by Laura Durham
Kate held a hand over her eyes as she followed my gaze across the parking lot. A three-level self-storage complex and street parking were the only things in that direction. “Unless the woman lives in a storage unit, I don’t think she came from there.”
I put the photo back in my purse. So much for that bright idea.
Buster roared into the lot and angled his bike in one of the motorcycle spots at the end of the row. He took off his black skullcap helmet as he got off his bike and walked toward the double doors with keys in hand. We huddled behind him to block the wind as he jiggled the keys in the glass doors.
He finally pushed one side and held it open for us. “We don’t keep the church unlocked if there’s no service. Not that we have anything worth stealing.”
“That’s an understatement,” Kate whispered to me as we hurried in out of the cold.
The inside of the church was as utilitarian as the outside with a dingy tile floor, metal folding chairs arranged in uneven rows, and a few sagging sofas around the edges of the room. Near the doors were a pair of spindly-legged rectangular tables stacked with pamphlets and Bibles, and a round table held a pair of coffee dispensers with paper “Caf” and “Decaf” signs taped on the front. Styrofoam cups held sugar packets and wooden stirrers, and a clear plastic bin of cookies looked to be mostly crumbs. The scent of coffee, evergreen, and sweat lingered in the air, which was quite a change from the aroma of incense and flowers I associated with churches.
Buster flipped a switch by the door and long rows of fluorescent lights on the ceiling flickered to life. “It’s not much, but the folks who come here don’t worry too much about appearances.”
Despite the bare-bones decor and odd combination of smells, there was a warmth to the place I couldn’t explain. A Christmas tree strung with popcorn chains stood in one corner, and shiny-gold garland hung in swags over the low stage at the front. I walked over to a large bulletin board hanging on the wall. Newspaper articles about the church’s philanthropic activities were tacked up alongside fliers selling bikes and notes with messages of encouragement from one member to another. I turned and looked out the glass front of the building and noticed the transparent surface was hazy.
Buster saw me studying it. “We put an anti-shatter film over the glass.”
“Why?” I asked, touching my fingertips to the cold surface.
Buster shrugged. “Some groups don’t like the work we do. They don’t consider us real Christians because it’s our policy to love and accept everyone and not to judge.”
“Who would have a problem with that?” Kate asked. “Love and acceptance sound pretty churchy to me.”
He pointed to the newspaper clippings on the bulletin board. “We’ve gotten some press for the funerals.”
Kate and I went over to the board. I scanned one of the articles. “So you set up human shields outside of funerals?”
Buster rocked back on the heels of his leather boots. “You know those churches that like to hold up hateful signs when it’s a funeral for a suicide or a gay person or even a soldier? We make sure the family and friends don’t have to see any of that ugliness.”
“I had no idea you and Mack did that.” I felt embarrassed I’d known them for almost five years and had never been aware of this part of their lives.
Buster shrugged. “Like I said, we don’t believe in judging. We know what it’s like to be judged. Most of our members have done plenty of things they aren’t proud of, and most of the world would judge them harshly for. But we’ve all seen our way to the light. Now we’re about spreading that light.”
Kate pointed to an article on the wall. “You guys escorted this kid to school when he was being bullied?”
Buster grinned. “That was one of my favorites. His grandmother is one of our members and told us how bad he was being picked on. About thirty of us rode him to school and dropped him off so all the other kids could see. We even got him his own leather vest. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen a kid smile so much.”
I could imagine that an escort of over two dozen rough-looking biker dudes on Harleys would make most bullies think twice.
Kate reached for a napkin from the coffee station and dabbed it to her eyes then nudged me. “Why don’t we do something like that?”
“That was a good day.” A man with a grizzled gray beard and leather jacket came inside, stomping his feet on the doormat. A skinny woman with dishwater-blond hair was with him and as she took off her scarf, I noticed a colorful tattoo swirling up from the cleavage exposed by her leather lace-up vest.
Buster gave the man a handshake and one-armed hug. “Hey, Soul Man. I was showing my friends around. They’re helping us find who left the baby.” He kissed the woman on the cheek. “Hey, Shelley.”
The older man nodded, his eyes going to us. “Welcome to our church.” He stepped forward and held out his hand. “I’m the preacher. Everyone calls me Soul Man. And this is the missus.”
The woman winked at us. “Call me Shelley.” Her voice made her sound like a two-pack-a-day smoker, but she smelled like tea rose perfume when she leaned close.
“Annabelle,” I said, shaking both of their hands. I motioned to my assistant who was blowing her nose. “This is Kate.”
Kate waved as she wiped her nose with the limp napkin. “Buster was telling us about the work you do.”
Shelley walked over to the coffee station and began straightening the supplies. She handed Kate another napkin. “How are y’all getting along with this baby thing?”
“We don’t know much,” I said. “Except that a woman dropped her off.”
Shelley moved her head up and down. “Makes sense. It was probably the mama who got scared and didn’t know what to do.”
“You don’t know any of the wives or girlfriends of church members who might have been pregnant, do you?” I asked.
“Not many come to services,” Soul Man answered for her. “We might only have a handful of women each Sunday; ain’t that right Shelley?”
