by Laura Durham
“If you like the dark and smoldering type,” Richard said before I could answer.
“We do,” Brett said, giving me an appreciative nod.
Kristina nudged me. “Nice going, girl.”
I felt a blush creep up my neck. “Back to the murder. Who else on this trip has a motive?”
“What if Sasha herself didn’t kill Veronica but brought Jeremy with her as a hit man?” Richard suggested.
I gave Richard a pointed look and lifted my long cover-up as a wave splashed my feet. “I know you hate Jeremy and would love for him to go to prison, but that seems like a bit of a stretch.”
“Veronica and Sasha weren’t the only people who shared partners at Inspire,” Brett said. “There are definitely people who hook up with someone new each time. Long-lasting couples like Jacob and Katherine are rare.”
“So did Veronica steal anyone else’s boyfriend?” I asked. “You said she hung around with Chatty Cathy. What about her?”
Brett shook his head. “Not that I ever heard about. Cathy didn’t have the same luck as some of the other women. Maybe because she would talk you to death before anything could happen.”
Kristina snapped her fingers. “Do you remember that big scandal a few years ago? With Dina and Veronica and another woman?”
“A sex scandal?” Richard asked, lowering his voice as he said it, even though there was no one near us. “With three women?”
“It wasn’t between the women,” Kristina said.
“I think I remember hearing the gossip about it afterward,” Brett said. “Didn’t one of them have an affair with a slick photographer and end up getting divorced over it?”
“Like Sasha,” I said, wondering how many marriages were ruined by business conferences. I’d never known wedding conferences to be hotbeds of infidelity, but clearly I’d been a bit out of the loop.
We reached the public beach and walked up to the tables and chairs set out on the sand. A lone waitress was delivering food to the few customers, and my stomach growled as I watched a guest nibble on a skewer of grilled meat and another twirl noodles onto a fork. Due to Veronica dropping dead last night, I’d yet to try Indonesian noodles or satay, two of the dishes the country was famous for. We wound our way through the tables and into our resort’s beach area.
“Did Veronica have the affair?” I asked.
“I don’t think so, but to be honest, the details are a bit fuzzy,” Kristina said. “You should really ask Dina. She’s the only person here aside from Veronica who was involved.”
Brett pointed to a figure stretched out on a lounge chair just two away from Kate and Fern. “You can ask her right now. Isn’t that Dina?”
I leaned down as we approached the chair. Although her dark hair was fanned out around her shoulders and not in a high bun like it was last night, I recognized the petite woman behind the round tortoiseshell sunglasses. I took a breath to gather my courage. “Hey, Dina.”
She didn’t respond.
“Is she sleeping?” Kate asked when she spotted us. “She’s going to burn like a lobster with that fair skin if she’s not careful. She already looks a bit pink.”
“How long has she been here?” I asked, noticing the three empty martini glasses on the table beside her chair. A white-and-orange container of Roche-Posay sunscreen peeked out of her beach bag next to her bubble gum-pink Sigg water bottle.
Fern sat up and took off his sunglasses, holding a hand over his eyes to block the sun. “She came out right after you all left for your walk. She said she’d been clearing her head on the treadmill and was ready to drown her sorrows.”
“That makes sense,” Kristina said. “She was always a bit of a workout fanatic.”
Brett pointed to the metal water bottle. “And an Inspire fanatic. That’s from the conference the year it was in Playa del Carmen. I think I still have mine somewhere.”
Richard pointed to the empty martini glasses. “And a fan of cocktails.”
I shook the woman’s foot gently, not surprised she’d passed out after chugging multiple drinks. “Wakey, wakey, Dina. Time to get out of the sun.”
Nothing. I felt a cold chill go through me despite the heat.
Brett sat down on the lounge chair next to her, and Dina’s hand slid off her waist and flopped down onto Brett’s leg. He jumped up and slapped a hand over his mouth.
“What’s wrong?” Kristina asked, looking from him to Dina.
