For Better or Hearse

by Laura Durham

  “Where’s Buster?” Kate looked around.

  “He’s somewhere behind me with the top of the chuppah.” Mack sagged against the iron stand, his face flushed pink. I guess black leather didn’t breathe very well. “I lost him at a cross walk.”

  “You just missed Nadine,” I said. “The wedding party walked down the street to catch cabs to the rehearsal dinner.”

  Mack darted his eyes around him. “That was a close one. I don’t know if I could handle the Southern belle from hell right now.”

  “She’s nothing,” Kate said. “Wait until you see the mother of the groom.”

  “Bad?” Mack asked.

  Kate shook her head. “Orange.”

  “There’s Buster.” I pointed at the approaching florist, who looked like a football linebacker who’d gotten lost in a leather bar. He carried the top of the iron chuppah frame over his head and people scurried out of the way as he approached.

  “I should have known this wedding was going to be a disaster from start to finish.” He lowered the iron canopy to the ground with a thud. “If we have to rewrite the proposal more than twice, it always means trouble.”

  “How many rewrites did Nadine ask for?” I’d lost count months ago.

  “Eight.” Mack didn’t smile. “You know that means we’re in for wedding Armageddon.”

  I sighed and glanced across the street at the swarming police cars and ambulances. “Looks like you might be right.”

  “Don’t tell me there’s more trouble at the Fairmont.” Buster shook his head. “What else could possibly go wrong?”

  Kate shrugged. “We just came outside when you walked up. But whatever happened, it must be serious.”

  “Speaking of serious, did you have any luck finding out who might have killed the chef?” Mack asked.

  “Yes, and no,” I admitted. “We have some suspects, but we can’t prove anything yet.”

  “Did you have any luck sending flowers to Georgia?” Kate asked.

  Mack frowned. “No. But we did the next best thing.”

  “We sent her our lawyer,” Buster chimed in. “If anyone can get her acquitted, he can.”

  “I didn’t know you had criminal lawyers on your payroll,” I said. These guys were full of surprises.

  “We had a few unfortunate legal misunderstandings in the past.” Buster looked at the ground and cleared his throat. “People see leather and motorcycles and think the worst.”

  “We haven’t actually used him in years, but we keep his office full of flowers,” Mack explained. “It’s good for business. We’ve done lots of junior associate weddings from his firm.”

  “The guy is a pit bull,” Buster said. “He thinks he’ll have her released any day now.”

  “That’s great.” Kate sounded relieved. “We haven’t been able to prove anything yet, and our witnesses and evidence keep disappearing.”

  Mack gave a dismissive wave of the hand. “Don’t worry. A really good lawyer doesn’t need either.”

  I gulped. So much for the triumph of justice and the legal system.

  “Well, we’d better get this stuff in the ballroom.” Buster lifted the iron canopy above his head. “There’s more where this came from, and I don’t want to be here all night. See you tomorrow, girls.”

  “And we’ll come bearing monkey balls.” Mack grinned and followed Buster, dragging the wrought-iron stand behind him.

  Kate rubbed her hands together with a wicked glint in her eyes. “I can’t wait to see that bouquet.”

  “Me, too…hey, is that Reg running over here?” I squinted across the street.

  The banquet captain hurried toward us, looking back over his shoulder several times. His white shirt hung out the front of his pants and his tuxedo jacket looked like it had been slept in. He scooted behind one of the Park Hyatt’s thin columns and motioned for us to join him.

  “Reg, what are you doing over here?” I asked as we ducked behind the column.

  “Forget that,” Kate said impatiently. “What’s going on over there?”

  Reg took a breath. “Emilio is d-d-dead. Frozen to death.”

  “The chef?” I asked. “How?”

  Kate’s face fell. “What a shame. He was cute, too.”

  “They found him locked in one of the walk-in freezers. He’d b-b-been there for hours and the temperature had been turned as low as it could go.”

  I felt light-headed when I thought of Leatrice’s narrow escape from the freezer. “That’s horrible. Do they have any idea how it happened?”

