by Laura Durham
I swiveled to face Kate. "When did you have time to tell them?"
"In the back seat on the way here. I have fast thumbs."
When he reached us, Fern leaned against Richard, gasping for breath. He had on a long white jacket worn open over black pants.
"Is that a stethoscope around your neck?" I asked.
"Kate said it was a medical emergency," he said between quick breaths. "You never know when this might come in handy."
"Is it just me, or does he look like he's wearing a white doctor's coat?" Reese whispered to me.
"If he starts diagnosing patients, I'll make him take it off," I said. I only hoped he hadn't gotten the jacket from an actual doctor. Fern was known to go to extraordinary lengths to get his outfits just right. The real giveaway he wasn't a doctor, aside from the huge topaz ring on his finger, were the rhinestones decorating the metal bits of the stethoscope. Leave it to Fern to "bling out" his medical accessories.
"How is Leatrice?" Buster asked, his deep voice echoing off the tile floors.
"Heart attack," I said. "Sidney Allen says she's stable and being admitted."
"The poor dear." Fern produced a monogrammed linen handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed at his eyes. "I can't believe it. She always seems so full of life."
"We activated our prayer chain on the way over," Mack said. "You now have all the members of the Born Again Biker Church praying hard for her recovery."
This brought on a whole new flood of tears for Sidney Allen, who had rejoined us, so Fern passed off his handkerchief and whipped out another identical one for himself.
Sidney Allen took the linen square and wiped his eyes. "She would be so touched you're here. She thinks of all of you as her family."
Mack began to sniffle, and I felt tears prick the backs of my own eyes. I wondered how many more handkerchiefs Fern had in his pockets.
"We should all be thanking Richard." Reese clapped him on the back. "If it hadn't been for his quick thinking and doing CPR, she might not have made it."
Everyone stared at Richard, and he looked at the floor. "I only did what anyone would do."
"Nonsense." Fern flung his arms around Richard, pulling him into a hug so hard Richard squeaked. "You're a hero."
Fern released him, and Richard staggered back. Hermes poked his head out of the man bag, sniffed the air, and ducked back into the bag.
Prue's mouth opened. "Was that a . . .?"
"Nope," I said. "It definitely wasn't."
Richard smoothed the front of his dove gray jacket and looked eager to change the subject. "How did you all get here anyway? I know you didn't put the baby on the back of your motorcycles."
"We were still at the studio getting ready for tomorrow, so we hopped into one of the floral vans and swung by Fern's salon on the way," Mack said.
"It was all very exciting," Fern said. "I've never jumped in the back of a white van before."
"That does sound . . . " I began.
"Creepy?" Kate muttered so only I could hear her.
Fern giggled. "They barely slowed down, and I had to run alongside the van for a few steps."
"Sometimes when we stop this particular van, it doesn't like to restart right away," Buster explained.
"Sounds like a car you'd have, Annabelle," Richard said.
I made a face at him. "Not anymore. My old car is history."
"Someone burned it to the ground," Kate said, winking at Prue. "Molotov cocktail. If I'd known that was all it took to get Annabelle to buy a new car, I would have thrown one myself."
Prue's head swung back and forth as she followed the conversation, her blue eyes unblinking, and I hoped we weren't terrifying her. Reese pulled his phone out of his jeans and looked at the screen, stepping away from our group to answer it.
"When can we see her?" Buster asked Sidney Allen.
"I don't know," he said, handing a soggy handkerchief back to Fern. "Let me check with the nurse and get her room number."
He walked over to the desk while Fern held the wet linen in front of himself with two fingers.
"I'm going to search for a vending machine. I'm starving. We never did get our pizza," Kate said as she wandered off.
I almost slapped my forehead. We'd left before the delivery guy had arrived with our pepperoni with extra cheese, and it had completely slipped my mind. I'd have to call the restaurant to apologize once I got home.
"What should I do with this?" Fern asked in a stage whisper, still holding the used handkerchief like it was nuclear waste.
