by Laura Durham
"There's our bride!" Kate matched Amelia's excited voice as she rushed over to greet the petite blonde in heels almost as high as my assistant’s.
After we exchanged greetings, Amelia scanned our group then stuck out her bottom lip. "Where's Mack?"
"He'll be here," I said, and Buster looked like he might faint.
Kate looped her arm through the bride's. "The hotel's catering director hasn’t come down yet, but we can get started with the floral decor."
"Without Mack?"
"Why don't I see if he's in the lobby? He may not know we're already in the ballroom," I said. "I need to pop into the ladies' room anyway."
I took quick steps out of the room. Where was Mack hiding? I poked my head into the nearest meeting room and breathed a sigh of relief. "There you are. Amelia's asking about you."
Mack lifted Merry from the carrier and unhooked it from his waist, handing the baby to me and holding out the carrier. I shook my head. "By the time I get that contraption figured out, it'll be my turn to go back inside." I put the baby across one shoulder, and she took hold of my ponytail.
"I'll be back before you know it." Mack gave baby Merry a final worried glance and lumbered out of the room.
I walked a long path down the length of the room, rubbing Merry's back as I did. Luckily, she was too entertained trying to chew my hair to be upset Mack had gone. My phone trilled in my purse, and I dug it out with one hand.
"Richard," I said after I saw his name pop up onto my screen. "I can't really talk--"
"I'm at the police station," Richard's voice came out in short bursts. "They brought me in for more questioning. It wasn't even Reese who picked me up. It was a chubby fellow."
"Hobbes?" I said. "That's Reese's sometimes partner. Alexandra brought him to our holiday party."
I hoped Richard wouldn’t want to go into the odd pairing of our glamorous cake baker and the doughy detective, because I had no explanations. Merry gurgled, and I jiggled her while I paced.
"What was that?" Richard asked. "A laugh?"
"Of course not." I didn't know how to explain the bizarre switcheroo scenario I'd gotten myself involved in without it sounding as ridiculous as it was. "Why are they questioning you again? Reese doesn't think you have a motive."
"That was before they talked to the folks down at Fleurir."
"The place where you got the chocolates?"
My hair slipped from the baby's grasp and she began fussing. I held the phone to my ear with my head pressed against one shoulder as I tried to quiet her.
"Really, Annabelle." Richard let out his breath in a huff. "Why are you crying? I'm the one about to be interrogated."
"I'm not. I'm . . . Never mind. What could the people at Fleurir have said that would make the police think you're guilty?"
Richard's voice became a whisper. "Apparently they heard me talking to you on the phone when I was there picking up the order. When you told me I should give a box to Marcie, and I was hemming and hawing over it."
"I remember," I said. "Why would that be a problem?"
"Do you also remember when I told you I'd rather give the editor of Capital Weddings a dose of hemlock than a box of chocolates?"
I cringed as baby drool dribbled onto my shoulder and was glad the jacket of my dark-brown suit was wool and not silk. I thought back to the conversation. Although it was hard to isolate the dramatic things Richard said on a daily basis, the word 'hemlock' did ring a bell. Merry emitted a high-pitched wail.
"Exactly how I feel, darling," Richard said, sniffling. "I can't tell you how nice it is to get some real empathy instead of your usual level-headed advice."
I handed the baby the phone so she and Richard could cry together.
8
"I'm all for meeting the boys for lunch," Kate said, "but after that meeting with Amelia, I think I need a drink."
I turned my car down one of side streets near the Washington Cathedral and searched for parking. "Cafe Deluxe has a bar, although I was hoping we could get some work done this afternoon."
Kate pointed to a space between a minivan and an SUV. "I do need to work on my Valentine's Day plans. Good thing Fern is joining us."
Developing a spreadsheet to handle her multiple dates wasn't exactly the kind of work I'd meant, but I focused on backing my car into the tight space without tapping the other car’ bumpers.
