by Laura Durham
A runner passed us going in the same direction, and I looked down at the speedometer. “Can’t this go any faster?”
“Maybe we should ask that runner to grab her?” Fern suggested.
Kate stepped on the gas and soon we were drawing even with the other cart.
“Pull over,” I shouted.
Dahlia ignored me, so Kate jerked the steering wheel to the left and our front bumper rammed into the side of Dahlia’s cart. She ran off the road for a second, the suitcases behind her toppling over, but quickly righted herself, glaring at us and accelerating toward the resort entrance.
“We’re about to get passed again,” Fern said.
I looked behind us and spotted Mike and Daniel Reese closing in fast on foot. “This is ridiculous. We might as well be in a white Bronco.”
When we caught up to Dahlia’s cart again, Kate maneuvered us close enough so that I could reach over and grab Dahlia’s steering wheel, but it was Fern’s piercing scream as he leapt onto the back of her cart that caused Dahlia to lose control and drive into a cluster of low bushes. The cart tipped onto its side, and Dahlia fell out into the shrubbery with Fern on top of her.
Kate pulled our cart to a stop, but Mike and Daniel reached the entangled pair first.
“Get off me!” Dahlia screamed from underneath Fern, who lay spread eagle on top of her but facing up.
Daniel hoisted Fern to a standing position while Mike grabbed Dahlia and put both of her hands behind her back. Her cheeks were flushed pink and her blond hair fell across her face.
“It was nothing personal,” she said when she saw me staring at her.
“The murders weren’t personal?” I asked, finding that very hard to believe.
“No. The chocolates I left in your room. I just wanted to make you sick so you wouldn’t keep poking around and asking questions.”
“So they weren’t poisoned?” Kate asked.
Dahlia blew a strand of hair off her nose, her hands still held tightly behind her back. “I filled them with a laxative.”
“Thanks, I think,” I said.
“I didn’t hurt anyone who didn’t deserve it,” Dahlia said as Mike began to walk her back to the lobby. “All of them were responsible for my mother’s death. I just set things right.”
“It’s still a good thing you didn’t eat those chocolates.” Kate patted me on the back. “It would have been hard to chase down a suspect if you’d been camped out in the bathroom.”
Not a pretty thought.
“Did you see me subdue her?” Fern asked as he picked leaves and twigs out of his hair.
“I thought you were trying to make a snow angel on top of her,” Kate said.
“If you must know,” Fern said, “I was trying not to be inappropriate.”
“Then you shouldn’t wear those shorts,” Richard said, as he joined us.
“Where did you come from?” I asked, turning to see Buster and Mack jogging up the driveway not far behind him with Alan closing in fast.
Mack stopped to suck in air when he reached us. “You all drove right by the entrance to the lawn, and we heard Fern screaming.”
Buster gaped as he saw Dahlia being led off. “Is Dahlia the killer?”
I nodded. “It’s a long story.”
Mack made a pouty face. “I’m just sorry we weren’t here to help tackle her.”
Kate thumped him on the arm. “There’s always next time.”
Alan looked at all of us. “I have to say, I’ve never met Americans like you before.”
Chapter 33
“I think I’ll walk,” I said when Fern asked if I’d like a ride back to the lobby in the golf cart.
“Suit yourself.” He threw up a hand in a wave as he peeled off down the drive, Alan riding shotgun with Kate on his lap.
Richard shook his head as we watched them disappear into the dusk. “Five bucks they end up in the bushes again.”
“Five bucks Kate and Fern end up fighting over Alan,” I said.
Richard wrinkled his nose. “Too many muscles for my taste.”
“I hate that,” I deadpanned.
I didn’t point out that Richard’s biggest problem with Alan was probably that the Australian had befriended me. Sharing was not Richard’s strong suit. I linked my arm through Richard’s, and he gave my hand a brusque pat.
Buster and Mack had dashed off to put the finishing touches on the farewell dinner they insisted was still happening despite having to adjust all the seating since one of the guests would be spending the evening in custody. I wondered if anyone had broken the news to Carol Ann and Kelly, and I felt glad that it wouldn’t be me. I didn’t think that would be an easy conversation, although it might be a while until Carol Ann was lucid enough to understand.
