Murder of a Wedding Belle

by Denise Swanson

  “Not necessarily. Between caller ID and the Internet, getting a phone number is remarkably easy nowadays. I’ll check with your carrier and see if they can trace the call. Too bad it’s not as easy as those TV shows make it seem.”

  “I still think it’s one of the vendors we talked to today.”

  “Telephone threats usually amount to nothing, but I’ll follow up tomorrow to make sure.” Wally frowned. “Although, to be safe, you’d better stay here tonight.”

  “I’m fine,” Skye said, but her tone wasn’t convincing. She hated to admit that she dreaded being by herself in her big old house after all that had happened. It wasn’t that she was scared. It was more a deep sense of sadness for Belle and for all the people involved. She’d been trying to think of the murder as just another case, but she knew that once she was alone, she couldn’t stop herself from dwelling on the personal aspects of Belle’s death. “I have a long day tomorrow.”

  “I’ll set the alarm for six,” Wally coaxed.

  “Then you’ll turn it off and sneak away like this morning.” Skye refused to meet Wally’s eyes, knowing one look into their warm brown depths would persuade her to stay against her better judgment.

  “I promise to be ruthless.” Wally put a hand over his heart. “No matter how much you beg for five more minutes or how cute you look.”

  “Well ...” Skye wavered. “I am tired, and if I stayed, I could go to sleep faster.”

  “Who said anything about snoozing?” Wally’s grin was devilish. “You didn’t think I meant sleep when I referred to begging, did you?”

  Wally woke Skye with a kiss and a cup of tea. She had seen a bumper sticker that read: I LIKE MY MEN LIKE I LIKE MY COFFEE, SWEET AND STRONG. She smiled to herself; Wally fit that description to a T.

  As she sipped, he told her his plans for the day. “First, I’m going to interview Hallie, and while I do that I’ll have Martinez and Quirk determine if any of the suspects have an alibi for the newly narrowed-down time of death. After I finish with Hallie, I’ll talk to more of the businesses involved with the wedding. How about you?”

  “Since questioning the vendors and sorting through the deliveries ate up most of Monday, I couldn’t touch base with the venue or the other people working the event, so that’s on my agenda for today.” Skye put the mug on the bedside table and stood. “But the top of my list is to call the engravers and get new menus and programs made up.” She explained about the misspelling.

  “Good thing Frannie spotted that error.”

  “Definitely. And on the positive side, Belle used a local company, so the new stuff won’t have to come all the way from California. Plainfield is considerably closer than Los Angeles.”

  “That’s a lucky break.” Wally leaned against the doorframe and watched Skye pull on her jeans.

  “And the bridal party is out of my hair until after lunch.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yes. They’re all going to Tiffany’s at Oakbrook to shop for wedding jewelry. Belle’s inconvenient death messed up Riley’s original plan to shop there on Sunday, so to make it up to her, Nick’s taking the whole group along. Riley adores having an audience. They should be leaving Scumble River by nine.”

  “Then I better get going so I can catch Hallie before she takes off.” Wally kissed Skye good-bye. “Call my cell if you need me.”

  Following a quick pit stop at home, Skye arrived at the motor court freshly showered and dressed in khaki shorts and a white sleeveless cotton blouse. Grabbing her purse and Belle’s binder from the passenger seat, she hopped out of the Bel Air, glad to see Frannie and Justin waiting in Frannie’s car, a secondhand Ford Focus.

  The teenagers met her on the cottage’s front step. “Ms. D.,” Frannie said as Skye fumbled with the key, “we were wondering if sometime today, during one of our breaks, we could interview you about the murder.”

  “Sorry.” Skye had told Frannie and Justin to call her by her first name now that they weren’t her students anymore, but they couldn’t seem to bring themselves to do so. “I can’t talk about an ongoing investigation.”

  Justin held open the door and waved Skye and Frannie inside before complaining, “But this story could be our in for JJC’s student newspaper.” Both teenagers were journalism majors.

  “Yeah,” Frannie added. “We have to submit a portfolio, and Ms. Steele says she’ll run our stories, so we’d both have a great clipping to include.”

