Claus for Celebration

by Laura Durham

"Wine?" I looked at her. "When? Where?"

  "In the holding room at the back of the church while you were talking to the reverend.”

  My stomach tightened. "Where did you get the wine?" I wouldn't have put it past her to carry travel-sized bottles with her, but I suspected this wasn't the case.

  "It was in the holding room," she said. "I didn't give her much. Just enough to take the edge off."

  Richard stared at her. "You gave the bride sacramental wine?"

  Even though he considered himself a lapsed Catholic, I could see a swoon coming.

  "Let's just be glad the bride is happy and calm and in a good mood," I said, taking Richard's arm. "We like happy clients, right?"

  "Of course," he muttered, still goggling at Kate.

  "And she'll never know she almost had a floral-free wedding," Fern said, with a giggle that made me wonder if he'd gotten into some wine somewhere. "No amount of church wine could fix that."

  Richard swung his attention to Fern. "What do you mean?"

  Fern's eyes grew wide as the realization hit him that he'd get to share a juicy tidbit of gossip. "Didn't you hear? That Botoxed Barbie wedding planner made off with the flowers for the reception tomorrow, and we rescued them from a dumpster."

  I closed my eyes for a moment, bracing for Richard's reaction.

  "I beg your pardon?" he said, his voice eerily calm.

  "It was so thrilling," Fern continued as Kate shook her head furtively. "I was the lookout while Annabelle and Kate looked for the flowers in Brianna's office, and Leatrice was the wheelman. Or wheellady, to be more accurate."

  Richard pivoted his head to me. "Annabelle?"

  "To be fair, you warned me not to meddle in the murder investigation. This had nothing to do with any murder or any of Reese's investigations."

  "I thought it went unsaid that you shouldn't break into your competitor's office."

  "First of all," Kate said, holding up a finger, “we didn't break in. She left her window open. And second, you would have done the same thing if your top rival had stolen all the food for one of your parties."

  He opened his mouth, then paused. "You're right, although I might have done it in broad daylight so I couldn't be accused of subterfuge. What if she'd caught you?"

  "Well, you don't have to worry," I said. "No one saw us and we didn't leave a trace that we'd been there. We didn't even touch anything. There’s no way she’ll ever know we were snooping around.“

  “She’s going to know you got the flowers back,” Richard said, holding up his phone. “Unless you plan not to post any photos from the wedding day.”

  I groaned and looked at the pained expression on Kate’s face. “We could survive not posting any Instagram stories of this wedding, right?”

  She gnawed on her lower lip. “But our brides love it when we post about their weddings and use their custom wedding hashtag.”

  “If you don’t post, someone will,” Fern said. “You can’t have a social media blackout on the wedding.”

  He was right. As soon as a post went up with the wedding flowers in it, Brianna would know we’d been scrounging around in her dumpster.

  “At least she won’t know we were in her office,” I said, although I suspected she would not be pleased that her plans to ruin our wedding were foiled.

  Richard shrugged. “Unless she has security cameras.”

  I swallowed hard. I hadn’t thought about that, since we didn’t have a security system in Wedding Belles HQ, aka my apartment. But a wedding planner bankrolled by her rich father might very well have cameras in her office. From the stricken look on Kate’s face, I could tell she was thinking the same thing.

  Fern took Richard’s hand and patted it. “That’s enough helping from you, sweetie.”

  Chapter 30

  “No, I don't think she's going to come after us while we’re sleeping," I told Kate over the phone as I walked toward my apartment building. I saw a quick flash of a man in a hoodie and glasses leaving the building, so I ran to catch the door, glancing back at the slim figure and wondering if he was a new neighbor. I knew I’d seen him before. “We don’t know she has cameras in her office space.”

  Kate let out a breath. "That's true."

  I trudged up the stairs and paused at the door to my apartment. Not a comforting thought since Reese was still at work. “Just lock your doors and park your car someplace safe.”

  "Oh, I'm not staying at my place tonight," she said. "It's too hot."

  "Hot?" The weather had finally dipped down, and there had been a chill in the air when we'd left the Dockmaster's Building.

