Murder Borrowed, Murder Blue

by Stephanie Blackmoore

  “All’s well that ends well.” I slipped my hand into Garrett’s and we surveyed the merrymaking before us.

  The next day, we bid a fond farewell to the married couple. They were leaving for their honeymoon in Montreal.

  “Thank you, Mallory.” Dakota enveloped me in a crushing hug, then switched off with Owen. “For everything. I’m so happy.” She beamed, her smile genuine, her face carefree for once.

  Dakota was going to semi-retire. She’d still take roles, but not at the breakneck pace dictated by Roxanne. She and Owen planned to divide their time between Los Angeles and Port Quincy, and they’d run Owen’s foundation together.

  The footage of the wedding from hell was to be spliced together into an episode of I Do. It was ironic that this was projected to be the most-viewed episode of I Do ever, and Xavier wouldn’t be free to see that he’d succeeded in resurrecting his show after all. His ploys had led to the permanent cancellation of Silverlake High, but worked for the reality wedding show. The tabloids had covered Dakota and Beau’s dissolution, and everyone wanted to watch the infamous episode. Adrienne had just been named director of the reality show, and the next season would feature a new host.

  I headed over to the greenhouse after seeing off the newlyweds.

  “What do you think of these?” Summer held up a tray of seedlings. “They’re peas.”

  We were planting only edible flowers and veggies in the resplendent glass space. We didn’t want to take our chances on ever again providing a would-be killer with ready-made poison mere steps from the house.

  “I think they’ll be delicious.” I slung my arm around Summer and together we planted in the sun.

  Recipes

  Peanut Butter Banana Cake

  2½ cups flour

  2 cups white sugar

  1½ teaspoons baking soda

  ½ cup milk

  ½ cup banana puree

  1 teaspoon vanilla extract

  ¾ cup water

  ½ cup coconut oil

  ¼ cup vegetable oil

  ¾ cup peanut butter

  Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Grease two nine-by-nine cake pans.

  Combine flour, sugar, and baking soda. Combine milk, banana puree, and vanilla. Pour milk and banana mixture into flour mixture and mix well until combined. Heat water, coconut oil, vegetable oil, and peanut butter in a pan on medium heat and stir frequently until mixture is smooth. Add peanut butter mixture to flour mixture and stir until smooth. Pour batter into two greased and floured nine-by-nine cake pans. Bake for twenty-five to thirty minutes. Cool cakes and frost cake with chocolate icing.

  Chocolate Icing

  5 tablespoons coconut oil

  ¾ cup light brown sugar

  3 tablespoons milk

  1¾ cups confectioners’ sugar

  1½ tablespoons cocoa powder

  2 teaspoons vanilla extract

  Heat coconut oil and brown sugar in a saucepan, stirring frequently until smooth. Add in milk. Remove from heat. Combine cocoa and confectioners’ sugar. Add cocoa mixture and vanilla to coconut oil mixture and beat well.

  Cranberry Sunflower Muffins

  2 cups flour

  1 cup brown sugar

  1 teaspoon baking powder

  1 cup vegetable oil

  1 cup chopped cranberries

  1 cup sunflower seeds, shells removed

  Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Line a muffin tin with foil or paper cupcake liners.

  Combine flour, brown sugar, and baking powder. Add vegetable oil to flour mixture and stir well. Mix in cranberries and sunflower seeds. Fill paper liners three-fourths full. Bake for thirty to thirty-five minutes or until a knife inserted in the center of the muffins comes out clean.

  Blueberry Scones

  4 cups flour

  ⅓ cup sugar

  4 teaspoons baking powder

  ½ teaspoon salt

  ½ cup chilled coconut oil

  1 cup milk

  1 cup blueberries

  Preheat oven to 375. Line cookie sheets with parchment paper.

  Combine flour, sugar, baking powder, and salt. Use fingers to mix in cold coconut oil until mixture resembles coarse sand. Add milk to dry ingredients. Divide dough in half. Gently work in blueberries. Form each section into a nine-inch circle. Cut dough circle into eight wedges. Bake for twenty to twenty-five minutes, or until scones are lightly browned.