I took a deep breath and looked up at the sky, which had darkened to a navy blue now that the sun had set. I could smell the frangipani blossoms as a gentle breeze stirred the nearby trees, and I felt a sense of calm pass over me despite the wail of sirens approaching at a distance. The killer was in custody which meant no more bodies and no more worrying about being the next victim. I hadn’t realized how worried I’d been until I felt the tension drain away.
“Just so I understand,” Richard said, stepping around me so that he walked on the side of approaching traffic. “Why did Dahlia kill everyone?”
“Revenge.” I veered into the grass as several gray cars with yellow stripes and the word “Polisi” on the sides swept by us, heading toward the lobby with their blue lights flashing. “Her mother was Marilyn, the woman whose life fell apart after she had a fling at one of the Inspire conferences.”
“And Dahlia blamed all the victims for it?”
“From what Grace told me, Dina, Veronica, and Jeremy liked to egg people on, especially when it came to romance.”
Richard made a face. “I’d hardly call a hookup at a conference romantic.”
“Agreed.” I looked behind me to make sure no more police cars were coming before stepping back onto the pavement. “It must have taken the girl years to put it all together and decide who to take her revenge on. She was only a teenager when it all went down.”
“Pretty clever to get a job with a wedding planner so she could have access to all the right people,” Richard said. “That takes ingenuity and planning. Too bad she’s a cold-blooded killer or I’d consider hiring her.”
“And she made sure to add the names of her victims to the FAM trip, telling Carol Ann that they were added by the guys at Insider Weddings.”
“But didn’t Carol Ann know who she was?” Richard asked. “Didn’t she think it was a coincidence that these particular people ended up on the trip?”
I shrugged. “Either she was in a serious state of denial, or she didn’t know how much information Dahlia knew about what happened with her mother. I feel sorry for Carol Ann. She probably gave Dahlia a job because she felt guilty about what happened to Marilyn, and the girl used her position to go on a killing spree.”
“Good help is hard to find.” Richard sighed. “What about the person Marilyn had the affair with?”
“The photographer in Atlanta?” I linked my arm through Richard’s again so I wouldn’t trip and fall in the dark. “He was the first victim, although he’s not dead. He was supposed to come on the trip, but maybe Dahlia wanted to test out her poisoning skills on him first. He did just run his car off the road and not go into cardiac arrest, so she must have increased her dosage for the next victims.”
Richard shuddered. “Everyone here seemed to die pretty quickly, except Jeremy. She whacked him on the head instead. Not that I blame her.”
“I’ve thought about that murder and why it was a bit different,” I said. “I think he knew who she was. Jeremy was always good at getting dirt on people, and I think he either recognized her because she resembles her mother or remembered Marilyn mentioning her name. That’s why Jeremy told us someone else on the trip knew Dina and Veronica got what they deserved. He knew who she was a
nd probably confronted her by the pool.”
“Then she knocked him over the head when he turned his back on her,” Richard said. “I’ll say it again. There’s a lot to like about this girl.”
“And don’t forget that the deaths weren’t as fast as they seemed. I think Dahlia poisoned both women over a period of hours. Remember that Dina and Veronica had drinks with Carol Ann and her team before the welcome dinner. She could have slipped small amounts of antifreeze in their drinks starting then.”
“It would explain why Veronica seemed drunk at dinner. The effects of the poison.”
“Exactly,” I said.
Richard’s phone trilled in his pocket and he pulled it out, looking at the name on the screen and rolling his eyes. “Leatrice. I hope she’s not calling me again to ask if Hermes can have Chinese food.” He pushed the talk button, listening for a moment before groaning. “What do you mean he’s in love? He’s a dog.”
I raised an eyebrow at him as we reached the lobby and paused beside the large marble entrance table while Richard listened to Leatrice, one hand on his hip and one foot tapping rapidly on the floor.
“I don’t care if she’s a toy poodle. Dogs don’t date.” Richard shook his head, and I took the phone from him.
“Hey, Leatrice. It’s Annabelle. What’s this about Hermes dating?”
“Annabelle.” Leatrice sounded relieved to hear my voice. “I didn’t say dating. I said that he’s set his cap on a pretty little poodle at the park.”
“When you say ’set his cap’ do you mean that literally? Is Hermes wearing another hat?” I asked. Since Leatrice had told me she and Hermes had matching fedoras, the question didn’t seem out of place.
Leatrice laughed. “Of course not. We only wear our fedoras when we’re under cover. How’s everything going in Bali?”