  "You know, dangerous. I'm going to stay someplace else until things cool off."

  I rolled my eyes and was glad she couldn't see me. Our recent encounter with a few members of the mob had definitely made an impression on Kate. "Do I want to ask where you're staying?"

  "Let's just say, I'll be very safe."

  My money was on her bunking with one of her exes who was potentially CIA or the firefighter she'd gone out with a few times after my car had been burned to the ground by a Molotov cocktail. "Don't forget we start bright and early tomorrow at the Four Seasons."

  "I still don't get why we have to be there for hair and makeup," she grumbled. "All we do is sit and watch the bridal party get ready."

  "Because it's better than being at home and getting hundreds of texts and calls from the nervous bride. Our presence is like a comfort blanket, and it usually keeps them from going off the rails."

  "If you say so, boss." There was a second, deeper voice in the background. "I'll see you tomorrow."

  She clicked off, and I slipped my phone into my dress pocket. At least I didn't need to worry about Brianna coming after Kate tonight. Reese was right. The woman was escalating, and I didn't trust her not to do something crazy.

  I opened my door, hesitating before going inside. Had I left the lights on? The living room was fully illuminated, making me wonder if Reese had gotten off earlier. I called his name, but the only response was Hermès scampering up and sniffing my ankles.

  Okay, I knew I didn't have a dog in my apartment when I left. "Leatrice?"

  My petite neighbor bounded down the hall, her black Mary Tyler Moore flip bouncing. "I'm so glad you're home. We've been too scared to go back downstairs."

  I glanced back at the completely quiet stairwell then back at my neighbor in her brown footie pajamas with bear ears. "Scared of what?"

  Leatrice didn't answer but instead, turned around and called behind her, "It's okay, honeybun. It's just Annabelle."

  Honeybun, aka Sidney Allen, appeared from the far end of the hall. He was almost as petite as his wife, but with much less hair. Where Leatrice was all bones with skin that hung off her like flesh-colored chiffon, the entertainment diva was shaped like an egg with no discernible waist. He almost always wore a dark suit with the pants hiked up nearly to his armpits, and his thinning hair seemed to have a perpetual crease from the headset he wore when he was coordinating his performers at an event. This evening there was no headset, and burgundy velvet pajamas replaced the suit, but the elastic pants were tugged up nearly to his chin.

  "Hello, Annabelle," he said in his gentlemanly Southern drawl, as if him padding down my hallway in his PJs was the most normal thing in the world.

  "Were you in our bed?" I asked, wondering if I was going to need to get new sheets or move.

  Leatrice giggled. "Don't be silly, dear. My sugar muffin was heading down the fire escape."

  I shut the door behind me. "What's going on? Why are you going down the fire escape in your pajamas?"

  "Because of the men who tried to get into our apartment," Sidney Allen said.

  I looked at Leatrice, who was bobbing her head up and down. "What men?"

  "Well, if we knew who they were we wouldn't be running from them, now would we?" Leatrice shook her head at me. "We'd just turned on Perry Mason when we heard someone jiggling the front door."

  "We had the lights of
f," Sidney Allen said, “so they may have assumed we weren't home."

  "Wouldn't they have heard Perry Mason?" I asked.

  Leatrice blushed. "We were watching the TV in the bedroom. It's the fancy flat screen my sweetie pie brought over from his place."

  "Okay. So you heard someone trying to get in your front door," I prompted. "And then what?"

  "We ran out and turned on the lights," Leatrice said. "I looked out the peephole and saw two men running out the front door of the building. So we decided to hide out here in case they came back. That was a couple of hours ago."

  "Well, I suggested we stop waiting here like sitting ducks and go to the cops," Sidney Allen said, his eyes flitting to my back door that led out onto the fire escape.

  Leatrice shot him a look. "But I insisted we wait for the detective. I left him a message, but apparently he's out at a crime scene."

  Another crime scene, I thought. So much for the holidays being about peace and goodwill toward men. Lately, Reese seemed to spend all his time at crime scenes.

