by Laura Durham
“Do what?” I asked, hoping she wasn’t saying what I thought she was saying.
“Help. We’ve known each other since we were kids. Jimmy was always quiet and smart and not like the rest of the boys in the neighborhood. He was Frank’s cousin, though, so he worked for the family. Just not in anything illegal.”
“Didn’t he cook the books?” Kate asked.
Leatrice hesitated. “I suppose he did, but he didn’t break kneecaps.”
“He carries a gun,” I reminded Leatrice.
“Wouldn’t you if you were on the run from people you could send to prison?” she asked.
Kate twisted in the swivel chair. “She makes a good point.” She swiveled back to Leatrice. “What was it like being a mobster’s girl?”
Leatrice’s cheeks reddened beneath her rouge. “Not as exciting as you’d think. I didn’t know much about Frank’s business, although I did go to his club with him. It was the only place you could get a decent cocktail.” She giggled. “The dresses were fun, and I always liked makeup.”
This was true. She’d been wearing garish lipstick since the day I met her.
Kate shook her head as she gaped openly at my neighbor. “I can’t believe you never mentioned this.”
“You never asked, dear.”
Kate leaned forward. “Have you ever seen anyone get knocked off?”
“Only when I’ve been with you girls,” Leatrice said.
Touché, I thought. When I saw glimpses of Leatrice’s sass, I could definitely picture her as a gangster’s moll.
“So what happened when you decided to leave?” I asked. “How did Jimmy help you get away?”
Leatrice closed her eyes as if thinking back. “He got documents for me with my new name and gave me enough money to get far away from Chicago. He told me not to tell him where I was going and to keep moving for a while. So I did. After a few years, I figured Frank got tired of looking for me. Knowing him, he found himself a new girl and forgot all about me.”
“You changed your name?” Kate asked. “Leatrice isn’t your real name?”
Leatrice opened her eyes and smiled. “Oh no. It was Leonora. I picked Leatrice myself. My mother’s favorite silent film actress was Leatrice Joy, so I picked that as a way to remember her.”
“So you never saw your family again once you left Chicago?” I asked.
Leatrice’s eyes darkened for a moment. “My mother passed when I was twelve. It was only my father and me, and he was too deep in the bottle to notice or care. No, I didn’t have much family to speak of, so it wasn’t hard to leave it behind.”
Watching Leatrice’s face, I suspected it had been more difficult than she let on. I wondered if leaving her family and friends behind was one of the reasons she’d become so attached to me and my wedding crew, adopting us as her surrogate family. “Does anyone else know about this?”
She shook her head and cast another glance toward the living room. “No, and I suspect my Honey Bun may be a little upset that I kept this from him.”
“You might want to have a heart-to-heart before you walk down the aisle,” I said. “I’m an expert in weddings, not marriage, but I don’t think secrets are ever a good thing.”
Kate took another handful of M&Ms. “Especially when they show up in the form of Jimmy the Pencil.”
Leatrice clasped her hands together. “What do you think he’ll say when I tell him I want to help Jimmy evade the Mob?”
“I guess it depends,” I told her. “What does helping an old friend go on the run from the Mob entail?”
“I think I’d like to know the answer to that question, as well,” my boyfriend, Mike Reese, said as he opened the door the rest of the way.
Kate mumbled a curse through a mouthful of M&Ms, and Leatrice spun around, causing the bird’s nest to bobble on her head. Reese held an armful of tuxedo bags and wore a scowl that, surprisingly, made him look even more handsome. My gaze was drawn to the single, dark curl that had fallen down on his forehead, and I fought the urge to smooth it back in place.
“Hey, babe,” I said, my voice unnaturally peppy. “I was just about to call you.”
“Care to explain why Bugsy Siegel is sitting in our living room; Sidney Allen is on the verge of hyperventilating; and Fern is double-fisting champagne?”
“Look on the bright side,” Kate said. “No one’s dead.”
Chapter 4
“What do you mean there might be a delay?" Richard shrieked into the other end of the phone.
