I dug through my purse and called Detective Roxy from my truck. I wanted to tell her about the McGoverns and see if she could piece things together from her end. Wouldn’t that have just made life easier? Of course, she didn’t answer, so I left her a message.
Since I had a few minutes to spare, I drove to the post office and decided to rent a PO box instead of having all my deliveries sent downstairs to the antiques shop. It might be totally inconvenient popping into the post office all the time, but at least I could be sure my mail would be safe until I figured out what the heck was going on, and I wouldn’t have to bother Kathleen every day. My wallet would thank me too.
With that task completed, I headed to Park Place. I was majorly hoping the venue wouldn’t be all that bad and we could check one thing off Aria’s ever-growing list of disasters.
It turned out to be worse than I imagined.
I should’ve known it was going to be a mess when the wedding planner insisted we have tea first. Park Place was known for hosting a formal afternoon tea. The tea room was a sight, with its Waterford chandeliers, delicate floral china and crisp white lines. The only thing we were missing were the fancy-shmancy hats. At least my shorts were designer. I could’ve totally dug the European vibe if I wasn’t getting more suspicious by the minute. Don’t get me wrong, I loved a good tea party, especially those lemon scones and miniature cucumber and dill sandwiches, but the extra VIP treatment was making me wary. I tried to brush it off. Aria was, after all, marrying Vincent Delgado, Savannah’s most eligible and wealthiest bachelor; not to mention, most people thought he was corrupt as could be, a reputation that he helped facilitate. I tried to keep that in mind, which is why for over an hour, I let the staff of Park Place fuss over my bestie and bring out scones and sandwiches, this special tea and that one for her to sample. They even capped off the service with a little Earl Grey-infused truffle. Personally, I thought tea belonged in the pot, but I never turned down a truffle.
Finally, we were invited to follow the wedding coordinator to the Grande Ballroom. As soon as I saw the giant floor fans, I knew we were in trouble. We walked through the double doors and directly into chaos. Workers were everywhere—replacing the dance floor, steaming carpets, and pulling wallpaper down. A woman, who I assumed to be a designer, was holding paint swatches next to folds of material, apparently trying to decide which paint color matched the new curtains.
“All this for a little water damage, huh?” I said to the wedding coordinator. I would’ve said it to Aria, but she looked a bit catatonic, standing in the middle of the room, eyes wide, mouth open.
“It was more than just a little water. More than one alarm was pulled. The entire system was activated,” the coordinator said to me, and then turned to Aria and added, “I know this looks bad, but I promise everything will be perfect on Saturday.” I wondered if she felt bad lying like that because I was fairly optimistic, and even I couldn’t see how this was going to be perfect.
Aria shared my skepticism and told the coordinator so.
“I completely understand. If you want to cancel, your deposit will be fully refunded and there won’t be any penalties for breaking contract.” I should hope not.
Aria told the coordinator that she’d get back to her later that day. We took one last look at the disaster and walked out. We started winding our way down the halls back toward the front of the hotel when that goofy guy with the fedora ran right into me. I think he was trying to split Aria and me, but it didn’t work. I didn’t fall, but I did stumble backwards a few steps.
“My apologies. I’m so sorry. Can’t stay. Gotta go. Gotta catch ‘em.” The man never stopped moving.
“That guy is seriously nuts. Are you okay?” Aria asked.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” I rubbed my shoulder where he had bumped me. “Anyway, where were we?”
“About to discuss my reception.”
Now, most girls probably would’ve tried to reassure her friend that everything was going to be okay and that the ballroom would be awesome, but I’m a realist. “Girl, that place is a mess. What’s Plan B?”
“I know. I don’t need this,” Aria shook her head.
“I hate to ask, but do you want me to call Christina?” She probably had alternatives all laid out in a spread sheet. I could picture the little neat rows and tabs now.
“No, I know she’s trying to help, but man, she’s just one more stressor. I don’t think I can handle another one of her great ideas.”
“I feel you, but it could be worse.”
“How so? Because this seems about as bad as it can get.”
