I wondered if the wedding planner was really named Ms. White or if that was simply a way of fitting her into the bridal theme. The color white was really big here. In addition to the white gowns that were the focus of every photograph, bouquets of fragrant white flowers were enthroned everywhere. A glass case displayed white veils, white satin pillows for the wedding rings, and white garters. Even the china cups next to the complimentary cappuccino machine were a pristine white.
All resemblance to things innocent ended in the person of Ms. White, however. Even though she was barely out of her twenties, Ms. White reminded me of those tough career women in the films of the 1940s, combining the ruthless efficiency of Joan Crawford with the formidable shoulder pads of Rosalind Russell.
It was clearly an image she cultivated. Her tailored navy blue suit was as crisp as her manner. Her hair, an oversized, platinum blond puff that made her look like she was walking—literally—with her head in the clouds, looked solid enough to withstand a tornado.
She stuck out her hand. “I’m Caroline White. And you are . . . ?”
“Jessica Popper.” As I shook her hand, I was careful to avoid her bright red fingernails, filed so sharply I was sure they had to be registered with the police.
“Have a seat, Jessica. First of all, congratulations.”
It took me a few awkward seconds to figure out what she could possibly be referring to. “Oh. Of course. Yes. Thank you.”
“You’re about to start planning the most important, most meaningful, most romantic day of your life. It’s one that will live on in your heart like nothing else, a reminder of the most important thing we have as human beings here on this earth: Love.” Ms. White clasped her hands in front of her and sighed. “Now, what kind of budget are we talking?”
“Uh, I don’t know. Modest, I suppose.”
“You don’t have even a ballpark figure?”
“I’m sorry. I’ve never done this before.”
“No problem. Let’s start planning the details and we’ll see how it plays out. Have you picked a date yet?”
For the next twenty minutes, I answered relentless questions about my taste in flowers, pasta, music, wine, and ice sculpture. We even tackled the critical flowers-versus-balloons centerpiece issue. I must admit, I put together a pretty nice affair, even though it was all a pipe dream. Just picturing Jimmy Nolan in a tuxedo, leading a conga line with Betty right behind him and me next in line, all decked out in white, burst the bubble so quickly I could practically feel a thin film of soap on my face.
I was wondering how I was ever going to slip Tommee Frack into the conversation when Ms. White said, “I almost forgot to ask. How did you happen to choose Hallsworth Hall?”
“A friend recommended it. In fact, she couldn’t say enough about it.” I paused for effect. “Barbara Delmonico?”
I had difficulty reading the look that crossed her face.
“Maybe you don’t remember her,” I persisted. “You must deal with so many brides.”
“Oh, I definitely remember her. The Delmonico-Frack wedding.”
“So you do remember!”
“Of course. It’s so tragic. I’m truly sorry for your friend’s loss.”
“Thank you. Barbara’s devastated, of course. Has she contacted you about canceling? She’s been so grief-stricken, I wouldn’t be surprised if—”
“The wedding was already canceled.”
“I see. So someone did contact you after Mr. Frack was killed.”
“No, before that. The nuptials were canceled before that. Before Mr. Frack’s untimely passing.”
I blinked. “Excuse me?”
Caroline White looked puzzled. “Barbara didn’t tell you? I thought you said you two were friends.”
“We are friends. Close friends. But no, she didn’t say anything. Of course, I haven’t seen much of her these last few weeks. I’ve, uh, been doing quite a bit of traveling.”
I was struggling to digest what I was hearing. It wasn’t easy acting normal when I felt as if someone had just thrown a bucket of icy water over me. The wedding had been canceled before Tommee Frack’s murder. Which meant Barbara Delmonico hadn’t been his fiancée when he died.
“But now that you’ve told me,” I floundered, “it does explain a lot. Poor Barbara! She has seemed awfully depressed lately. Even before Tommee—several of our mutual friends commented on it to me. Do you happen to know exactly when the wedding was canceled?”