Prue dug through the diaper bag on her shoulder and held out a pink plastic bag. Fern raised an eyebrow.
"A dirty diaper baggie,” she said.
His eyes lit up. "Brilliant." He dropped the wet handkerchief in the bag and tied the flaps into a knot.
Reese pulled me aside. "I'm really sorry, babe, but I have to run. It's work. Can you get a ride home?"
"Of course. I'll call a Lyft or catch a ride with Buster and Mack provided the van starts again." I noticed his furrowed brow. "Is everything okay?"
He kissed me on the cheek. "It's fine. Call me if anything changes with Leatrice."
He walked down the hallway toward the far entrance as Kate returned empty handed.
"No luck?" I asked.
She frowned. "Not yet. They must be hiding the sugar so people won’t binge candy bars while they wait. I guess we're Ubering home since Reese has to go talk to his captain about the coroner's report?"
"You overheard him on the phone?" I was partly annoyed and partly pleased.
"By accident," she said. "And he didn't say much. Just something about the evidence not matching up with the coroner's report on Marcus."
"That's odd."
"Your boyfriend thought it was more than odd. He said the murder couldn't have happened the way he thought it did."
19
"This doesn't feel right," Kate said as we walked down the sidewalk on U Street the next morning.
It was early enough that the trendy restaurants and clubs were still shuttered from the night before, and only a handful of coffee shops and cafes had their doors open and sandwich boards set out in front. The scent of stale beer was thankfully overpowered by the aroma of coffee, making me wish we had time to stop and grab a hot mocha.
"I know how you feel, but there's nothing we can do at the hospital right now. Visiting hours aren't until the afternoon, and Sidney Allen was hoping to bring her home today anyway." I put my arm through Kate's as we navigated the uneven pavement. "Besides, Leatrice would love nothing more than to know we were soldiering on with the investigation in her stead."
"Speaking of things that will make your boyfriend have his own heart attack, did you tell him we were making a pit stop to talk to one of the suspects?"
"The way I figure it, Reese's partner went out of town, so he might appreciate the assist. Plus, if we clear Maxwell for him, he won’t have to bother questioning him later."
I'd been more than a little pleased to hear Hobbes had taken a few vacation days, even though Reese hadn't been thrilled. For him it meant more work. For me it meant a friendlier face in the police department for Richard.
Kate stopped us in front of the arched brick entryway I recognized from the last time we'd been to the photographer's studio. "I'm sure he'll appreciate that reasoning."
I ignored her sarcasm as I punched in the code to Maxwell's unit and waited to hear his voice on the speaker. Instead, the door buzzed open.
"He must be expecting someone." Kate tugged at the wooden door. "I guess ten isn't too early to meet with a photographer."
"I wish more of our clients would agree to morning appointments," I said as I ducked into the small foyer and felt an immediate blast of heat. "The after-work meetings are starting to get really old."
Kate eyeballed the stairs and slipped off her heels. "He's on the fifth floor, isn't he?"
I nodded, feeling glad I'd worn my usual flats. "He's going to be surprised when he sees us. I wo
nder who he's actually expecting."
We trudged up the stairs, stopping halfway to catch our breath, until we stood in front of a shiny black door with a gold name plate on the front that read "Maxwell Gray, Master Photographer" in swirling etched letters.
"We are definitely at the right place," Kate said, taking shallow breaths and leaning against me as she put her shoes back on. "Every other door in this place is plain wood."
I put a finger to my lips as I knocked. Within moments it was thrown open, leading me to believe he'd been waiting right on the other side of it. He was eager to see whoever he thought we were, and from the expression on his face as he stood holding the door, it definitely wasn't us.
Maxwell Gray looked exactly as he always had. Long flowing blond hair that looked like it had been professionally blown out, a slightly orange glow that could only result from a spray tan, and enough exposed chest to scandalize Kate. He usually wore silk shirts with wide collars, but today he had a red satin robe belted over his black pants. I knew it was only a matter of time until he morphed into Hugh Hefner.
