Eat, Prey, Love

by Laura Durham

  We followed the crowd into the dining room. Several large, round tables were topped with bright arrangements of red-and-yellow Gerbera daisies. Each place setting had a round woven placemat made of shimmering gold fabric topped with a colorful menu card.

  I set my cappuccino down at an empty table. Richard and Alan took the seats next to me with Kate and Fern sitting on the other side of Alan. Kristina and Brett were across from me, and Buster and Mack rushed up to claim the last two seats next to Richard.

  “Did you two sleep in?” I asked, leaning over Richard so Mack could hear me.

  Mack sighed. “I wish. We were up early to work with the hotel design team.”

  “We can’t manage to sleep in even when we’re at a luxury resort,” Buster said. “Not that I could sleep much after last night.”

  I noticed the dark circles under both men’s eyes. “It was pretty upsetting.”

  A waiter set a trio of juices in short cylindrical glasses in front of me followed by a glass plate of artistically cut fruit. My stomach growled at the sight of the food, reminding me that I had barely taken a bite of food since the day before. I’d certainly been too upset to eat dinner after Veronica had collapsed.

  “It was the first time we’ve been at the scene of a murder,” Mack said. “Every time your clients have been killed, we’ve been somewhere else.”

  I waved a hand to shush him. “Let’s not share that fact, okay?”

  “We were there when the diamonds were stolen,” Buster added, his voice sounding even louder in the glass-walled room. “But never for the murders.”

  Mack’s face brightened. “That jewelry heist was pretty exciting, though.”

  I tried not to groan out loud. So much for keeping things under wraps.

  “Don’t worry,” Alan said. “Everyone already knows that you’ve had a lot of clients cark it.”

  I nearly choked on my cappuccino as I took a sip. I lowered the cup slowly to the saucer. “What?”

  “Get killed,” Alan said.

  “I think Crocodile Dundee is making up these words,” Richard whispered to me.

  “Not all of the people killed were clients,” Kate corrected Alan, waving a wedge of melon on the end of her fork. “Some of them we didn’t even know.”

  “And not all of the dead clients were my clients,” Richard said. “But Fern knew them all.”

  Fern leaned over Kate and winked at Alan. “Guilty.”

  I closed my eyes and wondered if I could slip underneath the table and disappear. I steadied my breath and opened my eyes to look at Alan. “Who told you this?”

  He slipped a thin silver flask out of his pants pocket and pointed it across the table. “Kristina and Brett mentioned it this morning. Anyone else up for making our coffees Irish this morning?”

  Kate’s face brightened. “I think you and I are going to be best friends.”

  I tried to ignore the giggling as both Fern and Kate passed their coffee cups across to Alan. “Kristina and Brett,” I repeated.

  Kristina looked up when she heard her name. “Yes?”

  “Alan said you told him something about me this morning.” I tried to keep my voice light, but I could hear the quaver in it.

  “That you guys had been involved in murder cases before?” She nodded. “It sounded pretty cool to me.”

  “Who told you?” I asked.

  “Someone I’d never met before.” She twisted in her chair to scan the room. “He was with the lady with really red hair.”

  “Blond hair?” Richard asked. “Fussy clothes? Upturned nose?”

  Kristina thought for a second while Brett answered for her. “Definitely.”

  “I knew it,” I said under my breath. “That fink Jeremy is spreading rumors about us.”

  “He has a lot of nerve,” Richard said. “Not much taste, but a lot of nerve.”

  I speared a berry with my fork. “Especially since he’s probably still wanted for grand larceny.”

  Richard stroked his chin. “Does Indonesia have an extradition agreement with the U.S.?”

  “I don’t know, but I don’t think getting him arrested and extradited is our best move.”

  Kate peered over Alan. “There’s more than one way to skin a rat.”

  Alan grimaced. “You Americans have the oddest expressions.”

  “Yes, darling, but that’s not one of them,” Fern said.

  “He’s one to talk,” Richard said under his breath. “I’ll bet half of the Australian words he uses aren’t even real.”

  I elbowed him. “Behave. He’s perfectly nice.”

