Eat, Prey, Love

by Laura Durham

  I heard the sharp intake of Richard’s breath beside me. “How?”

  If Grace was startled to hear Richard’s voice, she didn’t let on. “I’m not sure. She might have confessed. She was the type of person who wouldn’t have been able to live with a lie. She was sweet and naive like that.”

  “I’m guessing her husband didn’t take it well?” I asked.

  Grace’s face twisted into a grimace. “Not by a long shot. He left her. From what I heard, the divorce was ugly. The children ended up staying with their father.”

  “What about her business? Is she still planning weddings in Texas?” Richard asked.

  Grace gave us a curious look. “Still planning weddings? She died over a year ago. Drove her car off a bridge.”

  I felt my skin go cold. “She’s dead?”

  “The police called it an accident since they found a lot of alcohol in her system, but who knows? She’d been depressed since the divorce and losing her kids.”

  My mind raced. “Do you think this had anything to do with Dina and Veronica’s murders?”

  Grace picked up the new champagne cocktail the waiter had set on the side table. “I can’t see how unless Marilyn decided to come back from the dead and take her revenge on them. It’s not like any of her other friends are on the trip.”

  “Who were her other friends?” Richard scooted his chair closer to Grace.

  Grace began counting off on her fingers. “There was Amy from Portland and a couple of women from Dallas. Bree and Colleen, I think are their names. After Marilyn died, none of them came back to Inspire.”

  “What happened to the photographer?” I asked.

  Grace took a sip of champagne and hiccupped, putting a hand up to cover her mouth. “Adrian? He’s still working in Atlanta and making the rounds at Inspire. I’m glad he’s not here. I was afraid Carol Ann might have brought him along.”

  “Who did I almost bring along?”

  I hadn’t noticed Carol Ann weaving through the beanbag chairs until she was next to us. Her eyes were unfocused and her step unsteady. I could only assume she’d already put away a couple of cocktails.

  The sun barely peeked above the ocean now, lighting the sky with brilliant orange light and transforming the figures standing at the edge of the water into dark silhouettes. Carol Ann stood with the fiery sunset glowing behind her, making her curly hair look like it was edged in gold.

  Grace looked up at the woman, a startled expression on her face. “I didn’t see you there.”

  “Who were you afraid I’d bring along?” Carol Ann repeated her question, her Southern drawl even thicker than usual.

  “Adrian,” Richard said. “The photographer.”

  “I invited him, but he had to back out at the last minute,” Carol Ann said, stumbling over the edge of a beanbag and righting herself.

  “He was supposed to be on this trip?” I asked. “Why did he cancel?”

  “He ran his car off the road.” Carol Ann shook her head. “The day before we flew out, too, so there wasn’t time to book someone to come in his place. I should have known when that happened that this trip was cursed.”

  “Is he okay?” I asked, noticing the sky darkening even further as the sun disappeared below the horizon.

  “He’s alive, but in the ICU,” Carol Ann said as Dahlia came up behind her and took her by the elbow, leading her back to her beanbag with an apologetic glance.

  Richard looked at me, and I knew we were thinking the same thing. What were the chances that all three people involved in Marilyn’s scandal were either dead or seriously injured?

  Chapter 24

  “So you didn’t ask Carol Ann why she invited Sasha on the trip?” Kate asked as we rode the hotel elevator to the third floor.

  “Did you not hear the entire story?” Richard asked as the doors pinged open and we stepped out onto the floor that held our suites. “The photographer who was involved in the Inspire scandal with Dina and Veronica is currently in the ICU.”

  “I heard that part, but he’s also back in the U.S. Dina and Veronica were killed here in Bali. I think it’s just a weird coincidence that all three have a connection,” Kate said. “And don’t forget that Jeremy wasn’t part of that scandal, and he was murdered, too.”

  “True,” I admitted. “But he did pal around with Dina and Veronica, though Grace thought that ended before the mess with Marilyn.”

