by Laura Durham
“This had better be good, Annabelle. I’m in the middle of setup and once again I have the Tweedledums of the waiter world. Every time I painstakingly arrange a table so that the light hits it just right, someone comes along and moves it,” Richard said. Then his voice receded and I knew he held the phone away while bellowing to his staff. “If anyone moves these tables again, I will personally see to it that you never work in this town for the rest of your natural lives.”
Richard was catering the part of the Winchester reception being held at the Decatur House, so guests wouldn’t get to him for several hours. I looked at my watch. His nervous breakdown was right on schedule.
I pressed my cell phone to my ear so I could hear him better. “I need you to do me a huge favor. It’s a matter of life or death.”
“Really?” I knew that would get his attention. Richard was drawn to drama like a moth to a flame.
“Well, no,” I admitted. “But it is a really huge wedding emergency.”
“Oh please,” Richard sighed. “We’re not saving lives here. It’s only a wedding.”
“I dare you to say that to a bride.”
Richard mumbled something incoherent but undoubtedly snippy.
“I need you to run across the street to the Hay-Adams and find the priest. If you don’t, this wedding is going to run late, and that means everything will run late. Including your dinner service.” I knew I had him there. He hated the thought of getting off schedule even more than I did.
“You lost the priest?” Richard gasped.
“We didn’t lose him. We never had him. He didn’t get in the limo like he was supposed to. I’m afraid he overslept or got confused and is waiting in the hotel.”
“Okay, okay.” I could hear him snapping his fingers. “People, people. I’m going across the street and will be right back. Don’t even think of slacking off. I expect this place to be shipshape when I return.”
“Thanks, Richard. You saved my life.”
“I just know those waiters are going to wait for me to get back before they lift a finger. I wouldn’t be surprised if they whip out pallets and take naps.”
I heard the sounds of street traffic as he left the Decatur House for the hotel. “Don’t you think you’re a little tough on them?”
“The last time I let a waiter take a break during a wedding because he wasn’t feeling well, I found him ten minutes later making out with the bride in a coat closet. Mark my words, Annabelle. If you let them, they’ll walk all over you.”
“You’re kidding? What happened to the bride and the waiter?”
“Who knows what happened to the bride? She’s probably in a meaningful relationship with her yard boy. Not that I blamed her. The groom was a toad. But I’ll tell you one thing—that waiter never worked for me again.”
I shook my head. “Juicy things like that never happen at my weddings.”
“That was nothing compared to the time I found the sexy divorcée mother of the bride in her car with a groomsman. Neither of them had on a stitch of clothing. Now that’s something I wish I’d never seen. You won’t catch me going in parking garages alone anymore.”
“What did you do?”
“What could I do?” Richard said. “I tapped on the window and handed her the final bill.”
I stifled a laugh. “I’ll bet she paid up.”
“And gave me a nice tip on top of it. Okay, I’m at the Hay-Adams. How do I find this priest?”
“Do you see anyone who looks like a priest waiting in the lobby?”
“If someone was sitting here in a priest collar, I think I could have figured it out, Annabelle.” Richard gave me an impatient sigh. “There’s no one here. What name is the room under?”
“O’Malley. Father O’Malley. Explain things to the concierge and see if he’ll give you the room number.”
“This should be easy. I know this concierge. I think I’ve seen him at the Crow Bar before. It’s hard to tell since he’s not in leather, though.”
“Could we focus on finding the priest?”
“Fine,” Richard snapped, and then I heard muffled voices and laughter. This could take a while if Richard got caught up in a conversation and forgot why he was there. After a few minutes he came back on the line. “Got it. I’m on my way upstairs right now.”
I heard the elevator chimes. “Good work. Usually they won’t give the room numbers out to just anyone.”
“Might I remind you that I am not just anyone, darling. Not only did I get the room number, but I also got a date for next week.”
“How come you can date someone who wears leather but I can’t?” I protested.
