The Complete Death Du Jour Mystery Collection

by Hillary Avis

  She elbowed him so he’d move back and she could get out. “I’m not telling you anything until I talk to Charley. Bye, Ryan!”

  He nodded stiffly and she closed the door behind her, giving it a tap to let him know they were clear. He pulled out and sped off without a backward glance.

  “What’s he so grumpy about?” Milo asked, staring after him.

  Bethany shrugged, but guilt gnawed at her stomach. This awkwardness between Ryan and Milo was all her fault. She’d been holding them both at arm’s length so that she wouldn’t feel disloyal to either one, but that meant she hadn’t gotten to know either of them that well, either. That made it impossible to choose between them—and impossible to tell who had written her that love note.

  “He seems a little too possessive if you ask me. It’s not like he’s your boyfriend.” Milo frowned. “You can date who you want to date—he doesn’t get a say in it!”

  “He’s not possessive and this isn’t a date.” She poked Milo in the arm. “I didn’t even know you were going to be here!”

  “What?!” He put a hand to his chest, feigning offense. “I just asked you to lunch and you said yes!”

  “I did not say yes.” She put her nose in the air. “I’m here for my fitting, sir.”

  He put out his arm. “May I escort you to your fitting, madam?”

  She eyed him warily. Were there strings attached? If she took his arm, would he think she was choosing him over Ryan?

  “Come on,” he urged. “It’s good practice for the wedding.”

  She sighed. He had a point. She put her hand on his arm and they headed for the front door of Happily Ever After.

  “See, it’s not so bad being on a parking lot date with me.” He grinned. “Maybe you even like it.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I said it’s not a date!”

  The words came out a little louder than she intended, and she saw his happy expression temper a little bit.

  What am I doing? You know, just going around crushing the hopes and dreams of amazing men.

  She couldn’t stand making them both unhappy with her indecisiveness. It was unfair to both of them to string them along. Plus, if she kept it up any longer, they might decide to move on, too.

  This is stupid. It’s time to choose.

  She let go of Milo’s arm to push through the store’s entrance. The bells above the door jangled as she stepped through into the building’s plush, pink interior.

  I’ll decide before the wedding. It’s the only way.

  Chapter 8

  AT THE SOUND OF THE bells, a tiny woman scurried out from a back room. “Welcome to your Happily Ever After!” She clasped her hands and gazed back and forth between them, beaming. “When’s the big day?”

  “Next Saturday,” Milo said, and the woman’s face fell.

  “Oh dear. That isn’t much time, then. Well, we’ll see what we can do.” She bustled behind Milo and pushed him to the left. “Menswear is over here. You browse and I’ll get the bride started.”

  Milo shot Bethany a wicked grin as he allowed himself to be propelled across the fluffy carpeting to the racks of colorful vests. Bethany stuck out her tongue at him.

  When the woman returned, adjusting her gold-framed glasses, Bethany apologized. “I’m sorry, I’m not the bride. He’s not the groom, either. We’re in the Caldwell-Perez wedding and came in for our fittings.”

  “Oh, I see.” The woman, whose nametag said “Maisie” in gold script that matched her glasses, looked slightly disappointed that she wasn’t going to sell another dress. “Let me pull your outfits. It’ll just take a minute.”

  As soon as she’d buzzed off to the back room, Bethany rounded on Milo. “How could you let her think...?”

  He smirked. “I thought it was funny, didn’t you? Anyway, what’s the big deal?” He pulled out a purple, hibiscus-print vest and held it up to himself. “What do you think of this color on me?”

  She yanked it out of his hands and put it back on the rack. Of course, he couldn’t know why it bothered her when he joked about them getting married. “Be serious. We’re here to do our duty as bridesman and groomsmaid, right? We need to stay focused on Kimmy and Charley and what they want. And I’m telling you, they don’t want Hawaiian vests at their autumn wedding in Connecticut!”

  “I know that.” Milo crossed his arms. “I was just seeing if you knew that. It was a test.”

  She pursed her lips but couldn’t stay irritated for long. Anyway, it wasn’t his fault she was feeling so stressed out about everything. “Sorry—I just have a lot on my plate.”

