by Laura Durham
“Ordeal?” Richard rolled his eyes. “You walked down a hill.”
I knew Richard hated anyone else to be more dramatic than him. Usually, it wasn’t an issue.
“Of course.” I headed down the aisle to the lemonade station. “But don’t say anything else until I’m back.”
I filled a champagne flute with raspberry lemonade from the large glass container, then decided to fill another for myself. The glasses were cool in my hands, and my mouth watered as I looked at the pale-pink liquid. I hurried back up the aisle and handed Fern one of the glasses.
Richard took the other. “You read my mind, darling.”
So much for quenching my thirst. “So Mrs. Hamilton told you all this as you were doing her hair?”
Fern drained half his glass. “She and her sister were talking while I finished her hair. To be honest, I think they forgot I was there. It happens a lot.”
I knew what he meant. It wasn’t unusual for clients to forget that waiters, hairdressers, and staff had ears. If we were around enough, we became part of the furniture to them. I’d heard plenty of juicy tidbits during wedding setup, especially when champagne was involved.
“Was she drinking?” I asked. Fern had been known to take the edge off his clients by either getting them or himself drunk.
He bit his bottom lip. “She might have taken a teeny sedative to calm her nerves, but I don’t think it was anything she hadn’t taken before.”
“Who could blame her?” Alexandra said.
She made a good point. Most doctors would probably prescribe a sedative to a mother whose daughter had been kidnapped, so I couldn’t quibble with that.
“So she was planning on asking for a divorce,” I prodded. “Did it sound like this was a reaction to the kidnapping or something she’d been thinking about for a while?”
“I’d say the latter since she’s already met with an attorney.”
“What do you think this means?” I asked Reese.
“The bride’s father is even less popular than we thought,” Richard answered for him.
“He’s right,” Reese said. “So many people have an issue with Mr. Hamilton, I think we really need to give more credence to the theory that this kidnapping is actually meant to hurt him.”
Richard gave me a smug smile. “See? I’m right.”
I narrowed my eyes at Reese. If he was trying to win over Richard, it seemed to be working, although I wasn’t sure I could handle a more self-important version of Richard.
I made a list of names on the back of my wedding day schedule. “The people we know dislike Mr. Hamilton are his wife, his son, his younger daughter, his sister-in-law, the groom, his mother-in-law, and an untold number of corporate rivals, including one who’s a guest at the wedding.”
“So the only family member who does like him is currently missing because she’s been kidnapped?” Alexandra made a tsk-ing noise in the back of her throat. “Bad luck for him.”
“Good thinking,” I said. “Another way to hurt the dad. Target his favorite child—the only family member who likes him.”
Richard made a face. “Ugh.”
“You disagree?” I asked.
“No.” Richard motioned for me to look behind me. “Ugh, here comes Sidney Allen.”
I turned to see the egg-shaped man making his way down the hill toward us, his face flushed from the exertion as he barked orders into his headset.
“Bless his heart,” Fern said. “One false step and he’s rolling the rest of the way down.”
I could tell Sidney’s Southern speech had started to rub off on Fern, who was already a bit of a chameleon.
“Who’s Sidney Allen?” Reese asked, watching the small man windmill his arms to keep from falling.
“He’s an entertainment designer,” I said.
Reese tilted his head at me. “A what?”
“He designs the entertainment and coordinates all the various performers.”
“That’s actually a job?” Reese gave a quick shake of his head. “I don’t think I’ll ever understand the wedding industry.”
“What’s up, Sidney Allen?” I asked, walking forward to meet the man as he reached the tent.
“Theft, that’s what’s up.” He stepped into the shade and began fanning himself with his clipboard.
“Someone mugged you?” From his seat, Fern shook his head slowly. “What is this wedding coming to?”
“For heaven’s sake, I wasn’t mugged.” Sidney Allen threw his clipboard down onto the grass. “My costumes were stolen.”