  Cherry Chocolate Martini

  1 ounce vanilla vodka

  1 ounce chocolate liquor

  1 ounce heavy cream or half and half

  1 ounce grenadine

  maraschino cherries

  chocolate syrup

  ice

  Drizzle martini glass with chocolate syrup. Combine ingredients and shake. Pour over ice. Garnish with a maraschino cherry.

  Please turn the page

  for an exciting sneak peek of

  Stephanie Blackmoore’s next

  Wedding Planner mystery

  GOWN WITH THE WIND

  coming soon wherever

  print and e-books are sold!

  Chapter One

  “You’re either a saint, or completely crazy.” My sister Rachel put down her wand of electric blue mascara and tried to catch my eye in the rear-view mirror. “You can still back out, you know.”

  I kept my eyes on the road, a slalom-like dip of pavement retreating from our Italianate mansion B and B, toward the other side of the town I’d come to call home. Port Quincy, Pennsylvania, rose up before us at the top of another steep hill. Pretty painted lady Victorians flanked both sides of the brick street in shades of lilac, butter yellow, and petal pink, like little girls in Easter dresses. The turreted and gingerbread buildings gave way to wide craftsman bungalows and squat Cape Cods. Ruby geraniums, winking black-eyed Susans, and lush magenta impatiens bloomed in profusion in front yard flowerbeds. The sky was an overturned bowl of rich robin’s egg blue, with a scrape of cirrus clouds scattered like feathers. I rolled down the window of my ancient tan Volvo station wagon, a vehicle I’d christened the Butterscotch Monster. The air was sweet and warm, carrying the scent of a recent rain. It was a gorgeous late May afternoon. Summer was upon us, but spring still held sway, the world around me dewy and fresh and new.

  “I think I’m a little bit of both.” My heart rate accelerated as I turned to follow the road next to the roiling Monongahela River, away from Port Quincy and toward the countryside. “I can’t just leave Becca hanging. What I would have given to have some help standing up to Helene last summer.” I shivered despite the warmth of the late-day sun and recalled when I’d been in Becca’s position. When I’d been engaged to Keith Pierce, Port Quincy’s favorite son, about to go through with my inflated albatross of a wedding. Back when I was an attorney. Before I’d found out about Keith’s cheating, called off the wedding, and inherited his grandmother’s mansion, Thistle Park.

  So much had changed. I was now a wedding planner and B and B purveyor, working with my sister to make brides and grooms’ dreams come true. I loved my new career and my life in Port Quincy. I felt like I’d found my true calling, and had the good fortune to stumble upon a place I could call home. The only glitch was occasionally running into my ex-fiancé, Keith, his mother, Helene, and his new fiancée, Becca Cunningham.

  “Well I know I wouldn’t even give Becca the time of day, much less plan her wedding to Keith.” Rachel had moved on to the lipstick portion of her car face-painting routine, and she carefully applied a swath of rose gloss to her lips.

  “She extracted a promise in a moment of weakness.” Just this past February I’d tried to help the man whom I’d once thought I’d marry, and the woman he’d been cheating with, elope. But a blizzard stymied their plans to jet off to St. Kitts. Becca had acquiesced to Helene’s demands for a big Port Quincy society wedding, and I’d taken pity on the bride. I was once in her position, fulfilling Helene’s every wish for my wedding, against all my own wants and desires. I’d felt sorry for Becca, and though
she was once the other woman, no one should have to stand up to Helene without reinforcements. I squared my shoulders behind the seatbelt and glanced at my sister.

  “We’re lucky the Norris party cancelled their event. We can get Keith and Becca’s wedding out of the way, and in two weeks, this will all be behind us.”

  Becca and Keith were on a waiting list to be married at my B and B, and they had accepted the slot from a recent last-minute cancellation. Their nuptials were to be the first week of June, and then I’d be done with them for good.

  Rachel rolled her eyes in apparent disbelief at my proclamation as we reached the development of mega mcmansions nestled in the rolling green countryside. I approached the cul-de-sac Keith and Becca called home and stifled a giggle. I parked the Butterscotch Monster behind Keith’s familiar navy BMW in the circular driveway and cut the engine.