  “Tell me about it,” Milo said, pulling out his ubiquitous notebook. He flipped it open to a page and handed it to her. “Look at this list of stuff Charley wants me to do.”

  Book a bartender, plan bachelorette night, audition reception band. Charley had Milo working overtime on bridesman duties.

  She handed back the notebook with a sympathetic look. “It’s a lot like my list. Kimmy wants me to do the seating chart and finalize the catering menu!”

  “We’re getting down to the wire,” Milo said.

  Maisie breezed back into the room with a garment bag draped over each arm. “OK, you two,” she trilled. “Give these a try and see how they fit. Ladies on the right and gentlemen on the left.” She held out her arms and they each took a garment bag and headed for their respective dressing rooms.

  Bethany slipped on her dress and took a quick look at herself in the mirror. The dress was a simple, sleeveless V-neck with a flowing bias-cut skirt that hugged her curves. Kimmy had chosen the fabric—a beautiful, warm rust-colored velvet—and Bethany had chosen the style. Elegant but not too flashy. And to Bethany’s eye, the fit was perfect.

  That is, until she tried to take a step. The instant she tried to move, she tripped over the extra two feet of fabric at the bottom of the dress, which had apparently been designed for a seven-foot-tall woman. Bethany careened sideways and fell against the dressing-room door, which burst open and dumped her out into the main room of the bridal salon.

  Milo burst out laughing. “My graceful goddess,” he announced.

  Maisie rushed over and began tugging fruitlessly at her arm. “Oh honey, are you okay? I swear, that happens to everyone.”

  Bethany doubted that. If everyone were klutzy enough to crash out of the plush pink dressing room, she was sure that Maisie would have provided a plush pink cushion to fall onto. But it was nice of her to say.

  Bethany struggled to her feet and glared at Milo, who held out his hands toward her. “Come on. You’d laugh, too, if you saw you.”

  His outfit fit perfectly. Of course it did. He was renting a tuxedo, not buying a dress, and men’s pants came in a million sizes. She hardly noticed how freaking handsome he looked in it, she was so irritated with him.

  A still-concerned Maisie took her hand and showed her to a pink podium in front of a three-way mirror. “Step up here, hon. Watch your step, though...these skirts are tricky.”

  Now you tell me.

  Bethany stepped up and Maisie arranged the skirt evenly around the podium, making it look like Bethany had unnaturally long legs. Milo gave a low whistle.

  “Not bad, Bradstreet.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Great, I’ll just stand here all day.”

  Maisie kneeled, her chalk pencil poised. She took a quick peek under the skirt at Bethany’s feet and gave an unhappy cough. “Where are your shoes?”

  “In the dressing room.”

  “I’ll grab them,” Milo volunteered. He ducked into the women’s dressing room and came out holding Bethany’s sneakers pinched between two fingers.

  Maisie sighed. “Your heels, dear. Your bridesmaid shoes.”

  Bethany frowned. She’d totally forgotten about shoes. “Um. I don’t have them yet. It doesn’t matter, does it? The dress is long so they won’t even show.”

  “Yes, but I need to know the heel height so the hem is the right length. You don’t want to have a repeat performanc
e at the wedding, do you?”

  Milo guffawed. “I can tell you, she does not!”

  Bethany pictured doing a face plant in front of Charley and Kimmy’s three hundred guests...and in front of Milo and Ryan. No, not something I want. “I guess I’ll wear flats.”

  “Wise choice,” Milo said. “It’s easier to walk in flats.”

  “Thank you so much for the validation,” she said sourly.

  “Well, at least that’s why I never wear heels.” He winked at her for the second time that day, and she realized he was trying to cheer her up.

  I’m being so selfish, making this all about me and all the pressures I’m feeling. Milo had a long list of wedding responsibilities and a job he was trying to juggle, too.

  “How did your background research go last night?” she asked, trying to hold as still as possible so Maisie could make her markings in the right place.

  Milo stuck his hands in his pockets. “Well—I learned a lot about Egyptian artifacts. And about the LaFontaine estate. But the article is probably dead, anyway, because Charley said the coroner determined the you-know-what wasn’t murdered.” The disappointment showed on his face.