He lifted his hand from his mouth and choked out the words. “It’s cold. Her hand is cold.”
I bent down and gingerly lifted Dina’s sunglasses. Her eyes were wide and unblinking underneath. I dropped the glasses back on her face and stood up, looking at the stricken faces around me.
Fern came up and put an arm around my shoulder. “Is she . . .?”
I swallowed hard. “She’s dead.”
Chapter 11
“Is it true?” Carol Ann rushed toward us with Dahlia and Kelly close on her heels.
We’d gathered on the sand a few feet away from the hotel security team surrounding Dina—far enough so we weren’t staring at the dead woman’s face, but close enough to answer any questions that might arise about how we’d found the body. I’d turned my back on the morbid scene, but I could still hear the hushed conversation, although I didn’t understand the Indonesian words the security team exchanged.
A group of other hotel guests, including Chatty Cathy, stood apart from us, watching the activity and whispering about it. I noticed Sasha and Jeremy were no longer at their loungers, and I wondered when they’d slipped inside. I tried to ignore the stares, but I recognized the murmured gossip. Fern’s arm remained around my shoulder; it was the only reason I hadn’t collapsed onto the ground from shock.
Kristina caught Carol Ann by the arm before she reached the body. “It’s true. The security team is securing the scene until the police arrive.”
Carol Ann looked wildly around her, her eyes darting from face to face. “This can’t be happening. It just can’t. People don’t die on wedding planner FAM trips.”
“You haven’t been on one with us before,” Richard said under his breath.
I shot him a look. “Maybe this was an accident, Carol Ann. We don’t know it was another murder.”
Carol Ann waved a hand in the direction of Dina. “Why would a forty-year-old woman drop dead while lying in the sun?”
I fought the urge to look over my shoulder. Just the thought of Dina’s glassy stare and waxy skin made me go cold.
“This is a plot.” Carol Ann waved a finger in the air. “Someone is trying to ruin my reputation by wrecking this trip and knocking off all the guests.”
Dahlia slipped an arm around her boss’s waist as she hurried up behind her. “You’ve been working too hard, and the stress is getting to you. Why don’t we go back up to your room? I’m sure the hotel will keep us posted on the investigation.”
Carol Ann put her face in her hands and burst into tears. “I didn’t mean what I said. I’m just so upset.” She sobbed. “I can’t believe Dina is dead.”
Brett enveloped her in a hug. “That’s okay, doll. We know you didn’t mean it. This is devastating to all of us.” He looked up at Dahlia. “I can take her upstairs for you.”
“I’ll go with them,” Kelly said, flicking a hand through her short blond hair.
“Thanks,” Dahlia said. “I’ll be right behind you.”
We all watched as Brett and Kelly led Carol Ann away, her shoulders heaving as she cried into his shoulder.
“What did she mean about this being a plot?” Kate asked once Carol Ann was out of earshot.
Dahlia sighed. “This is only our second time bringing planners to a resort, but Carol Ann hopes to make this a division of our business. A profitable one.”
Kristina nodded. “So having planners dying definitely doesn’t help sell the service to other resorts.”
“Not so much.” Dahlia pulled her pale hair into a messy ponytail. “But I doubt she’s
seriously concerned about sabotage. It was the stress talking. Who would benefit from our FAM trip planning not being successful?”
I shrugged. “Are there any other planners trying to do the same thing?”
“Or any planners on this trip who’ve decided they want to do what you’re doing?” Richard asked.
“You’d have to be pretty psychotic to murder people on the off chance of stealing business,” Kate said.
Richard cocked an eyebrow. “These are wedding professionals we’re talking about.”
“We don’t even know for sure this was murder,” I repeated. Even though it looked bad, I didn’t want to jump to conclusions. I also didn’t like thinking there was a serial killer on the loose in paradise.
Fern patted my arm. “You keep telling yourself that, sweetie.”