He blinked quickly a few times. "Did we have . . ."
"An appointment?" I tried to make my laugh sound genuine as Kate and I barreled past the stunned man. "No, but we knew you wouldn't mind if we dropped by to discuss Amelia's wedding with you since it is tomorrow."
Maxwell regained his composure like a cat landing on his feet. "Not at all, ladies. Come right in." He reached in for air kisses that were more lips than air. "What can I get you to drink? Mimosas?"
"I wouldn't say no to a--" Kate started to say before I elbowed her.
"No mimosas today. We have a busy day of wedding prep ahead of us," I said more to Kate than to him. "Not to mention the wedding rehearsal and rehearsal dinner."
"Another time then." He led us further into the open space of his studio, which had high ceilings, dark hardwood floors, and soaring windows letting in the morning light.
The only other time we'd been here had been at night, so I hadn't noticed the view. Since DC wasn't a city of skyscrapers, a fifth story could look over quite a few streets, and I saw the rooftops of nearby houses as well as the stone-columned Masonic Temple building a few blocks away.
Maxwell waved us toward a grouping of chrome-and-black-leather couches around a glass coffee table that held stacks of wedding albums. "You're sure I can't get you some coffee at least?"
"That would be lovely," Kate said in a rush then lowered her voice. "You owe me since you didn't let me stop for coffee on the way."
"Fine," I whispered to her. "But if he makes them Irish, don't drink it." I raised my voice. “Two, thank you."
Maxwell headed to a wet bar setup against one wall. "I only do espresso. I hope that's okay."
"It's perfect," I said, perching on the edge of one of the boxy couches.
This minimalist studio was a far cry from his old office, which had been decorated in mid-century sultan with rich colors and lots of sumptuous fabrics. I much preferred this simple look, even though the boxy leather furniture wasn't as comfortable.
"How are you enjoying the new space?" I called over to him as he fiddled with his small chrome espresso machine.
"I love being able to live and work in the same location," he said over his shoulder. "I don't have to reign in my creativity anymore."
From the rumors I'd heard about Maxwell, he'd never reigned in much. I'd never found male cleavage enticing, especially when covered with so much coiffed chest hair, but someone must because he'd earned a reputation as a ladies man with a particular talent for seducing wedding planners. I shuddered every time I thought about it.
"So this isn't just your office?" Kate asked.
"No." He gave us what could only be called leering smiles as he approached, holding out two white espresso cups with lemon peel twists curled up in the saucers. "My bedroom is down the hall."
I took the small cup and tried to return his smile without gagging.
He took a seat on the couch across from us and stretched his arm along the back, letting his robe sag open. "What did you want to discuss about Amelia's wedding? I got the timeline from Kate earlier." He winked at her. "Thank you, my dear."
I glanced at my assistant. We hadn't discussed exactly what issue to bring up with Maxwell since there were no problems. We also hadn't planned out how to casually work Marcie into the conversation. I took a small sip of the rich espresso as I thought of what to say.
"The shot list," Kate said, crossing her legs so the high slit in her skirt showed off most of her thigh. "We know you already have one for the portraits, but we wanted to go over all the details we need to have photographed. There are lots of Valentiney elements, and the bride would like this wedding to be submitted to a magazine."
"Of course." Maxwell sat up, his eyes not leaving Kate’s legs. "You know I'll do anything to help."
Most of the time Kate’s low necklines and short hemlines made me crazy, but sometimes they came in handy. My own purple sheath dress wasn’t much help since it reached my knees and had no thigh-high slit, not that I had any desire to flash Maxwell some leg.
I saw my opening and downed the rest of my espresso before setting the cup onto the coffee table. "We'd love your input on which magazine. You have so much experience, you must have connections with the top publications."
His sultry smile slipped for a second before he flopped back on the couch and stretched out like he was sunning himself. "I think we should go national. Why bother with local magazines when we have the world at our disposal?"