“I can look it up for you.”
She pulled the oversized date book that sat at the edge of her tremendous desk toward her. Even though her scarlet fingernails were as long as a mandarin’s, she deftly flipped through it, running a single talon down each page before moving on to the next.
“Here we are. November first.”
Two days before Tommee’s murder.
“They lost the whole deposit. It was a considerable amount of money. But with the wedding scheduled just a few weeks off . . . Well, of course it was too late for me to book another event in that slot. No way, not on such short notice. I’m running a business here, not a club for bleeding hearts.”
I doubted anyone would ever think that.
“Still, I felt bad for Ms. Delmonico. When she called to tell me the wedding was off, I mean. Personally, I didn’t understand what she saw in Mr. Frack, but if I had a nickel for every time that was true . . .
“Anyway, she wanted everything to be perfect. Every bride does, but I could see how much even the tiniest details mattered to her. She insisted that everything be classy. That was exactly the word she kept using.”
“I don’t suppose she gave a reason? For the cancellation, I mean?”
“To tell you the truth, she was crying so hard, I could barely understand her. But it always boils down to the same thing, doesn’t it? The bastard was leaving her at the altar.”
She stiffened. “Maybe you shouldn’t say anything to her. If she never mentioned it to anyone, not even her closest friends, maybe it was just too—you know, upsetting. And now that her fiancé is gone anyway—”
“I won’t say a word. Promise.” I was shaking as I stood up. “You’ve certainly given me a lot to think about. For my own wedding, I mean. If you don’t mind, I’d like to run some of these ideas by my fiancé.”
“Of course. What’s his name?”
I could have given her any name. But I gave the first one that popped into my head. “Nick Burby.”
She wrote it down, damn her.
“Here’s my card, Jessica. Call me when you and Nick have worked out the details. And I urge you to think about the balloon archway. It’s extremely effective, especially when you combine the white balloons with a pastel color. It can be breathtaking.”
“I’m sure. Thanks for your time. I’ll be in touch.”
Even without a canopy of pastel balloons hovering over me, I could scarcely breathe as I made my way out of Hallsworth Hall to my car. It was already dark, and I walked quickly, constantly looking around to see if anyone was following me. I checked both my windshield and the backseat of my car before getting in, then locked the doors as soon as I was inside.
Yet as I headed home, something other than my newfound wariness of dark, deserted parking lots kept my heart pounding furiously: the tidbit of information I’d just scrounged.
Tommee Frack had canceled his wedding. Just weeks before the big event. After the invitations had been sent out and every last expensive, classy detail had been planned, he’d pulled the plug.
Chapter 16
“In a cat’s eyes, all things belong to cats.”
—English Proverb
I drove straight to Nick’s office.
I knew I was taking a chance. Maybe even being unfair. But whatever had happened between us personally, Nick had promised to help me with the murder investigation. As long as we stuck to business, I told myself, we’d be fine.
Just as I expected, he looked surprised to see me. A little nervous, too, as if he weren’t
sure what to make of my sudden appearance.
“Hello, Jessie.” Even the tone of his voice warned me he was keeping his distance. “What brings you here today?”
“I need you.”
In response to his look of astonishment, I hastily added, “For the investigation.”
Did I just imagine that a look of disappointment crossed his face?
“I think I may have found the murderer, and it would really help me if you were there when I talk to one of the key witnesses. I could use some moral support, not to mention your expertise.” I hesitated, then reminded him, “You did say you’d help . . . if nothing else, to save me from myself.”
He shrugged, but his eyes had turned cold. “You’re right. I’m in.”
“Great.”
“So?”
“So . . . what?”
“Aren’t you leaving something out?”
“Oh. Sorry! Thank you.”
“That’s not what I meant. I meant, So who’s the murderer?”
I took a deep breath. “Nick, I just learned that Tommee canceled his wedding at the beginning of November.”
“I see. Tommee backs out of the wedding, and a few days later he shows up dead in the woods.”
