Groomed for Murder

by Laura Durham

  “This view is pretty great,” Laurel said as she leaned in to give me a quick hug before giving one to Kate.

  “If the weather is good, it’s amazing,” I agreed, hugging the groom and ensuring Kate let him go when it was her turn.

  “I love the brick walls,” Mark said.

  “Aren’t they smashing?” I said.

  Kate shot me a look and mouthed the word “smashing?” to me as the bride and groom admired the cityscape. I gave myself a mental head slap. Had I said it in my version of a British accent? I hoped not.

  “Did you do this for us?” Laurel asked, taking a few steps toward the long white table.

  “I’m afraid not,” Kate walked with her. “Another planner is doing a styled shoot.”

  “It’s pretty,” the bride said, twisting around to catch her fiancé’s eye, “but a little plain for us, right?”

  “Right, love,” he said. “We like color.”

  I smiled, afraid to speak for fear a Cockney accent would come bursting out of my mouth. A breeze blew across the terrace, kicking up the table linen and making me rub my bare forearms.

  Renee appeared from the direction of the elevator rolling a gray cart topped with small white cakes adorned with white sugar flowers. Tina stalked over to her, and the two of them began setting the cakes at each place setting. As I took in the white linen, white flowers, white plates, and white cakes, I felt like yawning. If this was Tina’s idea of an earth-shattering design, I didn’t know how long she’d make it in the wedding world.

  Kate put a hand on the bride’s arm. “There’s a lot more you can do with this space. We could hang paper lanterns or project light patterns onto the brick walls.”

  “This is only one of many looks T Pink can design for you.” Tina turned from her table and pressed a business card into the bride’s hand. “If you haven’t already booked a planner, I’d be happy to meet with you and tell you why I would be a better choice.”

  Kate’s mouth fell open, and Laurel flicked her gaze to the business card covered in bright-pink swirls. Kate snatched the card from the bride’s open palm and tucked it into her pocket. “You won’t be needing that.”

  “We’re happy with Wedding Belles,” Laurel stammered. “But thanks.”

  Tina laughed. “You can’t blame a girl for trying.”

  Watch me, I thought.

  “She’s not one of yours, is she?” the groom asked me, clearly confused by what had happened.

  “Not by a long shot,” I said.

  Renee wheeled the empty cart past me, her cheeks red and her eyes down. Tina followed her and looked like she was about to launch into a tirade when she spotted me standing with the groom. To be clear, when she spotted the groom. Even from a few feet away I could see her pupils dilate and her mouth widen into a predatory smile.

  “Are you the . . .?” Tina let the question dangle as she looked back at his fiancé and raised an eyebrow, making it clear she found the pairing hard to believe.

  Mark crossed his arms over his chest. “I think the word you may be searching for is fiancé.”

  “Of course,” Tina giggled as she moved closer. “I thought maybe you were the brother or best friend. Hoped, I guess.”

  Did this woman have no shame? I angled myself in front of the groom so she couldn’t get any closer. “Did I hear the rumors correctly? You recently got married, Tina?”

  Her smile flickered. “That’s right.” She flashed an admittedly huge diamond. “Almost a year.”

  “How’s life as a newlywed?”

  She pulled her eyes off the groom to answer me. “Great. We moved into a new house. It’s way too big for the two of us, but with my husband’s high profile, we can’t live in any old place.”

  “What does your husband do?” I asked. The age-old question everyone asked in Washington.

  “He owns a bunch of nightclubs downtown.” Tina tossed her hair off her shoulder. “Everyone in DC knows him. He’s around here somewhere actually.” She made an exaggerated frowny face. “You’re still single, right?”

  “Yep.” I tried to catch Kate’s eye so she could join us. We really needed to come up with a nonverbal emergency signal.

  “It must be sad planning weddings for the rest of the world and never having one of your own.” Tina smiled while she said it, but the words were sharp.

  The groom’s eyes darted between Tina and me. I told myself not to let her words bother me, although the truth of them stung, and I felt my throat tighten.

