Just Murdered dj-4

by Elaine Viets

  “Because Phil may be telling the truth. Kendra could have ambushed him. It’s possible she heard you come in and threw herself at him. She knew how you’d react.”

  “What were they doing together in the bedroom with the door closed?” Helen asked.

  “She could have shut it when she heard you stumbling around in the living room. Was the door closed all the way?”

  “I don’t know. Is it important?”

  “Yes,” Margery said. “Try to visualize the scene.”

  Helen took another slug of wine to fortify herself. She closed her eyes and replayed one of the more embarrassing moments in her life. She saw herself chucking her clothes and heading for Phil’s bedroom. She felt her hand on his doorknob. It opened at her touch. She didn’t have to turn it.

  “It was closed, but not completely shut. It wasn’t locked, that’s for sure.”

  “How close was Kendra to the door?” Margery said.

  Helen saw a fiery waterfall of hair and a short black skirt. “I almost hit her with it. I wished I had.”

  “The only thing he’s guilty of is stupidity,” Margery said. “Phil was duped.”

  “I don’t understand,” Helen said. “He’s a private detective. He’s done undercover work with mob bosses and drug dealers, but he’s outsmarted by his ex-wife?”

  “Yep,” Margery said. “That takes a different kind of smarts.”

  She poured Helen more wine. “You’re going to need courage. I gather your marriage wasn’t the best. It gets harder to love as you get older. Your new man has to live with the mistakes of the old—and he doesn’t even know it. Don’t make Phil pay for something your ex-husband did.”

  Helen wanted to believe her. But she saw herself slut naked in front of Kendra.

  Her heart shriveled with shame.

  Chapter 18

  The bride was a young Grace Kelly in a simple white strapless gown.

  “She’s beautiful!” Millicent said.

  Molly was touchingly, heartbreakingly beautiful. The pale blonde was alight with love. Molly’s mother was as handsome as Chanel and a good salon could make her, but she’d never been as lovely as her daughter. Now maternal pride made her beautiful, too.

  While Helen buttoned the bride into the gown and Millicent pinned the hem, Molly talked about Eric, the accountant she was marrying in four months.

  “Last night, Eric brought me a rose and teddy bear for our anniversary,” she said.

  “Which anniversary is this?” Helen asked.

  “We’d been engaged exactly one hundred eighteen days, six hours, and seven minutes. Eric doesn’t like to celebrate conventional dates. Eric says . . .”

  Molly’s mother interrupted the Eric ecstasies. “Put on the veil, please, so I can see the full effect.”

  Millicent dusted off her knees, stood up, and pinned the gossamer veil to the bride’s chignon. It floated around her, a silken aura. Molly did a dramatic twirl that ended in a happy little skip.

  Two tears ran down her mother’s cheeks. “My baby is really getting married,” she said. “It wasn’t a wedding dress until you put on the veil.”

  Millicent wiped her own eyes with a red-lacquered nail. This tender scene seemed to erase all the hysteria, fights, and harsh words heard in her salon. “This is why I sell bridal gowns,” she said.

  Helen felt tears forming, too, but hers were bitter. She ran for the small dressing room, locked herself in, and wept silently. She cried for Kiki, who could only compete with her daughter. She cried for Desiree, who had oceans of money and not a drop of her mother’s love. She cried for Molly and the inevitable loss of her young love. She hoped it would change into something strong and mature.

  Finally, Helen cried for the woman she used to be, the one who wanted to love Rob forever and fled when that love failed. The woman whose life was shattered again last night.

  Then she shook herself like a wet dog, blew her nose, and decided she’d had enough dramatics.

  Helen could not believe that Millicent, who wept for her beautiful brides, was a murderer. It didn’t make sense. Helen’s brain had been infected by her dinner with Desiree.

  I have Mad Bride Disease, she thought. The craziness that affects weddings has seeped into my head. Helen had seen perfectly normal women have fits because their bridesmaid dresses were the wrong shade of cranberry. I’m the wackiest of all, if I think Millicent is a killer. The only cure was to prove Millicent was innocent. Maybe her appointment book would say where she was the night of the rehearsal dinner.