“Exactly. The more I think about it, the more it seems likely that someone murdered him in a fit of rage. To me, leaving the body dumped in the woods like that says the killing had to be more emotional than calculated. I mean, it was so . . . artless. So sloppy. Whoever murdered Tommee had to be out of their mind because he—or she—had so terribly much to lose. You know I’ve had my suspicions about Barbara Delmonico almost since the beginning. I just couldn’t figure out a motive. Now, we’ve got one.”
“Makes sense to me.”
I flashed him a grateful smile. “I want you to come with me to talk to a woman named Claudia Martin. She’s one of Barbara’s close friends. I believe we can catch her at her place of employment. I promise you’re not looking at hard duty.”
As we pulled into the parking lot of the Silk ’N’ Satin Lounge in Nick’s Maxima, I thought the place looked a little less seedy in the darkness of early evening. Then again, the silhouette of the surgically improved woman was outlined in red neon that kept blinking on and off—a special touch I’d been spared the last time I’d visited.
As Nick and I walked inside, I didn’t see the owner of the Hot Girlz car anywhere. Instead, a beefy guy who looked like he was moonlighting from the WWF blocked the doorway. From the way he eyed me, I got the feeling women weren’t exactly regular customers here at the Silk ’N’ Satin.
“Can I help you?” he growled.
“I’m a friend of Claudia—uh, Peaches. She asked me to stop by this evening. We have something important to discuss.” I tried to sound authoritative.
“We got a show startin’ in a coupla minutes.”
“We’ll be quick, I promise,” I assured him.
“Yeah, well, I’m not supposed to let anybody in.”
“But Peaches is expecting us!”
“I realize this is an imposition, barging in like this,” Nick interposed. “By the way, I’m Nick Burby.” He reached over to shake the hulk’s hand. “Listen, we’d really appreciate your help.”
“Well . . . aw right. But you gotta be outta there by the time the show starts.”
He stepped aside reluctantly to let us pass. As soon as we were out of earshot, I said, “I think I handled that rather well.”
“Right. Although the twenty I slipped him might have helped.”
“You didn’t have to do that! I was doing just fine without the benefit of bribery!”
“Sometimes bribery is your best bet.”
“Maybe that’s how you operate, but I—”
I never got to finish my sentence. As soon as I pushed back the black velvet curtain, I’d completely lost my audience.
There was no way I could compete with the topless and practically bottomless woman standing in front of us. Her breasts were the size of honeydew melons. I glanced over at Nick. He wasn’t trying nearly as hard as I was to look away.
“Nick,” I whispered, jabbing him with my elbow, hard. “We’re here on business, remember?”
He just made an odd choking sound.
The nearly naked woman cast us an accusing look. “I swear, if I find out who took my mortadella. . . . Either of you guys seen it?”
Nick opened his mouth, as if attempting to reply. No words came out.
I glared at him, then asked politely, “What exactly are you looking for?”
“My mortadella,” she repeated impatiently. “It’s an Italian sausage. Tonight, I’m doing a tribute to international meats. You know, bratwurst, salami, chorizo, kielbasa? Anyway, after starting with a knockwurst and two dumplings, I was planning to move right on to my mortadella. And now, four minutes before show time, I find out somebody swiped the damn thing! You sure you haven’t seen it?”
I shook my head helplessly.
“Great. Just great.” She bounced off in disgust. As she turned her back on us, she afforded us a different view. This one appeared to have the same effect on Nick.
“Take deep breaths,” I instructed snidely, and pushed ahead.
Two giggling women emerged from the dressing room. One was completely nude except for a large red satin ribbon that was tied around her as if she were a package. In my opinion, she could have used a little wrapping paper.
The other one wore a leopard print G-string and a pith helmet. I did a double take.
“Claudia?”
I wasn’t certain the face beneath the shiny red lipstick, glittery emerald eyeshadow, and false eyelashes as thick as fringe belonged to the same woman I’d spoken to six days earlier.