  “Is that how you met your husband? Nightclubs?” I asked, trying to keep my voice from cracking.

  She tilted her head at me. “Did you hear that through the grapevine too?”

  “An educated guess,” I said, dropping my eyes to her short skirt and seeing her press her lips together in response. It was easy to see Tina as a club hopper. I’d never seen her in an outfit that wouldn’t be at home with techno music and strobe lights.

  Mark took his fianceé’s hand as she and Kate joined us. “Ready to go, love?”

  I didn’t give Tina another look as we headed toward the elevator bank, but I spotted Renee still standing with the cart.

  “I’m really sorry,” she said, stepping close to Kate and me and keeping her voice low so Tina couldn’t hear. “I saw she tried to steal your client.”

  Kate put an arm around her shoulder. “It’s not your fault.”

  “And we would never leave Annabelle and Kate,” Laurel said.

  “No other planner can do a British accent even half as well as Annabelle,” Mark said, giving me a wink.

  I felt my cheeks flush. “You’ve noticed?”

  The groom gave me a playful nudge. “I think it’s smashing.”

  Kate let out a breath. “I’m so glad this is out in the open. I’ve been trying to get her to stop since you hired us, but she doesn’t even know she’s doing it.”

  The elevator opened. Mark and Laurel looked at us and the oversized cart. We wouldn’t all fit inside.

  “You two go ahead,” I said. “We’ll take the next one.”

  They agreed and promised to call us later with a final decision on the rooftop. Laurel blew us kisses as the doors closed.

  Kate turned to face Renee. “Plus, we aren’t foolish enough to bring a client around without having a signed contract.”

  “Really?” Renee shook her head. “Tina takes clients to site visits all the time before they sign with us. They don’t always end up going with her and she goes berserk.”

  “I wouldn’t want to have to deal with her temper.” I cast a glance behind me, but Tina had gone back to her table and was loudly micromanaging the photographer.

  “It’s awful,” Renee said. “She’s bad on-site, but she’s even worse in the office where no one but me or the other girls can see. I’m thinking of going back to waiting tables.”

  “Come on.” Kate squeezed her shoulder. “Not all planners are like that. You need to quit working for her and start working for someone else.”

  Renee bit her bottom lip. “I’m afraid to leave her. She might get as mad at me as she gets at other people. I don’t want anyone to say about me what she’s said about Melody or Cher or the barista who messed up her lactose-free latte.”

  The elevator arrived and the doors opened with a bing. Kate stepped inside and held the door open.

  “Wait a second.” I helped Renee push the cart inside the elevator car. “Did you say Cher? Why was she mad at Cher? I thought Cher was the one angry at her.”

  “At first,” Renee said. “Then Tina heard Cher had been telling people she was disorganized and canceled things at the last minute. She hit the roof. I don’t think I’ve ever heard her so angry.”

  “So she hated Cher as much as Cher hated her?” Kate asked.

  “I’d say so,” Renee said. “Tina told me she wished that Vegas wannabe would drop dead.”

  Chapter 18

  “I’m glad you could get away long enough for dinner,” I said to Reese as a waite
r directed us to a table for two by the wall of windows overlooking the Georgetown street. Headlights flashed in the darkness as cars passed, but the sounds of the horns were muffled.

  Reese pulled out my chair for me. “I was ready for a break after most of the day spent processing the new crime scene.”

  I stammered a thank you and hoped I wasn’t blushing and people weren’t staring. Most guys in DC did not pull out chairs or open doors anymore—something Richard considered a modern-day tragedy and a symptom of the downfall of humanity. Part of me wished Richard could see this, but another part of me was afraid he might actually be somewhere in the restaurant spying on me.

  I unfolded the black napkin onto my lap, pleased it wasn’t white and I wouldn’t have tiny fibers all over my black dress at the end of the meal. “Have you been at Perry’s this entire time?”

