by Laura Durham
“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Richard said with a tortured sigh. “You do know I’m standing right beside you, don’t you?”
My cheeks warmed, and I darted a glance to Richard on my other side. “Sorry.”
“And if you really want to know, you should be wearing a three-button jacket, not a one,” Richard said with a sniff. “I’d hate for you to repeat this style at your own wedding.”
“Good to know.” Reese looked down at his chest. “But I assumed you’d be helping me pick out the formal wear for my wedding.”
Richard’s head snapped over to Reese. “Me?”
“Annabelle and I haven’t officially asked our wedding party, but I hoped you’d be a groomsman. It would mean a lot to both of us.”
Richard’s mouth fell open, and he made a strangled noise.
“We’re looking forward and smiling,” the photographer called.
Richard turned to the camera, clearing his throat as he did so.
“Is that a yes?” I asked through a plastered-on smile.
“That’s great, everyone,” the photographer said, lowering her camera. “Now if I can have just the bride and groom with the bridesmaids and groomsmen.”
“Well, of course,” Richard said, stepping away and blinking rapidly. “I had no…I mean, it would be my hon…Yes, you can count on me.” He cleared his throat again. “Now, I’d better go check on the kitchen.”
Before he could make his escape, Leatrice sucked in her breath so loudly I thought she might swallow her teeth. I followed her gaze as she gaped at a man standing near the side of the house. “Who is that?”
Chapter 13
“That’s PJ,” Richard said. When no one reacted, he added, “My significant other.”
“I thought he was imaginary,” Leatrice said, her eyes still riveted to the tall man with sandy-brown hair who looked to be in his thirties.
I turned to face Richard. “I thought he was your age.”
“He is my age,” Richard said, looking affronted.
Kate arched an eyebrow at him as she took a couple of goblets of water from the tray Richard had brought and passed them to the bride and groom. “Talk about wishful drinking.”
“Count me in for that,” Fern said, giggling at my assistant’s mangled expression and helping her pass out waters.
“He’s in my age range,” Richard said.
“How wide is that range?” I asked, gratefully taking the glass of ice water Fern handed me. “Eighteen to fifty?”
Richard’s cheeks flushed. “I’ll have you know that age is only a number.”
Fern hooked an arm through Richard’s as he sized up PJ from afar. “Honey, you haven’t seen that number in a long time.”
Hermès leapt down from Richard’s arms and scampered across the lawn to PJ, yipping happily when he reached the man and was scooped up from the ground. PJ raised a hand in a wave when he looked over and saw all of us staring at him.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Richard said. “Don’t terrify the man.”
“Richard’s right,” I said. “Act normal, everyone.” I glanced back at the group and caught sight of Fern in his cassock, Buster and Mack in their dress leather, and the bird’s nest bobbing on Leatrice’s head. This would be easier said than done.
“I’d better go check on him,” Richard said. “He doesn’t know a soul.”
“And we need to go spritz the flowers downstairs,” Mack said, leading Buster away along with Prue and Merry, who looked like she was ready for a nap or a meal. I didn’t blame her.
“Can I get that bridesmaids and groomsmen photo?” the photographer asked, swiping a sweaty strand of hair off her forehead.
“Sorry.” I took a quick sip of water and stepped back into place. “You’d think we’d be an easier bridal party since we’re all in the industry. Well, most of us.”
“It’s okay,” she said with a weary smile. “I’m used to it.”
She didn’t look old enough to sound as world worn as she did, but I knew working weddings added years pretty quickly. After moving us around a bit and reminding us to lower our bouquets, she snapped her photos and thanked us.
“Now the priest with the couple.”
I didn’t correct her as Fern preened, standing between the bride and groom with his hands in prayer position.
“I feel like this is sacrilegious,” Kate whispered.
I blinked as his large gold cross glinted in the sunlight. “As long as he doesn’t start taking confessions.”
“Now a few with just the bride and groom.”
