Logan raises the flashlight in defense. I punch a couple buttons on my phone, turning on a recording app that I’ve found handy before, and stand my ground. “She stole my shoes, as well as various items from other vendors.”
The plastic limb nearly touches my nose. “She may have tried them on, but she didn’t steal them. She was going to return them tonight.”
Logan slides slightly in front of me. “Lower the weapon.”
Christine glances at the arm and registers his meaning. She drops it next to her side. “Oh. I was setting up a display for tomorrow in the lobby entrance. Sorry.”
“Let’s all take a deep breath.” He points at the table. “We’ve recovered the missing shoes. You should go help Cathi return the other items.”
“She’s bawling like a baby because of you.” She jabs the piece at me once more and flinches when Logan knocks it away.
Lowering it, she huffs. “She came running after Jason. Told me you made him break up with her.”
“Your sister needs to…” I notice Kalina darting past the open doors, her furtive movements suggesting she hopes we won’t see her. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
I skirt around Christine and rush out, leaving Logan arguing with her about Cathi’s kleptomania. In the foyer, I catch Kalina going left toward the atrium.
Among the plants and flowers, couples mingle with the Saturday drink specials in hand. I search but she seems to have disappeared. Leaves brush my arms and legs as I walk around scanning the area.
Tallulah appears near a rubber tree ahead of me along the path that leads to the courtyard. She doesn’t motion at me or say anything, but casts a glance over her shoulder as she floats away, a clear invitation to follow.
Winding around camellias, peace lilies, and exotic plants I don’t know the names of, we come to a half-wall at the south end. She drifts into an alcove where a work station with clay pots and a bag of soil is located. A series of gardening hand tools hang above the bench.
Several half-dead ivy plants and two brown ferns sit on the floor near a door marked Exit, as if waiting to be taken out to their final resting place. The door is nearly hidden in the dim light, but a glimmer of illumination peaks through the side and beneath the crack. Someone has left it partially open, an outside glow from the moon and stars oozing through.
As I reach for the handle, Persephone materializes on my left. “Goodness, Ava. Pay attention. She’s trying to show you something.”
I glance back, letting Persephone’s irritation roll off me. “I know Tallulah. It’s Kalina.”
“No.” My guardian angel palms her forehead and sighs, exasperated. “Look again.”
Pivoting, I scan the space Tallulah's spectral body hovers near. I see her point at the lined-up items on the wall. A trowel—the one I used to fend her off, in fact—a cultivator, and a fork. “What about them?”
“Check closer.” Persephone floats to the other side of the bench.
Both spirits stare at me, practically willing me to get it. “It’s the trowel, isn’t it?”
Persephone rolls her eyes and says to the ghost, “Told you she was slow on these things.” Then to me, “Don’t view what’s there. Search for what’s missing.”
Ah, an empty hook, a bare space between two of the tools. “The murder weapon?”
“Hallelujah.” Persephone throws her hands in the air.
“But what is it?”
Tallulah speaks. “A dibbler.”
That means nothing to me. I need to brush up on my gardening knowledge, especially since Aunt Willa created a backyard garden that’s worthy of a magazine spread. “Okay, so who’s the killer?”
Tallulah glances at her feet, hovering several inches above the concrete floor. “I don’t know.”
I can’t tell if her ghost is being truthful or not. “Why are you helping me?”
Her gaze rises slowly to meet mine. It’s full of sadness, but also something else. “Because you’re the only one who’s ever been nice to me.”
I glance at Persephone for confirmation. She winks and vanishes.
At least I have more to go on than I did. “Thank you,” I tell Tallulah. “I’m going to help you, but I need to find the killer first, all right?”
Like Persephone, she withdraws from view.
I step outside. The night air is cold. Murky clouds have moved in and dance around the moon. It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust to the velvety gray blanket of night, only a few stars reflecting off the lake in the distance.
I notice a hulking maple casting a shadow over the end of the courtyard, the atrium’s lights not reaching it. “Kalina?” I call softly.
Rustling comes from a plant beside the tree, a figure emerges. “Yes?” Her voice sounds as if she’s attempting to sound chipper, as if I haven’t just interrupted her break. “Can I help you?”
I catch the scent of cigarette smoke on the air. “Trying to quit?”
She steps closer, head down, and I hear a quiet sigh as she realizes it’s me. “I did six months ago. This weekend has made me start again. You won’t tell Baldwin?”
Not if she cooperates. “Where is the missing hand tool from the bench?”
“What?”
I cock my thumb toward the alcove. “The one next to the cultivator. Do you use it often?”
Even in the shadows, she’s close enough now I can see her frown. “I didn’t notice it was gone.”
“A dibbler, right? What do you use it for?”
She looks away, toward the rolling hill sand lake. “Planting seeds. It creates a hole in the soil for you to drop them in. I don’t grow things from seeds, so I never use it.”
Truth or a well-rehearsed excuse? “But it came in handy when you murdered Sal.”
“What?” She turns back toward me, her voice rising. “I had nothing to do with that and you know it. Besides, he was killed with a shoe.”