  Reese slid off his brown blazer and hung it off the back of his chair, revealing a blue button-down showing off his broad chest. “I left before the District Three guys did, but it still took a long time to talk to all the guests.”

  Our waiter appeared, dropping a basket of two large salty pretzels on the table, and we placed our order—the crab cake sandwich and a glass of white wine for me and a blue cheese burger and a pale ale for him.

  “You’re not a salad girl.” Reese leaned back in his chair. “I like that.”

  I swallowed a mouthful of soft pretzel. “That bodes well for us because I almost never eat salad. It gives Richard fits. He’s convinced I’m going to die of malnutrition.”

  Reese winked at me. “A good reason not to eat it if it gives Richard something to fuss about.”

  I smiled at him, trying to keep my eyes from drifting down to his muscled chest and shoulders. “Exactly.” I noticed his hazel eyes deepen to green and cleared my throat. “So did you learn anything good at the scene today?”

  He leaned his elbows on the edge of the table and steepled his fingers. “I’m not supposed to talk to you about an open investigation, Annabelle.”

  “I know.” I took another bite of the soft pretzel, enjoying the salty kick. “I thought we could do a little quid pro quo.”

  Reese raised an eyebrow. “How would that work since you’re not supposed to be involved in the case anymore? Did you have another kind of trade in mind?”

  Kate would have jumped at the idea of another type of trade and possibly abandoned the idea of dinner altogether. I shook my head. “Not exactly. I happened upon some information today.”

  Reese exhaled slowly. “How does that even happen? You’re a wedding planner. Most people in your line of work never get involved in a single murder investigation their entire careers. But you . . .”

  “You know I don’t go looking for trouble.” I took a sip of the cold white wine the waiter placed in front of me.

  “Do I?” he asked. “I have met your friends, remember?”

  I held up one palm. “You can’t hold Leatrice against me. It’s not my fault I moved into a building with a one-woman neighborhood watch.”

  “At least she’s more Inspector Clouseau than Sherlock Holmes, otherwise the department would be in real trouble.”

  I decided not to remind him of the time Leatrice, along with some questionable friends she picked up from the dark net, had hacked into the DC police department computers and fed me information about a case. Better not to open old wounds or remind Reese of the many times I’d gone against his strict orders to stay away from an investigation.

  Reese took a drink of his amber-colored beer. “So what information did you stumble upon today while out planning weddings?”

  I decided to let his slightly sarcastic tone slide.

  “Have you heard me mention a new planner called Tina Pink?” I asked as our waiter placed my crab cake sandwich and fries in front of me. I dipped one of my thick-cut fries in the ramekin of tartar sauce.

  Reese glanced up from assembling his burger. “I don’t think so.”

  I waved a hand. “It doesn’t matter. I only met her on Sunday. Anyway, she already has a reputation for leaving her old boss in a pretty sleazy way, and she’s become BFFs with another awful planner who trashes everyone in the business.”

  Reese nodded as he chewed, so I continued. “Kate and I were showing one of our couples a venue this afternoon, and who do you think we ran into on the rooftop of The Line hotel? Tina Pink doing a sad white-on-white styled shoot.”

  “Does this story somehow connect to the murders?” Reese asked.

  I finished the fry and took a bite of my pickle spear. “I thought you had to be patient to be a detective.”

  He put down his burger. “Babe, I spent the day talking to a room full of drag queens. I honestly don’t know how much patience I have left in me.”

  Fair enough, I thought. “Long story short, Tina Pink’s assistant told us she’d gotten in a big blowout fight with Cher Noble.”

  “Interesting,” Reese said. “Was the fight serious enough to kill over?”

  “Tina has a pretty bad temper. Plus, her assistant said she heard Tina saying she wanted to kill Cher for telling people she was a bad planner.”

  Reese took a swig of his beer. “How big is this Tina woman?”

  “A little taller than me, a little skinnier, and a lot blonder. A total salad girl.”

  Reese grinned. “As much as she may have wanted to kill Cher, there’s no way a woman that size could overpower a man who was over six feet tall and north of three hundred pounds. And unless she was wearing a great disguise, she wasn’t on the security footage from Meridian House.”