I thought of Buster and Mack wandering around in capes and masks. “Are you sure someone didn’t misplace one or two or maybe borrow them?”
Sidney Allen’s eyes looked as if they might pop out of his head. “Who borrows embroidered doge capes?”
“Doge capes? You mean the white ones with all the beading and feathers?” I asked. “You aren’t missing robes for your path of masks?”
Sidney Allen heaved his pants up a few inches. “The burgundy ones? Not that I know of. Why did you assume those were missing?” He tapped his earpiece. “Columbina Two. Can you count the costumes for the path of masks?”
“No reason,” I said, cringing as I saw Buster and Mack appear from the house and rush past the pool, barreling down the hill toward us, the long burgundy robes flapping behind them and their masks in their hands. The ground vibrated as they got closer.
Sidney Allen turned in time to see Mack trip on the velvet cloak and stumble forward, catching himself with his hands and rolling head over heels into the last few rows of chairs. I dodged out of the way as the wooden chairs crunched beneath his girth and scattered across the grass, but Sidney Allen was not so lucky.
“My costumes!” he screamed as Mack knocked into him, sending him skidding across the grass face-first.
Buster had slowed his descent of the hill and held his robe up with both hands as he jogged the last few feet. Reese went over to check on Sidney Allen, rocking him back and forth a few times to get him upright, while I checked on Mack.
“Are you okay?” I leaned over the burly florist as he lay on his back, looking up and breathing heavy.
“Thank heavens we found you,” he said, his chest heaving.
“They’re wearing my costumes,” Sidney Allen squeaked from where he leaned against Reese, grass stains running from his face down to his pants, and his headset bent so the microphone nearly went up his nose.
“What’s going on?” I asked as Buster reached us.
“I’ll tell you what’s going on.” Sidney took an unsteady step toward the two men. “These two hooligans stole my costumes.”
Buster ignored Sidney Allen as he leaned his hands on his knees and caught his breath. “We found a dead body.”
Chapter 17
My skin went cold, and I felt my knees weaken. “Who? Who is it?”
“We don’t know,” Mack said as he struggled to his feet. “A woman neither of us recognized.”
I almost cried with relief. For a moment, I’d expected them to tell me they’d found Kate. I allowed myself a deep breath, pushing down the taste of bile that had forced its way into my throat.
Richard sank into a chair at the back of the aisle. “Another dead body at a wedding?” He draped a hand over his forehead. “I don’t know how much more of this I can take.”
“Another dead body?” Sidney Allen gaped at us. “How many are there?”
Fern patted his arm. “This is the first one so far today, sweetie.”
Sidney Allen did not look comforted as he tried to unbend his headpiece and take a few steps away from us. “All teams report in,” he said into his mangled microphone, his voice shrill. “Columbinas? Pulcinellas? Harlequins?”
“I’ve never been on-site when you’ve found a body,” Alexandra said, sitting down next to Richard. “I don’t know what to feel, but this is a shock.”
“Shock is a good way to describe how to feel,” I said. Perhaps I should have gotten used
to dead bodies, but I still felt a visceral reaction at the thought of a person being killed—my palms were clammy, I felt light-headed, and my throat had gone dry.
Richard lowered his arm. “Was the victim dressed like one of my waiters? I can’t afford to lose any staff. I could barely get enough waiters to cover this event.”
I glared at Richard, and Alexandra swatted his leg.
“Not that I’m not upset someone was killed,” he mumbled.
“First a kidnapping and now a murder?” Fern’s eyes took in our group. “At least we know it wasn’t one of us. I don’t think I can handle losing another.”
“We haven’t lost Kate,” I said, my voice louder than I’d intended.
Alexandra took my hand. “Of course we haven’t.”
“Thank heavens,” Sidney Allen said as he rejoined our group. “It wasn’t one of my performers.”
“Where is the victim?” Reese asked, his face serious. “I need to find out who was killed, so I can figure out what it has to do with the kidnapping.”