  Reg pressed his lips together. “The hotel is t-t-trying to say that he locked himself in accidentally, but that’s impossible. Emilio was too clever for that.”

  “They’re probably trying to do damage control.” I shook my head. “Accidental death sounds better than murder.”

  Kate shuddered. “Not much better. Who wants to stay at a hotel where the employees keep accidentally killing themselves? Doesn’t inspire much confidence in the staff.”

  I had to agree with Kate’s twisted logic.

  “The p-police are questioning everyone.” Reg chewed on his thumbnail and glanced around the column at the police cars. “I don’t think I can take much more of this.”

  “Calm down, Reg.” I patted him on the arm. “You have nothing to worry about.”

  “Except for being the next victim,” Kate said.

  I elbowed her in the ribs and looked back at Reg, who’d gotten a few shades paler. “She’s kidding. Ignore her.”

  Kate rubbed her side and glared at me.

  “She’s right.” Reg jerked his head in Kate’s direction. “All the victims were in the Colonnade around the time Henri was killed. Maybe someone is killing off any potential witnesses. That would include me.”

  “Maybe you should tell the police what you know about the general manager,” I said. “He’s one of the few suspects left and he had plenty of opportunity when he cleared the room for room shots.”

  Reg darted his eyes to the ground. “About th-th-that—”

  “If there’s a chance that Mr. Elliot is the killer, you have to tell the police what you know,” I insisted.

  Reg buried his face in his hands. “I made it all up.”

  “What?” Kate and I said in unison.

  “The story about Mr. Elliot.” Reg peeked at us between his fingers. “I made it up so he would look bad. It never happened. He never even mentioned room shots.”

  My mouth dropped open. “I don’t understand.”

  “I had to do something to help Georgia.” He lowered his hands slowly from his face. “Mr. Elliot had it in for her and wanted to fire her even if she was proven innocent. I thought if I could get him arrested for the murder, she’d go free and get her job back.”

  “So Mr. Elliot wasn’t in the room alone?” I asked.

  Reg shook his head. “He took one look at the setup and left. I followed him out and went to check on the cocktail party.”

  “So much for Mr. Elliot being a suspect.” Kate sighed. “What a shame. I really despised him.”

  “I’m sorry.” Reg hung his head. “I’ve made a mess of everything.”

  “It’s okay. You were only trying to help Georgia.” I wondered if Georgia had any idea that the shy banquet captain was in love with her.

  “She doesn’t deserve to be in jail,” Reg said firmly. He looked around the column toward the Fairmont. “I had to come tell you the truth, but I’d better get back before I’m missed.”

  Kate and I watched him scurry back across the street and dart between police cars to enter the hotel.

  “I can’t believe he made up that whole story.” I didn’t know whether to be impressed that he went to such lengths for Georgia or angry that he’d led us down the wrong path.

  “It was pretty convincing, too.” Kate nodded. “I didn’t know he had it in him.”

  “I wonder how many other people are lying to us.”

  “You mean of the suspects who are still alive?” Ka
te put her hands on her hips. “We’re down two more suspects. Who does that leave at the Fairmont?”

  “Well, we still have Jean St. Jean.”

  “For now.” Kate rolled her eyes. “Until he accidentally flambés himself.”

  “We have another suspect who isn’t at the hotel.” I started walking toward my car and motioned for Kate to follow me.

  “Ian?” Kate asked.

  I gave her a dirty look. “No, Miss Smarty Pants. Marcello. I think now is the perfect time to find out what he knows and how involved he is in this whole thing. Come on. We have a party at Evermay to go to.”

  “If Richard catches us, it’s not going to be pretty,” Kate reminded me.

  “Don’t worry.” I hunted in my purse for my car keys. “Your workman’s comp is all paid up.”

  Kate gave me a sugary smile. “How comforting.”

  “How many times do I have to tell you?” I said. “He’ll never know we were there. You should be more worried about the fact that a killer is still on the loose.”

