Better Off Wed (15 page)

Kate and I sifted through the proofs, fanning them out on the coffee table.

“Right here.” Kate held up a shot of a bar draped in white shimmery organza. The glasses were arranged in front with the bottles of liquor behind them. Small glasses of olives, onions, and lime wedges sat on both ends. No straws.

Richard inspected the photograph, and then tossed it back on the table. “Thank God. They didn't come from me.”

Kate threw her hands in the air. “Then where did they come from?”

Leatrice slapped her knee. “I'll bet the murderer brought them. What better way to get poison into a drink?”

“If the poison was in powder form, the killer could
have packed it into straws, dropped them in her drink, and let the poison dissolve,” I said.

Kate leapt up. “Mrs. Pierce wouldn't think twice about it. Who'd notice a detail as insignificant as plastic straws but Richard?”

Richard appeared stuck somewhere between a smile and a frown.

“We've discovered how the murderer did it,” I said. “Now we just have one tiny detail remaining.”

“What's that?” Kate asked.

Leatrice let out her breath slowly. “Figure out which of the suspects is the murderer.”

“I think we should call the police in on this.” Richard went into the kitchen and poured a glass of water. He remembered my headache. I took two pills out of the orange plastic cylinder then watched Richard drain the glass. Maybe not.

“Isn't the detective going to be upset with us?” Kate asked. “He told us not to go snooping around.”

“We just stumbled across this clue.” I stood up gingerly and walked to the kitchen. I took a Coke out of the refrigerator, then washed my pain medicine down with a big swallow. The caffeine and sugar would make me feel better, if nothing else.

“I'm not going to be the one who calls him,” Kate shook her head. “Annabelle should call him. He likes her.”

I shuffled back to the couch. “He does not.”

“I'll bet you'd get a lot of sympathy, too.” Kate mimicked a swoon. “All men love a damsel in a mess.”

Richard cast his eyes around my apartment. “In this case, I think mess is the appropriate word.”

“If I didn't have a concussion, I'd make you pay for saying that, Richard.”

Leatrice picked up the phone and took a card out of her pocket. She dialed while she talked. “I'll call the detective. He's a nice young man. I'm sure he'll be happy to come over and get the evidence.”

Come over? I didn't want him seeing me with a red knot in the middle of my forehead like a Cyclops. Couldn't someone drop it off at the station? I waved my arms to get her attention, but Leatrice was chatting away. She put the phone back on its charger.

“Detective Reese is more than happy to come right over and hear about our evidence. He's especially interested in your accident.”

“How does he know about that?” I could hear my voice getting shrill. “I didn't hear you tell him.”

“News travels fast when you have a police radio.”

I couldn't jaywalk without this guy finding out. I got up and headed down the hall to the bathroom, walking lightly on my sore knee. At least I could find some makeup to cover my bump and maybe brush my hair.

“Where are you going?” Richard called after me. “You're the star attraction.”

“This star needs to freshen up. I feel disgusting after being in the hospital all afternoon.”

“Do you want some help with your makeup?” Kate followed me to the bathroom door. “If we give you full, pouty lips, the emphasis will be off your forehead.”

They'd have to be enormous lips for anyone not to notice the lump on my head. “Thanks, but I'm not
going to fix myself up for Reese. I just want to wash my face.”

“Suit yourself.”

I closed the door and rummaged through the contents of the vanity drawers. Powder, mascara, and lipstick were usually the extent of my makeup routine. I knew I had some old liquid foundation in here somewhere, though. I pulled out a handful of perfume samples in their small, paper folders. The plastic stoppers had loosened on a couple and the contents of the vials spilled onto my hands. I choked at the combination of the spicy musk and tea rose scents.

I jammed my hand into the back of the last drawer and found a tube of brown cream concealer. A bit of hard makeup snaked out as I squeezed the tube. It would have to do. I dabbed it on my knot and flinched. Still sore. I patted the brown over the surface of the bump until it looked like a beige lump instead of a red one. Good enough.

“I feel much better.” I walked out of the bathroom and down the hall.