  “I don’t understand any of it,” Fern said, his words slurring slightly as he wobbled down the dark wood floor. “What does something that happened at an entirely different conference a few years ago have to do with this FAM trip to Bali?”

  “Nothing except some of the same attendees,” I said. “And the fact that a few of those attendees knew each other and are now dead.”

  “What if it’s just bad karma?” Fern asked. “Didn’t you say that Dina and Veronica ruined some woman’s life?” He stopped and clutched my arm. “What if it’s a curse? You’ve seen the scary statues of gods they have here. What if one of the Balinese gods of vengeance got them?”

  “A curse?” Richard rolled his eyes. “I don’t think Hindu gods are known for poisoning people.”

  “We don’t know that.” Fern lowered his voice and shot a look behind us in the dimly lit hallway.

  “Welcome back.” My butler stepped out of a doorway on the hall smiling. “Can I get you anything, Miss Annabelle?”

  I put a hand to my rapidly beating heart. “I didn’t see you there. No, I’m fine for now. Thanks.”

  “It’s amazing how they pop out of nowhere,” Kate said as we continued down the hall. “Every time I walk out of my room, my butler is waiting for me. I think they must have sensors on our doors.”

  Richard nodded. “The service is excellent. My butler has run me a bath every night we’ve been here.”

  I swatted at Richard. “You make him do that every night?”

  “What?” Richard shrugged. “The soaking tubs are fabulous, and he loves doing it. It’s a win-win. It’s not like I’m asking him to do something crazy like arrange my toiletries in alphabetical order. ”

  I knew that Richard was partly right. It was their job to attend to the suites, but I’d always had a hard time letting people do things for me. I guessed it came from my years as a wedding planner. Being responsible for taking care of everything and fixing any problems was a hard habit to break, even in paradise.

  I paused when we reached the door to my suite. “I’ll talk to Carol Ann tomorrow when she’s sobered up. Maybe then she can explain exactly how Sasha and Jeremy got on the guest list.”

  “I wouldn’t lose too much sleep over it, darling,” Fern said. “We only have one more full day of the trip. As long as we can make it through tomorrow, we can fly home and put the murders out of our minds.”

  “That’s right.” Kate’s face brightened. “And no one got killed today. Maybe the curse has been lifted.”

  “There’s no curse,” Richard muttered.

  “I forgot to mention,” Kate said, holding up her phone, “I learned something, too.”

  “About the case?” I asked, opening my bag to look for my card key.

  She tapped away at her phone. “Not even close. About a dating app. Sarah Swipe showed me.”

  “Sarah Swipe?” Richard asked.

  Kate giggled. “That’s what Kristina calls her because she spends so much time swiping on dating apps.”

  “Is she the one with the dip-dyed hair?” Fern asked.

  Kate nodded. “She showed me how to use a Jewish dating app. When you make a match, the people on the screen dance.”

  Richard looked at me. “Which one of us gets to tell her she isn’t Jewish?”

  She swatted a hand in his direction. “I know I’m not Jewish, but Sarah thinks I’ve been limiting my options.”

  Sarah clearly didn’t know Kate. If there was one thing my assistant didn’t do, it was limit her dating options.

  Fern clapped his hands. “I love Jewish weddin
gs. You could get tossed into the air during the chair dance.”

  “The hora,” I said. After planning dozens of Jewish weddings, I knew the terminology better than most of our clients.

  Kate held up her palms. “Not so fast. I’m just swiping for fun, not to get married. And I’m not sold on the no cheeseburger rule.”

  “You should put that in your profile,” Richard muttered. “And that your favorite food is lobster.”

  I dug through my beach bag, looking for my key card. Nothing. “I swore I put the key card in this side pocket.”

  “Don’t worry,” Kate waved her arms and called out to my butler who was still standing in the hallway. “My butler had to let me in the other day when I forgot my key.”

  Sure enough, my butler rushed up and swiped at the electronic door pad with what I assumed was a master card, giving me a big grin and waving me into my room with a flourish of his arm.