  Kathryn Steele, the owner of the Scumble River Star, the local weekly paper, had left Skye several messages asking for information about the murder. Clearly, when Skye hadn’t returned her calls, she had gone with Plan B.

  “Sorry, kids.” Skye picked up the phone on the desk. “You already have lots of clippings. The best I can do is to give you an exclusive interview after the case is solved.”

  “But, Ms. D., what if Ms. Steele doesn’t want it then?” Justin whined.

  “Kathryn will want it.” Skye dialed. “Now, how about you two get to work? The flowers are arriving tomorrow, so Iris needs all the boxes in cottage three unpacked and the materials sorted out.”

  “Okay,” Frannie conceded. “Do you need us to do anything here before we go?”

  The engravers answered, and Skye held up a finger to the teenagers, indicating that they should wait. “Hi, this is Skye Denison. I’m the new coordinator for the Erickson-Jordan wedding.”

  “What happened to Ms. Canfield?”

  “She couldn’t finish the job, so I’m taking over.” Skye hedged, knowing Wally wanted to keep Belle’s death a secret as long as possible.

  “Oh. Okay. What can I do for you?”

  “I’m afraid you’ll have to redo all the menus and programs.” Skye’s tone was firm but pleasant. “You misspelled the bride’s name. It’s Riley, not Riled.”

  “We engraved what we were given.” The woman’s tone was equally firm but not as pleasant.

  Skye fumbled with the binder, looking for the order. When she couldn’t find it, she said, “I don’t have the original, but I’m positive Ms. Canfield would not make that kind of error.” She hadn’t expected the engravers to try to blame Belle, but she should have. This would be an expensive order to redo, and the business wouldn’t want to foot the bill.

  “It was sent digitally. You need to find the computer file.” The woman’s voice was impatient.

  “Right. I’ll do that and get back to you. In the meantime, you need to redo the order. Do you have a sufficient quantity of the Crane pearl white paper?”

  “Yes. That’s no problem.”

  “And I need everything no later than Thursday.” Skye inwardly cringed, afraid the engravers would say two days was impossible.

  “We can do that, but there’ll be a rush fee.”

  “Only if it wasn’t your mistake, I assume,” Skye quickly added.

  “Yes.” There was a long pause. “Of course, but it wasn’t our fault.”

  As she hung up, Skye frowned. She had no idea how to find a file on someone else’s computer. It really was time for her to stop traveling at 33 rpm in an iPod world. When the wedding was over, she would sign up for a computer class.

  But first, she had to solve the more immediate problem, and the answer was staring at her with an impatient look on his face. She had nearly forgotten that she had a computer whiz on the payroll.

  “Justin, there’s a change of plans. I need you to find a file on Belle’s laptop.”

  “Awesome.” He grinned and cracked his knuckles. “Where is it?”

  Damn! “I don’t know.” Skye started dialing again. “Let me check with the chief and see if the crime techs took it, and if they didn’t, if it’s all right for us to go in Belle’s cabin.”

  After speaking to Wally, Skye said to Justin, “The techs have it, but if you go to Laurel, Chief Boyd is clearing you to use it there.”

  “Should I go now?”

  “Definitely.” Skye handed Justin her keys. “Here. Use the Bel Air. It has a full tank of g
as.” She knew Frannie’s father had forbidden her from loaning out her car.

  Once Justin was gone, Frannie moved toward the door, a pout on her face. “I guess that means I’m on my own unpacking the floral stuff.”

  “Yep. I need to go out to the country club and make sure everything is going smoothly with the ceremony and reception setups.”

  “How are you going to get there?”

  “Crap!” Skye smacked herself on the forehead. “I forgot about that when I loaned Justin the Bel Air.”

  “Guess you’ll need someone to drive you.” Frannie smirked. “If you and I both unpack, it’ll go quicker; then I can take you to the country club.”

  “You win.” Skye briefly considered calling around to borrow a car but figured it would be quicker to do it Frannie’s way. “Let’s get cracking.”