Kate saw me, and her eyes bulged. “What did you do to your head?”

“Is it too obvious?”

Richard came out of the kitchen and held his nose.

“Who's going to notice her head with that awful smell?”

My eyes started to tear. I felt as horrible as I must have looked. “I spilled some perfume on my hands.”

“Some?” Richard backed away from me.

Leatrice came and put her arm around me. She scowled at Richard and Kate. “You've had a frightful day. No one expects you to look perfect after being in
a car accident. If anyone understands that, Detective Reese will.”

I let her lead me to the sofa and put cushions under my head and feet. “I didn't do it for Detective Reese, Leatrice.”

“Of course not, dear. I'm sure he won't notice a thing.” Leatrice left me, and I could hear her in the hallway scolding Kate and Richard in hushed tones. After a few minutes, she went to the door. “I hear footsteps.”

No doubt her superhuman hearing had been developed over years of eavesdropping.

Mrs. Butters flung open the door, but her smile evaporated when she saw Alexandra and not Detective Reese. She gave Alexandra's pink crop pants and pink-and-green plaid purse the once-over. “Who are you?”

“I'm Alexandra.” She held out a white box. “I brought some sweets for the injured.”

“Come on in,” I called out from the couch. “How did you find out so fast?”

Alexandra pointed in Kate's direction.

I raised an eyebrow at Kate. “I don't think you've ever been this efficient.”

Kate shrugged. “I made some calls from the hospital. So shoot me.”

Alexandra placed the box in front of me. “I brought you samples of your favorite cake flavors.”

I rubbed my hands together. “The dark chocolate truffle and the lemon curd?”

She nodded and sat next to me. “Are these pictures from the Pierce wedding?”

Richard ran up and joined us on the couch. “Wait until you see the food shots. To die for!”

“Are there any of the cake?” Alexandra pawed through the photos. She held up a photo of Mr. and Mrs. Pierce. “Who is this man looking so chummy with Mrs. Pierce?”

Kate's eyes widened. “What do you mean? That's her husband. You saw them arguing, remember?”

Alexandra shook her head. “That's not who I saw her fighting with.”

My jaw hit the floor. “Who did you see her fighting with then?”

“What's all this about?” Leatrice couldn't contain the curiosity in her voice.

“Alexandra told the police that she saw Mr. and Mrs. Pierce fighting before the wedding, but it seems like it wasn't Mr. Pierce after all.”

Alexandra sifted through the stack and held up a photo of the bride with her father. Dr. Harriman. “This is the one.”

I exchanged glances with Kate. “Are you sure?” It looked more and more as if the police arrested the right person. The bump on my head made me think otherwise, though.

“Of course.” Alexandra looked taken aback. “This one is much better looking than her husband.”

“She's right,” Kate said. “You could never say that Dr. Pierce is as distinguished as Dr. Harriman.”

Richard took the photo from Alexandra. “I have to admit, his silver hair is quite striking.”

I threw my hands in the air. “This is a murder investigation, not a beauty contest.”

“I'm surprised to hear you're still investigating the murders.” Detective Reese stepped inside the open door, nodding at Kate and at Richard, who shrank
back against the wall. Alexandra brightened at the sight of the detective and didn't notice Leatrice glaring at her.

I had to admit that in his black jeans and leather jacket, Reese looked a bit menacing. In a sexy way. The detective took a seat across the coffee table from me.

“I didn't mean investigation,” I stammered.

He nodded, then changed the subject. “I hear you were a victim of road rage this afternoon.”

“Is that what they called it in the police report?”

“I didn't see a police report. You weren't hit in my district,” Reese said. “I have friends in the Virginia office, though.”

“You were checking up on me?” I exchanged looks with Kate.

“Miss Archer, I'm a detective.” Reese raised an eyebrow. “Checking up on people involved in my cases falls into the job description.”

I felt a flush creeping up my neck. “Well, it wasn't a case of road rage, Detective.”

“What would you call it?”

I touched a hand to my head. “Attempted murder sounds more accurate.”