  He glanced at Alan and shrugged. “If you ask me, he’s a little much.”

  I stared pointedly at Richard’s purple polka dot pocket square and matching ascot.

  He inhaled sharply and put a hand to the puffed-up knot of silk around his neck. “I’ll have you know this is couture.”

  I stared at him, unblinking.

  “Fine.” He rolled his eyes. “I’ll be nice.”

  “So no extradition for Jeremy,” Fern said. “What do you suggest, Annabelle?”

  “I think it’s time we had a little chat with our old friend,” I said.

  Chapter 7

  “Since when has talking to Jeremy ever produced results?” Richard asked after he’d finished his plate of crab cake eggs Benedict topped with black truffle hollandaise sauce, dabbing the corner of his mouth with his napkin.

  “There’s a first time for everything,” I said, although I remembered all too well our unsuccessful attempts to talk with the prima donna designer when we’d been forced to work with him on a wedding. I took a bite of the smoked salmon and caviar scrambled eggs wrapped in puff pastry. The salty and savory flavors were a delicious combination, and I closed my eyes for a moment as I swallowed.

  “This trip is going to be murder on my figure,” Fern said as he eyed the petite filet mignon and baked egg in brioche in front of him. His gaze fell on the french toast topped with strawberries and mascarpone cheese that Kate was eating. “I suppose it could be worse.”

  “Hey,” she said. “After last night I need some comfort carbs.”

  “When we talked to Jeremy before, we didn’t have leverage,” I explained. “Now we do.”

  Since Alan had gone back to the coffee bar for another latte, I could talk freely to my friends about Jeremy. As much as I liked Alan, I didn’t want him to know all our dirty laundry.

  “So we’re going to threaten to tell everyone that he’s a thief unless he stops spreading rumors about us?” Kate asked before tossing back a shot of green juice.

  “Pretty much.” I looked around the room where the group sat eating at round tables. Conversation had been subdued and quiet, a somber hum without any laughter. A reflection of last night’s tragedy, I was sure. I spotted Sasha but didn’t see Jeremy next to her. Instead there was an empty chair, and I wondered if he’d been sent to fetch another pashmina.

  “Be careful,” Mack warned, leaning across Richard. “You remember what Buster and I told you about working with him in New York. He won’t hesitate to lie, cheat, or steal to come out ahead. And we have the ruined business to prove it.”

  I did remember my friends’ tale of Jeremy destroying their reputation when they worked in New York City. I studied the two burly men with their goatees, black leather ensembles, and hearts of gold. I’d never seen them angrier than when they’d found out their former nemesis was working on a wedding with us in DC. Mack had nearly burst a blood vessel, and Buster had muttered some words that sounded suspiciously blue.

  “Why are you two not more upset that Jeremy is here?” I asked.

  “We’ve added yoga and meditation to our prayer meetings,” Mack explained while Buster nodded. “It’s helped us release past anger and anxiety.”

  I didn’t know if I wanted to imagine the two massive men doing yoga. “Your Christian biker prayer meetings?”

  “One of our members is becoming certified as a yoga teacher,” Buster said
, sopping up strawberries and cream with a forkful of french toast. “So he’s practicing on us.”

  “Heaven preserve us,” Richard muttered.

  The idea of a room of Harley-riding men wearing yoga pants was almost more than I could take. I pressed my fingers to my lips to keep from laughing.

  “You should come to one of our meetings, Annabelle. It helps with the wedding stress.” Mack gave Richard a pointed look. “You, too.”

  “Wild horses couldn’t drag me there,” Richard said.

  “Don’t take it personally,” I told Mack. “Yoga isn’t really Richard’s thing.”

  It wasn’t really mine, either, but at least I’d never stomped out of a class like Richard had when a teacher had suggested his root chakra was backed up.

  “Well, even if you aren’t angry at Jeremy anymore, you still know him better than anyone else here,” I told Buster and Mack. “How do you suggest we handle him?”

  Buster muttered something under his breath, and Mack placed a hand on his thick forearm. “Breathe out anger, breathe in love.”