“Well, you could be having second thoughts about Vince.” I thought about her seeing Mike again. “Let me tell you, the where and when can be easily changed. The who, not so much.”
“That’s supposed to make me feel better?”
“What I’m trying to say is, as long as you’re sure about Vince, then the rest of the details shouldn’t matter.”
“Okay, that’s true, but we still need to find some place to have the reception.”
“True, which is why you need to call Vince. He’s a genius businessman. I’m sure he can sort this out.”
“Speaking of feeling better…,” Aria motioned down the hall. Walking in front of us was Mayor Potts. He had a little extra spring in his step and did, in fact, look like he felt better. He stopped to knock on a door, and I was going to call to get his attention when Suzanne opened the door, wearing an ivory silk robe with a glass of champagne in each hand. I pulled Aria into an entryway just down the hall and across from them. Mayor Potts took the glass and gave Suzanne a kiss to end all kisses and closed the door behind them.
“What was that?” Aria said.
Well, well. “That explains the pep in his step,” I replied, still shocked. I never would’ve guessed the mayor was cheating on Paulette with her best friend. In terms of the case, I wasn’t about to jump to any conclusions. The last murder I solved taught me that perceptions were rarely what they seemed.
18
On the way home, Aria and I couldn’t stop talking about what we had witnessed.
“I wonder if he was cheating on Paulette the whole time?” I asked.
“Is Suzanne married?”
“No, I thought she was, but it turns out the guy, who I thought was her husband, is actually her stepson.”
“Her husband…”
“Passed away, but hopefully she was nicer to him than she is to his son.”
“Really? She sounds lovely.”
“I know, right? Jeffery’s tall, thin, geeky sort of guy, but really nice. Of course, Suzanne thinks he’s a hapless fool. I don’t see it at all.”
“Maybe she just hates men,” Arai offered.
“Well, we know she doesn’t hate the mayor.”
“He went right for it.”
“Yeah he did.” I shook my head.
“So, what are you thinking? Suzanne killed Paulette?”
“I don’t know. Don’t forget, Humphrey was poisoned too. That part doesn’t make sense. She’s obviously quite fond of him, or at least part of him.” We both chuckled. “And then you have the McGoverns.”
“Yeah, Whip’s a narcissist if I ever met one.”
“You can say that again. I didn’t even tell you that he stopped by my place this afternoon.”
“What?!” I filled Aria in on our little conversation.
“So yeah, do narcissists have homicidal tendencies? Because if so, I could see him being the killer all day long, especially if it meant him getting what he wanted. Plus, he has a pretty strong motive for wanting the mayor dead.”
“But not for Paulette.”
“True. I already thought about that. I still don’t have an answer.”
“And you don’t think Mrs. J. is somehow responsible for all this?”
“I seriously don’t. She didn’t like Paulette, but there are a lot of people she doesn’t like and they’re still alive and kicking. But I have a feeling a lot o
f people would like to see Mrs. J. locked up for good, the way she’s always sticking her nose in everyone’s business.”
“Very true. She’s got the dirt on everyone.”
“Exactly. She seems like an easy person to frame. It was no secret that she and Paulette hated one another. The other person I keep coming back to is Vicki Kline. She’s Paulette and Suzanne’s childhood friend, or rather wanna-be friend. She’s also an expert botanist. I took her poisonous-plants class Monday, and let me just say, wow.”
“That good, huh?”
“She could definitely kill you with a plant or two.”
“What’s your gut say?”
“My gut says there’s more to Vicki’s story. I can’t figure out why, especially now that she’s a grown woman, she’s still hanging around Suzanne and Paulette. Like, what’s the draw?”
“You want to take a closer look?”
“I think we should.”
“Okay, I’ll give you an hour, but then we have to get back to fixing my wedding. Deal?”
“Deal.”
Aria did a white-pages search on Vicki and easily found where she lived. The internet can be freaky like that. I was certain that’s how Whip found me this afternoon. Vicki’s house was located across the street from the elementary school. She lived in a pretty yellow bungalow with little picket-fence accents and an impressive front garden. I might be flower illiterate, but I knew a nice rose garden when I saw one.