I held the phone to my head while Fern tugged at my hair as he brushed. Shifting on the stool, I looked over my shoulder to see Reese huddled in conversation with Leatrice and Jimmy. "We're running a little behind; that's all."
"Running behind? You never run behind schedule on the wedding day, Annabelle," Richard said, his voice sounding suspicious. "What's going on? Is the old girl having second thoughts? Is the old boy?" He sucked in a breath. "Is someone dead?"
"No," I said. "Don't be ridiculous."
"I hardly think it's ridiculous that my mind goes to dead bodies," Richard said. "They do seem to turn up a lot at your weddings, darling."
"He’s not wrong about that," Fern said, curling the end of my hair around a circular brush and misting it with hairspray.
I tried to shoot him a look as I inhaled the hairspray and coughed. “And who has been with me at almost all of those weddings?”
Richard mumbled something about being dragged kicking and screaming.
“I promise you there's no dead body,” I said. “And we're back on track. Leatrice is almost ready; Fern is finishing up my hair; and Kate’s getting Sidney Allen ready."
“And Hermès?”
“Free of hair extensions,” I said, eyeing the little dog as he paced in front of Leatrice, Jimmy the Pencil, and Reese. The way he glared at the Mob accountant made me rethink his suitability as a guard dog. I suspected he could do some serious ankle damage if the occasion called for it.
“Good. Let's hope you can make up for lost time then," Richard said. “It's sweltering out here, and I can tell you guests won't want to be waiting around for a ceremony to start in this heat."
I gave another quick glance to where Reese sat talking with Leatrice and Jimmy the Pencil. Hopefully, once the two of them explained everything to my cop boyfriend, he'd have an idea of what we should do. As long as those ideas didn't involve a delay in the wedding, everything would be just fine.
"How's the setup going, anyway? I asked, trying not to flinch as Fern yanked my hair back.
"Well, most of my part is done. The chairs are set out for the ceremony; the tables are arranged for cocktail hour; and the ballroom is all set up for dinner. I nixed the tented patio because no one wants to swelter through a three-course dinner, and my salad greens will lose all structural integrity if they sit out in this humidity. I've let my staff go inside to cool off while the floral team sets up the decor."
“Are Buster and Mack already putting out the flowers?" I asked. "Aren't they afraid everything will wilt before we get there?"
"So far they’re putting out the furniture and flower stands," Richard said. "Lucky for us you went with a vintage theme. Some of these settees are going to come in handy when guests start swooning from the heat."
"Very funny," I said. I heard muffled voices in the background, and then Mack’s deep voice came on the phone.
"What's this about a delay?" he asked.
I sighed. Bad news traveled fast. Mack was one half of the flower-designing duo from Lush, known among friends as the Mighty Morphin Flower Arrangers. In the DC wedding world, they were famous and infamous. Not only were they notable for creating stunning decor for almost all the society weddings, but they shot the image most people had of wedding florists straight out of the water. Both men were well over six feet tall and three hundred pounds, usually sported head to toe black leather, had a variety of tattoos and piercings, and rode Harleys.
What not everyone knew at first glance, though, w
as that the burly, bald men with goatees were reformed motorcycle gang members who now belonged to the Road Riders for Jesus. They never cursed, didn’t drink, and were total softies. Just hearing the warm rumble of Mack’s voice made me feel better.
"No delay,” I told him. “We had a little hiccup, but we’re getting everything back on track. How's it going over there?"
Richard squawked something in the background, and I had a feeling he hadn’t voluntarily given his phone to the imposing florist.
"It's a good thing Leatrice decided to go light on the flowers," Mack said. "This heat is brutal. Buster and I didn't even ride our bikes this morning.”
I knew that was saying something since the flower arranging duo went everywhere on their Harleys. I’d even seen them ride up to a church with a box of personal flowers strapped in behind them on the leather seat.
"I know Leatrice appreciates everything you and Buster are doing for her wedding," I said.