“I’d better get back to Carol Ann,” Dahlia said. “If you find out anything, can you let us know?”
We assured her we would.
“When do you think we can leave?” Richard asked in a loud voice, casting a glance over his shoulder at the black-clad security officers.
“Soon, I hope.” Kate put a hand to her hair. “I still need to get ready for dinner.”
“Are we still having a dinner?” Kristina asked. “Last night’s was a total bust, and we only made it to the first course before someone dropped dead. Today we haven’t even gotten that far and another woman is killed.”
“Talk about a subdued beachside barbecue,” I said, referencing the dinner’s theme. “The dress I had planned for tonight is much too cheery.”
Fern’s face creased with worry. “I’m not sure what to wear. My embroidered Balinese pants don’t exactly go with multiple murders, either.”
I felt my phone buzz in my bag, and I pawed through the contents until I found it. I glanced at the name on the screen and pressed the talk button.
“I’m glad you called,” I said to Reese as Fern gave me a smug smile, and I took a few steps away from the group.
“Miss me already?” His deep voice sounded slightly flirtatious.
“Yes,” I admitted, letting out a shaky breath. “I wish you were here right now.”
“What’s wrong?” Reese asked, his voice less suggestive.
I paused for a moment as I considered how much to tell the detective. It wasn’t like he could rush to my rescue from half a world away, but I knew that telling him everything would make me feel better. Not to mention he might have insights into the situation from his years on the DC police force.
I turned to observe the Balinese police officers that had just arrived and stood huddled around the body. They wore black cargo pants and short-sleeved shirts the color of stone, covered with pockets and patches. Black berets with a shiny gold badge pinned to one side covered their close-cropped hair. Between the hotel security officers and the newly arrived police, all I could see of Dina were her bare legs stretched out on the lounge chair. My eyes fell on her perfectly polished red toenails, and I shuddered. I’m sure she’d gotten a pedicure before the trip, just as Kate and I had. I wondered how much more we had in common with the two victims.
“Annabelle?” His voice snapped me out of my own thoughts.
“I’m sorry.” I turned away from the crime scene. “It’s a bit of a madhouse here. One of the other wedding planners was killed. Well, we aren’t sure she was killed, but we know the first one was.”
Silence on the other end of the phone.
“Are you there?”
“Two wedding planners have been killed since I spoke to you yesterday?”
I rubbed a hand over my eyes. “Yes, but I have to say, you seem to be taking this pretty calmly.”
“I’m just trying to digest the fact that you only arrived in Bali yesterday and already you’re mixed up in a homicide. Correction. Two homicides. To be honest, Annabelle, I’m starting to think that you or one of your friends might actually be a serial killer.”
“Very funny,” I said.
“Were you anywhere near the victims when it happened?”
I sat down on the edge of a nearby empty lounge chair. “Not at the dinner last night. Veronica was seated at a different table, but I actually discovered that Dina was dead about an hour ago.”
He groaned. “You found the body?”
“Well, I wasn’t alone. Richard was with me and a couple of planners we met from LA. And the victim was lying on a lounge chair on the beach, so it was pretty public.”
“Is there any way I can convince you to get on the next plane back to DC?” he asked.
“I just got here.” I looked over my shoulder at my friends who were now being questioned by a Balinese police officer. “Besides, I don’t have any connection to the women who were killed, but they were friends so it’s clearly not a random thing.”
“Or it is random and the fact that they’re friends is a coincidence. And you do have something in common. Aren’t you all wedding planners on the same trip?”
I hated when his arguments made so much sense. “Fair enough.”
“Tell me more about the first murder.” His voice was all business. “I need more background.”
I thought back to the night before. “The police say she was poisoned with antifreeze but I don’t know how. I do know that she and her friend both seemed tipsy that last time I saw them. That wasn’t long before she fell out of her chair dead.”
“You say you saw the victim shortly before she died and she looked drunk?” Reese asked. “Did you notice anything else about her? Flushed skin? Heavy breathing? Dehydration?”
