by Laura Durham
I flicked my eyes to Richard as he stood next to the bed with the hotel phone pressed to his ear giving our dinner order.
"Good point," she said, sinking onto the love seat. "I don't know if it's the jet lag or the whole dead body thing, but I'm wiped. And I just had to explain to one of our new brides back in DC that having bride and groom chairs that look like the Iron Throne is not a good idea, even if we could find a pair of them. It’s going to be enough of a challenge to find a string quartet that can play the Game of Thrones theme song for their processional."
"I would say I'm shocked anyone would want that, but nothing brides and grooms do shocks me anymore,” I said, walking over and joining her on the upholstered couch. “I am surprised you were able to pull yourself away from the cute garda long enough to return client calls."
"He had to leave." She poked out her lower lip. "They found something in one of the hedges and he tore out of the lobby. He did tell me not to leave the hotel though."
"He told all of us that," Richard said after he hung up the phone. "It's because we're potential suspects."
"Why would we have any reason to kill the woman?" Kate asked, crossing her legs and flashing most of one thigh. "Not only did we barely know her, we were together right before we found her."
"Maybe they think we're in on it together," I said.
"All four of us?" Kate leaned her head back to rest on the back of the love seat. "Like a gang?"
I tried to imagine the four of us as some sort of fussy, overly primped gang but couldn't do it. "You're right. No one would believe that."
"They would if Buster and Mack were here with us," Kate said. "When do they arrive?"
Our go-to floral duo were known for their cutting edge designs as well as a personal style that evoked more Harley Davidson than Martha Stewart.
"Tomorrow," I said. "I hope we'll be cleared to leave by then."
"We've given our statements," Richard said. "And I hate to admit it, but Kate's right. None of us have motive or opportunity."
Kate smiled at Richard. "Thank you. You know, I'm right more often than you'd think."
"Don't push your luck, darling," Richard said.
The sharp raps on the door made me look down at my phone. "The service here is incredible. We ordered less than five minutes ago."
Richard walked across the room. "Those knocks do not sound like room service." He opened the door and Fern rushed in. "Like I was saying."
Fern staggered to one of the armless gray chairs in the raised alcove and sank into it. "Thank goodness I got here before they did."
"Before who got here?" I asked, straightening.
"The fuzz, the coppers, the police." Fern's eyes darted to the door and pulled a flask out of his pocket.
"You mean the Gardaí?" Richard asked.
Kate uncrossed her legs. "I wouldn't mind seeing one particular garda again."
"You would this time," Fern said, taking a swig from his flask. "They found what they think is the murder weapon."
"Really?" I said. "That's great. Why would that have anything to do with us?"
"Because," Fern tried to steady his breath as he waved at the scarf around his neck. "It's one of these."
"A scarf like that?" I studied the green Celtic symbols printed on the ivory background. "Didn't you buy that at the gift shop at Bunratty? I'm sure there are tons of places that sell them."
Fern shook his head and took another swig. "Not exactly like this one. A kelly-green one. Cashmere." He dropped his voice as if someone was listening in. "I saw the hot cop putting it in an evidence bag. It's exactly like the ones I gave each of you for this trip."
"Hand me the flask," Kate said.
So much for not getting sucked into the case.
Chapter 11
"Are you positive?" I asked as I watched Fern lay his head on the round table between the two chairs and drape his arms over it. "It's Ireland. I'm sure there are lots of kelly-green scarves around. It's pretty much the country's color."
He lifted one arm to peek out from under it. "Of course I'm sure. They don't sell one hundred percent cashmere in gift shops and certainly not Cesare Gatti."
"You named the scarves?" I asked.
"The designer, darling," Richard said with an exasperated huff. "The designer is Cesare Gatti, and they're available at Barney's."
"See?" Fern said, his voice muffled from under his arms. "They aren't just any old scarves. As if I would give you all just any old scarf." He lifted his arm again so I could see one eye. "And before you ask, I'm positive the scarf they found is one of ours because I saw the label as the hot copper was putting it in the evidence bag."