I wasn’t quite sure how this was going to go down, seeing it was the middle of the afternoon. We swung by my apartment on the way to pick up Captain Jack and for me to put together a little summer Beauty Secrets gift bag as a cover. I included a bottle of coconut sunscreen, cooling lip balm, and a pair of flip flops in my employer’s signature violet hue.
The plan was for me to drop Aria off further down the street and have her walk Captain Jack to the school playground. From there, she could keep an eye out while I looked around, and she’d text me if needed. Meanwhile, I parked in front of Vicki’s house and crossed my fingers that she wasn’t home.
Luck appeared to be on my side. After ringing the bell and waiting the socially appropriate thirty seconds, I peered inside Vicki’s foyer window. Her front sitting room and entry way looked as tidy as could be. A couple of books were stacked on her front entry table, a lacy doily underneath them with a single rose in a vase beside them. I couldn’t make out all the details, but the top one had a leaf on it and the word “Medicinal” in the title. A bit strange, but not all that surprising, knowing Vicki’s passion for plants.
I left the beauty gift bag on the front porch with my card inside, and looked over my shoulder. Aria was having a seat on a playground swing, Captain Jack sat in her lap. From across the street, I could hardly see any pink left in his coat. I stepped off the porch and walked further up the driveway toward the detached, single-car garage. Again, the garage didn’t house anything all that exciting. Several bags of potting soil, a work bench, stacks of planters, and a vintage Coca Cola machine took up most of the space. Of course, the sight of the soda machine had me crushing on Finn. My guy loved his cola. And I liked that he had a tendency to drink it with his shirt off.
A decorative waist-high white fence surrounded the yard. The gate wasn’t locked, so I pushed open the metal latch and followed the stone path around to the back of the house. If I had thought the front gardens were beautiful, the back gardens were spectacular. So many colors and textures blended together, it reminded me of a painting. Her landscape even featured a bubbling fountain with a koi pond smack dab in the middle of her yard. It was very Zen like and I would’ve loved to stay for a while had I not been on a recon mission.
Tucked in the corner of the yard, I spotted a tool shed. My mouth got all tingly like it does when I eat too much sugar, and I thought I was finally on to something. I quickly crossed the yard and peeked inside the side window of the shed and did a double take. Holy guacamole, Vicki grows a lot of wacky tobacky! Marijuana wasn’t the only surprising find. Vicki also had beakers filled with various powders and liquids lined up on her workbench, dozens of dried flowers and herbs bundled together and hanging from the ceiling, and notebook after notebook stacked on a bookshelf titled “research.” Off to the side, sitting on a shelf was a microscope, rubber gloves, and brown glass bottles with cork stoppers. A white lab coat hung on a hook next to it. I may have just found my evidence. I took out my phone and was going to snap some pics when Aria texted me two words: Vicki’s home.
Sweet sugar, now is not the time.
I quickly looked left and right for a place to hide. Vicki’s car pulled up the driveway and I threw myself flat on the ground with an oomph. My shorts would be sporting some major grass stains later, but I didn’t care. I scurried as fast as I could, keeping my head down, to the other side of the shed and ran behind it, squishing myself between the shed and the small fence.
I should’ve been looking in front of me and not over my shoulder. That was a major mistake. I ran right into a skunk. As in, I almost stepped on the little guy. I’m not sure which of us was more freaked out. I gave a shriek and leapt over him, jumping the fence like it was a hurdle, while he sprayed. I landed in a summersault-like fashion in the neighbor’s yard and stood up to run from the little bugger, unsure if I had been hit or not. The neighbor’s dog barked and I looked up to see a ginormous mastiff charging toward me. I kicked up my speed, jumped over a kiddie pool, around a trampoline and was about to run through a hedge when I totally slipped in a ginormous pile of dog poo. I swear I went airborne for a second, flying high in the sky along with chunks of dog poo, before landing flat on my back, the air completely pushed out of my lungs.
