A Wedding Tail

by Casey Griffin

  She scraped by him, closer than she needed to in order to walk through the door, rubbing her body against his. “Maybe those balls are closer than I thought.” She smiled at him. Not seductively to match her innuendo, but earnestly.

  He must have understood her meaning because his look softened.

  Standing so close to him in the open doorway, she suddenly realized that despite their two steamy encounters, they’d never actually kissed. At least, not on the lips.

  At first, she hadn’t wanted to. She’d thought it was too romantic, too intimate. But suddenly, she found herself leaning toward him, tilting her face up to meet his.

  A smile lit his face and he dipped his head, but just before their lips could touch, they heard a noise nearby.

  Squeak … squeak … squeak … squeak.

  Exchanging a glance, they looked around. The noise was coming from a white van parked three cars down. Even from there they could read the decal on the side. Channel Five News.

  Squeak … squeak … squeak … squeak.

  It rocked gently on its wheels, increasing in tempo as they watched, which could mean only one thing.

  Zoe snickered. “Do you think…?”

  Levi wrinkled his nose. “Holly and the cameraman?”

  They stifled their giggles as the noise persisted, changing in rhythm and gusto. Zoe clutched at her stomach as it began to hurt, bracing herself against the restaurant doorframe. Even Bob and Marilyn who were lingering on the sidewalk had noticed.

  Marilyn clicked her tongue. “Well, I never.”

  The shocked look on Marilyn’s face sent Zoe into a whole new cycle of giggles.

  “Help! Help! Someone call the police!”

  Footsteps slapped the restaurant floor, growing closer. With a look, Levi and Zoe pulled apart and headed back inside to see what the commotion was. A moment later, the server appeared from the back and skidded to a halt in the waiting room.

  “You!” She pointed an accusing finger at Zoe. “You did it, didn’t you?”

  Something red dripped from her hand, blood, Zoe realized.

  “I did what?” Zoe asked. “What’s wrong?”

  “Chef Glazier is dead. And you killed him.”

  23

  Bad Dog

  The wall on the clock ticked loudly, counting the painfully slow minutes as Detective Warner glared at Zoe from across the metal table. She’d been stuck in the room for six hours already, her mind going in circles as she answered questions over and over again. Every once in a while, the detective would leave and come back with a new batch for her. She felt as dizzy as she had on the Pier 39 carousel.

  He tapped his fingers on the table and stared at her expectantly. She thought it must be her turn to start the line of questioning from the top again. “Am I free to go yet?”

  He inhaled, as though he were seriously thinking about it. “There’s still the issue of a dead chef.”

  Zoe moaned, as though she were in physical pain. And she was. After so many hours, the detective’s voice was scratching against her brain like stiff, cheap lace. “I’ve already answered your questions. I’ve told you all that I know. What more do you want?”

  He crossed his arms and sat back to stare at her again, belly protruding above the table. “I’m still not satisfied.”

  She threw her hands up. “You think I killed this guy?”

  “I’m the one asking questions around here, Miss Plum,” he said. He leaned forward, planting his elbows on the table. “How’s business?”

  Zoe blinked at the sudden change in direction. “Okay, I guess.”

  “Now be honest.” He shook a warning finger at her. “Your business hasn’t been doing so great recently. You’ve been losing clients. Isn’t that right?”

  Zoe rolled her eyes. So they had interviewed Chelsea at some point, after all. “Any clients I’ve lost lately has been all Chelsea’s doing. Her and my ex-assistant, who’s now working with her.”

  “So you admit that business has been suffering,” he said, like he’d caught her.

  She shrugged. “Yeah, but I’ll get back on-track soon enough.”

  “Remember that little explosion at your office?”

  “Remember it? I was practically in it.” Now he was really throwing her for a loop. This was the first time he’d brought that up. What was his new angle?

  “Turns out it wasn’t a gas leak,” he said. “It was a bomb, Miss Plum. Someone blew up your office intentionally.”

  She snorted. “I could have told you that.”