“Do you have to ask?” Richard said. “This Ian fellow is no good for you, Annabelle. Mark my words.”
Great. Dating advice from someone who frequented the Crow Bar.
“Okay, I’m here. Room 326. The door is standing open a bit.”
“Maybe he left the door open because he expected someone to come get him for the wedding,” I said. “Go on in.”
“Yoo hoo,” Richard called. “Father O’Malley. I’m here to take you to—” Richard sucked in his breath.
“What’s the matter?” I asked. “He’s not there?”
“I don’t see him.” Richard’s voice shook as he spoke. “But I do see something splattered on the carpet.”
I felt very light-headed, and I clutched the phone tighter. “What do you mean?”
“Annabelle, I think it’s blood.”
Chapter 34
“Do you see a body?” I heard a faint ringing in my ears. This could not be happening.
“No,” Richard said. “And you’re out of your mind if you think I’m going to run around looking for one. Unlike some people I know, I’m not interested in becoming the next Nancy Drew.”
I lowered myself onto a bench in an alcove off the church vestibule. “How much blood is there?”
“Well, he didn’t just get a paper cut,” Richard said. “Now if you don’t mind, I’m getting out of here and calling the police.”
Richard screamed, and I heard the phone clatter to the floor.
“Richard? Are you okay? What’s happening?” There were muffled voices in the background. One voice brimmed with impatience. Obviously Richard’s. Had a maid walked in and startled him?
“I’m fine,” Richard said after he finally retrieved the phone. “I found the priest.”
I sucked in my breath. “You found the body? Where was it?”
“Not the body. The priest. He’s alive and well.”
I almost slipped off the bench. “What do you mean he’s alive? What about all the blood?”
“It appears that he had a few accidents shaving and it smells like he got very drunk before he did it.” Richard kept his voice low. “He’s in the bathroom trying to clean up, but I don’t know how much good it will do.”
“How bad does he look?”
“His face is covered with bits of toilet tissue from where he attempted to stop the bleeding. If you ask me, it looks like he tried to papier-mâché himself.”
I rubbed my temple with one hand. “He must have gotten into the bottle of Irish whiskey that we left in his room.”
“He didn’t only get into it, Annabelle, he finished it,” Richard said. “The empty bottle is sitting right here on the desk.”
“That’s impossible,” I said. “It was a huge bottle.”
“No kidding. Is it a new Wedding Belles tradition to encourage guests to get drunk before the wedding?”
“No,” I said. “The groom’s mother requested we put it in his room as a welcome touch.”
“Nothing says welcome more graciously than a huge bottle of booze,” Richard said. “What happened to a nice fruit basket?”
“They’re Irish,” I explained. “I don’t think fruit says welcome to them like whiskey does.”
“I’d better go,” Richard whispered. “He came out of the bathroom and he doesn’t look too steady on his feet.”
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nbsp; I rubbed my head. “Will he be able to perform the ceremony?”
“Do you have a backup priest on call?”
“Of course not,” I said. “When have you ever heard of needing a backup priest?”
“Then I guess he’ll have to do, won’t he?” Richard asked.
“Can you drive him over to St. Patrick’s?” I looked at my watch. “We don’t have time to send a limo back for him.”
“I just got my car detailed,” Richard protested.
“What could he possibly do to your car, Richard?”
“Bleed on it, for one.”
I rolled my eyes. “They’re shaving cuts, for heaven’s sake. It’s not like he was in a knife fight.”
“Fine,” Richard said. “But I’m taking one of the hotel’s towels for him to sit on. They can bill me.”
“Hurry,” I said, and hung up.
I slipped the cell phone into my suit pocket and tried to plaster a smile on my face as I walked back into the church vestibule.