"Richard was lucky Fern's salon isn't far and he had a gap in his appointments." Kate flipped down the mirror in the passenger side visor and inspected her lipstick. "If he'd had to wait for us to pick him up from the police station after our meeting all the way across town, he would not have been pleased."
I doubted he was pleased as it was. I locked my car with a click of my key fob, and Kate and I walked across the street and down the sidewalk to the restaurant. A quick glance at the art deco neon sign above the entrance told me we were at the right place, although since it was winter, the tables with their red umbrellas did not crowd the patio like usual. Once we'd pushed through the glass doors, we were enveloped by both the warmth and the savory scent of food. I scanned the room and the white-clothed tables, finally spotting Fern's arm waving high from the far side of the restaurant.
"We got a spot away from the action," he said once we'd weaved our way through the sea of square tables to a booth along the wall, “so we could confer in private."
I noticed Fern wore a salmon-colored suit with a white shirt underneath, the collar spread at his neck. "Already in the spirit of the holiday?"
He flicked a hand at his outfit and the enormous topaz ring on his finger nearly blinded me when it caught the light. "This is just a warm-up, sweetie."
Kate slipped into the booth next to him. "Is that the Pantone color of the year?"
Fern smiled as he adjusted his French cuffs. "Living Coral? Why yes it is, and aren't you sweet to notice?" He took in Kate’s black suit and my dark-brown one. “At least someone is adding a pop of color to this crew.”
I took the seat next to Richard, who was slumped over a martini. So much for discouraging day drinking. "I take it things didn't go well with the police?"
Richard glanced at me and then at the cocktail as if seeing it for the first time. "I didn't order this."
Fern giggled and pulled it toward him. "He's holding my backup."
"Your backup?" I asked.
"You know," Kate said. "When the bar's backed up, you order two drinks so you don't have to wait forever for your second one."
Clearly, I was not well versed in bar strategy. I eyed Fern as he took a sip from the wide-rimmed glass. "So that's your second drink of the day before noon?"
"It's been a trying day so far," he said. "First I had to fix a botched dye job. Then I had to make Myrna Thomas look like she has hair, which is like trying to spread cotton candy across a bowling ball, and then I spent almost an entire hour at the police station."
Richard crossed his arms in front of him. "It took an hour at the station because you insisted on doing the officers' colors."
Fern took another sip. "What could I do? They were all wearing a lifeless shade of navy blue, which everyone knows is not nearly as versatile as black."
"It was their uniform," Richard said.
"That doesn't mean it can't be stylish." Fern drained his glass and circled his hand overhead to summon another. "They could at least use a fabric with a pattern. Maybe a nice ombre where the blue tones shift from baby blue to a darker blue."
Richard twisted to face me. "Next time, just send a firing squad."
"Our day hasn't been a picnic either," Kate said, motioning for the waiter to bring her the same drink as Fern. "We had another meeting with the bride for Saturday, and we had to hide Merry from her the entire time."
"Merry?" Fern blinked hard. "The baby came to your meeting? How did she get there?"
After the next cocktail, I was cutting him off. "Buster and Mack brought her since Prue was in class."
"Didn't I tell you this baby thing wou
ldn't be smooth sailing?" Richard said. "It's only a matter of time before she's coming to wedding setups and motorcycle ride alongs."
Bold words from a man who carried his dog in his man bag and had been know to bring the tiny canine to walk-throughs and wedding setups.
"The bride never knew she was there," Kate said. "We took turns ducking out of the meeting and entertaining her. Amelia probably thinks we all have intestinal issues, but she doesn't suspect we were hiding a baby."
Richard snapped his head around. "Wait a second. When you were lamenting with me over the phone, was that you or the baby?"
I felt my cheeks flush and stared intently at the menu. "I should probably get a salad, although the chicken pot pie looks delicious."
Richard sucked in his breath. "Oh. My. G . . . I was on the phone with a baby?"
"I'll bet the conversation with her was better than my conversation with Mitzy Winkler this morning." Fern plucked a martini off the waiter's tray before the man could set it on the table. "Talking to that woman is like talking to a tree stump but less interesting."