“Sometimes it’s just me and Christie Gail,” Shelley said. “That’s our daughter.”
Buster and Soul Man moved across the room and started moving the folding chairs back into straight lines.
“Do you ever get together with the other wives and girlfriends?” I asked.
“When we do group rides, more of them turn out,” she said. “And everyone shows up for the picnics. Me and Soul Man don’t go out as much anymore, but some of the men play pool down at Bedlam.”
“Bedlam?” Kate asked.
“A bar in Adams Morgan where a lot of bikers tend to hang out.” She looked us up and down. “But you could go if you wanted to. They have a vegan menu.”
I didn’t ask why one look at us made her think we would be vegans, and I tried not to act surprised that a bar frequented by bikers would have an animal-product-free menu in the first place. These Harley riders were more complicated than I’d given them credit for.
Shelley jerked her thumb toward a pair of doors on the other side of the room. “I’m gonna hit the ladies.”
When she disappeared into one of the doors, I turned to face Kate. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
“That we have got to see what they put on a vegan menu at a biker bar?”
I waved one hand at her. “No, although I’d like to meet some of these vegan bikers. I’m thinking maybe we should find out more about their daughter.”
“You think she could be the one who dropped off the baby?” Kate dropped her voice. “Wouldn’t her parents have noticed?”
“You’ve heard of the teenaged girls who wear baggy sweatshirts and no one even knows they’re pregnant,” I said. “It’s been sweater weather for almost four months now.”
“You’re only saying this because she’s the only other female we’ve heard about who’s associated with the church,” Kate said.
“Probably,” I admitted. “But it’s worth at least checking out. If she looks anything like her mother, she’d have blond hair.
”
Shelley emerged from the bathroom, and I waved her over. “You don’t happen to have a picture of your daughter, do you?”
She reached into the back pocket of her jeans. “Sure I do, hon.” She pulled out a small rectangular picture and held it out. “This isn’t all that recent, but you can see she takes after me.”
Kate craned over my shoulder to see. “She’s adorable. How old is the photo?”
I stared down at the school photo of a little blond girl who could not have been over ten-years-old.
“It’s from the beginning of the school year,” Shelley said. “She’s cut her hair since then.”
I handed it back to her. “She’s your only daughter?”
Shelley sighed as she tucked it back in her wallet. “Soul Man and me got a late start, so she’s all we got. She’s enough though.”
“She’s not boring you with baby pictures, is she?” Soul Man asked, wrapping an arm around Shelley’s waist as he and Buster rejoined us.
Shelley slapped his chest. “They asked to see a picture of Christie Gail.”
Her husband raised an eyebrow.
“It’s true,” Kate said. “We love kids.”
I made a point not to look at Kate and see if her pants were on fire.
“Well, I’d better get back to Mack.” Buster jangled the keys in his hand.
I remembered that Richard stayed with Mack and the baby, and wondered what the three of them had been up to while we’d been away. I was almost afraid to find out.
We said our farewells to Soul Man and Shelley outside the church while Buster locked up. As Kate and I walked to my car, I felt my purse vibrating. I dug my phone out and looked at the screen. Richard.
“We’re on our way back,” I said when I answered.
“I’m not at Lush anymore,” Richard said.
I hesitated at my car door. “Where are you?”
“I’m going right to the source, Annabelle.” Richard’s voice was a couple of octaves higher than usual.
“The source of what?” I asked, ignoring the sound of Kate yanking on her door handle on the other side of the car.
“I’m outside the offices of Capital Weddings,” he said. “I’m about to march inside and demand to know who has it in for me.”
I groaned. This was not going to turn out well.
Chapter 9
I spotted Richard on the corner of I Street looking up at a glass-fronted office building with his arms crossed. Even though the wind whipped down the street and swirled my long hair into my face, Richard’s short spiky hair was unruffled.
“What are you doing out here?” I asked as Kate and I hurried up to him. “You’re going to freeze to death.”
“I can’t feel a thing,” Richard said, his eyes not leaving the building. “I’m fueled by outrage.”
“That’s not a good sign,” Kate said.
I followed his gaze. “So what’s the plan? Are you trying to hex the staff at Capital Weddings from out here?”
He gave me a sidelong glance. “Don’t be absurd.”
This from the man who’d been known to have voodoo dolls made to look like people who’d offended him.
The glass door to a nearby Starbucks opened, and the scent of coffee wafted over to us, along with a blast of heat, both welcome as we stood outside in the cold. A woman in a puffy black jacket passed holding a red cardboard cup covered in snowflakes, and I looked at the tall cup longingly. I wouldn’t mind ducking inside and getting a peppermint mocha, but I couldn’t leave Richard.
“What happened to hanging out with Mack?” I asked. “Or was that all a ruse so you could come down here before I could talk you out of it?”
“If I hadn’t wanted you to know I was here, I never would have called you,” he said. “But you know there’s only so much baby I can handle at a time. Once the little creature woke up, it was time for me to go.”
“Why don’t we discuss your plans for revenge over coffee and scones?” Kate asked, taking a step toward the Starbucks.
“I’ve abandoned my quest for revenge,” Richard said.