I tried to remember any impressions I’d had of Veronica when she’d joined us at the bar. “Not really. Aside from having a hard time walking straight, but then she’d been pregaming so we weren’t surprised she was already half in the bag. We were all trying a cocktail one of the girls, Kristina, had come up with. The bartender made two of the cocktails for them, and then they took them back to their table with them.”
“So someone could have slipped something in the drink?”
“I don’t see how. I was right there when the bartender made them and passed them to Richard. And only one person died but the drinks were made together.”
“How’s Richard taking all this?” Reese asked.
“How do you think?” I said. “Hysterics, swooning, the works.”
“So par for the course?” Reese laughed. He’d been around Richard enough to know that he did not do well in stressful situations. Even worse when stressful situations involved dead bodies. “So what about the second death?”
“We found her lying on a beach chair dead. All I know is she wasn’t outside for very long because Fern and Kate saw her walk out and sit down after Richard and I left on a walk with the LA planners. We found her when we got back. We weren’t gone for more than twenty minutes tops.”
“So at this point there’s no way to know if something happened to her before she came out or if she was killed when she was lying on the chair?”
“Not really.” From the corner of my eye, I saw the Balinese police officer headed my way. “I think I need to go. It looks like the cops here want to talk to me.”
“Annabelle,” Reese’s voice was insistent. “Be careful. I don’t know how the police investigate crimes there, but I do know you do not want to get arrested in Indonesia.”
“Why would I get arrested?” I cupped my hand over my mouth. “I’m just a witness.”
“You have a talent for going from witness to suspect very quickly. Promise me you will not meddle in this case. I doubt the detectives there will be as understanding as me.”
I wouldn’t always classify him as understanding, but I kept my mouth shut and promised him that I would steer clear of the investigation. I hung up and turned around, finding myself face-to-face with a Balinese man about my height, his police hat tilted on his head and the gold of the badge shining in the sun.
He wasn’t smiling. “I have some questions for the woman who found the body.”
/> Chapter 12
“Thank heavens they let you go,” Richard said as we walked across the pool deck into the hotel lobby.
“Why wouldn’t they?” I tried to hide the relief I felt that my police interview had been perfunctory. “I barely knew the victim, and I wasn’t anywhere near her when she died.”
“Being held for questioning might not be so bad,” Fern said. “A couple of those officers were cute. And those hats were fabulous.”
“Too Gestapo for my taste,” Richard said, looking back to where the officers still clustered around the body.
Fern wiggled his eyebrows up and down. “Exactly.”
“Can we forget about your fondness for jack boots for a moment and focus on Annabelle?” Richard asked.
“I’m fine. Really. It was routine questioning.” I didn’t mention how worried I’d been that Jeremy might have tipped off the police about my involvement in other murder investigations and my brief stint as a person of interest in a case. Luckily, his threats seemed to have been a bunch of hot air. So far.
The lobby was nearly empty of guests, and I only spotted one waiter clearing a tea service from a low table. The soft background music gave an unnatural calm to the expansive room and served as a stark contrast to the activity and chatter of the beach. We crossed the marble floor, our flip-flops slapping against the surface. I slowed my pace and walked on my toes in an attempt to silence my shoes.
Before we reached the elevator bank that led up to our suites, I heard Buster and Mack trudging across the lobby. With their leather pants and vests covered in chains, it was nearly impossible for them to go anywhere in stealth mode. The sound of their leather and jangling of their metal preceded them. I nudged Kate as I turned to see the two men walking toward us, shoulders sagging. “This doesn’t look good.”
We met the pair as they reached the round marble entrance table topped with a lush arrangement of white lilies and whitewashed curly willow branches jutting out of the top. Mack smiled when he saw us, but it was a weak counterfeit of his usual wide grin.
“Who died?” Fern asked, then put his fingers to his lips and gave a nervous giggle. “Oops.”