“Kidnapping?” Sidney Allen’s face paled again under the bright-green grass stains.
“Sorry, Sidney,” I said, not succeeding in making my voice sound sincere. “The bride and my assistant were kidnapped earlier today. We had to keep it on the down low.”
He opened and closed his mouth like a fish gasping for water.
Buster jerked his head in the direction of the house. “Inside.”
“Okay.” Reese began taking long strides out of the tent and up the hill to the house as the rest of us scurried behind him, except Sidney Allen, who seemed frozen to his spot under the tent. “Who else knows about this?”
“You’re the first people we’ve told,” Mack said, puffing as he climbed the hill.
I wiped the sweat from my forehead, wishing I wasn’t wearing all black, even though it was by far the most practical color for working a wedding.
“But someone may have heard us when we found the body and ran around looking for you,” Buster admitted, cutting his eyes to Mack. “It was a bit of a shock.”
It didn’t take much imagination to know there might have been some shrieking on Mack’s part, as he was the more demonstrative of the pair. I gave a cursory glance at the reception tent as we reached the pool deck—setup continued with waiters bustling around tables and musicians setting up on the stage. If the victim was one of the setup crew, the remaining staff clearly had no idea.
“Lead the way.” Reese held open one of the French doors leading into the kitchen for Buster and Mack to step through.
Buster took off his black velvet hat to reveal his flushed bald head and the motorcycle goggles still perched on top. “As you know, we were trying to blend in with the performers and see if they knew anything about the kidnapping.”
“Any luck?” I asked, following Alexandra into the air-conditioned house and feeling instantly cooler.
“They must be method actors, because most of them have taken their silent roles seriously and won’t utter a word.” Mack shrugged off his cape and hung it over the back of a kitchen chair. “Especially the masked performers. The jesters were chattier, but none of them saw anything. Everyone we spoke to claimed to have been changing in the pool house earlier in the day.”
“That’s their green room,” I explained. “Since there are so many of them, we have food and drinks set out so they don’t have to bother Richard, and we don’t have to worry about when to feed them. They can grab snacks anytime they want instead of all of them taking a meal break together and leaving us with no performers.”
“How many performers are hired for this wedding?” Reese asked once we’d all come inside and Fern had closed the door behind us.
I thought for a second. “Between the masked greeters, the doge and his footmen, the jesters, the opera singer, the acrobats, the stilt walkers, the lute trio, and the gondoliers there must be about fifty.”
Reese gave a low whistle. “Is that normal?”
Fern sidled up next to him and patted his shoulder. “It’s a wedding, sweetie. Normal is a relative term.”
“This way.” Mack beckoned for us to follow him through the kitchen and down the hall toward the garage.
We traipsed behind him single file until we reached a door. My stomach clenched when Mack stopped and opened the door to Sherry’s office. I pushed Richard and Alexandra aside and rushed into the room, gasping when I saw the blond woman lying on the floor of her office.
Reese grabbed my arm before I could go any further. “Stay here. I don’t want you disturbing the crime scene.”
He scanned the small room before leaning over the body and crouching down beside her.
“Do you know her?” Buster asked.
I leaned against him to steady myself. “This was Mrs. Hamilton’s personal assistant, Sherry.”
“The one who told you all the dirt?” Alexandra asked.
“That’s the one.”
Fern sucked in air. “You don’t think she was killed because of what she told you, do you?”
“Or what she hadn’t told you yet,” Richard added.
I didn’t look at either of them. I couldn’t take my eyes off the woman who’d been so chatty and had been tossing back whiskey with me less than an hour ago. Aside from a red bump on her forehead, she didn’t look too different from when she’d been alive.
I turned when I heard a cry from the doorway. “Is that Sherry?”
Val and Cara, the bride’s sister and cousin, had pushed their way through our group and stood with their mouths open in the doorway.