The church entrance buzzed with activity as guests poured in for the ceremony. Kate greeted people with a program as they entered the church and directed them to the line of a dozen or so waiting groomsmen. The tuxedoed groomsman at the head of the line offered his arm as a female guest approached and then escorted her down the aisle, while the next groomsman stepped up and took his place. I smiled. These guys had actually paid attention during Kate’s ushering “boot camp” last night. At least one part of the wedding was going well.
I walked up behind Kate. “No sign of the house party yet?”
“Let’s hope Fern gets them ready in time for the reception,” Kate said. “Any luck with the priest?”
“Kind of. Richard’s bringing him, but he’s drunk.”
Kate’s mouth fell open. “Richard is drunk?”
“No, the priest is drunk,” I said.
Kate’s face registered comprehension. “I guess that’s worse, huh?”
“For our immediate purposes? Yes.”
“Don’t worry,” Kate said. “He was drunk last night and he managed to run the rehearsal.”
“I thought you said he told dirty jokes and the bride’s side was livid?”
Kate bit her bottom lip. “I didn’t say he ran it well, but he got the job done.”
“So if I lower my expectations, I’ll be happier?”
Kate shrugged. “It works for me.”
“So far this is not going as seamlessly as I’d hoped.”
Kate cringed. “I hate to tell you this, then, but Detective Reese called while you were talking to Richard.”
I felt a twinge of jealousy. “Reese called you?”
“He tried your cell but I guess he got voice mail,” Kate said. “Anyway, he went to the Wedding Shoppe to talk to Lucille.”
“What did she say when he asked her about the murders?”
“That’s the problem. He couldn’t ask her about the murders because she wasn’t there. The sales clerk said she didn’t show up for work in the morning and didn’t answer when they called her house looking for her. They’re looking for her but no luck so far.”
My stomach clenched into a knot. The person I was sure had already killed three other wedding planners and had tried to kill me was missing. Suddenly an intoxicated priest was only one of my problems.
Chapter 35
“A little help would be nice.” Richard stuck his head inside the church foyer.
I let out a deep breath as Kate and I rushed to the door. “You got here just in time. We seated the last of the guests and sent the groomsmen back to the sacristy two minutes ago.”
“Good,” Richard said. “The fewer people who see this, the better.” He stepped inside holding Father O’Malley up by the arm.
I gasped. The ruddy-cheeked priest had blood trickling down his face and neck onto his black robes. The gobs of toilet paper stuck to his face in patches had done little to stop the bleeding. It looked like he’d nicked an artery.
“What happened?” Kate’s mouth gaped open.
“I forgot to tell you that he tried to shave after finishing off the bottle of whiskey in his hotel room,” I said under my breath.
Kate raised an eyebrow. “Minor detail, I guess.”
“Don’t worry about me, lassies.” Father O’Malley let go of Richard and gave us a dazzling smile. “Only a scratch or two. It looks worse than it is.”
I certainly hoped so.
Father O’Malley ran a hand through his bushy white hair and cast a glazed look around the foyer. “I’d better get back to the sacristy. You can’t start without me, now can you?”
He teetered off down the aisle, and I turned to Kate. “Can you follow him and make sure he actually makes it back there?”
Kate took off after him, walking more steadily in three-inch spike heels than the stumbling priest.
“Well, my job’s done.” Richard headed for the door. “I have to get back to the Decatur House before the waiters set the place on fire.”
I clutched his arm. “Can’t you stay and help with the processional?”
Richard tried to shake my hand off. “I hate processionals. That’s why I’m a caterer and you’re a wedding planner.”
“Have a little sympathy, Richard. I have a drunken priest and a dozen bridesmaids from Texas.”
Richard slapped at my hand. “Now why would that make me want to stay?”
“There are only two children, and you won’t even have to touch them.” I gave him my best puppy dog eyes. “It will take five minutes. I promise.”
Richard threw his hands in the air. “Fine, but I’m only doing this for the potential entertainment value. I want to see the look on everyone’s face when the priest walks out.”
I gave him a quick hug. “I owe you big-time.”