"So no Capital Weddings?" I asked, already feeling a jolt from the shot of super strong coffee. "I thought you used to have lots of weddings featured in there."
He jerked up. "Unfortunately, loyalties change too quickly in this town. I used to be very friendly with the magazine's editor, but she left."
I didn't want to know Maxwell's definition of friendly, but I had my suspicions.
"What about this new editor?" Kate asked, her voice betraying no hint that she knew anything about Marcie.
Maxwell ran a hand through his mane of blond hair, and I noticed a few flashes of gray in the sunlight. As my eyes drifted from his hair to the faint sunspots on his hands, I felt a moment of sympathy for the photographer. Getting old must not be easy when you'd built a business on your own sex appeal. I doubted he had many more years where he could count on seducing his way to more clients.
"A lost cause," he said. "She's only interested in the flavor of the month, and with photographers there are hundreds to choose from."
"That must be upsetting." Kate leaned forward and rested her elbows on her knees. "Especially after all the years you've put into the wedding industry."
Maxwell leaned forward as well. "Did you know she had the nerve to remove me from the list?"
Kate recoiled in mock horror. "No! You've been on the list for years."
"Decades," Maxwell corrected. "At first I was livid, but I'm not the only veteran she kicked off."
"Our friend Richard Gerard was also removed," I said. "He was pretty upset."
"It's a travesty." Maxwell twirled a finger in his fluffy chest hair while he spoke. "Some of the people on the list now barely know what they're doing. They're children."
It was true the list was skewing younger, although I couldn't complain too much since Kate and I could be considered part of that trend.
"Did you ever have the urge to get back at her for kicking you off?" I asked, lowering my voice.
Maxwell stopped twirling. "You mean revenge?" He narrowed his eyes at me before shaking his head. "Why bother? The way editors come and go over there, I just need to wait until the next one takes her place."
I'd never thought of that. He was right that Capital Weddings had had a lot of editorial turnover in the past few years. It was part of the reason I'd never met the last editor and only recently met Marcie. Waiting for her to be replaced wasn't the worst strategy, although who was to say he hadn't wanted to speed up the
process? Wanting a new editor was a pretty good motive for wanting the current one out of the picture, although I had a hard time picturing Maxwell plotting murder. Sending dead roses to scare her wasn't off the table though.
"Do you have any reason to think the editor will be leaving soon?" I asked.
He gave a less than convincing shrug. "How would I know something like that?"
The door to his studio opened and closed, and all our eyes swiveled to the sound of heels tapping on the hardwood.
"I'm here, big boy." A woman's voice called out, echoing off all the glass and metal. "I hope you're ready for me."
When the redhead from Capital Weddings came into view--her face as stunned as ours no doubt were--I had a pretty good idea why Maxwell might think Marcie would be leaving the magazine.
20
"I didn't . . . I mean . . ." The woman's face was as red as her hair as she stood with her black trench coat partially undone.
Kate jumped up and went over to her, tugging the coat closed again so we didn't have a full view of her sheer lace lingerie underneath. "You'll thank me later."
When she sat back down, I gave Kate a questioning look.
"I've had a few trench coat meet ups go wrong," she said. "I feel her pain. At least she had on something underneath. You don't want to know about the time I was supposed to meet a guy at the National Archives. Let’s just say you do not want to be walking up those steps when it’s windy and the only thing under your coat is—well, you can imagine the rest."
"Unfortunately I can," I said, turning my attention back to the woman in the trench coat.
Maxwell stood and walked over to her as if there was nothing out of the ordinary. To be fair, for him there probably wasn't. "Cassandra, darling. I was expecting you earlier."
"Traffic," she managed to say with a look over his shoulder at us. "I didn't think you'd have company."
Maxwell fussed with the collar of her coat. "These ladies are the planners for my wedding this weekend. Do you know Wedding Belles?"
"We've met," I said. "At the Capital Weddings offices the other day. I didn't know you two knew each other."