  “Holy heck.” Rachel dropped a compact of bronzer in her lap and yelped as a spray of tan talc covered the worn leather bench seat.

  “I warned you.” I couldn’t tamp down the grin I felt spreading across my face as Keith and Becca’s hulking colossus of architectural wonder stood before us. The bride had designed the house, a busy collection of cubes and rectangles jutting out at improbable angles. The structure was a dark red brick edifice that would rival any creative toddler’s Lego construction. Floor-to-ceiling glass block windows glimmered in long, unpredictable slices peeking out from under a shiny copper roof. Severe and precise topiary huddled next to the house in random groups.

  “If this is a clue to Becca’s wedding style, we may be in trouble.” Rachel dusted off the last bit of bronzer from her berry colored leather mini-skirt and craned her head to take in every inch of the modernist house.

  “Oh, it gets better. Wait’ll you see the inside.” I advanced up the wide brick path to the double lacquered front doors and took a deep breath before I rang the bell. It was flung open a nanosecond later, and I found myself face to face with a woman I’d never met before.

  “You must be Mallory. I’m so glad to meet you.” I found myself being gathered into an impetuous hug on the threshold of the house, and I smiled as the woman next embraced my sister.

  “I’m Becca’s mother, Lana Cunningham. Her father and I are so thrilled you’re able to accommodate Becca and Keith so much earlier than we were expecting.” I tried to listen to Becca’s mother and take in my sister’s reaction to the interior of the house at the same time. Rachel’s pretty green eyes grew round as she did a double take.

  The inside of the house was a study in nineteen-eighties boudoir finery, with yards of white, cream, and ecru chintz and silk. Gold and sea foam accents were scattered throughout the cavernous open floor plan, and everywhere the eye landed, there was peach. Peach tile, peach ceilings, and peach pillars. Even the kitchen cabinets were a shade of apricot. It took my eyes a few seconds to adjust to the glow of the room. A room that had my nemesis Helene written all over it. I wondered how Becca liked living in this split-personality house, where she’d designed the outside, but had to acquiesce to her fiancé’s mother with regards to the inside decor.

  But I wouldn’t be dealing with Helene today. Becca and Keith were keeping it a secret from the reigning queen bee of Port Quincy that they were to be married in two weeks’ time. She would never consent to having the wedding at Thistle Park, and they were going to reveal their plans to marry the very week of the wedding. I wasn’t sure how I was going to keep their ceremony under wraps until then, but I would try. I didn’t want to face the wrath of Hurricane Helene.

  Rachel and I followed Lana through a maze of white and peach furniture to the sleek black deck at the back of the house. I shielded my eyes as we stepped outside, briefly noting the spare obsidian rock garden beyond the low, rectangular pool. It was before Memorial Day, but the wide expanse of blue water appeared ready for swimmers.

  “You’re finally here.” Becca leaned down to give the side of my face a cool air kiss, and I stifled a wince as she pulled away. We were not friends, if not exactly enemies, and I didn’t need to exchange pretend pleasantries.

  “I’m glad we were able to move your wedding up,” I said in a neutral voice.

  Becca gave Rachel a brief nod. The bride to be had donned a pretty pink tea dress and pearls worthy of Betty Draper for the occasion. Her large princess cut diamond engagement ring was front and center as she folded her left hand over her right. She wore her ubiquitous flats, the better to attempt to match Keith in stature now that she was engaged. Her hair was its usual fall of shiny flaxen tresses, her trademark stripe of dark roots standing out at her part.

  “You must have a lot of cancellations if you were able to accommodate us so quickly,” Keith Pierce said with a glint in his eye. My once fiancé was clad in his best prepster wear for this wedding planning meeting. He wore a navy blazer with gold buttons, a pink check dress shirt to complement Becca’s sundress, and he completed the outfit with khakis and boating shoes. A bead of sweat dripped down from the bald spot forming atop his head and landed on his shoulder with a plop.

  “The first cancellation this year,” I responded, trying and failing to remove the frosty tone in my voice.