He smoothed the front of his black button-down shirt where I’d wrinkled it. “I’ll add it to your tab.”
“They’re ready,” Fern called as he led a line of very blond women toward us. The house party walked in front wearing black cocktail dresses in various styles, and the bridesmaids followed in long, chocolate brown gowns with a mint green ribbon tied around their waists. All the girls wore their hair swept up in French twists and each had on a single strand of pearls.
“Good God,” Richard said. “The Stepford Wives ride again.”
I elbowed him. I had to admit that they did look remarkably like a set of plastic bridesmaids you could buy to put on wedding cakes.
“Where are the mothers?” I asked Fern when he reached me.
“Still fussing over the bride,” he sighed. “Do you need them?”
I looked at my watch. We were running five minutes behind. “Yes, we need to send them down the aisle right now.”
Fern stifled a squeal and hurried away.
“Can you run up and cue the organist for the seating of the mothers?” I asked Richard.
“Run? In this outfit? I don’t think so. Why don’t you run up and I’ll get everyone ready to walk?” Richard gave my black evening suit the once-over. “That is polyester, after all, isn’t it?”
I glared at him. “I’ll have you know that this is from Ann Taylor and it’s one hundred percent silk.”
Richard eyed me again. “Not bad, darling, but Prada trumps Ann Taylor any day.”
“Fine.” I handed him my wedding schedule and headed for the stairs. “But the mothers had better be lined up and ready to go when I get back.”
Richard gave me his most sugary smile and waved me away. “Tick tock, Annabelle. Tick tock.”
I took the spiral stairs to the balcony two at a time and caught my breath when I reached the top. I stuck my head in the doorway and caught the eye of the organist. “We’re ready for the mothers’ song.” I turned around and ran back down the stairs. When I reached the bottom, Richard stood with both of the mothers’ escorts at the back of the aisle, but no mothers.
“Don’t look at me,” he said. “Fern was in charge of getting them here.”
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“Here we are.” Fern sounded out of breath as he walked up with the mothers of the bride and groom in tow. “We had a slight delay because of some last minute wardrobe changes.” He gave me a look that said not to ask.
“Don’t you think Mrs. Kelly looks fabulous in this stole?” Kitty asked, turning the mother of the groom around so I could admire the beige satin wrap. With it tied in front, you could barely see the hot pink strapless gown with rows of long fringe that Mrs. Kelly had chosen. I’m sure that was Kitty’s entire objective.
“I thought it might be a little much,” the groom’s mother said, trying to rearrange the front of the wrap. “But Kitty insisted that the mothers should coordinate.”
Kitty smiled, clearly satisfied with herself. She, too, wore a wrap. Of course, hers matched her gray satin gown perfectly and sat slightly off the shoulder.
“You both look lovely,” I said, and prodded them into place next to their escorts.
The sound of “Ave Maria” filled the church, and I nudged Mrs. Kelly to start down the aisle.
Kitty pulled me close to her. “How is everything so far?”
“Perfect,” I lied.
Kitty beamed at me as she looked at the flower filled sanctuary. “I want this to be a wedding that no one will ever forget.”
“I’m sure people will be talking about it for years,” I said, and smiled back to Kitty as I sent her down the aisle.
I watched from the corner of my eye as Father O’Malley led the groom and groomsmen from the sacristy to the altar, swaying as he walked. “We have to speed up this processional before the priest keels over,” I whispered to Richard.
I motioned to Fern to bring up the house party while I ran to the stairwell again. I pulled myself up the stairs to the balcony and gave a wave to the organist when I reached the top. “Bridesmaids,” I said, then spun on my heel and ran down again while the music changed.
Richard stood to the side of the double doors, nodding to each girl to indicate when she should walk, while Fern gave their hair a final spritz with hair spray. The house party had almost reached the end of the aisle, and the bridesmaids were beginning their processional. I wondered if Guinness had a category for fastest wedding processional.