“We both know that’s not true, and now that I’ve identified the true murder weapon, having your husband find out you took up your old habit again is the least of your problems.”
She takes a half-step toward me and points a finger. “You’re certifiable, you know that? If you’ll excuse me, you’re making me nervous. I need to get back to my desk and the guests.”
She brushes past, and I pivot to watch her grab the door. “Where is Baldwin? Guess I need to speak to him about what his wife’s been up to.”
This stops her, one palm on the handle. She grips it tight enough to turn her knuckles a whitish gray. The soft light from the interior atrium shows her face. She bites her bottom lip, working something over in her mind. “Look, I haven’t been completely honest about what I saw that night.”
Aha. Now we’re getting somewhere.
I close the distance, hoping my recording app can pick up her lowered voice. “I know.” I give her my dad’s infamous stare. “Why don’t you start at the beginning?”
25
“Are you okay?” She frowns at me. “You look like you’re gonna be sick.”
Obviously, my technique needs work. “I’m fine. What happened?”
“First, I don’t know who killed that man, and I’m not pointing fingers, but…”
“But what?”
She shifts her weight and fiddles with the knob. “I saw Victoria come out of the bar and go to her room while the show was in progress. She returned a few moments later, frazzled, and said she stole some liquor.”
Nothing I didn’t already know. “Okay, so?”
“I think she switched trousers and put on a different suit jacket.”
Victoria tends to wear the same outfit—a black skirt or pants and a white blouse with a black jacket on top.
“I was aggravated that she took the bottle—that’s what she claimed, anyway—because we needed it for tonight’s specials, and I didn’t think to ask why she’d changed. I was more annoyed that she’d left Baldwin to wrap up the show.”
“How did she get from the backstage where she w
as chasing Tabby to the bar without you seeing her?”
“Because I was out here,” Kalina points to the maple.
She stares at me as if willing me to promise I won’t tell. “Your secret is safe with me.”
For now.
Satisfied, she nods. “There’s something else.”
“Go on.”
“A hidden staging room connects the ballroom’s backstage area and the bar. It’s where the maids and servants used to prep carts and serving trays during big parties. Victoria might have found it and gone through there to get to the bar after…you know. It’s a possibility, anyway. The thing is, I went to count the bottles the next day, but none were missing. Odd, don’t you think?”
“Maybe you miscounted your inventory to begin with.”
She shakes her head adamantly. “Trust me, I had Baldwin double-check the number when they were delivered. We don’t have a lot of margin. We count pennies to remain open.”
I think over the timeline in my head, and why Victoria might lie about the liquor and change her clothes. It’s not obvious proof of misdeeds, but I would like clarification. “Where’s she right now?”
Kalina shrugs. “Last I saw, she was in the dining room.”
I can’t exactly call Victoria out in public, and I don’t want to confront her until I have more to go on. “Why didn’t you tell Jones this?”
Exasperated, she throws her hands up. “Because I don’t want anyone knowing I left the desk and went out for a smoke.”
“Okay, okay. I get it.” I motion for her to go in ahead of me and close the door as she passes the alcove.
She stops to look back. “What are you going to do?”
I hesitate, thinking it over. “I need a key to Victoria’s room.”
“Are you nuts? I can’t let you trespass.”
“Kalina, she could be the killer. Your lie—or withholding of the truth—could implicate you, as well.”
Her eyes tear. Fear is a great motivator. While I might not have dad’s technique down, I seem to have my own.
She turns on her heel, seeming to have made up her mind. Better to keep her secret than protect Victoria. “Follow me.”
At the desk, she looks around to make sure no one is watching, then hands me a key.
As if I own the place, I march past people filing in and out of the dining room. I pause a moment to peer in. Sure enough, Victoria is sitting with another vendor, enjoying a drink.
At her door, I slide the key in the lock and sneak into her room.
26
I flick on the light. Tabby jets past my legs and I close the door behind us.
An assortment of items from various booths are scattered amongst her personal things. On the bed, a large suitcase is open, half-folded clothes and toiletries nestled inside.
Is she packing to leave already?
Tabby jumps on the bed and paws at the suitcase. Her meow rings in the small room. I shush her and notice a collection of candlestick holders, guest books, hair accessories, ring pillows, and a flower girl basket crowded together on the desk. A laptop is under the mess.
What is she doing with all these props?
I don’t see any gowns or shoes like Cathi was hoarding, but still, I wonder. Is Victoria helping herself to some of the samples, or perhaps they were gifted to her?
Tabby meows again, drawing it out. I make my way to the bed and the open suitcase, where she paws at the contents.
I was wrong—it’s not clothing, but an assortment of colored fabrics, like scarves. Shifting through them, I realize some cover plastic bags containing more items.
What in the world? Does she have some sort of fetish for wedding supplies?
What I assumed were toiletries are actually miniature shampoo and soap samples from the destination vendors. The bottles have places for the bride and groom’s wedding date to be stamped on them.
My hand knocks against one with something hard in it. When I shift the fabric aside, I see it’s Victoria’s metal document holder.