“That was fast,” Kate said, giving me a look that told me she didn’t believe him. Knowing Richard, I wasn’t convinced either.
“Right now I just want to know what happened.” Richard’s brows pressed together to form a wrinkle between his eyes. “I couldn’t have gone from top caterer to off the list in the course of a year without reason.”
“I maintain it could have been an error,” I said. “You know the magazine’s been using more and more interns to do their fact-checking.”
“Then I’d like to meet the intern who was so bad at their job they forgot to list the city’s best caterer.” Richard squared his shoulders and headed for the entrance of the building.
Kate and I rushed to follow him, more for the intern’s sake than anything else. We passed through the glass doors of the office building and crossed mouse-gray marble floors to a bank of elevators. Richard threw his arm out to catch a set of closing doors, and we hopped on behind him. There were only two men inside with us, and they both wore dark suits and power ties. We all faced forward.
“Don’t you want to know what we discovered at the Born Again Biker Church?” Kate asked Richard in a low voice as the elevator surged upward.
“Do I have a choice?”
Kate ignored his comment. “To be honest, it was a bit of a bust. There’s nothing but self storage in the direction the woman came from, and Soul Man and Shelley couldn’t think of any women they knew who’d been pregnant.”
One of the men in the elevator glanced over at us, but Kate didn’t seem to notice.
“Soul Man?” Richard asked.
“The preacher,” I explained. “Shelley is his wife. They were both very nice.”
“So you’re back to square one?”
“I don’t think we ever got very far off square one,” Kate said. “Annabelle thinks we need to meet more of the church members.”
The elevator doors opened and one of the men stepped off, glancing back at us as he left.
“It’s clearly connected to the church or someone who goes there,” I said. “You have to go out of your way to find the place, so only someone with a strong connection would seek out a biker strip mall church in Northeast DC.”
The other man raised his eyebrows as he stared down at his newspaper.
“We’re going to go check out Bedlam,” Kate said. “It’s a biker bar in Adams Morgan where some of Buster and Mack’s church friends hang out.”
Richard twisted to face me. “You’re going to a biker bar?”
“You should come with us,” Kate said. “They even have a vegan menu.”
“Vegan food at a biker bar?” Richard shuddered. “Perish the thought.”
The elevator dinged and the doors opened.
“This is us,” Richard said, striding off without a backward glance.
We followed him to the right where he threw open a set of glass doors with the words “Capital Weddings” written across them in swirling black letters. A sleek half-moon reception desk sat in the small lobby with two groupings of white furniture and copies of Capital Weddings magazines scattered across a glass coffee table.
A blond receptionist looked up at us and smiled. “Can I help you?”
“I certainly hope so,” Richard began. “I’ve come to lodge a com—“
I stepped in front of him. “We’d like to speak to your editor in charge of the ‘Best of’ list. We don’t have an appointment.”
Her smile had faltered when Richard had started in on what was clearly meant to be a tirade, but she regained her sunny expression. “Of course. Let me see if Marcie is available. Who should I tell her is here?”
Richard opened his mouth, but I cut him off. “Annabelle Archer from Wedding Belles.”
She seemed to recognize the name and nodded as she picked up her phone. I motioned for Richard and Kate to follow me to one of the sofas.
“Why di
dn’t you let me talk?” Richard asked.
“Because you would have made that poor girl cry, and she had nothing to do with the list,” I said, keeping my voice to a whisper. “Besides, if there really is a conspiracy against you, we don’t want them to know you’re here. This way we still have the element of surprise.”
Richard sniffed and brushed the arm of his jacket. “I guess living with a detective is rubbing off on you, darling. You’re getting positively sneaky.”
I’d take that as a compliment and as an indication that Richard was getting used to the idea of me living with Reese.
“Annabelle!” A tall woman with jet-black hair appeared from around the corner. “I can’t believe it’s actually you. This is such good timing.”
I stood up and accepted her hug, even though I didn’t think I’d ever laid eyes on the woman. “Is it?”
She bobbed her head up and down. “I was going to ship you a box of magazines since you were one of our top vendors. Congratulations, by the way.”
“Thanks.” I swept a hand behind me. “Have you met my assistant, Kate, and my friend, Richard?”
Richard extended his hand in front of Kate. “Gerard. Richard Gerard.” He gave her a pointed look. “As in Richard Gerard Catering.”
“So nice to meet you both.” Marcie shook his hand and then Kate’s, but didn’t seem to register anything when Richard said his company name. “Why don’t you come back to my office, and we’ll get you those magazines.”
Richard held me back as we followed Marcie out of the lobby and into an open floor plan office with a hive of cubbies. His face looked distressed. “She didn’t even recognize my name.”
“It’s not like she actually works in our industry,” I said to him in my softest voice. “They may have a magazine about weddings, but when have you actually seen any of these people out at our weddings or industry events?”
Richard scanned the room even though we saw mostly the tops of heads and a few clusters of people talking. “Then why are they making decisions that affect all of our careers?”
“That’s the million dollar question,” I said.
Marcie paused when she reached an office in the corner with glass walls and floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking I Street. She waved at a pair of chairs across from a wooden desk. “Have a seat.”