"Just because it was one of our scarves doesn't mean we killed Colleen," Kate said, taking a sip from the flask Fern had handed her and grimacing. "Plus, no one knows it's one of ours."
"It will come out eventually," I said, knowing exactly what Reese would say if he were here. "Better for us to be the ones to tell the Gardaí than someone else."
"Who else would tell them?" Kate asked.
Richard had begun pacing again, this time all the way across the room and back. "Oh, I don't know. Perhaps any of the old ladies who saw us wearing them."
I raised my hand. "Mine has been in my carry-on bag since the flight, so no one has seen me in one."
"I haven't taken mine out of its wrapping," Richard said, avoiding the dirty look Fern shot him with one eye and adding quickly. "I was waiting until the weather was cooler."
"That leaves you two," I said to Kate and Fern. "If we're positive the scarf they found is a Seymour Gatti, then it won't be hard to determine whose it is."
Fern groaned as if he were in pain then took the flask back from Kate. "Cesare, not Seymour. Let's not make this worse than it is, sweetie."
Kate jumped up and tightened the sash of her robe. "I'm all for getting this over with." She motioned to Fern with her head. "We need to locate our scarves to determine which one is missing."
I walked to the black Longchamp bag I'd dropped on the floor and dug through the contents. My fingers felt the soft roll of fabric tucked away at the bottom of the bag, and I pulled it out, holding the kelly-green scarf over my head. "Here is mine. Present and accounted for."
"And then there were three," Richard said.
Fern sat up, tucked the flask back in his pocket, and fluffed the Celtic scarf he wore like an ascot around his neck. "I know exactly where mine is. I switched it out with this one on the bus and rolled the other one up and put it in my Louis."
"Your Louis?" I asked. "Does everything you own have a name?"
"His Louis Vuitton duffel bag," Kate said under her breath.
"I'll show you." Fern led us out of my room and down the hall to an identical door behind which was a room similar to mine but with two double beds instead of one king and no raised sitting area. Even though we'd only arrived a few hours earlier, the room already held Fern's unmistakable scent of high-end hair styling products.
Kate swiveled her head once we were inside. "You have two beds. I guess this is the room to use if we want to have a slumber party."
Fern's face lit up. "I'll do makeovers for everyone."
Richard cleared his throat. "One, we're here to find your scarf. Two, over my dead body are you giving me a makeover."
Fern mumbled something that sounded like "spoil sport" as he tossed aside the burgundy velvet throw pillow and placed his Louis Vuitton duffel bag on the gray upholstered chair. Zipping open the bag, he produced the green roll of cashmere from where it had indeed been tucked inside. "Voila."
"That's two," I said, glancing at Kate and Richard.
Richard spun on his heel. "Allow me to solve this mystery. Like I told you, my scarf never left my luggage."
Our procession left Fern's room, and we all traipsed back down the hall to Richard's room, Fern and I holding our scarves. He waved us in to a room with one large window overlooking the lake and draped with floral curtains. His king-sized bed had a t
all cream-colored headboard and was topped with blue velvet pillows each emblazoned with a large gold crown. More blue and gold crown pillows were perched on the blue velvet chairs that made up the sitting area at the foot of his bed and a tufted blue velvet chair was tucked under the desk.
Richard strode to the closet and pulled out his black Gucci cross body bag, opening the flap and holding out a green scarf still in the tissue paper with the fringe peeking out from one end. "Like I said. Unopened."
Fern sniffed and mumbled something as we all turned to Kate.
She tugged the front of her robe together with one hand. "Impossible. My scarf should be in my Kate Spade bag. I wore it last night to the dinner, and I'm almost positive I tucked it in there."
"I thought you had it on this morning on the minibus," I said, watching her face pale. "Didn't you wear it when we toured Bunratty Castle?"