  “Thank you,” I said, waving at my friends as they continued to their suites.

  I dropped my beach bag on the round table near the foyer after one final, fruitless search for the key card. It must have fallen out on the sand, I told myself. I slipped off my flip-flops and padded into the bedroom, hopping onto the bed and leaning back against the mound of pillows. I hesitated for a moment and then dialed Reese’s number. As the phone rang, I rehearsed in my mind what I should say to him. I wanted his detective’s perspective on what I’d learned, but I also didn’t want him to think I was poking around in the case.

  I was a bit surprised when the call went to voicemail, but even hearing his deep, steady voice calmed me.

  “Hey, it’s me,” I said after the beep. “I was hoping to talk to you about what I learned today. And before you get upset, I was not poking around in the investigation. This is information I heard when I was talking to some of the other guests on the trip.” I left out the part of me asking questions to get the information, but I did outline what I’d discovered about the connection between the two women and the photographer who was currently in the ICU. I hung up after asking him to call me in the morning. My morning would be his evening, and he’d be off work.

  I looked at my phone. I knew I should check in on Leatrice, but I wasn’t sure if I was up for it. I steeled myself and dialed.

  “Annabelle.” Leatrice sounded out of breath when she answered. “I’m kind of in the middle of something.”

  I was almost afraid to ask. “Like what?”

  “I’m almost positive the park where I’ve been taking Hermes for his walks is also being used as a meet up for spies. I’ve been watching one man in particular, and yesterday we followed him all the way back to his apartment building.”

  “That sounds a little bit like stalking,” I said.

  “It’s not stalking if he’s a Russian sleeper agent. And I’m pretty sure he is since he lives in the same building as former Soviet spies.”

  I rubbed my temples. “Should I ask how you know this?”

  “From the new book, Spy Sites of Washington DC. It’s my bible.”

  “So what are you doing now?” I asked.

  “We’re in hot pursuit. He just left the park after talking with a suspicious-looking older man.”

  “Are you sure this is safe?” I asked. “What if he doesn’t like being followed?”

  “Don’t worry,” Leatrice said, her voice interrupted by the sound of car horns. “Hermes and I are both incognito.”

  I closed my eyes. Since Leatrice had been known to wear everything from full flying ace gear to sailor suits, I had no idea what she considered flying under the radar. “Which means?”

  “Matching trench coats and fedoras, of course.”

  “Richard’s dog is wearing a trench coat and fedora?” Somehow I didn’t think an eighty-year-old with platinum blond hair walking a dog in a trench coat could go unnoticed.

  “I’ve got to go, Annabelle. I think we might have been made.”

  Big surprise there, I thought, as the phone went dead. I dropped it next to me on the bed and it sank into the down of the duvet. It had been nice to leave the resort and spend time at Seminyak, but I’d had more drinks than I usually allowed myself, and I could feel the hint of a headache looming. The thought of Leatrice running around DC with a dog in a trench coat didn’t help matters. I swung my feet onto the floor and headed for the shower, stepping out of my sundress and bathing suit and tossing them on the long marble vanity that stretched to the other end of the bathroom. I opened the glass door of the shower and flipped on the water, letting it warm up for a moment before stepping inside.

  The hot water felt luxurious as it pounded against my back and washed away the sand that had managed to adhere to every inch of my skin. I squeezed some of the perfumed shampoo into my hand, lathering it before running my hands through my hair. I leaned my head back, letting the water hit my face and cascade down my shoulders.

  When I pulled my head out of the water, I heard a noise coming from my room. I froze, but didn’t turn off the water. It sounded like someone was walking through my room, but the way the footsteps hit the marble floor, it sounded like the person had on sandals.

  “Kate?” I called out, flipping off the water.

  The footsteps stopped, but no one answered.

  “Fern?” I remembered that he’d been wearing flip-flops, although I suspected he’d passed out the moment he’d reached his room.