“Being on the other side of things feels weird,” I told Reese when the photographer stepped away with Leatrice and Sidney Allen to shoot photos of them under the tree. “I’m not sure I like it.”
He put an arm around my waist. “I’m sure it will be better when you’re the bride and not a bridesmaid.”
I wasn’t so sure, and the thought of being the focus of everyone’s attention made my mouth go dry. I took a gulp of water. One of the things I loved about being a wedding planner was that I was always behind the scenes. In a world where people documented their every move online, I found the anonymity comforting.
“For sure,” Kate said. “Being a bridesmaid is the worst. You have to wear a crazy getup someone else picks out; you can’t get as drunk as you need to; and every single male guest thinks you’re fair game.”
I agreed with her on the outfit part. I’d be glad to toss this pillbox hat in the back of my closet for good.
“I don’t know if I’d call this outfit crazy,” Fern said, touching a finger to Kate’s blue lapel. “I’ve seen much worse bridesmaids’ dresses than these.”
“They’re so prim,” Kate said, glancing down at the pencil skirt that covered her knees. “How am I supposed to flirt in this? By the way, where’s Daniel? He promised to bring me a martini after the ceremony.”
Reese twisted his body as he scanned the entire walled garden behind the house. “He was watching Jimmy.”
“Were they with Hobbes?” I asked, watching guests mingle with the costumed performers as the jazz ensemble played in the background.
“Yes, do you see him?”
“No,” I said, “but maybe they went inside. It is pretty hot out here.”
“Since your best friend is catering, what are the chances we can get him to sneak us some hors d’oeuvres and drinks from the kitchen?” Reese asked.
I gave him a scandalized look. “Do my ears deceive me, or is a law enforcement officer trying to circumvent the rules?”
“If it means getting out of this heat in an all-black tux, then that would be a yes.”
Before I could playfully scold him some more, I heard Leatrice screech. Whipping my head around, I saw her next to the large shade tree bending over a figure lying on the ground. It took me only a second to realize that the figure was Sidney Allen. The photographer ran toward us, her eyes wild.
“Someone call 9-1-1!”
Reese was already running across the lawn when Kate, Fern, and I gave chase. I patted my hips uselessly, since my phone wasn’t on me. Another reason to hate bridesmaids dresses. No pockets.
“What happened?” I asked as I reached Leatrice and knelt down next to her. My fiancé was already loosening Sidney Allen’s tie as he held his cell phone to his ear with his shoulder, giving the address to the emergency dispatcher.
“I don’t know,” Leatrice said, wringing her hands. “We were taking photos and he started to sway, then he collapsed.
I looked at Sidney Allen’s flushed face. “It’s the heat.”
“And the corset,” Kate added.
“Kate’s right,” I told Reese. “We need to get him out of the heat and out of that contraption he’s wearing.”
Reese nodded and glanced up at Leatrice. “Did he hit his head when he fell?”
“No, he kind of slumped down slowly, so I was able to hold him up and keep him from hitting the ground too hard.” She choked back a sob. “Is he alive?
”
“Definitely,” Reese said, “but his pulse is elevated, so I think Annabelle’s right. The best thing to do is cool him off.”
Fern threw a glass of ice water at Sidney Allen’s face, and we all jumped back as droplets splattered on us.
“What are you doing?” Kate asked.
“No, that’s actually good,” Reese said. “We need to cool him off fast.”
“Then I’m your man,” Fern said, heading for the tray of waters we’d left behind. “No one tosses drinks in faces like I do.”
Daniel Reese appeared next to his brother. “What’s going on?”
“Possible heatstroke,” my fiancé said. “We’re going to move him inside and cool him down.”
Daniel nodded and took a position across from Reese, both men putting their arms under Sidney Allen. A pair of costumed performers stepped out of the crowd, dropping their fake Tommy guns and sliding their hands under his legs. The men heaved him up and began moving in unison across the lawn toward the house with Fern running behind with a tray of ice water.
“Come on,” I told Leatrice, helping her stand. “Once he cools down, the reception will get back on track, so no more crying and ruining your mascara.”
