Better Off Wed (10 page)

“Everything that could possibly go wrong today already has.” Richard polished a sterling silver knife with the dishtowel tucked into the waistband of his pants, then placed it on the Boyds' long, mahogany dining table. Everything about the room, from the floors to the walls to the claw-foot table, was dark wood.

“That's good.” I set an oversized pink-rimmed base plate in front of each of the tall chairs. “If nothing else can go wrong, then dinner will be perfect.”

“First, I couldn't get the grade of filet I wanted. I had to settle for choice.” Richard set a ruler on the table to see if the silverware was even on both sides of the plate. “Then Party Settings delivered the wrong dessert plates. Wait until you see them. They look like hospital china, which means I'm going to have to paint the plate with raspberry coulis to cover it up. And, of course, I couldn't find the wine that
matched the pink peppercorn sauce anywhere in the city.”

“Remember that this tasting is just so they can sample your food. This isn't the final menu for the wedding.” I patted his arm. “I think you've done an amazing job considering the short notice I gave you.”

“I'm almost positive that this is the least amount of time I've ever had to pull together a formal dinner,” Richard snipped. “No other caterer would dare to try.”

“You get full marks for bravery.” I set a white plate with a scrolling pattern on top of the charger. Classic and formal, yet not boring. Richard considered matching people's personality and tableware an art form.

“I'm not the brave one. You're trying to catch a murderer. Where do you think he is, anyway?”

We hadn't seen anyone since Mrs. Boyd let us inside two hours earlier. I glanced at the grandfather clock in the corner. Half an hour left before we were scheduled to start the tasting.

Kate wedged an ivory taper into the crystal candelabra in the middle of the table. “Didn't you hear Mrs. Boyd say he had a doctor's appointment right before this?”

“I bet we have time to snoop around a little before he gets here,” I whispered.

“Snoop around?” Kate almost dropped her handful of candles. “That's not part of the plan.”

“Mr. Boyd's office is right across the foyer and the door is partly open.” I tugged at Kate's arm. “If we're going to do this, let's do it right.”

“You're nuts.” She pulled away from me. “What if he comes home early and we get caught?”

“Doctor appointments always run late, so there's no way that Boyd will get here on time,” I assured her.

“What if Mrs. Boyd comes back downstairs?”

“That's why Richard's going to stand guard for us.” I looked tentatively at Richard.

“Leave me out of this.” Richard started out of the dining room, and I ran to catch him. “If you think I'm going to be around when you two get hauled off to jail, you're out of your mind. I'll tell you where I'll be. Crawling out the kitchen window.”

“Please, Richard. Kate and I will only poke our heads in for a second.”

Richard allowed himself to be prodded across the foyer.

“After two minutes, you're on your own,” he huffed.

“Stand out here and if you hear anyone coming, give us a signal.” I pushed the door to Mr. Boyd's study open the rest of the way.

“Would a flare suffice or were you thinking more along the lines of exotic bird calls?”

I gave Richard my most saccharine smile. “A tap on the door will do nicely.”

We stepped into the office, and I could make out the shape of a desk in the corner. I heard Kate sliding her feet across the floor, probably so she wouldn't trip, and I did the same. We reached the desk and Kate turned on a lamp sitting on the edge. I snapped it off.

“What are you doing?” I blinked hard, temporarily blinded by the light. So much for my eyes having adjusted to the darkness.

“How are we going to find anything if we don't have light?”

“Let's try this.” I felt my way over to the window and found the plastic bar that adjusted the blinds. I twisted it, and stripes of soft moonlight fell onto the desk.

“Not bad.” Kate bent over the desk and picked up a book. “His calendar.”

I took it out of her hands. “I wonder why he doesn't have it on him.”

“Maybe he keeps one for here and one for the office. Flip to the week before the wedding.”

“What's taking so long, girls? Hurry it up.”

I cursed Richard under my breath for making me jump. “Two more minutes.”

“I'll give you one, and then I'm out of here,” he hissed back.

Great. No pressure. I flipped back a page in Boyd's calendar and ran my finger down the record of meetings.

“This guy visits the doctor a lot. He had an appointment last week, too.”

“Is Clara's name in there anywhere? Or the initials CP?”

“Not that I can find.” I scanned the pages quickly.

“Feel around. Is there anything else on the desk?”

“Ugh. I think he emptied his pockets on here. Stick of gum, a few pennies, receipt, ball of lint.”

“Where's the receipt from?”

Kate uncrumpled it. “From a pharmacy. For a prescription.”

“I wonder what he takes. Does it have a date?”

Kate unfolded it. “The tenth.”

“The day of the wedding. Are you thinking what I'm thinking?”

“That I can't believe this guy picks up his own prescriptions?”

“Good point.” I tried not to sound too surprised as I took the receipt from Kate. “But he would pick it up himself if he didn't want anyone to know about it. Mrs.
Pierce died from mixing two blood-pressure medicines, right? What if the prescription Boyd had filled the day of the wedding was for one of them and he somehow used it to kill her?”