  Millicent was still working with Molly and her mother. Helen slipped into the back office and checked the appointment book. It was blank for that Friday.

  Then Helen opened the filing cabinet and pulled out Kiki’s folder. The bills were staggering: almost seventy thousand dollars, including the special-order dresses, express delivery, and seamstress overtime. She found a copy of Kiki’s check for half the amount, but no other record of payment.

  Then she found one other thing: an application for a home-equity credit line on Millicent’s home. She’d mortgaged her house to front this order. Helen had Millicent’s motive for murder.

  She put the file back, then pulled it out again and wiped it with a clean cloth. If the cops arrested Millicent for murder, she didn’t want her prints on the papers. Next she wiped down the file cabinet. She hoped Windex killed fingerprints.

  “Good!” Millicent was standing in the doorway. “This office needs dusting. I’m glad you’re doing it.”

  “I’ll stay back here for a bit,” Helen said. Her heart was beating so fast she was afraid she’d slide onto the floor. “Yell if you need me out front.”

  As soon as Millicent went back to work, Helen called Jeff. There was nothing odd about that. Bridal salons and wedding planners talked constantly. Besides, Jeff was so soothing and sensitive.

  “Oh, my God, Helen, are you all right? Did you survive that horrible, horrible day?”

  “I’m fine, Jeff,” Helen said. But she couldn’t keep the weariness from her voice. “It was bad, wasn’t it?”

  “That poor family.” Helen could see Jeff’s boyish face.

  Even his freckles would seem sympathetic. “I feel so bad for them. When I came home, I told my partner, Andy, don’t expect me to cook for you tonight, because I am wiped out. Andy called for Chinese takeout and then he rubbed my feet. I hope your honey did something special for you.”

  “Very special,” Helen said. “He made sure I went out and had a few drinks.”

  I’m not lying, she thought. After I met up with Phil’s almost ex-wife, I ran out and got plastered.

  “Aren’t we lucky? Both of us?”

  “Yeah, Jeff, real lucky. I’ve been wondering about something ever since the police questioned me.”

  “How long did they keep you there, Helen? The police let me leave about two.”

  “Till five o’clock.”

  “That’s terrible. I made the calls about the reception and then I gave that cute Detective McIntyre my name and phone number. Don’t get me wrong, Andy’s a keeper, but the cop was a hunk-a-rama. His mustache is like a little pet.”

  Jeff’s voice became confiding. “You do know the family canceled the reception?”

  “That must have cost a fortune,” Helen said.

  “One-ninety a plate for four hundred people. The family will have to eat all of it.”

  Helen saw Desiree, Luke, and Brendan stuffing down hundreds of dinners.

  “I mean the cost, not the food,” Jeff said. “They wanted to donate the food to a homeless shelter, but the hotel insurance and the health department regulations wouldn’t allow it.

  “Still, canceling that reception was the right thing to do. They couldn’t be dining and dancing with that poor woman murdered.”

  “One-ninety a person,” Helen said. “You must be some planner. What were you serving for a dollar ninety—peanut butter? My wedding buffet was fifteen a person almost twenty years ago.”

&n
bsp; “You’re such a kidder,” Jeff said. “You know it’s a hundred and ninety dollars a person.”

  Helen did the math. The reception dinner would come to almost eighty thousand dollars with taxes and tips. That would buy a nice condo.

  “I know some people think that’s a lot of money,” Jeff said.

  Like me, Helen thought. Nearly six years’ salary for one dinner.

  “But they don’t understand. Desiree is a princess and a royal wedding must have a feast. It’s expected in their position.”

  Poor Desiree. A princess could not have a private life.

  A few notes of the Wedding March chimed in the background. “Oops,” Jeff said. “Here comes another bride. Gotta go.”

  “Wait! Jeff! Do you know who locked the church Friday night and opened it Saturday morning?”

  “I know Kiki had the key. She paid some huge deposit for it. She said she had to go back there for a little something after the rehearsal dinner.”

  Yeah, Helen thought. Little Jason.

  “I assumed she’d lock up after that. She was going to send someone to open the church for me at six a.m. I found the door open when I got there.”