“Pretty good,” I said. I had no intention of telling Leatrice about the murders until I was back on American soil. Knowing how crazy my neighbor was for true crime, I couldn’t be certain she wouldn’t hop on the first plane over with Hermes in tow. “We should be back the day after tomorrow.”
“About that . . .” Mike Reese said as he came up to me.
“Got to run, Leatrice. I’ll see you soon.” I hung up and handed Richard back his phone.
“I don’t think that flight out tomorrow is going to happen,” Reese said, glancing over his shoulder to where the Balinese police were handcuffing Dahlia.
“Why?” Kate asked as she and Fern joined us. “Don’t tell me the police need to keep us here for questioning. They should be thanking us for tracking down a killer, not ruining our travel plans.”
Mike looked at his feet. “It’s not them, it’s me.”
“You’re keeping us here for questioning?” Fern asked, giving me a wink. “Not that anyone here would object to a little police interrogation.”
“No.” Mike smiled at me and flashed a resort card key. “The hotel manager was so grateful she gave us two suites for a week. I thought you might want to stay with me and have an actual vacation.”
Fern’s mouth fell open. “What do I get? I threw myself on top of a deranged killer.”
“Actually, the hotel is extending all of your suites another week,” Daniel said as he walked up. “We told them that you all were the ones who figured it out.”
Fern batted his eyelashes at Daniel. “Well aren’t you a doll?”
“They comped us an entire week?” Richard asked. “I suppose experiencing Bali without the threat of death might be nice.”
Mike nodded, flipping his card key over the top of his knuckles. “And apparently our suites are on the same floor as yours.”
I looked at the tall, handsome detective who’d flown halfway around the world to make sure I was safe, and I felt all my usual hesitation and caution disappear. I jumped into his arms, wrapping my legs around his waist.
He staggered back a few steps, looking as surprised as I felt. “I guess that means you’re happy to see me?”
“You could say that.” I leaned down and kissed him, his lips soft and warm against mine. The kiss became more urgent, and I pulled back, breathing heavy, my legs still wound tightly around him.
Richard cleared his throat. “I would tell you to get a room, but you have two of them.”
“Now that’s what I’m talking about,” Kate said, throwing herself against Daniel and pulling him down into a long kiss.
Fern glanced at Richard, who held up a palm. “Don’t even think about it.”
“I think this is going to be a good week,” I said to Mike as I leaned in for another kiss.
deadringer.lauradurham.com
Also by Laura Durham
Read the entire Annabelle Archer Series in order:
Better Off Wed
For Better Or Hearse
Dead Ringer
Review To A Kill
Death On The Aisle
Night of the Living Wed
Eat, Prey, Love
Groomed For Murder (coming soon!)
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About the Author
Laura Durham has been writing for as long as she can remember and has been plotting murders since she began planning weddings over twenty years ago. Her first novel, BETTER OFF WED, won the Agatha Award for Best First Novel.
When she isn’t writing or wrangling brides, Laura loves traveling with her family, standup paddling, perfecting the perfect brownie recipe, and reading obsessively.
She loves hearing from readers and she would love to hear from you! Send an email or connect on Facebook or Twitter (links below) or Instagram (lauradurhamauthor).
Find me on:
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This book is dedicated to the lovely friends I made in Bali who inspired me to write this book, the beautiful island of Bali, and the Balinese people. Special thanks to Walt, Art, Mary Frances, Brian, Kristen, Albert, Phillip, Amanda, Ilana, Joe, Christian, Sam, Katie, Hope, Ivy, and many more for letting me borrow tidbits of you to fictionalize. All the bad guys and victims are completely fabricated because I couldn’t bear to kill off any of you!
Acknowledgments
This book would never have existed it I hadn’t had the amazing opportunity to visit Bali as part of a wedding FAM trip. Thank you to Mary Frances, Walt, and Art for putting together an amazing experience and to The Mulia Bali for hosting us and spoiling us rotten. The descriptions in the book don’t come close to how stunning the resort is in real life. If you get the chance, visit Bali and stay at The Mulia!
As always, thank you to my readers and my advance reader/review team. You all have eagle eyes, and give me the best ideas!
My deepest gratitude to my husband and my kids for their support and for not trashing the house when I go to writing conferences (or to Bali). And much love to my parents and extended family—my original cheerleaders.
Copyright © 2018 by Laura Durham
Cover Design by Alchemy Book Covers
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the au
thor’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