  “And we’re glad luck was on our side to move up the wedding.” A sprightly woman of an indeterminate age, somewhere between eighty and ninety, clutched my arm with warm, gnarled hands. She had a slight stoop bringing her height under five feet, but her grip was firm. A fluffy corona of shocking white hair graced her head, and her blue eyes twinkled merrily like those of a young woman.

  “I’m Alma Cunningham, Becca’s grandmother,” the woman gushed. “And this is my son Rhett.”

  A short, portly man shuffled forward to grip my hand in a surprisingly hard handshake.

  “Pleased to meet you, Mallory.” Becca’s father had a little button nose, an amused smirk, and the same twinkling eyes as his mother Alma. His hair was a longish iron gray, the ends nearly brushing his shoulders. He reminded me a bit of the Quaker Oats man. I couldn’t help but swivel my head from Rhett Cunningham to his wife Lana. Becca definitely favored her mother. Lana Cunningham and Becca towered over Rhett by an easy foot. Both mother and daughter had a sophisticated, if brittle kind of grace. Lana wore a coral shift dress, her frame willowy and tanned and toned.

  “And I’m Samantha, Becca’s sister.” A slight, short woman seemed to emerge from the shadows, dressed simply in a businesslike black shirtdress and strappy sandals. “Pleased to meet you.” Her lips parted and she gave a bright smile, and it was then that I saw her resemblance to Becca. Samantha favored her father Rhett and grandmother Alma, with her short frame and merry blue eyes. But her hair was dark, the color of Becca’s roots.

  “My twin sister, actually.” Becca slung an arm around Samantha and bestowed her with a winning smile.

  “Twins?” Rachel squinted at the sisters.

  “Fraternal,” Samantha qualified. “I’ve been overseas in Colombia, working as a human rights attorney,” she added. “I couldn’t make it back for my cousin Whitney’s wedding last October. It’s so good to be home for Becca’s wedding.” I found myself warming quickly to the sweet woman, who obviously loved her twin sister.

  “Shall we get started?” Keith’s droll voice cut through the air, and he glanced officiously at his fancy watch.

  “Of course.”

  I accepted the chair Rhett pulled out for me and opened the book of ideas I’d fashioned for Becca and Keith.

  “You wanted a Japanese cherry blossom inspired wedding, to mirror your backyard, but also to take advantage of the grounds at Thistle Park.” I pulled out a photograph of the gazebo at the back of my property. It was festooned with cherry blossoms and stands of orchids, lit from within by red lacquered lanterns.

  “Oooh . . .” Becca shimmied in her chair as I slid the book toward her. Keith continued to look unimpressed, but I felt all my misgivings melt away. Becca seemed pleased with my vision, and I relaxed by degrees. I was going to give Keith and Becca a beau
tiful day, and maybe earn some karma points.

  Rachel took over the food portion of our planning reveal. “The wedding will be a joint catering effort between our cook and the restaurant Fusion. For appetizers, we’ll have sushi and a variety of spicy spring rolls. Dinner will feature ginger beef short ribs, coconut curry risotto, and Thai chili mint chicken.”

  “And the cake will be a five-tiered cherry and almond vision in pink,” I revealed.

  The doorbell chimed somewhere deep within the house, solemn and gong-like.

  “We’ve arranged for a small replica of the meal from Fusion for you to taste.”

  Rhett licked his lips appreciatively as Rachel and I emerged several minutes later with trays of food bearing appetizer-sized bites of the wedding menu.

  “And what about the dance floor?” Becca set down a half-eaten spring roll and delicately touched the sides of her mouth with a cherry-blossom patterned napkin. “I don’t want just a boring white tent.”

  Ah, that’s more normal.

  Becca’s usual imperious tone had returned. I knew it was only a matter of time.

  “We’ll rent tents with a bamboo thatched roof, and the sides will be mosquito netting,” I smoothly promised. I pulled out the brochure of the company in New York that had agreed to let us rent the tents at extremely short notice. “They will be translucent and will look lovely with the torches we place around the grounds.”

  Becca seemed to love the idea in spite of herself.

  “And what about—”

  “Well, well, what do we have here?”