  CHAPTER 12

  Something New

  “Shoot. Who knew so much junk was involved in arranging a few flowers?” Frannie looked around at the boxes stacked five deep in cabin three.

  “None of this is junk.” Iris Yee stood in the open doorway with her hands on her nonexistent hips, glaring at the teenager. “And I’m doing a hell of a lot more than arranging a few flowers.”

  Skye stepped in front of Frannie. “Of course you are, Iris. Belle said your creations are legendary.”

  “Really?” Iris’s delicate features, a blend of Asian and European, were impassive. “I’m flattered. I would have never guessed she felt that way.”

  “Well, I doubt she would have brought you all the way from the West Coast if you weren’t the best.”

  “Perhaps.”

  Frannie glanced pointedly at the wall clock, and Skye asked, “Is there any special way you want the supplies unpacked?”

  Iris gestured to the worktables positioned against the four walls. “Sort the materials according to whether they’re for the tall gold centerpieces, the low crystal centerpieces, the ceremony arch, or the body flowers.”

  “How will we figure out what is what?” Frannie made a sweeping motion with her hands. “I wouldn’t know a philodendron from a gardenia.”

  “Here’s the list and the inventory.” Iris handed the pages to Skye. “I’ll be back to check on you in a bit.”

  “Wait a minute.” Skye stopped her. “You mentioned the centerpieces and body flowers; those are the bouquets, right?” Iris nodded and Skye continued, “But how about the dragonwood branch trees for the cocktail party and the floral hedges that are supposed to line the aisle for the ceremony?”

  “My assistant is flying in with them on Friday.” Iris shook her head. “You don’t have a clue.”

  “I’m doing the best I can in difficult circumstances.” Skye kept her tone even, believing that a good time to keep your mouth shut was before you put your foot in it. She couldn’t afford to offend Iris. It wasn’t as if she could do the arrangements herself, and where would she get another floral designer at this late date?

  “This event will be a disaster,” Iris moaned.

  Skye noticed a panicky expression in the woman’s eyes and said soothingly, “It’ll be fine if we all pull together.” The last thing she needed was a vendor meltdown.

  “Who knew working without Belle would be worse than working with her?” Iris continued as if Skye hadn’t spoken.

  “Oh. I thought you said you and Belle had a terrific relationship.”

  “Yes. Of course we did. What are you implying?” Before Skye could answer, Iris turned on her heel and marched away, saying over her shoulder, “If you’re done interrogating me, I have calls to make.”

  After the floral designer left, Frannie asked, “What was that all about?”

  “I wish I knew,” Skye murmured to herself, then said to Frannie, “I’m sure it’s nothing. Let’s get to work. We have a lot to do today.”

  “Okay. If you want to be that way.” Frannie shrugged. “But if you let me, I could help you with the investigation and get a terrific story for my portfolio.”

  They worked in silence, speaking only when they had to figure out on which table a strange piece belonged.

  They were down to the last row of cartons when Frannie held up a silver conical object. “Ms. D., what do you think this is?” The teen put it on her head. “A party hat?”

  Skye giggled, then plucked the odd item off Frannie’s skull and looked it over. It was heavier than she expected. After checking both the pages Iris had left and the inventory, she said, “I don’t see it on either of these lists.”

  “What in the heck is it for?” Frannie asked.

  “I have no idea. It looks like an antique. Or at least a collectible.” Skye examined the object more closely, running her finger over the intricate design of flowers and vines embossed into the metal, but stopped when she felt a depression. “Anyway, it’s damaged.” She showed it to Frannie. “See the dent right here?”

  “Yeah, it’s a big one. That must be why someone tossed it behind the boxes.” Frannie held out her hand. “Give it to me and I’ll put it in the trash.”

  Skye was about to pass it to Frannie when she paused. Something was nagging at her. Something she’d heard recently.

  It came to her in a flash. Wally had said to watch out for an object with a raised pattern that was shaped like an oversize ice cream cone. Holy mother of God! She was holding the weapon used to knock out Belle.