  “Between an unknown murderer and Richard when he gets in a foul mood?” Kate muttered. “I’ll take my chances with the serial killer.”

  Chapter 30

  “Are you sure it’s okay to leave the car here?” Kate asked as I drove up Evermay’s steep drive and parked in front of the caretaker’s house across from the mansion. “Can’t Richard see the car from the front door?”

  “I’m sure he’s too busy to come outside.” I glanced at my watch. “The party starts in half an hour, so he’s probably torturing waiters right about now.”

  “Maybe I should wait with the car in case the valets need us to move it.”

  “Nice try, but let’s go.” I stepped out of the car and waited for Kate to join me. “Look at it this way. The faster we get in and talk to Marcello, the faster we can get out.”

  “Then what are we waiting for?” Kate tugged me by the sleeve as she marched up the historic house’s circular drive.

  We passed the enormous round marble fountain that dominated the entrance, and I paused to look up at the house. The red brick mansion was classic in design, but nonetheless imposing. Long rectangular windows were stacked in orderly rows across the front of the house and draped with heavy curtains inside. Wings had been added to each end of the square building, softening its edges.

  I followed Kate up to the large wooden front door, and we peeked in the side glass panels. No sign of Richard. I turned the brass handle and slowly pushed the door open.

  “He’s probably in the tent on the other side of the house,” I whispered to Kate, waving her into the elongated foyer.

  “You didn’t tell me my hair was a mess.” Kate examined her short blond bob in the large mirror that hung on the wall.

  I closed the door gingerly. “You look fine. It’s not like we’re going to see any eligible bachelors while we’re here.”

  “You never know.” Kate wagged a finger at me. “Always be prepared.”

  Somehow I didn’t think this was what the Boy Scouts had in mind when they chose their motto. I led the way through the formal dining room to the kitchen, pausing at the swinging door to the kitchen, and listened to the familiar baritone.

  Kate raised an eyebrow. “Is that the theme song to The Dukes of Hazzard?”

  “I think so.” I’d never heard an operatic version of the song so it was hard to tell.

  Kate rolled her eyes. “Richard sure knows how to pick them.”

  I put a finger to my lips. “Follow my lead.”

  I pushed open the kitchen door and ran straight into a stack of plastic glass racks that reached my chest. I edged my way around them, trying not to trip on the heavy plastic sheeting that covered the floor. Marcello stood with his back to us at the counter of the long, narrow galley kitchen.

  “The hors d’oeuvres aren’t ready yet,” he bellowed. “Come back in ten minutes and not a moment sooner.”

  I cleared my throat. “We wanted to say hello before the event began.”

  Marcello spun around, and his expression changed from irritation to surprise. “You two. Richard didn’t tell me this was your event.”

  “You know Richard when he gets caught up in things,” Kate said with a nervous giggle. “Probably slipped his mind.”

  Marcello nodded and turned back to his chopping board. “You must excuse me. We’re running behind schedule. One of the delivery trucks ran out of gas on the way so the food arrived an hour late.”

  I groaned. Nothing made Richard more frantic than running late during setup. He would be beyond hysterical, and I knew from experience it wasn’t a pretty sight.

  “Let’s go before he finds us here,” Kate said under her breath. She knew Richard as well as I did.

  I shook my head and took a step toward Marcello. “Did you hear what happened at the Fairmont tonight?” I tried to sound as casual as possible.

  Marcello hesitated for a second before he continued chopping. “Something else happened?”

  “Another accidental death,” I continued. “The chefs there seem to be very careless.”

  “A chef?” He held his knife in midair above the counter. “Who?”

  “Emilio,” I said. “Locked himself in a walk-in freezer.”

  Marcello lowered his knife slowly and leaned against the counter with both hands. I noticed his fingers turning white from the pressure. So he really didn’t know about the murder after all.

  “Didn’t you know him?” Kate asked.

  Marcello gave an abrupt nod, and then picked up his knife again. “We were colleagues once. In this business you work with everyone at some point.”

  “I thought he worked under you and Henri when you were sous chefs at the Willard,” I said. “So did Jean St. Jean, right?”