She bit the edge of her lip. "I don't remember."
I put a hand on her arm. "Why don't we go look for it just to be sure?"
Kate nodded without answering, and we all walked from Richard's room to Kate's, which sat directly across from mine. A small sitting area with a round table and silver armless chairs led through an arch to the bedroom where Kate's black Kate Spade tote sat on the leather bench at the end of the king-sized four poster bed. Both the bed and the bench were buff-colored with the only pop of color being the two maroon velvet roll pillows on the bed.
Kate rummaged around in her bag, her hands moving frantically until she upended the contents on the bench. Pens, an iPhone, a paperback mystery, and a hot pink passport holder spilled out, but no kelly-green scarf.
She stepped back, shaking her head. "It was here. I know it was."
Fern wrapped an arm around her. "Just because it’s missing doesn't mean you had anything to do with the old dear's death."
"Of course it doesn't," I said. What I left unsaid was what we all knew. It did pull our group deeper into the murder investigation, which was exactly what we didn't want to happen.
"Don't worry." I gave Kate what I hoped was my most reassuring smile. "This is circumstantial evidence at best. No one could suspect you of killing Colleen. You have no motive and you were with us up until we found her body."
"Well, I did pop down to the maze garden before we met up in the lobby," Kate said.
I felt my mouth drop. "You were outside before we went on our walk?"
"Just for a few minutes," Kate said. "I asked the front desk for their map of the grounds then went outside to the garden with the fountain and the low hedge designed like a maze. I thought it would be good for a fun Instagram pic."
"So the front desk gave you a map to the gardens and saw you leave by yourself?" Richard asked.
Kate nibbled the corner of her thumbnail. "Technically, yes."
Fern looked from me to Richard. "She still has no motive. She barely knew the woman. Both of you spent more time with her than Kate or I did."
I took both of Kate's hands in mine. "Is there anything else you can remember? Did you leave your scarf on the bus? Did you see someone near it? Did you see Colleen when you were outside? We need to know anything that could help us explain away this circumstantial evidence."
Kate shook her head. "I could have sworn I put the scarf in my bag, and I don't remember seeing anyone take it." She closed her eyes for a moment before opening them again. "I didn't see anyone when I was outside. It was only for a few minutes, then I walked back in and met you three in the lobby."
"What should we do?" Fern said, pulling our his flask again.
"As far as we know, the Gardaí haven't connected us to the scarf they think is the murder weapon. That gives us a little time to figure things out."
Richard crossed his arms. "What do you mean? I thought you swore up and down we weren't going to get sucked into another criminal investigation."
"That was before one of our scarves was used to kill someone. If there's even the slightest chance they could pin this on Kate, we have to figure out who's behind it."
Richard opened his mouth to protest, then sighed. "You're right. When I was falsely accused, you all rallied around me and did everything you could to prove my innocence."
I felt Kate's hands sag in mine.
"Thanks," she said as Fern pulled her close.
"For now, why don't we go back to my room and have dinner?" I said. "We'll all feel better once we've eaten."
We left Kate's room and headed across the hall to mine. I paused as I heard footsteps coming toward us and saw a pair of young men in a hotel uniforms carrying large trays topped with silver domes.
"It looks like dinner has arrived," Richard said, holding my door open for the men to enter.
I breathed deeply as the plates were unloaded onto the coffee table. It had been hours since I'd eaten, and the smell of the food was a potent reminder. The men removed the silver domes with a flourish and turned to leave, but stopped in their tracks.
Garda Ryan stood in my doorway, his face serious. His eyes moved between us, and I realized that Fern, Richard, and I still held our green scarves. Kate's hands were empty. His gaze settled on her.
"Could I have a word?" he asked, his tone clearly indicating it would be unwise to refuse.
Kate looked at me, her face stricken, and for the first time in her life I knew she wasn't pleased to be propositioned by a handsome man.