  “You watched the footage?”

  He ran a finger around the top of his beer glass. “It wasn’t too helpful. No shots of the murder scene, lots of setup people walking around in baseball caps, so few face shots, but no tall blonde.”

  I thought about it for a second as I took a bite of my crab cake sandwich. Reese was right. Not only was Tina not strong enough, I doubted she would risk breaking a nail to kill someone as violently as Cher was murdered. And, as far as I knew, she had no connection to Blanche Davidian.

  “Can you confirm the two murders were connected?” I asked Reese.

  “I’m not officially telling you one way or the other.” Reese dropped his voice. “But the MO is exactly the same, including being garroted by a wire and wrapping another object around the neck unconnected to the strangling. Not even a copycat killer would know since we’ve been careful about keeping it out of the press.”

  I shivered a little even though the restaurant wasn’t cool. I hated thinking about the way in which Cher and Blanche were killed, and I couldn’t imagine hating someone so much. “So whoever did the first murder did the second one.”

  “Drat,” I said, picking up a fry and tossing it back onto the plate. “I really wanted Tina to be the killer, but not only was she not at the scene of the first murder, she wasn’t at Perry’s this morning either.”

  “So you’re trying to convince yourself this Tina is the killer even though she wasn’t at either crime scene?” Reese gave a low whistle. “You really don’t like this planner, do you?”

  “She actually tried to steal our clients from us today while I was standing right in front of her.” I wrinkled my nose. “She’s the worst kind of wedding planner—unpleasant, unorganized, unethical.”

  “Sounds like she’s the anti-Annabelle.”

  I smiled. I liked the sound of that. “Absolutely. Like the opposite of a mini-me.”

  Reese reached his hand across the table and placed it on top of mine. “I’ve had to deal with some pretty bad apples in my work too. All I can tell you is the cream rises to the top. You keep doing the great work you always do, and you and Kate won’t have to worry. No matter how many new planners pop up.”

  I looked down and blinked hard so I wouldn’t cry. That might have been the nicest thing a guy had ever said to me regardless of the mixed metaphors. I squeezed his hand. “Thanks.”

  He squeezed back. “I’m glad
your big clue wasn’t a real lead. I’ve got so many things to follow up on after questioning everyone from this morning, I don’t know if I could have handled one more.”

  “Did anyone see anything suspicious?” I asked. “Someone had to have seen who lowered those drapes, right? I can’t think of any reason to lower them unless you needed to do something you wanted to be sure no one saw. Like strangle someone.”

  “I really shouldn’t tell you this considering your connection.” Reese looked down at his lap.

  “Tell me what? What connection?” I asked. “You mean because I was at both crime scenes?”

  Reese gave an abrupt shake of his head. “Two people mentioned seeing someone near the gold velvet or messing with the fabric.”

  “Did they recognize the person or give a description? Almost everyone at the reception had on a pretty distinctive outfit.”

  “Neither of them remembers a face. They only saw a glimpse of the person from the back, so they could only give me one defining characteristic. But they both said the same thing, so that’s a sign we’re on the right track.”

  I leaned over the table. “What was it?”

  “The person they saw—a man—wore all black. Possibly a black suit.”

  I straightened up. “A black suit? Most guests were in a crazy cocktail dress. The only person I noticed in a black suit was . . . “ I covered my mouth with my hand.

  “Fern,” Reese said for me.

  “Can I tempt you two with dessert?” the waiter asked as he cleared our empty pretzel basket. “Our chocolate lava cake is to die for.”

  Reese and I both shook our heads.

  Chapter 19

  “What do you mean he dropped you off with a good-night kiss?” Kate asked the next morning when I opened my apartment door still wearing my grungiest pajamas. She eyed the worn plaid drawstring bottoms. “I mean, I’m relieved you didn’t have him sleep over and wear those hideous things, but I don’t understand why he left.”