"You know we adore her," Mack said with a chuckle. "When she's around, people don't seem to be as startled by us."
I laughed along with him. Even though Buster’s and Mack’s appearance give some people pause, Leatrice’s odd outfits and ever-changing hair color were often just as shocking. I heard more muffled voices in the background, and then Richard came back on the line.
"Snatching the phone from me like that! Of all the nerve." He let out a huff of breath. “He’s just lucky he’s…”
“Three times your size?” I finished the sentence for him.
“I was going to say he was lucky I was feeling magnanimous,” Richard said, his tone frosty. “I suppose I should let you get back to it, although some of us have real work to do and aren’t just sitting around primping."
"I'm a bridesmaid," I said. "You know Fern won't let me walk down the aisle with my usual ponytail."
"You’ve got that right." Fern unleashed a burst of hairspray over my head. "For once in your life you're going to have an actual style.” Fern made a disapproving noise in the back of his throat. “The ponytail is the hair world’s version of sweatpants, sweetie.”
I ignored him and fought the urge to defend sweatpants. “I’ll pop by to see how everything is going as soon as I'm finished,” I said to Richard. What I didn’t say was that by then I hoped Reese had a solution to our little problem.
"If I haven’t collapsed from heatstroke by the time you get here," Richard said, before clicking off.
I shook my head as I put my phone in my lap. I wished heat and Richard being dramatic were the only problems I had to deal with today.
"All right," Fern said, patting my shoulders. “You're all done."
I touched a hand gingerly to my updo. "Please tell me there's not a bird’s nest on my head."
"Why on earth do you think I would put a bird’s nest on your head?" Fern said with a giggle.
I turned and looked pointedly at Leatrice, the nest bobbing back and forth as she talked.
Fern waved a hand at me. "Well, she's the bride. I wouldn't put a bird’s nest on just anyone's head."
"Well, that's a relief." I muttered as I slipped off the stool.
“Where is Kate?" Fern swiveled his head around the apartment, as if noticing her absence for the first time.
"I sent her down to get Sidney Allen ready, remember? Of course, that was really just to get the groom out of the way and keep him occupied."
"That's right,” Fern said. "No matter. There isn't much I can do with Kate’s bob, anyway. Although, I wonder if she'd let me put some butterflies in her hair too?"
"Too?” I felt the top of my head. "I thought you didn't put anything in my hair."
"I said I didn't put a bird’s nest in your hair. I never said anything about a few tasteful butterflies."
I didn't even want to see what Fern's idea of "tasteful butterflies" looked like. "This is why I'd rather be the wedding planner than a bridesmaid," I said under my breath as I crossed the room to my fiancé.
Reese looked up at me ,and the corner of his mouth twitched.
"Don't you look like a picture?" Leatrice put her hands to her cheeks and beamed at me.
"I would only do this for you, Leatrice,” I said.
Reese stood and walked over to me, placing one hand on my waist. "Are you saying you're not going to do this look for our wedding day?"
My pulse quickened at the mention of our wedding, and heat rushed to my cheeks. "I haven't actually thought about it.”
Reese grinned at me. "I'm teasing you, babe."
I tried to smile along with him, but my heart raced. Why did I find it so much easier to plan weddings than to be in them?
"So, did Leatrice and Jimmy tell you everything?” I asked, hoping my quick change of subject wouldn’t be noticed.
Reese nodded, his face serious. “You can imagine how thrilled I am that you and your friends are involved in something illegal during another wedding.”
"First of all," I said, “I’d hardly call this illegal, especially since Jimmy wants to leave a life of crime. Secondly, might I remind you that these are your friends now?"
"Which is exactly why I’ve come up with a plan," he said.
“Does it involve arresting anyone?” I asked. “Or calling in more cops?”
“Not unless Fern tries to put butterflies in my hair.”
My cop fiancé was willingly skirting the law and coming up with a plan to solve a potential wedding disaster? Well, this day was certainly full of surprises.