“That’s right,” Kate put an arm around her. “You don’t want Fern to fuss at you for spoiling all his hard work.”
Leatrice put a hand to her damp face. “You really think my Sweetie Pie will be all right?”
“Absolutely,” I said. “This isn’t the first person we’ve had faint at a wedding.”
“At least he didn’t land on marble,” Kate said, looking over Leatrice’s bird’s nest at me. “Remember the bridesmaid who passed out in the National Cathedral?”
“I remember the other bridesmaids stepping over her,” I said.
“Good heavens,” Leatrice said with a weak giggle. “Was she okay?”
“Perfectly fine,” I said. “Although that couple didn’t last very long. Wasn’t it only a year before they split up?”
“Something like that,” Kate said. “Way too soon for all the trouble of having a cathedral wedding.”
I noticed that color had returned to Leatrice’s cheeks since we’d distracted her with our wedding war stories. We walked into the back of the house and followed the voices to one of the rooms set up with period furnishings. Sidney Allen lay on the carpet next to a Federal-style dining table that displayed eighteenth century china and fake food. His shirt was open, and Reese was unhooking his black girdle. Fern had dipped a cocktail napkin into the cold water and was patting it on Sidney Allen’s forehead.
As Reese released the last hook of the girdle, Sidney Allen’s belly sprung free, and he let out a groan of relief. His eyes fluttered open, and he gazed up at everyone.
“How do you feel, Honey Bun?” Leatrice asked, sinking down next to him and taking his hand in hers.
“Dizzy,” he said. “But I can finally breathe again.”
“You collapsed outside,” Reese said. “Do you remember?”
The entertainment diva raised a hand to his head. “I remember feeling warm and having a hard time catching my breath. And then I saw him.”
“Who?” Leatrice asked.
Sidney Allen found Kate in the group, his eyes locking on hers. “The man who forced his way into Leatrice’s apartment. The one Kate fended off with her stun gun.”
Chapter 14
The black girdle had been tossed over to the side, and the groom sat up drinking one of the glasses of ice water Fern had not been able to throw in his face, due to the fact that it would soak the antique rug and not because of any restraint on Fern’s part.
“You saw the guy I stunned?” Kate asked, looking around the room as if he might be hiding behind one of the antique chairs. “Here? At the wedding?”
Fern made the sign of the cross with his one free hand and whispered to me, “The heat must be making the poor dear see things.”
I was inclined to agree with Fern. I hadn’t seen a dangerous looking Mob thug, although all our costumed performers weren’t making it easy to spot a real threat.
“Where?” Reese asked Sidney Allen. Either he believed the groom or was doing an excellent job of humoring him.
“Standing on the side patio near the corner of the house. At first I thought I might be seeing things because I was feeling a little dizzy, but then he saw me across the lawn, and I knew it was the man who’d burst into my Sugar Muffin’s apartment looking for Jimmy.”
“Where is Jimmy?” I asked, looking around the assembled faces.
“I left him with Hobbes downstairs,” Daniel Reese said.
His brother stood and exchanged a serious look with him. “We should make sure he’s secure.”
“What should we do?” Kate asked. “My stun gun is downstairs with my purse.”
“Nothing,” Reese said a bit too forcefully. “I don’t want an armed bridal party roaming the place.”
“Don’t be so sure.” Kate waggled a finger at him. “We had a wedding in Georgetown where the groom and all his groomsmen were with the Secret Service, and it proved to be very helpful when cars parked illegally in front of the church. You’ve never seen tow trucks arrive so quickly in your life.”
Daniel grinned. “That I would have liked to see.”
Reese turned to me. “Can you make sure your team doesn’t stun anyone else while Daniel and I go check things out?”
“I’ll try,” I said. “Luckily, we need to get cocktails wrapped up and guests moved down to the ballroom for dinner. That should keep us busy. Wedding guests never move quickly.”
Reese gave me a quick peck on the cheek, and he and Daniel ducked out of the room.