  Skye left Frannie to finish the unpacking with the excuse that she needed to use the facilities. The teen nodded but raised her brows when Skye took the unidentified item with her. Once inside the bathroom, Skye put it carefully on the floor, then dialed Wally’s cell.

  He answered on the first ring. “Hello, sugar. I hope you’re calling to ask me to lunch.”

  “I wish I was, but I’m too busy to eat.” Skye relaxed at the calming sound of his voice. “Still, I think you’ll be happy I phoned.”

  “I’m always happy to hear from you.” Wally’s tone was light, but Skye could hear the underlying tension. “I’d be euphoric if you said you’d figured out who murdered Belle Canfield.”

  “Well, I haven’t done that, but I might have found the murder weapon.”

  “The actual murder weapon was the refrigerator. Do you mean the thing she was knocked out with?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “No.” Skye smiled. “Frannie and I were unpacking the floral materials in cabin three today, and she found a metal cone-shaped object with a dent.”

  “I’ll be right there.” Wally hung up before Skye could respond.

  Frannie was flattening empty boxes when Skye returned to the main room of the cottage. As soon as Skye appeared she said, “I’m almost through here. Do you want to go to the country club now?”

  “It’s eleven thirty. I’ll do the rest of the cartons. You go get some lunch. Meet me back here in half an hour.”

  The girl looked at her suspiciously but shrugged. “Okay. Do you want me to bring you anything?”

  “No.” Skye shook her head, wanting Frannie gone before Wally arrived. “I’m fine.”

  Frannie had barely driven away when Wally pulled into the parking lot. He left the squad car running when he got out and strode swiftly over to where Skye was standing on the cottage’s top step. “Put it in this.” He held a large plastic evidence bag toward her.

  “Here you go.”

  He sealed the top, then dated and signed the front. Once he was finished, he asked, “Where’s Frannie?”

  “I sent her to lunch.”

  “Does she know this might be a weapon connected with the murder?”

  “No. That’s why I sent her away.” Skye explained, “Kathryn Steele wants her and Justin to write an article about the murder for the paper.”

  “Son of a b—” Wally cut himself off. “That woman is a thorn in my butt.”

  “She’s just doing her job.”

  “Too bad hers makes mine harder.” Wally shook his head. “Okay. Show me where you found the thing
.”

  Skye led him into the cabin. “It was there between a box and the wall.” She pointed to the right of the door. “How did the evidence techs miss it?”

  “They only searched number four; none of the other cabins appeared to have been disturbed.”

  “That makes sense.” Skye nodded. “We didn’t see it until we had nearly all the cartons unpacked. They were five deep.”

  “Where’s the box?”

  She gestured to a lone carton in the middle of the room. “This one. I was able to stop Frannie before she dismantled it.”

  “Good. I’ll take it and the possible weapon over to Laurel so the techs can test them.” Wally ran his fingers through his hair. “We have your prints on file, but we’ll have to get Frannie’s since she handled it too.”

  “What are you going to tell her?”

  “I’ll think of something.” Wally walked back to the police car. “Who besides you and Belle had access to this cabin?”

  “Iris Yee.” Skye trailed after him and leaned against the fender, watching him lock the evidence bag in the trunk and pull on a pair of rubber gloves.

  “Didn’t Tabitha Urick mention Iris as someone who didn’t get along with Belle?”

  “Yes.” Skye drummed her fingers on the hood of the cruiser. “And Iris let something slip today. When I talked to her right after the murder, she claimed she and Belle were the best of friends, but this morning she said something about Belle being a pain to work with.”

  “If this thing turns out to be the weapon the perp used to knock Belle out, I think that comment and Iris’s access to the cottage where it was found win her an all-expense-paid trip to the PD’s interrogation room.”

  “Shoot.” Skye slammed the door of the squad before following him back to the cottage. “If she’s the killer, what am I going to do with fifty thousand dollars’ worth of flowers and no one to arrange them?”

  “Sorry.” Wally carefully picked up the carton by one flap and carried it to the police car. “Solving a murder trumps putting on a wedding.”