It’s sealed in a plastic bag. I turn on the nightstand light and aim it toward the item before taking a photo with my phone. Then I send the picture to Jones, asking if I should open it and see if our murder weapon is contained inside.
Why would Victoria pick the dibbler to stab Sal with? While it’s definitely an effective weapon, was our crime of passion premeditated? At least enough that she saw the garden tool and decided to use it to kill Sal? Or did she snag it in hopes of framing Kalina or someone else?
Tabby hops off and moves to the chair. While I wait for Jones to reply, I think about having a peek at the laptop. As I move the clutter aside, I see Victoria’s backup clipboard.
The top page is filled with handwritten notes. Along with those are X’s, checkmarks, highlights, and certain items are crossed off. Her to-do list is long. I flip that over to see what’s underneath.
Vendor’s names are listed in alphabetical order. Next to each is a handwritten monetary amount. Southern Bride has a question mark next to their name instead of a dollar sign. Enchanted Events isn’t there at all.
My phone buzzes and I jump, expecting Jones. Instead it’s Logan. Where are you?
Room twelve.
I snap a picture of the list, trying to figure out the meaning of the numbers next to their names. Some range up into the thousands.
As I’m doing that, Jones finally replies. Don’t touch it. I’m on my way.
I’m studying the written notes again when Victoria bursts in. “What do you think you’re doing?”
Tabby comes to my side, tail up.
“What are you doing with all this stuff?” I point to the various samples that are still in obvious view. “You and Cathi should go into business together.”
“How dare you break into my room.” She points to the door. “Get out.”
“They’re gifts, aren’t they?”
“Yes, so what?”
“What do you do with them? Resell them?”
Her jaw jumps as she clenches her teeth. “That’s none of your business. I’m going to complain.”
“Go ahead. I didn’t break in.” I hold up the key. “Besides you don’t want everyone to know about your little scheme, do you?”
“You think you’re so smart. What scheme? I work for an event management group and vendors gift me things. Big deal.”
I lean over the desk and tap her clipboard. “What about the money? Are they offering you bribes, too?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” She marches to me and grabs my arm. “Get out.”
She attempts to shove me toward the door, but I plant my feet and jerk from her grip. “Why isn’t Enchanted on here?”
Frustrated, she glares at me. “Because you’re a troublemaker and I don’t like you.”
“Wow, that stings.” I run a hand over a guestbook on the desk. “My guess is, you knew I wouldn’t pony up. But for what? What do the vendors get if they give you items from their inventory and top it off with money?”
“They’re not bribes. You wouldn’t understand.”
“Try me, or I’m going to report you to your employer. I bet they’d be very interested to learn about your side enterprise.”
She studies me, as if deciding just how much of a troublemaker I really am. “For your information, most of the people work on commission. The more they sell at these conventions, the more lucrative their bottom line. Occasionally, they supply me with samples. That allows me quality assurance—I check that their products are up to our standards. In turn, I make sure they get better slots for their booths, and that ensures the brides are happy.”
She moves and fingers one of the tall candlestick holders. The overhead light glints off the metal as she evaluates it. Hastily, I fumble with my phone, attempting to turn on the recording app while she isn’t looking.
“What do you do with all of them? Surely you don’t keep them for yourself.”
Logan bangs on the door. “Ava. What’s going on?”
“I’m having a chat with Victoria.” I call back, easing toward the exit. All she has to do is step away from the desk and block me.
Seeing my intention, she does exactly that. “What does it matter? They get what they want and we all benefit.”
“You wanted to be a designer. Why didn’t you pursue that?”
Her lips tweak in a snarky smile. “Someone’s been talking to Sal.”
“I did my homework. You can find anything online, you know. Were you crushing on him?”
Her smile goes flat. “What a loser. He totally wasted his opportunity. If I’d won that scholarship…” She looks at the items in the room.
“You wouldn’t be stuck here running bridal events. You’d be designing and selling your own gowns.”
She caresses the candlestick again. “Your gowns are beautiful. You have a good eye for design. I could have created gorgeous ones, too, if only Sal hadn’t gotten in my way.”
“He was on to your scam here, wasn’t he?” I wave a hand at the space.
“A troublemaker like you. He didn’t understand why I accept the gifts and the money, but then, he never really understood me at all. I’m helping the vendors. You see that, right?”
“What did you do with the murder weapon?”
“What?” Her eyes dart to the suitcase and back. It’s so quick, I almost miss it. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
I stare her down for a long, charged pause, hoping my dad’s trick will work. She narrows her eyes at me, but says nothing.
Out in the hall, Logan calls, “Ava? Let me in.”
I attempt to move past Victoria but she stands firm. “You’re not going anywhere,” she says quietly.
“I’d like to, but I can’t,” I answer him.
Logan yells down the hall at Kalina. “I need you to open this!”
“Think you’re pretty smart, don’t you?” Victoria’s gaze zeroes in on me. “Sal thought he was as well.”
And look what happened to him. She doesn’t finish the thought but the threat is in her eyes.
“You asked for a bribe from Southern Bride—from him, specifically—and he said no, I take it?”
Hearts & Haunts, Confessions of a Closet Medium, Book 3 Page 12