Richard and I ordered drinks--nonalcoholic ones--and I shooed the waiter away before Fern could remember to order another backup cocktail.
"The important thing is what the police think," I said. "They can't believe you were serious about that offhand remark over the phone. People say they’d like to kill other people all the time."
"I know I do," Fern muttered over his martini.
"Luckily, your boyfriend isn't as eager to pin the crime on me as his portly partner is. Once I explained everything to Reese, he told me I was free to go."
"Did he mention anything about the suspects you gave him to check out?" I asked.
"Dad Bod Detective didn't seem focused on anyone but me."
"Hobbes," I reminded him. I wished Reese's sometime partner wasn't so closely involved. He didn't understand Richard or the wedding industry. My boyfriend, however, was familiar enough with Richard's flair for the dramatic to know that him threatening to poison someone with hemlock was just another day at the office.
"I don't like that they haven't moved on from you as a suspect." I tapped my fingers against the table. "They must not have come up with any other credible options. What we need to do is make a list of all the people who could have wanted Marcie out of the way. Not just vendors who didn't get on the list."
Kate took a drink from her martini. "Isn't this the kind of thing Reese hates you to do?"
"He hates for me to interfere in his investigations," I said, waving a hand to encompass our table. "This is a few friends discussing potential murder suspects over a work lunch."
"Sounds like sticks in one, half dozen in the other," Kate said.
Fern bobbed his head up and down. "Exactly."
I ignored Kate's mangled expression. "Richard and I already determined there were more vendors than him upset about the list. The band agent Ron Tinker, Petals and Petunias, and Skyfall Video all got kicked off the list this year."
Fern's eyes widened then his face went blank. "Never heard of them."
"Probably why they were removed from the list." I avoided Richard's eyes. "Not everything about the list is political."
"I know Ron Tinker," Richard said. "He's got a temper almost as outsized as his ego."
Kate snapped her fingers. "Is he that pushy guy who mails us all his press clippings?"
"I just throw away anything from his company's return address," I said. "He probably annoyed so many people no one voted for him. But if he has a bad temper, maybe he's the one who wanted to kill Marcie. He probably blamed her for taking him off the list, even though I'm sure he alienated everyone else in our industry as much as he did us."
"It's still a bit of a leap from being angry you're off the list to murdering someone," Kate said. "It's not like killing Marcie would have guaranteed they'd get back on the list."
Fern nudged her, and his drink almost sloshed out of his glass. "I don't think killers are your most reasonable people, sweetie."
"Kate's right." I took a drink from the iced tea the waiter set down in front of me before reaching for the sugar caddy. "We need to widen our net. Who else might have hated Marcie enough to kill her?"
Richard shrugged. "Who really knows her? Until we dropped by her office in December, I'd never laid eyes on her."
"She hasn't been with the magazine long," I said, "and I'm not sure where she worked before that. I do know it wasn't in weddings. Not in DC at least. Who would know more about her?"
"One of the girls in my assistant happy hour crew interns at Capital Weddings." Kate pulled out her phone and began scrolling down the screen. "I can ask her."
"That's a good start," I said. "Maybe I can ask around and see if any of our planner friends knew her better than we did."
Fern leaned back in the booth and slid down and sideways a few inches. "What we really need is to find out who does her hair. Then we'd know everything we need to know. What kind of cut does she have?"
"Long," I said, trying to remember more about the editor's hairstyle.
"Blunt cut," Kate said, not looking up from her phone. "No color or tapered sides. A few split ends."
Fern drummed two fingers against his bottom lip. "Doubtful it was done by any of the premier stylists." He dropped his voice and glanced over his shoulder. "She might have used someone in the suburbs."
"I hope we're not pinning my entire get out of jail strategy on his Hair Mousse Mafia connection," Richard said.
Kate clinked her empty glass with Fern's. "There are worse ways to solve a crime."
Richard sunk down next to me. "I'm doomed."