  “Of course you could have,” he said. “That’s my point.”

  She held up her hands. “Wait a second. Are you implying that I did this to myself? Why would I blow up my own office when I needed everything in there for events over the next couple of months? Do you have any idea how this has set me back? How much work I have to do to replace everything in time?” She ran her hands through her hair, tugging on her long locks just thinking about it. “Why would I risk my business?”

  “Insurance fraud, Miss Plum. Instant cash in hand.” The detective rubbed his fingers together in her face, close enough that she could smell the stale smoke on them. He must have been going crazy without a cigarette for so long.

  As though reading her mind, he popped a piece of nicotine gum into his mouth. As he chewed, she saw his extra pointy incisors, like some balding, middle-aged vampire. “I called your landlord. He says that you’ve given your notice. That you’re moving in with your mother.”

  “That’s because her finances are a mess, not mine,” Zoe responded coolly, which was getting harder and harder to do as the hours went by. “That and her health has been failing. She needs help—”

  “I called her too,” he cut her off. “She says that everything is just fine.”

  Zoe groaned, exasperated. Thanks, Mom, she thought. “Of course she said that. She’s an incredibly private person. Why would she tell a complete stranger about her life? She barely keeps me informed. Besides what does all this prove?” she asked. “If you think I’m so hard-up for money, why would I do anything else to jeopardize my friend’s upcoming wedding? A good paying gig.”

  With a burst of energy, he stood up, knocking the chair back. “You’ve been losing clients left, right, and center. Your office just blew up, your company van went in for repairs, and you can’t even afford your rent so you have to move in with your mother.” He succinctly summed up each crappy thing going wrong with her life lately, counting each one as he went.

  She crossed her arms. “And I suppose I cut my own brake lines too? What was that? Attempted suicide?”

  “You’re down on your luck,” he said, like he didn’t hear her. “You need this wedding to go well. With all the public exposure for your friend’s big, high-profile wedding, it could really boost your business again.” He smiled like he was rooting for that to happen.

  He circled the table, walking behind her. She spun anxiously in her seat to face him.

  “But everything’s not going perfectly is it, Miss Plum? First the wedding dress, then you blow up the decorations to get the insurance money, and now the caterer goes and tries to put your bride in the hospital. That was the last straw. You lose it. You snap.” He snapped his fingers in her face. “You march into the kitchen—”

  “But I didn’t find Chef Glazier when I was back there,” Zoe interrupted.

  “So you say.” Detective Warner began to pace, as though he was onto something. “Or you did find him and things got out of hand. You argued. It turned physical. Then you grabbed a nearby knife and killed him. In a moment of panic, you dragged the body to the loading bay where you stashed it amongst the storage boxes, then you went back to your tea party like nothing happened.” He spread his hands, like That’s it. I just solved the case. Book her.

  Zoe leaned back in her chair like she was relaxing, taking a page out of Levi’s book. No big deal. She smiled. “That’s a nice story you just made up there. It makes me sound pretty devious.”

>   “You can’t fool me, Miss Plum,” he said. “I have an ex-wife.” Grabbing his chair, he spun it around and straddled it to face her.

  “I didn’t kill him,” she said simply.

  “Then why were your fingerprints on the murder weapon?” At her look of surprise, his incisors flashed. “Ahhh, that’s right. We found your little deposit check stabbed with the knife.”

  “The steak knife? Yeah? So what?” Zoe frowned in confusion. “I was letting him know he was fired. It was my way of sending him a message.”

  “Oh, you sent him a message, all right. It was a little sloppy of you. His DNA was practically still dripping from it when we found it.”

  Her body suddenly grew cold, her fingers and toes tingling. She didn’t feel so relaxed anymore. “What?”

  “His blood, Miss Plum.” He spoke slowly, like she was a complete idiot. “The knife was covered in it. As well as your fingerprints.”

  She remembered seeing the blood on the knife. She’d assumed it was from the steak bites. But there wasn’t that much blood on it. Had some of it been wiped off?