  Bethany couldn’t help feeling relieved. At least that meant none of the men she’d talked to that morning were murderers. “I’m sorry you won’t get your big story.”

  “Well, you never know. Charley’s working on identifying the you-know-what. If it turns out to be someone interesting, my article could still be a cool piece. Maybe.” In the mirror, Bethany saw him give a frustrated shrug. It wasn’t the gesture of someone who had a lot of hope.

  “They still don’t know the you-know-what’s identity?” Bethany darted a glance at Maisie to see if she was paying attention to their cryptic conversation, but she was totally absorbed in her task.

  He shook his head. “It’s a dude, they know that. And he had perfect teeth, so dental records are no help. The only thing the coroner figured out is that he died of throat cancer.”

  Bethany had a flicker of recognition. Didn’t Simon say something about his dad having cancer?

  Maybe the mummy was the former owner of the estate. That could explain why the mummy was there...maybe it never left!

  “You know, when Ryan and I talked to Simon LaFontaine this morning, he mentioned that his father had cancer. Maybe the you-know-what is Bernard LaFontaine!”

  Milo’s eyebrows raised in surprise. “Hm, interesting angle. Let me get her on the phone and see what she thinks of that.”

  “Don’t bother her at work!” Bethany started to step off the podium, but Maisie made a tsk noise at her feet to warn her not to move. “Really, I’m sure she’s in the middle of something!”

  But it was too late—Milo had already grabbed his phone from the men’s dressing room and dialed Charley. When he got her on the line, he briefly explained Bethany’s theory and ended the call. “She’s coming right over.”

  “I hope that doesn’t disrupt her day too much.”

  Milo shrugged. “I don’t think she’d come if she didn’t want to—plus, isn’t that her monkey suit hanging there?” He pointed to a garment bag marked “Perez” hanging on a rack behind the counter. “She probably needs to do her fitting, too.”

  “I was hoping Ms. Perez would stop by today,” Maisie chirped, rising to her feet. “Then we’ll have you all squared away. OK, hon, you’re all done. You can go ahead and shuck that dress and I’ll get it all hemmed up for you.” She scrunched her face into a cutesy smile and shooed Bethany back to the dressing room.

  The bells on the door jangled and she heard Charley’s voice greeting Maisie and Milo. Bethany tugged her T-shirt back on over her head and went out to retrieve her sneakers where Milo had dropped them.

  Charley looked up at her in surprise. “Oh, there you are! I wondered where you were hiding.”

  “Time for a certain bride’s fitting!” Maisie trilled, swooping down on Charley with the garment bag. She unzipped it ceremoniously to reveal an ivory tuxedo. She shook it a little to show how the silk fabric moved and shimmered in the light. “Isn’t this divine?”

  Bethany gasped. “It’s gorgeous!”

  “Wow,” Charley said, staring at it, her expression skeptical. “It’s very—wow.”

  Maisie thrust it into her hands. “Try it on! Let’s see if it needs any tweaks.”

  Charley grudgingly headed into the dressing room and made a face at Bethany over her shoulder as she shut the door. I guess she’s not a fan of her wedding clothes, either. Bethany shrugged at Milo.

  “So what did you want to tell me?” Charley’s voice through the dressing-room door was muffled. “Milo said you have a theory about the mummy?”

  Bethany lowered her voice so Maisie wouldn’t overhear. “Oh, yeah. I was just thinking—could the mummy be Bernard LaFontaine? When Ryan and I talked to his son this morning, he said Bernard died of cancer. And Milo said the mummy did, too.”

  “Could be. No way to tell, really.” The dressing-room door opened and Charley walked out, shrugging her shoulders inside the ivory jacket uncomfortably. She lifted one foot and then the other, the ends of the long trouser legs flapping on her feet like flippers. “I’m not sure about this.”

  Maisie patted the podium. “Up here, dear. We’ll get those trousers the right length and then you’ll see.”

  Charley acquiesced and then stared at herself in the three-way mirror while Maisie began tucking and pinning the pant legs to the correct length. Charley looked stunning. The ivory color set off her dark hair and eyes, and the soft fabric draped to accentuate her petite figure. She fussed with the jacket, buttoning and unbuttoning it over her vest.

