Terror in Taffeta

by Marla Cooper

  “Is that a Chagall?”

  “One of his lesser works, but yes. Good eye.”

  I was struck by an enormous and colorful abstract that hung over the fireplace.

  “That’s one of mine,” Jacinda said, gesturing at the extra-large canvas.

  I did a double take. “Wow, it’s beautiful.”

  “Thanks,” she said, blushing. “There are plenty of terrible ones where that came from. I’m still learning, but being down here really inspires me.”

  The first time I meet with potential clients, I’m interviewing them as much as they’re interviewing me, but I had no doubt that I would jump at the chance to plan Jacinda’s wedding if asked. An artist? My mind was buzzing with the possibilities. I had a feeling her wedding would be amazing with me or without me, but I certainly hoped it was with. There’d been a time when I would have done it for free just to have the pictures for my portfolio, and it didn’t hurt that I’d taken an instant liking to the willowy brunette.

  “My fiancé and I live in Austin,” she continued, “but this place has been in the family for decades. I come down here and paint sometimes when I need to get away.”

  It was ironic. Jacinda considered San Miguel a place to escape to, and here I was wanting to escape from it. Of course, having a house like this might make me see things differently. I would move in with her in a heartbeat if she asked, with wedding-planning services thrown in for free.

  I did love San Miguel, and now that my relationship with Evan had been rekindled, the thought of living in the same town had flitted across my mind a couple of times. I wouldn’t need to work much to afford to live here. Maybe I’d take up painting, too.

  But what was I thinking? A couple of nice dates didn’t warrant relocation and a change in profession.

  Maybe it could just be my winter home.

  I shook my head, banishing my spontaneous fantasy life. “So,” I said, “have you picked a venue?” Maybe we could knock out some site visits while I was here. “The Instituto is gorgeous for a reception, and since it used to be a convent, there’s actually a chapel right there on-site.”

  She nodded enthusiastically. “I agree. In fact, I dropped by the other day to check it out, and they were setting up for the wedding you did. It was beautiful.”

  I smiled sheepishly. “I swear I’m not trying to duplicate that wedding. I just love the idea of an artist getting married at the art institute.”

  “Of course!” She nodded. “I totally agree.”

  “Your event should be all about you, and we could really make it special. Nothing like the Abernathys’. I mean, not that theirs wasn’t special, just that yours would be unique.”

  Jacinda picked up the teapot and filled two mugs, instantly releasing the fragrance of jasmine into the room. “I heard there was a little … incident.”

  I froze, not sure how to respond. What had she heard?

  “One of the bridesmaids passed away?” she said, handing me a mug.

  Oh, that.

  “Yeah,” I said, blowing on the hot liquid while trying to decide what to say. “That was unfortunate. Definitely not something we saw coming.”

  “I feel terrible for that poor bride. Do they know what happened?”

  “Not yet.” I decided to leave it at that. There was an awkward silence, during which I resisted the urge to give her unsolicited advice about picking bridesmaids who weren’t so eminently murderable.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, breaking the tension. “It must have been horrible for you. Let’s talk about happier things. Like cake!”

  “Yes!” I said, relieved. “Cake is important.”

  “And dresses, and guest lists.”

  “And tequila donkeys!” I exclaimed, caught up in the moment.

  She looked at me quizzically, apparently unaware of the tradition. “Tequila donkeys? Is that some sort of a—?”

  “Okay, maybe not tequila donkeys,” I quickly interjected. We’d tackle the subject of booze later. “Do you have an officiant yet?”

  “We don’t have a church here, so that’s something we’ll need to figure out.”

  “I’ve got the perfect guy,” I said, happy to be able to put my new resource to use.

  We talked for another half hour, during which we covered a lot of ground. We made plans to meet the next morning for some site visits, and I promised to take her to meet Father Villarreal. By the time I handed her my empty tea mug and gathered my things to go, I was feeling more optimistic than I had in days. I’d found an important clue, interviewed a suspect, and even worked in a potential client, all before dinnertime. I would have traded it all to sleep in my own bed, but for now, I’d take it.