  Leaning forward, she gripped the table like she was going to be sick. “Oh, God. But I-I just found the knife lying on the countertop. I swear—”

  The door to the room burst open. Zoe jumped, tipping over her cup of water. It ran across the table and spilled onto the detective’s lap. He leapt out of his seat, swearing as he tried to wipe it away.

  “I’m in the middle of an interview here,” he barked. “What the hell is going on?” Scowling he turned to the door. His face fell slack when he saw the trim woman walking through the door.

  Without waiting for an invite, she strode across the room, heels clicking on the linoleum floor. “There’s nothing going on because you’re done here.”

  When Detective Warner got to his feet, she towered over him. Fist on her hip, she looked down her nose at him like she ate balding vampires like him for breakfast. She stood between him and Zoe as though protecting her.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me.” The detective turned to Zoe. “I thought finances were tight. How can you afford a lawyer like her?”

  Zoe was still staring at the powerful female like she was Wonder Woman come to save her. “They are. I can’t. I have a lawyer?”

  “Michelle Johnson with Wright Law Office.” She held out a hand.

  Zoe shook it a little robotically. “How—?”

  She smiled at Zoe’s reaction. “Aiden Caldwell sent me.”

  Of course, she thought. She should have lawyered-up immediately once it was clear where the detective’s finger was pointing, but she supposed she hadn’t thought of it. Why should she need a lawyer? She was innocent. She had nothing to hide. At least she hadn’t thought so, but it seemed they were finding enough dirt on her.

  “Don’t say anything more,” she told Zoe.

  Detective Warner barked a laugh. “She’s said plenty enough already.”

  “Well, unless she’s said, ‘I’m guilty,’ then I assume ‘plenty’ isn’t quite enough.” She stared down at the detective while he sucked on his teeth.

  Finally, as though he were agreeing to a colonoscopy, he waved a hand at Zoe. “You’re free to go.”

  Zoe got to her feet. “Really?”

  He pointed a stern finger at her. “Don’t leave town.”

  Michelle gestured to Zoe’s cup sitting on the table. “Take that with you. They can get your prints off of it after you leave.”

  Zoe grabbed it and followed her lawyer out of the room. “But I already gave them my fingerprints.” She wondered if she shouldn’t have done that. She really should have called a lawyer sooner, but she’d used her one phone call to make sure someone checked in on her mom.

  “That’s fine,” Michelle said. “But you don’t want to give them anything else.”

  Zoe nodded, assuming she meant saliva or something.

  Once they were both standing in the reception area, Michelle gave her a business card. “Go home. Get some rest. I’ll speak to you first thing in the morning. Do not discuss the incident with anyone.”

  Zoe nodded numbly. She liked this woman. Focused, direct, confident. Everything she didn’t feel herself at the moment.

  By the time she got her purse back and signed some papers, the clock on the wall said it was seven o’clock. As she was pulling her cell phone out to call a cab, she was accosted from behind.

  Arms wrapped around her, squeezing her like bridal undergarments. She gasped and spun around.

  “Zoe!” It was Addison. “Oh, my gosh. Are you okay?”

  Zoe gripped Addison’s sweatshirt, relieved beyond words to see a friend after that experience. But instead of admitting that, she said, “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “They didn’t try to throw you in the slammer?”

  “No.” Zoe couldn’t help but laugh. “They just interrogated me.”

  Addison gave her a serious look. “How does it feel, you know, now that you’re on the other side of the law?”

  “I didn’t break any laws, Addy.”

  “Oh, I know that.” Her one eye closed in ridiculously slow wink.

  “No winking. Stop that.” She swatted at her. “I never killed the chef. You actually think I’m capable of that?”

  “No way. I’m totally behind you a hundred percent.” She gave another wink. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do for you. Just name it. A file baked in a cake, boxes of cigarettes for trade, conjugal visits.”

