady waved as they rushed out into the biting wind.

“How much fuller can her hair get?” I asked without breaking my smile.

Fern laughed. “The higher the hair, the closer to God.”

“This isn't your first Texas bride, is it?” I asked.

“Not by a long shot.” He sighed.

Kate glared at me. “What just happened with Kitty? What happened to standing your mound?”

Fern scratched his head. “I've never heard that one before.”

“Okay, so I have a hard time saying no to Kitty. I think it's the accent,” I said. “But I also had an ulterior motive.”

Kate crossed her arms in front of her. “You're dying to check out the latest styles in ring bearer pillows?”

“No. I thought it would be a great excuse to visit the Wedding Shoppe.”

“You mean Carolyn's Wedding Shoppe? Where Margery and Lucille work?”

“Exactly,” I said. “We can ask a few questions and maybe find out a little more about Carolyn and who would want to kill her.”

“Not a bad idea,” Kate admitted. “Anything to bring us closer to finding who has it in for wedding planners. I'm afraid the next victim might be someone I actually like.”