“Oh, hi, Dr. P!” she returned cheerfully. “Nice to see you again!” Without the least bit of self-consciousness, she struck a pose. “How do you like the new outfit? I decided the Alice Cooper thing was getting old. This is a much cleaner look, don’t you think?”
I felt she used the term “outfit” a bit loosely, but I simply nodded. “Very nice.”
“Do you like it?” she asked Nick.
His answer was written all over his face. I suspected there was other bodily evidence of his approval, but I wasn’t about to check.
“Uh, yeah,” he muttered. “They’re terrific. I mean, it’s terrific.”
She beamed. “Thanks.” Glancing back at me, she confided, “I always like to get the male opinion, y’know?”
“Excuse me,” the other woman, the gift-wrapped one, said. “I just gotta get through here.”
“Oh, sure.” I pressed myself against the wall to let her pass. Nick did the same. But the hallway was narrow, and she had no choice but to brush against us as she slithered by.
When I looked up at Nick, his face was as red as her satin ribbon.
“This is Nick Burby,” I told Claudia. I figured the polite thing to do was introduce him before he passed out. “He’s, uh, a friend. I know your show’s about to begin, but I was wondering if you had a minute.”
Claudia looked around uncertainly. “I guess. I mean, I usually like to take some time to focus just before I go on. I need to prepare for my performance mentally . . . But, sure, honey. I got a few minutes.”
I was relieved when she led us into the dressing room and immediately pulled on a robe. Nick looked a lot better, too. His breathing actually seemed to have returned to normal.
“Look, Claudia—I wasn’t completely honest with you the last time we talked,” I began. “It’s true that I’m a veterinarian, and I really am a friend of Marcus Scruggs, but I wasn’t here because of him or the snakes. I came to get information about Barbara Delmonico. Nick is a private investigator. We’re trying to find out what we can about the Frack murder.”
Even with all that makeup, I saw the color drain from her face.
“Oh, geez.” Claudia sank onto the stool, suddenly looking more like a rag doll than a Barbie doll.
“It’s better than
the police finding out and turning it into something worse than it is,” Nick added.
“Think of your little boy,” I urged gently. “Why don’t you just tell us what you know about Barbara and Tommee?”
“I guess I don’t have much of a choice, do I?” She cast each of us a long, woeful look, then took a deep breath. “Okay. When I told you last time that Barb and I weren’t friends anymore, that wasn’t exactly the truth . . . I mean, we did lose touch for a while. The whole time she was planning her wedding, she didn’t want anything to do with me or anybody else from this place. But as soon as her world fell apart, she showed up here again, looking for moral support from her old friends.”
“When did you see her again?” I asked.
“It was a Friday. I know that because I’d come to the club in the middle of the afternoon to pick up my paycheck, like I do every week. Barb knew I’d be here around two, since that’s the time I always come. See, my son’s day care ends at three.”
“Was that the Friday before Tommee Frack’s murder?” Nick asked.
Claudia looked at us miserably. “Yeah.”
“And what exactly did she say?”
“She told me she’d canceled the wedding.”
“She canceled the wedding?” I yelped.
Claudia nodded. “I’d never seen her so upset. And even though I’d always had the feeling she was only after the guy’s dough, I still felt bad for her when I saw how tore up she was. I mean, whether she loved Frack or not, she’d decided that he was the one she wanted.”
“Then why did she cancel the wedding?” I asked.
Her eyes darted between Nick and me. “This is the really hard part. But like I said, I guess I better come clean, before somebody figures I’ve been withholding information or something. Like you said, I got a kid to think of, right?”
“You’re being smart,” Nick reassured her. “Given what’s happened, you have nothing to gain by protecting Barbara. Not if you know something that’s important to the investigation.”
Claudia hesitated. Then she said softly, “She told me Tommee had been involved in some bad stuff, and she’d just found out that he’d decided to come clean. She—”
Dead Canaries Don't Sing Page 25