  Marcello shrugged, but the back of his neck reddened. “Like I said, I’ve worked with almost everyone in this town.”

  From his reaction, I’d say he knew Emilio a little better than he claimed to.

  “You must admit that it’s somewhat of a coincidence for two of your former employees to have worked under Henri, the man you despised, who’s now dead.” I braced myself for an angry response.

  Marcello turned around and began laughing softly. “You think I had something to do with Henri’s death? And perhaps the two sous chefs as well?”

  “I’m sure Annabelle didn’t mean to imply—” Kate began, taking a baby step back.

  “I was nowhere near the hotel when Henri was killed, and I have a kitchen full of cooks to prove it, so you’d better come up with something better than a coincidence if you plan to accuse me of murder.”

  I swallowed hard and put on my best poker face. “You didn’t have to actually kill Henri if you masterminded the whole thing. I think you convinced one of your former colleagues, who hated Henri as much as you, to do the deed.”

  Marcello arched an eyebrow and leaned in toward me. “Interesting idea, but why would someone commit murder for me? I’m afraid my colleagues aren’t that loyal. Your theory has a few holes in it, Miss Wedding Planner.”

  So much for my visions of a spontaneous murder confession à la Perry Mason. Marcello actually made a good point. Why would someone commit murder for someone else? I knew I had the pieces to this murder puzzle in front of me, but I couldn’t manage to put them together.

  “Oh, well. You can’t blame a girl for trying,” Kate said a little too brightly. “Let’s go, Annabelle.”

  I gave her a withering look.

  “Where are my hors d’oeuvres?” Richard’s shrill voice carried into the kitchen from the door that led onto the back terrace. He was headed right for us.

  “We’d better let you get back to those hors d’oeuvres.” I nudged Kate toward the kitchen door. “Richard hates it when food is late.”

  I caught one final glance of the seething chef before exiting the kitchen and hurrying into the dining room.

  “Well that got us nowhere,” Kate grumbled.

  “Everyone need
s to be dressed in five minutes, people.” Richard’s voice echoed from the foyer. “If I see so much as one T-shirt, heads will roll.”

  Kate clutched my arm. “He’s right outside the room. He must have come through the foyer’s door to the terrace. What do we do?”

  I turned back to the kitchen, but Kate shook her head.

  “I’m not going back in there,” she said. “He’ll kill us, or worse, turn us over to Richard.”

  I looked around the sparse formal dining room for a place to hide. Asian art covered the soft green walls and a large wooden table took up the center of the room. I peered up at the crystal chandelier that burned real wax candles. No help there.

  “Great,” Kate whimpered. “Not even a couch to cower behind.”

  I eyed the large painted screen that was pressed up against the back wall. “We can hide behind that. Follow me.”

  We carefully shimmied the screen away from the wall far enough to slide behind it just as we heard Richard’s rapid-fire footsteps enter the room. I held my breath as he walked past us. From the corner of my eye I could see him barrel into the kitchen. I let out my breath as I heard the cacophony of Richard’s shrieks and Marcello’s booming replies.

  “We’d better make a run for it,” I said.

  “I’m not going anywhere with Richard on the warpath like that. I’m perfectly fine right here, thank you.”

  “Kate, we can’t stay here the entire event. Guests are going to start arriving soon. One of them is bound to see us like this.”

  “As soon as we step out from behind here, Richard’s going to walk out. I know it,” Kate whispered. “Why don’t we walk behind the screen until we get close enough to the door to make a run for it?”

  “You’re kidding, right?” I rolled my eyes. “You don’t think a screen lurching across the room on its own will attract attention?”

  “We’ll go slowly and stick close to the wall.” Kate edged her side of the screen over. “Work with me, Annabelle.”

  “Oh for God’s sake,” I muttered, pushing my end out with my foot. “I’ll bet other wedding planners don’t do this type of thing.”

  “We’ve always wanted to be unique.” Kate shuffled sideways. “I think this would qualify.”