Chapter 12
"Are you still there?" I asked, holding my phone away from my ear to be sure I hadn't lost the call. Even though I could only hear a long exhalation of breath, the sound reassured me that my boyfriend was, in fact, still on the other end of the line. I tucked my legs up under me on the velvet love seat and eyed the untouched food set out on the coffee table. The room still held the lingering savory scents, but I wasn't in any mood to eat.
"I'm trying to process the fact that between the time I talked to you yesterday and now, you managed to get yourself involved in another murder investigation." Reese didn't sound angry but I definitely recognized tones of disbelief.
"Would you believe me if I told you we were in the wrong place at the wrong time?" I kept my gaze firmly on the door in the hope that one of my friends would join me soon. The Gardaí had separated us in our rooms for more questioning, and the last time I'd poked my head into the hall, I'd been greeted by the female garda who seemed less than pleased to see me.
"Probably not," he said. "Didn't you just tell me that Kate's scarf was used as the murder weapon?"
"Yes, but obviously the real killer took it from her at some point." I picked up a limp chip from one of the plates.
"When is the last time Kate knows she had the scarf?" Reese had assumed his serious cop voice, and I could imagine him flipping open his notebook and jotting down information.
"She thinks she had it on the minibus when we traveled from Adare Manor to Dromoland Castle, but she can't be sure. She thought she put it in her carry-on tote bag, but she doesn't remember seeing it after getting on the bus."
"So it could have gone missing anytime between you all getting on the minibus with the tour group to arriving at the castle." Paper rustling accompanied Reese's voice. "Any of the ladies on the tour would have had access."
I nibbled on the end of the soggy chip and grimaced. Cold fries tasted bad no matter what you called them. "It doesn't make sense. Why would anyone want to kill an old lady they barely knew? It can't be a crime of passion. Most of these women have never laid eyes on each other before arriving in Ireland, and as far as I can tell, Colleen got along with everyone. It's not like it could be motivated by money either. I feel pretty confidant in saying that none of the other ladies on the tour are named in Colleen's will."
"There are other motivations for murder, babe."
"Well, I'm going to go out on a limb and say it wasn't about sex either. Aren't all crimes supposed to be about sex or money?"
"I think that's all fights between married couples," Reese said with a small chuckle. "There are more reasons
people commit murder."
I felt my face warm at the mention of marriage again. Why did the thought of it make me so flustered? I dealt with marriage every day of the week. It was literally my job to help people get married. So why did I get nervous even when my boyfriend just dropped the word?
"I doubt the Irish police seriously suspect Kate," Reese said. "It doesn't look great that her scarf was used to strangle the victim, but it won't take them long to determine that Kate had no connection to the woman."
I let myself sink back onto the couch cushions. "I hope you're right. I'm not used to dealing with cops I don't know."
"Or ones you can't sweet talk into not arresting you?"
I let out a small cry of indignation. "When did you have a reason to arrest me?"
"Would you like the list by date or severity of the crime?"
I folded my arms across my chest. "You know, it's a good thing you're so cute."
"I was thinking the exact same thing," he said, his voice becoming huskier. "How much longer are you going to be over there? The apartment feels lonely without you."
"Originally only a few more days, but that was before we found a body. We still need to visit all the castles on our client's list, so I hope the police here don't plan on keeping us."
"I'm sure if you explain that you're a wedding planner on a mission to find the perfect venue, they'll understand."
"I can hear the sarcasm in your voice, you know." I couldn't help grinning in spite of my desire to reach through the phone and throttle him.
"I'm sorry," he said, his voice more contrite. "I'm not trying to make light of the poor woman who died or of Kate's involvement. I'm sure she's upset to be connected to something so brutal."
"Don't forget Fern. He's the one who got us all matching scarves and now one of them was used to commit a crime. He's pretty distraught."
"That a scarf was ruined or that a person was killed with it?" Reese asked.
He knew my friends too well. "It was cashmere and a designer label if that answers your question."