A sharp rap on the door made my stomach drop.

“That's Richard's signal.” Kate clutched my arm. “We've got to get out of here.”

A high-pitched, warbling whistle followed Richard's loud tap on the door.

“Is that supposed to be a bird call?” I stuffed the drugstore receipt into my shirt pocket.

“Who knows?” Kate whispered. “I'm not waiting around to see if he sends up a flare.”

I held out my arm to stop Kate from barreling through the door when I heard Richard's voice, much shriller than usual.

“This is the most breathtaking parquet floor I've ever seen, Mrs. Boyd.”

I held my breath. They sounded as if they were right outside the door.

“Why, thank you, Mr. Gerard.”

“Call me Richard. Everyone does.”

Footsteps indicated they were heading away from the office door.

“If you have a minute, Mrs. Boyd, I'd love to show
you the china we chose for this evening. I think of it as Martha Stewart meets Louis the Fourteenth.”

I cracked the door. “Okay, Kate. It's all clear. Richard has Mrs. Boyd in the dining room with her back to us.”

“Where are we supposed to have been?”

“There's a powder room under the staircase. We could be coming out of there.”

“Both of us?” Kate asked. “Together?”

“Better she thinks we're weird than she finds us snooping around her husband's office.”

“If you say so.”

We tiptoed past the dining room, and then made a big production of shutting the door to the bathroom and walking loudly down the hall.

“There you are.” Mrs. Boyd turned as Kate and I entered. A petite woman with dark hair cut in a thick page boy, Helen Boyd had a tight smile that seemed to blink on and off again like Christmas tree lights.

“Did we miss anything while we were washing up for dinner?” I asked.

Richard gave me a fake smile. “All we've done so far is review the menu.”

“I hope you found the bathroom without any problem, Miss Archer.”

I waved her concern away with one hand. “No problem at all. I love the way you've decorated it.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Really? Most women don't like the fly-fishing motif.”

Fly-fishing? I should have checked out the bathroom before opening my big mouth.

“Annabelle isn't most women.” Kate patted me on the back. “She adores fly-fishing.”

“Do you, now?” Mrs. Boyd studied me carefully.

“Then you and my husband will have lots to talk about. It's his passion.”

“You know I'm more of a beginner, Kate.” If looks could kill, I'd have been in the market for a new assistant.

“He'll be thrilled that someone speaks his lingo. Heaven knows I don't share my husband's fondness for the outdoors.” She bestowed a series of her blinking smiles on us.

Richard looked at his watch. “Are we expecting Mr. Boyd soon?”

“Yes, but why don't we get started without him?” Mrs. Boyd lowered herself into the chair that Richard slid out for her.

“Excuse us for one moment.” Richard let me and Kate walk past him into the kitchen. “We'll be back with the first course.”

Kate waited until Richard closed the door before collapsing in a fit of giggles. “Good luck chatting with Mr. Boyd about fly-fishing.”

“Who decorates their bathroom with a fly-fishing motif?” I leaned over and let my head fall on the wooden kitchen island, glowering at Kate from my inverted position. “You're pure evil squeezed into a Lilly Pulitzer dress.”

Richard waved his hands like a bird about to take flight. “Fight it out later, girls. You haven't told me if you found anything in the office yet.”

“We found something all right. Show him the receipt, Annie.” Kate only used my nickname when trying to get on my good side.

I produced the slightly crumpled yellow copy for Richard to inspect.

Richard took it from me. “He fills his own prescriptions?”

“That's what I said.” Kate wore a look of vindication as she opened the lid of the stainless-steel stock pot simmering on the stove.

“Am I the only person paying attention here?” I snapped my fingers. “He fills the prescription, then attends the wedding. Mrs. Pierce dies of an overdose of blood-pressure medication. Hardly a coincidence.”

“The sneaky and suspicious side of your character is really coming out, Annabelle.” Richard pushed Kate out of the way, and stirred the contents of the pot. “I like it.”

“I've got to agree with Annabelle, it's all too convenient,” Kate said. “If Clara planned on exposing their affair to his wife, causing her to leave him, and possibly ruining his political career, I'll bet he'd do anything to stop her.”

I nodded. “If they'd been seeing each other, he'd know that she took blood-pressure medicine. It wouldn't take a genius to figure out that giving her a big dose of blood-pressure medicine on top of her own medication would kill her.”

Kate rubbed her hands together. “We know he had plenty of motive. He had opportunity, too, because we saw him at the wedding. I'll bet he pulled her aside to apologize for the fight, and then managed to slip her the poison.”

“Now we have evidence.” I took the receipt and tucked it in the zippered compartment of my purse. One piece of paper I didn't want to lose.

Richard lifted a wooden spoon from the pot and took a taste from it. “We can prove that he got a pre
scription filled, but we can't be sure that it was the same medication they found in Clara's system.”

“I just have a feeling, Richard. The case is coming together.”

Kate rocked on the balls of her feet. “Just to play devil's adjective, how did he get a doctor to prescribe it to him?”

“It's devil's advocate.” Richard pointed the spoon at Kate.