“What is everyone doing in here?” Richard’s shrill voice carried from the foyer as the door to the back garden opened and closed.
I stepped out of the room to intercept him, but he peered in nonetheless.
“Getting Sidney Allen out of his girdle,” Fern said in a stage whisper, motioning to the pile of shiny black fabric.
Richard looked at the discarded waist shaper, then at the dozen people gathered around Sidney Allen, including a pair of performers who looked like they should be carrying violin cases. “It took all of you to get it off?” He closed his eyes and put up his palms. “Never mind. I don’t want to know.”
“We were on our way outside,” I said. “Are cocktails still going strong?”
“If by going strong you mean are people drinking water like they’re running a marathon, then yes. Thank goodness I insisted on the lavender lemonade station. It’s too hot for champagne.”
“Bite your tongue,” Fern said, looking as if he’d been slapped.
Richard ignored him. “I don’t know if we should keep guests outside for a full hour. I don’t want them to start dropping like flies.”
“Too late,” Kate mumbled.
The front door at the other end of the foyer swung open, and a pair of paramedics stepped inside.
“Down here.” I waved at them, pointing inside the room where Leatrice sat next to her fiancé, fanning him with her bouquet as he sipped his water. “He’s better now, but can you check his vitals?”
“Taking off his girdle my foot.” Richard gave Fern a withering glance. “I suppose it wouldn’t be a Wedding Belles wedding without at least one emergency vehicle.”
I shushed him. “Don’t say that so loud. I don’t want people thinking that about our weddings.”
“I think the rat’s out of the bag on that one, Annabelle,” Kate said, joining me in the foyer with Richard. “People know about all the murders we’ve been connected to.”
“It’s ‘the cat’s out of the bag’,” Richard said.
Kate snorted. “Why would you put a cat in a bag? That makes no sense. A rat, however. . .”
Richard pivoted away from my assistant. “The point is, you have been around more than the usual number of murders at weddings.”
“What is the usual number?” Fern asked, drummin
g his fingers on his chin as he joined us.
“I think that would be none,” Kate said.
“Not all of the murders took place at the actual weddings,” I insisted. “Some were before or after. I can count the ones that had dead bodies at the weddings on one hand.”
Kate raised an eyebrow. “There’s something to put in our ads.”
“Look at the bright side, darling,” Richard said. “At least the coroner’s van isn’t rolling up. Yet.”
I pointed a finger at him. “And it won’t. No one is dying today.”
My friends didn’t look convinced.
“I’m serious,” I said. “This is our friend’s wedding, and we’re going to make sure no one gets knocked off on our watch.”
“We, as in the four of us?” Fern asked, scanning our small group and nibbling the corner of his mouth.
“We also have Reese and his brother,” I said. “And Buster and Mack.”
Kate tilted her head at me, and her decorative butterfly flopped to one side. “Didn’t your hot hubby-to-be just tell us not to do anything?”
“He said not to stun anyone,” I said. “He didn’t say anything about not looking for the guys who are after Jimmy. If the hit man who was looking for him earlier is actually here, we need to find him before he finds Jimmy. And Reese said another man flew into DC with Jimmy’s nephew. He might be here too.”
“Two hit men?” Richard asked, his face paling under his bronzer.
“Maybe,” I said, “but Sidney Allen claims he only saw one. The other one could be the wheel man.”
Fern glanced toward the front door. “But won’t this Mob guy be armed? What do we do if he shoots at us?”
“He’s not going to shoot at us,” I said.
“That’s right,” Kate said. “If he’s in the Mob, he’s more likely to strangle us or throw us into a river so we can sleep with the fishes.”
Fern’s fingers flew to his neck. “I think I’d rather be shot.”
I glared at my assistant. “No one is going to get shot or strangled. If we see anyone who looks like the Mob hit man, we find Reese.”
“Half the guests here look like Mob hit men,” Richard said as the two costumed performers who’d helped carry Sidney Allen inside passed us and went back outside.