  There was a loud silence.

  “Helen, do you think it was open all night?”

  “I do,” she said.

  One call down, one question answered. But before Helen could do more investigating, she had to deal with more customers. Millicent was caught up in the bridal chaos. She even smiled when Cassie came in, towing a short, shy woman.

  “This is my Aunt Nita!!” Cassie said. “She wants to see my dream dress. Nita’s like my second mom. I couldn’t buy it unless she approved.”

  Helen hauled the wedding gown back to the dressing room one more time. Maybe she should just leave it there, Cassie was in so often showing it off.

  “Aunt Nita loves it!!” Cassie said, when she came out of the dressing room. Aunt Nita nodded and smiled, but stayed silent. “I just have to show my dream dress to one more person!!” And she was out the door, Aunt Nita obediently following.

  “Her dream dress is turning into my nightmare,” Helen said.

  “She’ll buy,” Millicent said.

  It was another hour before Helen was free to call the Shakespeare Playhouse office.

  “We can always use volunteers,” said the woman who answered the phone. “In fact, could you usher this evening?”

  Helen was startled. “So soon? Well, uh—”

  “If you can’t, we’ll try to find someone else. We’ve had two ushers call in sick.”

  “No, of course, I’ll be there.”

  “Good. Wear a black skirt or pants and a white blouse. Be here at six.”

  Helen checked the time: twelve forty-five. Perfect. She called the law offices of the bride’s father. “Could I speak to Donna Sue Hawser?”

  She was transferred twice before she heard, “Donna Sue here.”

  “My name is Helen Hawthorne. I saw you last night at the theater. I just wanted to tell you that you were terrific as the queen.”

  “Really? Why that’s so nice. But how did you get my number?”

  “From Desiree.” It was only a little lie.

  Helen waited for the telltale silence, but there wasn’t any. Donna Sue apparently liked the bride. “Well, wasn’t that sweet? That poor little thing. There she is, her mother just buried, and she took time to compliment me.”

  That wasn’t quite how it went, but Helen didn’t straighten her out. “I was so impressed, I’m volunteering. I’m ushering tonight.”

  “Good. Although with Luke out of the show, we may not get the crowd we had last night. So what can I do for you?”

  Helen took a deep breath. This was the big lie. “I talked with Desiree and Luke the other night. They asked me to look into their mother’s death.”

  Well, they had.

  “Isn’t Luke the greatest actor?”

  “Yes,” Helen said, glad to be telling the truth again. “I wondered if I could come talk to you.”

  “Are you like a private detective or something?”

  “Yes,” Helen said. She was something, all right.

  “And you’re definitely helping Desiree?”

  “Trying to,” Helen said.

  “Well, I’m in favor of that. I think what her father did is rotten. Why don’t you meet me in half an hour at the office? We can talk in the conference room. He’ll be out until two thirty.”

  Helen hung up. That was one strange conversation.

  The office of Shenrad and Gandolf, known to insiders as Shag and Gonef, looked like a men’s club with filing cabinets. Helen wondered what the attorneys told the decorator when they ordered dark wood and wing chairs: “I want a law office that looks so successful I can charge four hundred an hour.”

  Donna Sue was about ten years older than she’d seemed onstage: fifty-something with thick dark hair going gray and good cheekbones. She’d been heavily made up for the play. Today she wore only a little lipstick. Her gray eyes were startling. Her skin was acnescarred, the occupational hazard of stage makeup.

  Helen poured on the praise. “You were a brave queen. That was a nice bit with the lace handkerchief. You were good.”

  “Thanks,” Donna Sue said. “Excuse the salad. This is my lunch hour.” Helen’s stomach growled. This interview and an energy bar were her lunch.

  “I’m proud to be part of the production,” Donna Sue said. “But it won’t be the same without Luke. He’s special. He left to do that movie with Michael Mann. Some people get all the breaks.”

  “You didn’t,” Helen said. “You’re good enough for New York.”