9
"I'm telling you, I don't need a haircut," I said as Fern propelled me through the doors of his tony Georgetown salon.
The long, narrow space was both simple and ornate with huge gilded mirrors hanging in front of the two stylists' red chairs and carved wooden credenzas used to hold brushes, combs, and styling product. The dark hardwood floors gleamed, Kate's footsteps echoing off them as she walked ahead of us.
"Do you remember what you were wearing the last time Fern gave you a cut?" she asked, sinking into one of the chairs and spinning around in it.
"What?" I asked. "How would I remember that? It was probably six months ago."
"I rest my case."
Fern patted the other chair and swiveled it around so I could sit down. "Sweetie, if I have to go another day looking at those raggedy ends, I think I'm going to cry."
"Fine," I said, dropping my purse onto the floor next to the nearest credenza, "but I really don't have time for this. Not only do we have a wedding coming up, but Richard's a suspect in a murder case and it's kind of my fault. Plus, it's Valentine's Day on Sunday, and I have no idea what to get my boyfriend."
Fern unfurled a black smock over my head and fastened it at the back of my neck. "That is a lot, but that's why it's so good you're here." He winked at my reflection in the mirror. "I'm an expert at solving problems."
From my experience, Fern usually created more dramatic problems, but maybe it was different when he was on his turf. And this luxe salon with its smell of high-end beauty products and the sound of soft classical Muzak playing overhead was definitely his domain.
Fern bent over the credenza, opening the door underneath and producing a bottle of champagne. "Bubbles, ladies?"
I peered down. "Do you have a mini fridge in there?"
He put a finger to his lips. "I just give this to my special clients or the ones I want to get drunk so they'll shut up."
I hoped I wasn't one of the latter. "Just a smidge," I said as he filled my flute to the rim, then filled his own and Kate's just as high.
Fern tossed back the contents of his glass and turned to my hair. He pulled out the black elastic and fanned my reddish-brown hair across my shoulders. I was surprised it had gotten so long, although I didn't know why since I hadn't touched it in months. I got so busy I forgot personal things like haircuts and manicures. I
t was why I wore my hair long and my nails short.
"I say we lose a few inches, give it shape, and add face-framing layers," Fern said, eyeing my barely touched glass. "I don't suppose you've had enough champagne to let me do bangs?"
"Not even close," I said. "And no color."
Fern frowned. "You break my heart, Annabelle, but fine. I'll cut it dry before we wash it." He reached for a shiny pair of gold scissors. "Now that we've decided that, let's discuss the important issue at hand."
I nodded. "Richard being a murder suspect?"
Fern gave a snort of laughter. "That's happened before, sweetie. What hasn't happened before is you having a live-in love on Valentine's Day." He tilted my head down as he brushed my hair over my eyes.
Kate used one foot to stop her chair next to me from spinning. "Now we're talking. I originally thought sexy lingerie, but I don't think she can pull it off. Not with a straight face at least."
"Surprising him with a dominatrix catsuit is out?" Fern asked.
"That was always out," Kate said. "Annabelle can't pull off leather."
"You know I can hear you, right?" I tried to peer through the curtain of hair, but Fern tilted my head down. "What ever happened to sweet and romantic? Like a card and maybe some cologne?"
I couldn't see Fern's reaction, but I could hear him pretending to snore. "Fine, aside from kinky stuff, what would you recommend?"
"You could bake him something," Kate said.
"We don't want to ruin his flat stomach." Fern snipped as he talked. "Too many men get married or move in with someone and get fat. I, for one, enjoy his physique and do not want you to ruin it. No baked goods."
"That doesn't leave us with much," Kate said. "Especially since we don't know what he has planned for her."
Fern brushed my hair back so I could see again. "Maybe he's planning an evening of S & M for you."
"I seriously doubt it," I said, finally taking a sip of champagne and feeling the bubbles tickle my nose as I swallowed. "Aside from having handcuffs, I don't think he's into that stuff."