  I dropped my black Longchamp bag onto the floor next to the sofa and headed toward the kitchen, with Hermès close at my heels. "Do you think someone was trying to rob you?"

  It seemed like a bad plan for burglars to pick the apartment on the first floor closest to the front door. Anyone could see what they were doing from the street, since the building's wooden front door was half glass. I peered inside the refrigerator and groaned when I realized there was nothing to drink but Reese's microbrews and one opened can of Diet Dr Pepper. I picked the opened can.

  "I think someone saw my car last night and they're coming after me," Leatrice said, her head poking over the counter dividing my kitchen and living room.

  Leatrice did have a distinctive car, but even if they spotted it near our building, they'd have no way to know which apartment was hers. "How could they track you down by your car?"

  Hermès ran in circles around my feet and I patted his head. "Sorry, buddy. No more prosciutto."

  He gave me a disgusted look and flounced out of the kitchen. It was scary how much the little Yorkie reminded me of Richard. I took a drink of the flat soda as I headed back to the living room.

  "Easy," Leatrice said. "License plate records."

  I sank onto the couch. "But those aren't public record, are they?"

  Leatrice looked at me like I was a simpleton. "Cops can access them, along with anyone who can hack into their system."

  Leatrice didn't need to remind me that she'd once used some friends she'd made on the dark web to hack into the DC police computers. I'm sure she didn't want Sidney Allen to know every sordid detail about her past, or have to explain why she was online friends with guys called Boots and Dagger Dan.

  I took another sip of the syrupy sweet drink, making a mental note to go shopping soon. "So you think these guys somehow got into the records, used your license plate to get your address, and came here tonight to ...?"

  "Intimidate me, scare me into silence, eliminate me," Leatrice said, listing the options off on her fingers as the color drained from her honeybun's face.

  "It's not like you witnessed a crime," I said, thinking Leatrice's imagination and desire to see a conspiracy around every corner might be making her jump to conclusions.

  "Maybe we did," Leatrice said. "Sure, we think we didn't see anything, but they don't know that. What if we caught them in the middle of a drug deal or a smuggling operation? Why else would a guy with a gun chase after us?"

  I agreed with her that the guy chasing the car hadn't been normal behavior, but it seemed like a big leap to think that they'd tracked down Leatrice and were now after her. Although, knowing that Leatrice seemed to land in as many sticky situations as I did, I couldn't discount the possibility altogether. "Why don't I call Reese? He'll know what to do."

  Leatrice sat down next to me and Hermès jumped up beside her, both tucking their feet up under themselves. Sidney Allen took the chair opposite, teetering on the edge as if he might need to leap to his feet at any moment.

  "Thank you, Annabelle," he said. "Tell Mike we appreciate any help he can give."

  Sidney Allen had unexpectedly bonded with my fiancé, and Reese had even been the best man in his wedding to Leatrice. I found it amazing that both Sidney Allen and Richard had a bromance going with Reese, and hoped there wouldn't be a brawl between the two divas one day.

  I pulled out my phone and speed dialed my fiancé.

  "Babe," he said when he answered, sounding out of breath. "I'm glad you called. Are you okay? Are you at home?"

  "Yes, I'm at home. Why wouldn't I be okay?"

  "I'm on the way to the building now. Don't leave our apartment."

  "Okay." I sat up and put the empty soda can on the coffee table. "Now you're scaring me. What's going on?"

  "I was just called to a crime scene in the alley behind our building."

  Chapter 31

  “Are those the two men you saw outside your apartment?" I asked Leatrice and Sidney Allen as we peered down the fire escape to the alley below.

  Even though we were three stories up, I could tell that the men tied with their hands and feet behind their backs were broad-shouldered with dark hair and equally dark clothes. Several uniformed officers walked around the scene, and I saw my fiancé squatting next to the unconscious men. Apparently, the police had received an anonymous call that two criminals were tied up in the alley behind P Street. It appeared that they'd been knocked out as they were walking to the white paneled van that was parked off to the side.

  Leatrice squinted and leaned over the metal railing. "It's hard to say, dearie. I really only saw their backs as they were running away, but it could be them. They look wide enough."