  Donna Sue colored with pleasure. “I used to think so. But I fell in love with a lawyer in Lauderdale. I put him through school and he dumped me. The old story. You can’t go to New York with two kids. I’m getting back to acting now that my youngest is in college.

  “I’m sure you didn’t come to hear about me. I want to be up-front with you. I’m leaving here. I’ve got a better job. I want to help that poor little girl. She’s always been nice to me, unlike some people I could name. It’s so unfair. She’s his daughter, after all. She can’t help who her mother is.”

  Helen began verbally feeling around. “I was at the wedding. I found her mother’s body at the church.”

  Donna Sue’s eyes grew wide. “You did?” She lowered her voice. “Was it horrible? Was there lots of blood?”

  “Kiki didn’t look bad,” Helen said. “She was definitely dead and she wasn’t prettied up like at a funeral parlor, but she wasn’t horrible.”

  Helen saw that rigid corpse again, the clipped claws reaching for her, and shuddered.

  “Are you cold?” Donna Sue said. “I swear the men in this office turn the air-conditioning up till it’s a meat locker.”

  “No,” Helen said. “I lied. There wasn’t any blood, but finding her was still awful. It makes me shiver just thinking about it. The day before Kiki had been so alive.”

  “And driving everyone crazy.”

  “You knew her?” Helen said.

  “I knew she called Mr. Shenrad twenty times a day and chewed him out,” Donna Sue said. “He had his new wife screaming at him on line one and his old wife yelling at him on line two.”

  “What was his new wife screaming about?” Helen wondered if Donna Sue would hesitate to reveal inner-office secrets.

  “Money,” Donna Sue said. She must really be ticked at Brendan. “Shannon, his new wife, didn’t get enough. She didn’t get enough of something else, either, if you ask me. Brendan fired the pool service a couple of months ago. Said the guy didn’t need to come to his house twice a week. Shannon came here nearly hysterical. You could hear them arguing all over the office.”

  My, my. Brendan had himself a regular soap opera.

  Donna Sue had a Shakespearean interest in murder. “Was anyone around when you found the body? Did people scream and faint?” Her eyes were bright with curiosity.

  “The whol
e wedding party was there,” Helen said. “The bride, the groom, Mr. Shenrad. Everyone was screaming. I felt so sorry for Mr. Shenrad. It must have been a terrible shock.”

  “Are you kidding?” Donna Sue said. “He practically did cartwheels around this office.”

  “I know Kiki’s death saved him a bundle,” Helen said. “And he gave her a lot of money to get free.”

  “He owed her, you ask me,” Donna Sue said. “He left Kiki for a trophy wife twenty years younger. He gave Kiki a big settlement and the house. But it wasn’t just the divorce. Brendan has been teetering on the verge of bankruptcy for months. I was afraid he’d close the office with no warning. That’s when I started looking. Friday’s my last day, and good riddance.”

  “Brendan has money trouble?” Helen asked. “How did that happen? I thought lawyers were money machines.” She thought she’d get more information playing dumb.

  “They are,” Donna Sue said. “Especially class-action lawyers like him. But he spends it as fast as he makes it. Private jet, a yacht, a shooting lodge in North Carolina. All the lawyer toys plus an expensive young wife. The yacht’s for sale now, if you have a spare million.”

  “I don’t get my commission money until Friday,” Helen said.

  Donna Sue laughed. “Brendan was doing okay until three months ago, when he lost this big securities case. He thought it was a sure-bet win. He’d spent several million lining up clients and running ads on TV. You know the kind.”

  She intoned: “If you’ve been ripped off by your brokerage firm, we can help. Call 1-800—”

  Donna Sue went back to her regular voice. “He needed money and Kiki was driving him to bankruptcy. On top of all he’d shelled out for the settlement, he agreed to pay half his daughter’s wedding expenses. He expected the wedding to cost about two hundred thousand, but Kiki ran the bills past three hundred thousand dollars, with no end in sight.

  “Kiki signed for everything for that wedding. All the bills. Florist, hotel, limos, you name it. The two of them were supposed to split the cost, but her signature was on the receipts. Now Brendan says there’s nothing in writing, so Kiki’s estate will have to pick up the whole wedding tab.”