  Richard rolled his eyes. “If you ask me, the only way to stop someone like Jeremy is to fight fire with fire.”

  “Did you say set him on fire?” Fern asked. “Because I think that would really do the trick.”

  Kate leaned over. “We’re setting someone on fire?”

  Alan paused as he returned to the table holding his latte and looked from Fern to Kate to me.

  “Joking,” I said with a wave. “We were only joking.”

  He sat down and shook his head. “I’ve never understood American humor.”

  I gave my friends a look that told them to cool it. I sat back to let the waiter take my plate and noticed Jeremy had returned to the room and seemed to be headed for the coffee bar. I pushed back my chair and dropped my napkin on the table. “I’ll be right back.”

  I walked quickly across the room and through the glass doors, a smile plastered on my face. I came up behind Jeremy as he ordered a vanilla latte. “I hear you’ve been a busy little bee, buzzing in everyone’s ears.”

  He jumped when he saw me, then his lips curled into his customary sneer. “Well, if it isn’t the ringleader herself.”

  “I thought it might be good for us to talk in person before the rumors get out of hand.” I reminded myself not to let him bait me as I felt my breath quicken.

  He gave a dismissive shrug. “I haven’t said anything that isn’t true.”

  I clenched and unclenched my fists. “Maybe, but don’t you think you’re leaving out the part of the story where you stole thousands of dollars and ran out on the client?”

  Jeremy’s eyes darted around him. “I deserved that money.”

  “Not for that hideous wedding design you inflicted on us,” Richard said as he walked up. “You should have paid everyone who had the misfortune of seeing it.”

  Jeremy sucked in his breath as he turned on Richard. “You take that back.”

  Richard crossed his arms over his chest and looked Jeremy up and down. “Never. You’re a talentless hack who preys on people who are too naive to know better.”

  Jeremy’s face turned purple, and he stamped his foot. “You can’t talk to me like this.”

  “Why not?” Richard glanced around us. “You don’t have a rich client under your spell to threaten us with.”

  “I’ll tell everyone about your clients getting killed,” Jeremy said, his voice a hiss.

  Before I could protest, Richard shrugged it off. “Haven’t you already done that? Anyway, if you share your information, then we’ll be inclined to share ours. With the police. I’m sure the authorities would be very interested to know that an American wanted for grand larceny is vacationing on their island. I hear the Indonesian prisons are lovely this time of year.”

  Jeremy spluttered. “You’re bluffing. You wouldn’t make a scene like that.”

  Richard laughed. “I love making scenes. Ask Annabelle.”

  I nodded. “It’s his specialty.”

  Richard brushed some imaginary lint off Jeremy’s shoulder. “So why don’t you run off before someone drops a house on you.”

  I smiled sweetly at him. “We’d hate for something bad to happen to you.”

  Jeremy looked from Richard to me and back again. “You can’t threaten me and get away with it.” He leveled a finger at us. “You’ll regret this.”

  “Is everything okay out here?” Carol Ann asked as she walked out of the dining room with her assistant, Dahlia, and her intern, Kelly, in tow.

  Jeremy flounced off without another word.

  “It’s fine,” I told her. “Just a disagreement.”

  Richard snapped his fingers. “And we forgot to thank him for that sweet note he left you.”

  “That’s right. It completely slipped my mind,” I said.

  “Did you know him from before?” Dahlia asked, tucking a strand of blond hair behind her ear.

  “Unfortunately,” Richard said.

  I elbowed him. “We worked together once.”

  “You know, he wasn’t even on the guest list,” Carol Ann said. “Sasha insisted on bringing him. I thought he was new to the business. I’d never heard the name Jeremy Jenkins.”

  “Jeremy Jenkins?” Richard and I said in unison.

  “Isn’t that his name?” Carol Ann glanced at Dahlia.

  Dahlia looked at Kelly before she bobbed her head up and down. “That’s the name Sasha gave us. Jeremy Jenkins.”

  “Who’s Jeremy Jenkins?” Kate asked as she and Fern joined us.

  “You know,” I said. “Jeremy.”