  “It doesn’t matter,” I said, repeating what Reese had texted me. “These guys were already wanted by the police, so they’ll be going to jail regardless.”

  “That makes me feel better,” Leatrice said.

  "What's on their heads?" Sidney Allen asked, taking a step back from the rail, his face pale.

  "Santa hats." I thought I recognized one of the officers as the rookie Kate and I had talked to at the station. I stepped back from the railing in case he looked up. I didn't want him to be reminded of our visit, especially since it didn't seem like he'd mentioned it to Reese.

  "Isn't that nice they're getting into the spirit of things?" Leatrice smiled. "Not enough people dress for the season anymore."

  Since Leatrice had a special outfit for every holiday, including the minor ones like Flag Day and Arbor Day, I'm sure she felt the rest of us were slackers.

  "I'm pretty sure they didn't decide to wear those hats," I said, rubbing my hands over my arms to warm them. "Santa paraphernalia has been turning up at a lot of crime scenes lately, mostly on the criminals."

  "Fascinating," Leatrice said, flipping up the hood of her footie pajamas.

  Sidney Allen waved us toward the door. "Why don't we go inside? It's getting cold out here."

  He was right. It was getting cold. I felt like cheering as I realized the temperature had dropped significantly since earlier in the evening. Maybe our winter wonderland wedding wouldn’t feel so out of place after all.

  We went back into my apartment, and I double-checked that the door was bolted. I'd installed heavy-duty locks on my back entrance after a break-in a couple of years ago. Even though the memory shouldn't have been a good one, it always reminded me of my fiancé, since the murder case connected to the break-in was the reason we'd met. It was also the first time I'd meddled in his case, or as I liked to think of it, the first time we'd worked together.

  "How about some hot chocolate?" I asked, heading to the kitchen.

  "You have that?" Leatrice asked, padding after me in her pajamaed feet that looked like bear claws.

  I tried not to be offended by the surprised tone. "Of course I do. And some gourmet ginger cookies."

  "Goodness." Leatrice rubbed her hands together. "I'm not used to fancy food at your apa
rtment unless Richard is around." She paused at the doorway to the kitchen, her eyes wide. "He's not hiding in here, is he?"

  "No. I do not have Richard stashed in the pantry." I didn't explain that I could offer them such a luxurious treat because I'd received both the Williams Sonoma hot chocolate and the cookies as a holiday gift from one of our favorite photographers.

  One of the nicest parts of December, aside from the fact that we were usually less busy, was getting thoughtful gifts from the vendors we sent business to all year. I'd gotten everything from a Four Seasons bathrobe to spa gift certificates to designer purses. The purses were always from Richard because he lamented my dearth of designer bags. Receiving the gift box today had reminded me that Kate and I had yet to order the holiday gifts we sent to vendors. One more thing to add to my to-do list, I thought, before pushing that aside and reaching for the red cylindrical tin of hot chocolate.

  "Who do you think did that?" Sidney Allen asked from the living room.

  I poked my head over the dividing counter from the kitchen. Hermès was curled up in a brown-and-black ball on the couch, and Sidney Allen sat perched on the edge of my overstuffed chair, rocking himself back and forth and wringing his hands. He reminded me of Humpty Dumpty, and I hoped he wasn't about to take a great fall.

  "I think your husband might need a little comforting," I whispered to Leatrice, who still lingered in the doorway.

  She immediately hurried over to him and began rubbing his back. "I'm sure Reese will get to the bottom of it, whatever happened. He's such a smart young man."

  Sidney Allen smiled and nodded. "That's true."

  I pulled down three “Twelve Days of Christmas” mugs from an overhead cabinet--part of a set from the Willard Hotel last Christmas--and began scooping dark chocolate shavings into each one. "If you ask me, whoever tied up those guys is the hero in all this."

  "Really?" Sidney Allen asked.

  I checked my fridge for milk, then finding none, filled my tea kettle with water and put it on the stove. Hot chocolate with hot water wouldn't be so bad, I thought, adding milk to my mental shopping list.