  When I got back to the villa, I found a note stuck to my bedroom door: “Where are you? I may have cracked the case. Love, Nancy Drew.”

  I hurried to his room to hear the latest development.

  “I’m a genius,” he said as he swung open the door.

  “I’ve always suspected. What’d you find?”

  “First, tell me I’m a genius.”

  “You’re a genius. You wear nice shoes and you’re kind to animals. Now spill it.”

  “I spent some more quality time on the computer.” He tapped the space bar to wake the laptop. “The first USB was encrypted. Totally unhackable.”

  “Duh. Why do you think I dumped it on you?”

  “But this USB drive is only password-protected.”

  “That’s still bad, right? I mean, if you don’t have the password.”

  “For mere mortals, yes, but I booted it up in target mode. Now, yes, there was a firmware password, but since I was at root level—”

  “Boring!” I interrupted. What kind of a geek did he take me for?

  “No, but this is really good. I was in at the root-user level so I tried—”

  “Will you please cut to the chase, nerd?”

  “Fine. Let’s just say that because I’m a genius, I was able to unlock some of the files, and guess what I found?”

  “Naked pictures!” I squealed.

  “Close. I found this.” He opened up a document that had a lot of numbers.

  I stared at the screen and then up at him. “How is that close to naked pictures?”

  “Let’s just say it was very revealing.”

  Groan. “Okay, how? All I see is a lot of numbers.”

  “I found out what this stuff is. It’s financial data.”

  “Okay?” I was trying to stay interested, but he’d oversold the naked-pictures comparison.

  “I found out whose it is. Does the name LionFish mean anything to you?”

  I paused while I searched my memory. “Oh, you mean LionFish, as in…?” I was bluffing. “No, sorry, I have no idea.”

  “I didn’t either, at first. But I did a little research, using the magic of the Internet. It’s a start-up company. I did some digging, and guess what I found out? One of the founders is Ryan McGuire.”

  I instantly recognized the name, and my heart sped up a little. “Ryan McGuire as in the best man Ryan McGuire?”

  “Bingo. I can’t even really tell what they do. Website is all blah, blah, blah, end-to-end-solutions blah.”

  “Why would Dana have his company’s financial information?” I asked, perching myself on the edge of his desk. “She didn’t work for them.”

  “I don’t know, but apparently LionFish was in a lot of trouble,” he said, gesturing to a bunch of numbers in red that kept getting ominously larger.

  I watched as the figures scrolled by, wondering how Dana had come to have this information and what she’d intended to do with it. “Could she have been blackmailing someone?”

  “That’s kind of what I was wondering,” Brody said.

  “So what do we do with this? I would say we should go talk to him, but he flew out the day after the wedding.”

  “Take it to the police,” Brody said. “They can look into it.”

  “Officer Ortiz?” I laughed. “All he’d do i
s stick it in a drawer. They’re so convinced that Zoe is their killer that it’s going to take a lot more than this to get their attention.”

  “Well, there are still more files. I’ll see if I can find a bombshell in here somewhere.”

  Brody’s discovery gave me new hope that we’d be on our way home soon. But either way, time was ticking on our stay at Casa de Muerte. Some group of happy vacationers was going to be arriving soon and wouldn’t be expecting to find another family lounging in their courtyard. If they were lucky, no one in their party would die. They’d probably even be allowed to come and go as they pleased.

  They didn’t know how good they had it.

  Frankly, I’d been in denial and hadn’t really started looking, because if we moved to another rental house, that meant we weren’t going home anytime soon. But if we did have to move, I didn’t mind being the one making the reservations. That way, I could find Mrs. Abernathy a nice place somewhere far, far away from wherever Brody and I would be staying.

  Which reminded me: when we left, we’d have to take everything with us. And that included Dana’s stuff, which was still strewn about her room. I’d felt so helpless when I’d had to call and break the news to Dana’s parents, I’d found myself promising them that I’d take care of things till they could get here. It was the only consolation I could give them, short of offering to plan her funeral—a task Mrs. Abernathy would certainly have volunteered me for, had she been within earshot.