OOOOF! I lay there gasping for air, unable to suck any in, my diaphragm completely forgetting how to work. I rolled onto my side in the fetal position and felt a big, slobbery wet dog kiss across my face and into my hair. Oh gross. The mastiff continued to lick me, I think to make sure that I was okay. Either that, or to slobber me to death. Drool stuck in my hair and ran down my neck. It was disgusting.
After a minute, when I could finally breathe, I rolled over onto all fours and looked up at the furry beast. I swear he smiled.
Aria looked horrified when she spotted me. I had walked over and met her on the playground. My shorts were grass-stained, shoes and backside were smeared with dog poop, my hair was styled with essence of dog, and the overall aroma of skunk clung to my body. I would’ve smelled better after an afternoon of dumpster diving.
Captain Jack, excitedly ran toward me on his leash; but once he reached me and took in a whiff, he sneezed and pawed at his nose.
Aria shook her head and backed away. “No way, girl. I am not riding with you.”
“It’s not that bad.” I looked down at my disheveled, stinky self. “Okay, it is that bad. Just do me a favor. Run over to Vicki’s and get my truck. I’ll stay here and hop in the back.” I figured if I lay down in the bed of my truck, no one would see me and maybe I’d air out a bit. “Please? Pretty please with sugar on top?”
Aria looked like she was ready to bolt.
“Who found the perfect wedding dress for you?” I reminder her in a sugary voice.
I had Aria and she knew it. “You so owe me, girl.”
“Would you like a hug?” I outstretched my arms.
“Don’t you dare!” Aria backed up while saying the words, and then turned and jogged across the playground to fetch my truck.
I went home and took the longest shower of my life, complete with a baking soda and peroxide scrub to help get the stench off. I had peeled off my clothes the second I got home and chucked them in the trash, throwing the bag on my front porch. I wasn’t ready to part with my Converses yet, even if they did take a direct hit from the skunk. I put those in a separate grocery bag on my porch next to the trash while I debated what to do with them. Let’s see someone steal that, I thought. It would serve them right.
This evening was the dinner party at Mrs. DeVine’s. If
I hadn’t already told her I’d be there, and if she wasn’t my financial backer, I would’ve backed out. As it was, I could only hope I didn’t smell too awful.
Once I was cleaned up, I switched over to wedding planning and googled “online flower packages” to see what we could get shipped in by Friday. From the looks of it, you could buy anything online for a price. Good thing Vince was paying. I text a couple links and images to Aria to see what she thought. Neither one of us had much experience in floral design, but I was thinking that if we got the blooms in, we could pay a florist to arrange them. Although, maybe not Claire or Betsy.
Then I looked up “how to make a wedding cake,” you know, incase Mrs. J. was still in jail come Friday. Just looking at the pictures, I decided that wasn’t happening. I was more of an eater than a baker. I sighed and tried to think about what Aria really wanted in a cake. Maybe Sweet Thangs could make some carrot cupcakes with organic cream cheese frosting or something along those lines. The healthier they could make it, the more Aria would love it.
I sat and debated if I should just call Sweet Thangs or run over. It didn’t take much to get me to stop in to my favorite sweets shop. I stared at my phone, thinking about it, and on cue, it rang. I had an incoming FaceTime call from a number I didn’t recognize. Normally, I wouldn’t answer such calls, but with Finn out to sea … I never knew what number he’d call me on. I pulled my hair over my shoulder, smoothed out my shirt, and answered. Whip McGovern’s face filled the screen. Yikes. I pulled the phone away. He was a little too close. He hadn’t realized that I had answered. He was still checking himself out in the camera, running his fingers through his hair and making sure nothing was stuck in his teeth.
I went to hit end when he saw we were connected. “Just wanted to check in and see if you’d changed you mind. I know it’s a tempting offer.” Whip just couldn’t drop it. I had a feeling women didn’t tell him no all that often.
“Yeah, no, definitely didn’t change my mind.”
“I heard the pastry chef is amazing,” Whip countered.
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