Chapter 5
“So this is your plan?” I asked as Reese and I walked up the stone steps leading to Dumbarton House. We’d walked the few blocks from our apartment to the nearby venue, since parking in Georgetown was at such a premium, and neither of us wanted to risk moving our cars and losing a space.
“Part of it.”
We paused in front of the redbrick Federal-style mansion, with its white columns flanking the portico entrance and its tall windows overlooking the front lawn. The house, which housed the national headquarters of the Colonial Dames of America, had recently gone through a renovation, and I hoped the newly updated air conditioning was up to today’s challenge.
I twisted to face my fiancé, dabbing at the moisture on my upper lip, glad I hadn’t done my full makeup yet. The stifling heat was making what little I was wearing trickle down my face. “Somehow I thought a plan put together by a DC detective would involve a little more than walking with me to check on the wedding setup.”
“As I already explained, I can’t be involved in anything illegal.”
I waved for him to follow me around the right side of the house to the garden where voices and the sounds of clattering indicated that event prep was in full swing. “And helping a guy escape from the Mob would be illegal how?”
“First of all, the DC police department doesn’t have an organized crime unit, and I’m not Elliot Ness.”
“Too bad,” I said. “You’d look cute with a Tommy gun.”
He shook his head and laughed. “The gangsters used Tommy guns, not the cops. At least in the movies. Like I was saying, there isn’t any department protocol on this one, and I can’t be involved in anything your nutty neighbor does that’s illegal.”
“She’s your nutty neighbor now, too,” I reminded him. We’d only been living together a little over nine months, and although we’d gotten over the initial adjustment, I occasionally had to remind him that he was an official resident of the building and not just a frequent visitor.
“Our nutty neighbor then,” he said, sweeping a hand through his hair, the one errant curl falling right back over his forehead. “Since this Jimmy fellow can’t use any of his usual contacts to make fake documents, Leatrice is reaching out to her contacts on the internet.”
“Boots and Dagger Dan?” I asked as we stepped over a flower bed edging the house’s side patio, and I inhaled the scent of mulch and freshly mown grass.
Reese held up both hands. “Don’t tell me their names. I do not want to know a
ny more than I need to about our eighty-year-old friend’s contacts on the Dark Web.”
“She doesn’t hang out on the dark web,” I explained as we made our way across the stone patio. “She met them when she was trying to be a hacker, remember? You should because you were pretty steamed at me about it.”
“Wasn’t this before we started dating?”
I nodded. “Back when you were determined to keep me out of criminal investigations.”
“That went so well,” Reese mumbled. “So Leatrice has kept up with these hackers?”
“I guess. I think they’re pretty active on the dark web, which is why they went dark for a while and also why she rarely contacts them. But I guess they can get her the fake documents pretty quickly.”
Reese groaned. “That’s way more than I needed to know.”
“Sorry.” I grinned at him, pausing where the patio met the back garden. “But the faster she can get Jimmy the Pencil what he needs to change his identity and go into hiding, the faster we get the old mobster out of our living room.”
Reese shoved his hands into the pockets of his khaki pants and rocked back on his heels. “Which is the only reason I agreed to look the other way. That and Jimmy hasn’t actually committed a crime in DC.”
“So is your plan just looking the other way while Leatrice breaks the law?” I asked. “I mean, I’ve heard of worse plans, and probably been involved in more than a few myself, but is that it?”
He cocked an eyebrow at me. “No, that isn’t it. I have my partner running a few checks on some of the men Jimmy mentioned to see if any might have traveled to the DC area.”
My stomach tightened. The thought of more mobsters turning up did not do anything for my nerves. “Hobbes is running the checks? Isn’t he coming to the wedding?”
My fiancé’s partner in the police department had some sort of long-distance relationship with my go-to cake baker, who lived in Scotland. Since she’d flown over to do Leatrice’s cake, I assumed she was bringing Detective Hobbes as her plus one.
Reese shrugged. “I think so, but the wedding doesn’t start for a couple of hours, and it doesn’t take guys long to get ready.”