  “You look great,” Bethany said, admiring the back of the jacket where the waist nipped in and then flared out above the wide-legged trousers.

  “You clean up nice, Perez,” Milo said, and Bethany swore she could see him welling up a little bit as he looked at Charley.

  Aw. Bethany got a little choked up herself.

  Charley cleared her throat, embarrassed. “Well. I’m still not sure about it.”

  Maisie sat back on her haunches and looked up at Charley. “Well, we’re all done. I think it’ll all come together once I make these alterations. You’ll see—this suit suits you!” She tittered a little at her own joke.

  Charley rolled her eyes. “We’ll see,” she said gruffly, and trudged back to the dressing room. Soon, pieces of the ivory suit came flying over the dressing-room door. Maisie collected them all and disappeared into the back room.

  “You OK?” Bethany asked, leaning against the door.

  Inside, Charley sighed heavily. “I will be. I’m just frustrated that I haven’t figured out this mummy thing. There are no real identifiers on the guy. No broken bones, no tattoos—unless they were on that missing foot. I’m stymied.”

  “Too bad he didn’t come with a toe tag,” Bethany joked, grinning across the room at Milo. “Or some weird piercing.”

  “The only weird thing is this symbol on his arm. It’s like a triangle indented into his skin. Possibly the mark of the person who mummified him? Some kind of signature?” Charley pushed open the door and Bethany saw she was flipping through the photos on her phone. She found the one she was looking for and held the phone out. “Here, take a look. Maybe it’s a reference to Egyptian pyramids?”

  Bethany braced herself for a gruesome image and peeked at the phone. It wasn’t as bad as she feared. The mummified arm was brownish, but out of context it looked more like a stick of wood than a body part. She let out her breath and zoomed in on the mark. Charley was right, it was a triangle mark just above the wrist bone. She passed the phone to Milo so he could take a look, too.

  He scanned the photo. “You know, this story just might be weird enough for the front page, after all. Modern mummy with ancient symbols. I could see this above the fold, all right.”

  “But not until after the wedding,” Charley reminded him.

  Milo rolled his eyes. “I know. Don�
�t worry, I won’t breathe a word of it to anyone at the Observer until you’ve sealed the deal.”

  “OK, but I’m watching you.” Charley pointed at him, grinning.

  Watching you... Something about the phrase caught Bethany’s attention.

  She grabbed Charley’s arm. “A watch! I bet the triangle is the mark from a watch.”

  Charley took her phone back from Milo and looked at the picture again. “Huh. I hadn’t thought of that because of the shape, but it could be. Who wears a watch anymore, though?”

  “Bernard LaFontaine!” Bethany said excitedly. “I saw a photo of him wearing a huge, gaudy watch. It was on the mantel at Simon’s apartment. If he was wearing the watch when he died, it might have left a mark on his wrist. It has to be him.”

  “And the person who mummified him took it off so it wouldn’t identify him?” Charley slid the phone back into her pocket. “That sounds plausible, given that the person hacked off his foot, too. But a lot of people wear watches. Plus, I’m pretty sure Bernard LaFontaine is resting in peace in his crypt at the estate.”

  Milo leaned toward her. “Is he?”

  “Only one way to find out,” Charley said grimly.

  “You have to let me come with you!” Milo clasped his hands together pleadingly. “I’ve never been to a disinterment before.”

  Bethany shuddered. Who would want to be there for that?

  Charley’s mouth dropped open. “We’re not cracking open a grave! I’ll just have Simon LaFontaine come down to the morgue and have a look. If it’s his father, he’ll recognize him. The mummy is very well-preserved.”

  Milo’s shoulders sagged. “Fine, be that way—just get me out of this monkey suit.”

  Chapter 9

  CHARLEY DROPPED BETHANY at the Railway Café on her way to Simon’s apartment. It was mid-afternoon, near closing time, and Bethany crossed her fingers that Kimmy wouldn’t remember that she wanted to see the conservatory before the sun went down.

  She didn’t need to worry, though. Kimmy seemed scattered and tense as she swept the floor. She hardly even looked up when Bethany came in, just nodded to her and then switched to scrubbing furiously at the counter, leaving the broom behind. Bethany slipped on an engineer-striped apron and picked up the dustpan.