“What if he takes blood-pressure medicine himself?” I said. “It wouldn't be unusual among political types.”

“We can find out if he has high blood pressure.” Richard lifted the pot off the stove and set it in the sink.

“Let me guess, Kate and I will sneak up to his bathroom and go through his cabinets?”

“I thought of simply asking his wife. Unless you two didn't get your fill of spying?”

“How are we supposed to work that into casual conversation?” I put my hands on my hips. “Please pass the pepper and the blood-pressure pills, if you have any.”

“You'll figure something out, Annabelle.” Richard ladled a spoonful of pale pink soup into a shallow bowl and passed it to me.

Kate took two bowls and put her back against the door. “If not, you always have fly-fishing to fall back onto.” She backed out of the kitchen, smirking.

I followed and set a soup bowl in front of Mrs. Boyd, then sat down across from Kate. “Since your daughter's wedding will be next summer, Richard chose an apple chestnut soup to start the meal.” Inspiration struck me. “We can lower the amount of salt in
case either you or your husband have any health concerns. Like high blood pressure?”

“We both have mild hypertension, but nothing to be concerned about for the wedding.”

Jackpot.

“Do you take medication?” I asked.

“Yes, why?” Mrs. Boyd eyed the soup and didn't make a move toward her spoon.

Kate gave a forced laugh. “Don't let Annabelle worry you. She likes to get a full family profile when we start the planning process. Allergies, likes, dislikes, medications.”

“Am I too late? Did you start without me?” Mr. Boyd came through the front door, dropping his square briefcase in the foyer and continuing into the dining room. Kate sent her soup spoon clattering onto the table.

“Not yet.” Mrs. Boyd turned her cheek when her husband bent down to kiss her.

I'd remembered Mr. Boyd as being taller and more handsome when we'd had our first meeting. I could see why women would be attracted, though. Chocolate brown hair with a distinguished amount of gray. Blue eyes that any woman would die for. Discovering that he'd killed my former client in cold blood lowered his overall sex appeal, though.

“We were just about to taste the soup.” I pushed my chair back and almost flipped it over. “Let me get you some.”

Richard had a filled soup bowl in his hand when I stepped into the kitchen. “Was that Mr. Boyd I heard?”

I nodded. “He's our guy. Mrs. Boyd told us he takes medication for blood pressure. He's the killer.” My
heart pounded. I needed some blood-pressure medicine myself.

“Okay, Annabelle. Calm down. Maybe we should call the police and let them take over from here.”

“Not until after the tasting,” I insisted. “Maybe he'll let something slip and incriminate himself even more.”

“Fine. But if anything happens, remember that I'm right in here with 911 predialed on my cell phone and my finger on the send button.”

Not exactly how I pictured the cavalry arriving, but I could live with it.

I nudged the door open with my toes, and carried the bowl with both hands. I lowered it in front of Mr. Boyd and noticed he'd drained his water glass. “Apple chestnut soup served warm with a dash of crème fraîche.”

“Helen cooks like this all the time.” He winked up at me. “Right, honey?”

“I would if you were ever home.”

“I guess I've held back my wife's cooking ability all these years by working late.” Mr. Boyd laughed and took a spoonful of soup.

Mrs. Boyd stared into her soup, stirring it in circles.

“This is one of Richard Gerard's signature warm weather dishes.” I felt the need to fill the silence. “It's just crisp enough to be refreshing, but substantial enough for a formal dinner.”

Mrs. Boyd didn't stop stirring and didn't look up.

“Could I get a little more water?” Mr. Boyd strained to swallow. I hoped the soup wasn't too thick.

I reached for the silver water pitcher on the sideboard behind me, and Mr. Boyd held out his crystal goblet for me to fill. Mrs. Boyd's eyes flashed as she
watched her husband gulp down the entire glass and resume eating his soup.

“We can also serve it in a demitasse cup if you'd prefer to have six or seven smaller courses,” Kate offered. I mouthed a quick thanks for the save, and forgave her for the whole fly-fishing incident.

“That's a thought, Helen.” Mr. Boyd put his spoon down, leaving a small pool of pink in the bottom of his bowl. He cleared his throat. “Like the tasting menu we tried at Citronelle.”

Mrs. Boyd's voice became a hiss. “I've never been to Citronelle.”

Mr. Boyd stood up halfway, knocking his chair to the ground. His hands gripped the table on either side of him, and I saw red blotches creeping up his neck. It looked as if he would explode. Kate's mouth dropped open, and I made a slight motion with my head that we should leave.

As I tried to slide out of my chair without being noticed, Mr. Boyd gasped for breath, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. His arms began to shake, and then he collapsed on the table, his face completely in his soup bowl.

Mrs. Boyd let out a piercing scream and Richard burst through the door, cell phone in hand.

We all stared at Mr. Boyd, purple faced with pink drops of liquid in his hair.

“It's the soup!” Mrs. Boyd turned on Richard, waving her finger viciously. “You've killed him! You've poisoned my husband.”

To his credit, Richard didn't faint.