  Zoe’s shoulders relaxed as she exhaled in a half-laugh half-sigh. Addison was obviously trying to cheer her up. “Thanks. I appreciate it. How about we start with a ride?”

  “That I can do,” she said. “And no law-breaking necessary.”

  Zoe glanced sidelong at her as they descended the front steps of the precinct. “You seem to forget that I’ve seen how you drive.”

  Addison just laughed but didn’t deny the insinuation.

  “Did someone check on my mom or Freddy?”

  “Yes. Freddy is fine but missing you. And Piper went to your mom’s earlier, and she’s all good.”

  Zoe thought that if she wasn’t okay, she likely wouldn’t say anything to Piper or anyone else for that matter. “Do you mind if we check in on her on the way to pick up my van?”

  “Of course. And don’t worry. She knows we were all brought in for questioning, so she doesn’t know you’re suspect numero uno.”

  “Good.” Zoe thought the stress of that news might actually kill her mother on the spot.

  As soon as Zoe crawled into Addison’s Mini convertible, she called Aiden and Piper and thanked them profusely for the help. When she got to her childhood home—or rather, her future one—her mom seemed to be in relatively good spirits for someone whose daughter was involved in a murder investigation. And even more so when she asked about Zoe’s date with Taichi.

  Maybe it was her guilt about being the kind of daughter who gets arrested on suspicion of murder, but she told her it went very well.

  Naturally, she was pressed about marriage, and Zoe, very honestly, told her mother that she was considering it. Which was completely true, just maybe not to Taichi. But she’d give her mother another week out of the hospital before she had that talk.

  By the time Zoe trudged up the stairs to her apartment, she was not only facing a possible future of incarceration for a crime she didn’t commit, but if that didn’t happen, she’d be consulting the koyomi to determine the best day to get married to Taichi. She didn’t know which was worse.

  But assuming Aiden’s kick-ass lawyer could keep her out of jail for the next week, she still had a wedding to plan, which also meant finding a replacement chef—a live one. That’s if whoever was out there trying to take her down didn’t get to her first.

  She wondered if the sesame-seed poisoning was connected to all the other recent incidents somehow. Was someone trying to discredit her as a planner? Maybe it was a way to get rid of her as competition. To create bad press in the m
edia about her biggest wedding of the year?

  The only person who might have sent Holly there at just the right time—or the worst—would have been Natalie. But then there was the whole murder aspect. Natalie wasn’t capable of that, surely. Zoe recalled how she’d cowered simply from Zoe’s presence in her office.

  At the thought of competition, Chelsea popped into her mind. Was she capable of murdering the chef? Maybe it had been Juliet. Maybe everyone was about tit for tat lately.

  As she slid her key into the lock, all she wanted was to fall into bed with Freddy and at least a dozen Fuzzy Friends to keep her company. But when she opened her front door, she had more company than she’d expected.

  A figure stood on the other side waiting for her. She gasped and opened her mouth to scream, but the sound was suddenly blocked by a mouth against hers. Levi’s mouth.

  Her scream turned into a moan as he sucked hungrily on her lips. Not removing his mouth from hers, he pulled her inside.

  Shoving the door closed with his foot, he backed her up against the door. His body pressed against her like he didn’t want to leave an inch of space between them. And neither did she.

  She’d held him at a distance for so long, refused to let him near. Now she wanted to get her fill of him, gorge like a bride after a hardcore wedding diet.

  Zoe ran her hands around the back of his head and gripped his hair, pulling his face, his kisses, closer. He grunted and drove his tongue into her mouth greedily. She met it with her own, wanting to taste him, to have every part of him inside of her. She wanted it all.

  It must have been her moaning as he rubbed against her, or maybe her panting as she lost herself in the make out session, but Freddy began to bark wildly like she was being attacked.

  Reluctantly, Levi pulled away. Even in the dim entryway, Zoe could see the lust in his eyes as they scraped over every inch of her, like he’d thought he’d never see her again.

  When Freddy’s barking died down, Zoe said, “I’ve been wanting to do that since this afternoon.”