  I’d even been cleared by Officer Ortiz to box up her things. They hadn’t found anything useful when they’d searched the room, and they didn’t consider it a crime scene—or at least not the crime scene. The ransacking had to be connected to the murder, but since they had “solved” the latter, they weren’t concerned with the former.

  Figuring I had a little time to kill before dinner, I decided to go ahead and tackle the job. At least I’d get to cross one thing off my list.

  Dana’s room didn’t look that different from how Brody and I had first found it the morning after the wedding, which is to say it looked like a disaster area. If only the detectives had taken a moment to tidy up as they went, it would have made my job a lot easier.

  I dragged her luggage out from the closet and started filling it with her clothes. It felt strange to be going through her things, but I really didn’t have a choice. I folded her clothes neatly, clean and dirty alike, and put them into the suitcase. Did they really want her personal belongings, too? I mean, of course her jewelry and her watch, but should I send along the leftover energy bars she hadn’t gotten around to eating, or the in-flight magazine she’d crammed into her carry-on? What about her colorful collection of thong underwear? It wasn’t my place to decide what they’d want and what they wouldn’t; I decided to pack everything that didn’t come with the room. Until I found a box of condoms in her bedside table. Those I would spare them from, I decided, as I tossed them in the trash.

  As I filled her toiletry bag with her makeup, a small tube of lipstick fell off the table and onto the floor, rolling under the dresser. Oh, skip it, I thought as I packed up her tweezers and eye shadows.

  Approximately twelve seconds later, my conscience got the best of me. Even though they’d never notice it was missing, I’d know. That’s me. Attention to detail. Both a blessing and a curse.

  I knelt down to peer under the heavy wooden furniture. The lipstick had rolled to the back wall, just out of reach. I grabbed a clothing hanger and used it to retrieve the small plastic cylinder, noting to myself that I would probably be pretty good at that claw game if I ever needed a small stuffed toy.

  There was something else under there. I raked at it until I pulled it close enough to reach. Just her plane tickets. Probably too late for her family to get a refund for the unused portion, although it wouldn’t hurt to try. I plopped down on the bed and opened up the envelope to find her return flight.

  There wasn’t one. At least not to the United States.

  There was a receipt for her flight to Mexico, and she’d paid a lot for the last-minute ticket. But instead of a return flight home, she had booked a one-way ticket to Barbados.

  Funny, Mrs. Poole hadn’t mentioned that when I’d talked to her. Had she known that Dana wasn’t flying back home? Weird. It wasn’t unheard of, piggybacking one trip onto another, but San Miguel to Barbados seemed like an odd itinerary. What had she been up to? I shrugged and set the ticket aside, in case Dana’s mom wanted to try to get some money back from the airline.

  As I finished up, my pocket buzzed with a text from Brody:

  Where are you? It’s time to go down to dinner.

  I’d lost track of time, but the bells of La Parroquia confirmed my tardiness, so I dashed out a reply:

  On my way. Wait for me?

  I hurriedly zipped Dana’s bags and did a final check under the bed and in the closet. I didn’t want to miss out on one of our last remaining Fernando meals—especially after having smelled it simmering earlier in the day. One of the few things I would miss about this place, I thought, as I closed the door to Dana’s room behind me.

  CHAPTER 15

  The family was already seated when Brody and I got down to the dining room, and the newlyweds looked fairly miserable as they listened to Mrs. Abernathy go on about how a cricket had been chirping all night either in or near her room.

  “It positively destroyed my sleep,” she said.

  “Do you want to trade rooms, Mother?” Nicole asked.

  “Oh, no, dear, I couldn’t ask you to give up the bridal suite, now, could I?” The way she said “could I” sounded more like she was weighing her options than making a point: Could I? I don’t know, let me think. Maybe I could.

  Brody and I nodded our hellos as we sat down at the table.