Reese laughed. “Just because you were a victim of a hit-and-run doesn't mean the driver tried to kill you. These kinds of things happen all the time.”

“The car didn't just bump into me and drive away.” I swung my feet down. “He rammed me twice and pushed me off the road.”

Reese swept a hand through his hair. “Are you sure you aren't exaggerating?”

“Do you think I got a concussion from being tapped
on the bumper, Detective?” I pointed to my lump. “It looked even worse a few hours ago.”

“I don't see how.” Reese stared at my forehead, a puzzled expression on his face. “Maybe you should consider airbags.”

“Thanks for the tip.” It would be much easier to dislike him, I thought, if he weren't so good-looking.

“I find it hard to believe that someone would want to kill you.” Reese locked eyes with me. “Murder is serious business.”

I threw up my hands. “I'm glad you noticed.”

“We think the killer tried to get rid of Annabelle because she knows too much,” Kate insisted.

“That's impossible. We arrested Dr. Harriman this afternoon for the murder of Clara Pierce. That was before your accident.”

I crossed my arms over my chest. “We heard. Maybe he had an accomplice, though.”

“You think you know something the entire police department doesn't?” Reese cast a look at all of us. Richard shook his head vigorously, and Alexandra just smiled.

“We know that Mrs. Boyd threatened to kill Mrs. Pierce the day before the wedding,” Kate said. “Maybe she was in on it with Dr. Harriman.”

“Please don't tell me how you got this information.” Reese gave a weary glance in my direction.

“It just fell in our laps.” I shrugged my shoulders.

“I'll bet it did.” Reese stood. “I appreciate the call, but I can't run around chasing rumors. I need hard evidence.”

Leatrice rushed to his side. “That's why we called you. We do have evidence. We figured out how the murderer administered the poison.”

“Go on.” Reese sat back down. “I'm listening.”

“Take a look at these photos.” Leatrice handed him the pictures of Mrs. Pierce holding her cocktail. “Do you see anything out of place?”

He studied them for a moment. “No.”

“Exactly.” Leatrice danced around him. “The normal person wouldn't think twice when seeing these.”

“Luckily, Richard isn't normal,” I said. Payback for his comment about my messy apartment.

Leatrice pointed to the photographs. “These aren't Richard's straws. He doesn't use them, and they weren't on the bars. We checked.”

“Are you sure?” Reese sounded interested.

Richard peered down his nose at Reese. “Of course I'm sure. I'd die before using a cocktail straw for a wedding.”

“Clara is the only one with a straw in her drink.” Kate handed him a handful of reception shots. “See for yourself.”

“So you came to the conclusion that the straw held the poison?” The corner of the detective's mouth twitched into a grin. “Not bad deductive reasoning.”

“You think we're right?” Leatrice's bell necklace jingled as she bounced up and down on her toes.

“I can't say for sure, but it makes sense to me. Do you mind if I take these pictures back to the station?”

“Could you leave the ones of the hors d'oeuvres? The shot of the caviar-filled quail egg should go in a frame.” Richard started weeding through the prints spread out on the coffee table, then stopped when he saw Reese's face. “Or you could take them all and bring them back whenever you're done.”

“Just because you found this clue, doesn't mean I want
you hunting for others.” Reese directed his comments to me. “We've got the murderer locked up, remember?”

“You're sure Dr. Harriman did it?” Kate asked.

“He had motive and opportunity for both murders, and now we might know the way he killed Mrs. Pierce.” Reese held up the photos.

“And I saw him arguing with Mrs. Pierce at the wedding,” Alexandra said, giving Reese a look that was either sheepish or flirtatious. “I got the husbands switched at first, but now I'm sure it was Dr. Harriman.”

“What about Mrs. Boyd?” Kate didn't sound convinced. “We just forget about her?”

“Just because someone threatens murder, doesn't mean they did it.” Reese met my eyes. “I don't want to hear about any more snooping around from any of you.”

I gave him a sugary smile. “I'm going to be taking it easy for a while. You don't have to hit me over the head for me to get the hint.”

His eyes flitted to my poorly concealed bump. “At least not twice, I hope.”