  The sounds had stopped, but I could feel the presence of someone in my room. I wiped the water from my eyes and tiptoed to the door of the shower. I could see the cream-colored towel hanging on a hook next to the beige bathrobe, but it was several feet away beside the vanity. Should I make a dash for it in the nude and hope the intruder wasn’t my Balinese butler in the middle of turndown service? If it were, we’d both be in for a big surprise.

  I took a deep breath to steel myself, then I threw open the shower door and darted for the towel, pulling it off the hook and wrapping it around myself as quickly as I could while turning around. As I started to run for the bedroom, my wet foot slipped on the marble floor and I went sprawling onto the floor. Luckily, my hands caught most of my fall, but my knee hit the marble and a bolt of pain shot through me. As I rolled onto my side and cradled my knee, I caught a glimpse of someone running from the sitting area to the foyer. It happened too quickly for me to register much more than a blur, but I knew it wasn’t my butler.

  I heard the click of the door closing as I pushed myself up off the floor, hobbling to avoid putting weight on my bruised knee. I tightened the towel around my chest as I opened the front door and stuck my head out into the hall. Empty. Where could they have gone? I went a few steps into the hallway and peered down to the elevator bank, but there were still no signs of the fleeing intruder.

  I turned to go back into my room just as the door clicked shut behind me. I stood for a moment, my wet hair dripping water onto the floor and creating a puddle around my feet, before I unleashed every curse word I could think of at the locked door. I looked down the empty hallways and assessed my situation. I was soaking wet, wearing nothing but a towel, and my knee was throbbing in pain. Going down to the lobby for a new key was out of the question. I could try to find my butler, but that meant he would see me like this. Not appealing.

  I walked gingerly down the hall and knocked on the door next to mine. No answer. Kate must already be asleep. I sighed, held my towel tighter around me, and hurried to the next suite.

  “Not a word,” I said when Richard opened the door for me.

  His eyebrows nearly disappeared underneath his spiky bangs, but he merely waved me inside his room. I made a beeline for his bathroom, pulling his bathrobe off the hook and putting it on over my towel. When I’d pulled the robe closed and wrapped my hair up in a towel turban, I returned to the sitting room.

  Richard held out a glass to me filled with a pale-pink liquid. “You look like you need this.”

  I took a drink. “How did you get Campari here?”

  “I b
rought my own, of course.” He set his own glass down on the wooden coffee table. “Now do you want to tell me why you were running around in the hallway looking like an escapee from a bad porno?”

  I lowered myself on the beige sofa, avoiding putting pressure on my bruised knee. “I was chasing an intruder out of my room.”

  Richard’s mouth fell open. “Are you okay? Should we call the police?”

  I shook my head. “I banged my knee up, but other than that I’m fine.”

  Richard stood up and began pacing. “Did you get a look at the person who attacked you?”

  “They didn’t attack me,” I said. “They came in my room while I was in the shower. They may have been looking for something.”

  Richard stopped pacing. “They were trying to rob you? No offense darling, but you don’t have anything worth taking. You never wear real jewelry and all your clothes are off the rack.”

  “Thanks,” I said. “But what if the person wasn’t after valuables? What if this is somehow connected to the murders?”

  Richard tilted his head to one side. “How?”

  “I wish I knew,” I said. “People know I found two of the bodies and that I’ve been asking questions about the victims. Maybe they think I have some information or evidence.”

  “Do you?” Richard asked.

  “No, but the killer might be desperate to make sure I don’t. Even so, I don’t think they found anything. I scared them off before they got past the sitting area.”

  “That I can believe,” Richard said. “Your running mascara is enough to terrify anyone.”

  I wiped underneath my eyes and glared at him. “Thanks for the sympathy.”

  “I do believe I told you not to poke around in this murder business.” Richard crossed his arms and tapped his foot against the marble floor. “And if I’m not mistaken, so did your hot cop boyfriend. But did you listen to us?”

  I didn’t answer that. I knew he was right. My compulsion to fix problems had gotten me into more than one sticky situation before, but I found it almost impossible to resist. After all, as a wedding planner, I was Miss Problem Solver.