I shook myself out of my stupor and tried to turn them around. “Everything is under control, ladies. Why don’t we go into the kitchen?”
Val shook me off. “Is she . . .?”
“No, she’s not,” Reese said from the floor.
“What?” We all said together.
“She’s been knocked unconscious.” Reese looked around, taking his fingers from the side of Sherry’s neck. “But she’s alive and her heartbeat is steady.”
“We should call 911.” Richard pulled out his phone and began dialing.
I snatched his phone out of his hand. “If we call the paramedics, what happens to Veronica and Kate? What if the kidnappers see the fire truck and ambulance and freak out?”
“Are you suggesting we don’t get this poor woman help?” Mack blinked at me.
“I can help.” The bride’s brother pushed his way through the group. “I was pre-med for a year.”
Reese eyed him, but let Victor join him kneeling next to the motionless woman.
Val bit the edge of her thumbnail. “He’s the only one of us who doesn’t get sick at the sight of blood.”
Victor gave his sister a look over his shoulder. “No blood here. It looks like she was hit on the front of the head, but not hard enough to kill her.”
Buster released a breath. “So we don’t need to call the paramedics?”
Victor stood. “She’ll be fine.”
Cara looked at Sherry, then at Victor before saying under her breath, “Someone should stay with her until she’s conscious and put an ice pack on her head to reduce the swelling.”
Reese raised an eyebrow at the woman.
“My mom’s a nurse,” she said by way of explanation. “You pick up things.”
Victor’s face darkened, and he muttered as he left the room.
Cara knelt beside Reese. “I’m happy to keep an eye on her.”
“You heard the woman,” Reese said. “Ice pack.”
“I’ll get it,” Richard said, rushing off and returning a minute later. He handed Reese an ice pack with a blue-striped dish towel tucked perfectly around it. Leave it to Richard to give an ice pack military corners. Sherry moaned as Cara touched the ice to her head.
“That’s a good sign,” Cara said, smiling at us.
“Thank heavens,” Richard said. “I don’t know if I could have handled another dead body at one of our weddings.”
I pulled him a few feet away from the group and into the hallway. “It doesn’t bother you the woman who told me all the dirt on the Hamiltons was attacked? Even if they didn’t succeed, someone tried to eliminate her.”
Richard’s eyes grew large. “I didn’t think of it that way.”
Reese joined us, looking up from his phone where he’d been tapping. “I’m really not comfortable with this, Annabelle.”
“I’m sorry I dragged you into this mess,” I said. “I know this isn’t how you wanted to spend your day off.”
“You think I’m upset about my day off?” He shook his head at me. “I’m not sorry I’m here. You all need all the help you can get. I don’t know how much longer I can go without calling in reinforcements.”
My eyes darted to Sherry sprawled out on the floor. “Do you think she was attacked because she talked to me?”
“That woman talked to everyone,” the grandmother said as she approached us from the other end of the hallway. “You weren’t nothing special.”
I stared at her. “Your daughter’s assistant has been attacked. Someone tried to kill her.”
An expression I didn’t recognize crossed the gray-haired woman’s face. She held a highball glass with a few melting ice cubes circling the bottom and swirled them before she took a drink. “Sherry knew more than was good for her and didn’t know when to keep her mouth shut. I warned my daughter about her. Not that she listened to me.”
“You’re saying Sherry deserved to be attacked?” I asked.
“Now I didn’t say that, girlie. Just that I’m not surprised it happened. When you know where the bodies are buried, and you’re responsible for a few skeletons yourself, you better watch your back, that’s all.” She shuffled off in the other direction, leaving me with my mouth gaping open.
“What do you think she meant by that?” Richard asked.
“Clearly it was no secret that Sherry knew a lot about the family,” Reese said. “Did anything she told you implicate someone?”
I thought about it. Although she’d given me some inside dirt, nothing was worth killing over. “Not really. And nothing I haven’t told you already.”