  Fern scratched his head. “Maybe it’s the jet lag, but that doesn’t sound right.”

  “Excuse me,” Carol Ann said as a pair of black-clad Balinese men approached us. “That’s hotel security. They may have more information for me about Veronica.”

  I watched her and her assistants huddle off to the side with the men, their heads together in hushed conversation.

  “So what’s with Jeremy Johns going by a fake name?” Kate asked after she placed an order for an espresso.

  “I’m sure he’s trying to fly under the radar,” I said. “As far as I know there’s still a warrant out for his arrest in DC.”

  “I think an alias is exciting,” Fern said. “Maybe I should have an alias.”

  Richard tapped his foot on the marble floor. “That would be the cherry on top.”

  “But I already have a pretty fabulous name.” Fern drummed two fingers on his chin. “If I had an alias it would need to be something on the opposite end of the spectrum. Like Joe.”

  Richard put a hand over his eyes. “Oh, for the love of everything holy.”

  Kelly hurried over to the coffee bar. “Do you have any water back there?”

  “Is everything okay?” I asked when I saw her worried expression.

  “It’s for Carol Ann.” She motioned to her boss who stood with her head hanging between her knees, her brown hair nearly skimming the floor as Dahlia rubbed her back. “She’s not handling the news about Veronica very well.”

  “What news?” Kate asked.

  Kelly bit the edge of her lip. “They found traces of antifreeze on the inside of her mouth and the rim of one of her glasses.”

  Fern sucked in his breath. “Antifreeze? How awful.”

  “So soon?” I asked. “Are they sure?”

  She nodded as the barista handed her a glass of water. “It looks like it. Apparently antifreeze has fluorescein in it that can be detected using a black light. The police here had bartenders spiking drinks with antifreeze a few years ago, so they knew to test for it.” She gave us a weak, apologetic smile. “I should get this to Carol Ann.”

  “I do not like this, Annabelle,” Richard said, loosening his ascot with one hand.

  “I know poison freaks you out, but she wasn’t poisoned by food, and you weren’t the caterer. It’s an entirely different situation.” Richard had once been a murder suspect in a poisoning case
, and he’d never gotten over the fear of being falsely arrested. I’d never been sure if it was prison itself or having to wear an orange jumpsuit that had been his greater fear.

  “But don’t you remember?” He fanned himself with a paper cocktail napkin from the coffee bar. “We were drinking with Veronica right before she went back to her table.”

  “That’s right,” Fern said. “She and Dina both tried Kristina’s cocktail.”

  Richard’s chin dropped open as a look of realization crossed his face. “And I handed the drinks to them.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “I might have delivered the murder weapon.”

  I caught him as he slumped against me, and we both sank to the floor.

  Chapter 8

  “You almost broke my ankle, you know,” I said to Richard as we clambered into a black van.

  “My apologies,” Richard said, his voice dripping with insincerity. “The next time I’ll aim for someone with more muscle tone.”

  I slid over to the window seat in the front row and rubbed my calf. “How about next time you don’t swoon like the heroine of some Regency romance novel?”

  Richard inhaled sharply as he took the middle seat next to me. “I did not swoon. I was merely overcome with emotion when I realized that we are, once again, embroiled in a murder investigation.”

  “Embroiled seems like a strong word,” Kate said, taking the seat directly behind me. “It’s not like we knew the victim well. They can hardly think any of us had a motive.”

  “Enough murder talk,” Fern said as he leaned in the sliding door of the van. “The reason we’re sneaking away from the resort is so we can get a break from all of that.”

  After they’d pulled Richard off of me and hoisted me off the floor, Fern had made a beeline for the hotel’s concierge and arranged for a driver to take us sightseeing in Bali. He’d said he couldn’t handle a day spent talking Richard off the ledge. If it was one thing Fern despised, it was someone being a bigger drama queen than him. At Fern’s instruction, we’d all put on bathing suits under our clothes, even though he refused to tell us our destination. Richard’s white linen blazer and purple polka dot ascot had been replaced by a black button-down shirt and perfectly creased tan pants.