  “Oh, there you are, Kelsey,” Mrs. Abernathy said. “I’m glad you decided you could spare an evening for us, given your busy social schedule.” She smiled as she dabbed the corners of her lips delicately with her napkin. All in good fun, her casual tone said, but her eyebrows arched a little beyond what they’d been plucked to do.

  I smiled gamely, refusing to take the bait. “Good evening, Mrs. Abernathy. Of course I’m here. There’s no place I’d rather be.”

  Brody, who had just taken a sip from his water glass, almost did a spit take in reaction to my obvious lie.

  Okay, perhaps I was laying it on a little thick. I could think of plenty of places I’d rather be—San Francisco, Evan’s house, the dentist—but this was where I was stuck, so I might as well make the best of it.

  “Our lawyers are arriving tomorrow, and I was hoping for an update,” she continued. “Have you learned anything new since this morning?”

  Fernando, who had been pouring drinks for everyone, froze in his tracks.

  “I, um, well—we’ve been trying to break into those files,” I said, looking at Brody pointedly and getting ready to kick him in the shins if he said anything to indicate that I hadn’t been by his side the entire time. I was afraid to mention my meeting with Jacinda; heaven forbid I take an hour for myself. I also didn’t want to tell Mrs. Abernathy that I’d questioned Fernando—especially not in front of Fernando—and I definitely didn’t want to say anything about Dana’s mystery guest. Especially if that mystery guest turned out to be Vince.

  Brody nodded. “Yes. Um, she’s been a big help. Will you excuse me? I forgot to wash my hands.”

  Okay, at least if he was going to crack under the pressure, he had the good sense to flee.

  Fernando’s look of panic passed when he realized I wasn’t going to mention our conversation, and he resumed filling the glasses. Our eyes locked as he poured a glass of wine for Vince. Not to worry, Fernando. I planned to watch el novio carefully while I decided what to do with that little nugget of information.

  Mrs. Abernathy was still staring at me expectantly. She clearly thought I should have done more than just watch Brody try to hack some files.

  “I also packed up Dana’s room,” I sai
d, hoping that would satisfy her curiosity as to my whereabouts.

  “Well, it’s about time,” said Mrs. Abernathy. “I assumed you’d taken care of that days ago.”

  I ignored her comment as Brody slipped back into the chair beside me. “I was wondering,” I asked Nicole and Vince, “do either of you know when Dana was planning on flying back to Denver? I only found a one-way ticket to Barbados.”

  Nicole’s eyes grew wide. “Barbados? She didn’t mention that.”

  Was it my imagination, or had Vince’s expression shifted? In the dim light, it was hard to read his face, but there definitely seemed to be something going on there.

  Mrs. Abernathy shrugged. “Lots of people vacation, Kelsey. I can’t see how that’s any business of yours.”

  “I was surprised, that’s all. I assumed she’d be flying back to Denver.”

  “Well, she’s flying back to Denver now, isn’t she? Have you made arrangements for the body?”

  “Mrs. Abernathy, I really don’t think that’s—” Her stare-down stopped my sentence in its tracks.

  “You don’t think it’s what? Your job? You certainly don’t think I’m going to do it, do you?” She stared at me, dumbfounded by my apparent stupidity.

  “I just figured—”

  An awkward silence ensued.

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake,” said Mrs. Abernathy.

  I felt my face flush. “I’m sure her family will want to make the arrangements.” I was glad when Brody reached over and took my hand, because it was the only thing stopping me from stabbing her in the eyeball with my salad fork.

  The silence was broken a moment later when the door to the kitchen swung open and Fernando reappeared, a steaming dish in his hands. Perfect timing, I thought. That’s a much better use of a fork.

  “Carne asada,” he announced as the room filled with the fragrance of marinated steak.

  I couldn’t wait to dig into the dish I’d watched him preparing earlier in the day. It smelled even better than before, and my stomach gurgled its approval.

  As the tortillas were passed around the table, one of the housemen entered and whispered something to Fernando, who glanced toward me. They continued their hushed exchange, and then Fernando nodded and came around to my side of the table. “Excuse me,” he said, his voice discreetly low. “You have a visitor.”