Better Off Wed (2 page)

I pulled Kate to her feet as a waiter appeared at the top of the stairs.

“Get Richard,” I called out. My mouth felt numb. “And make sure no guests come down here.” Kate and I walked slowly up to the landing.

“Go ahead, Kate. I'll wait for Richard.”

“I'm not going to leave you here.” Kate motioned behind us. “With
her
.”

“Just make sure nobody else comes back this way. We don't want to start a panic.”

Kate paused, and I gave her a push. “Go on, and find a light switch.”

She started shakily toward the main staircase, where guests began to filter downstairs for dinner. I watched her fumble along the wall and find the switch for the ambient lighting recessed high in the ceiling. It gave the room a dim glow. Better than being in the dark, at least.

When Richard appeared, Kate whispered something to him and he hurried toward me.

“What's Kate babbling about? What's going on? Who hit a big one?”

I half groaned, half laughed. “I think she meant ‘bit the big one.'” I wondered if I'd ever heard Kate get an expression right. I motioned to the body at the foot of the stairs below me.

“Good heavens!”

“We found her just like that.” I concentrated on speaking clearly as I felt my head start to pound. “What are we going to do?”

“Are you sure she's dead?” Richard didn't make a move toward going downstairs to check.

“Have you ever seen someone's neck do that?”

“We have to call the police,” Richard shuddered and took his tiny silver cell phone out of his pocket.

“But the wedding…” I said. “All those people…the bride…”

“Annabelle.” Richard grabbed me by the shoulders. “This isn't something we can fix with your emergency kit, and we certainly can't hide her.”

“Nobody uses this staircase, anyway…”

“If you think we can carry on an entire wedding with the bride's mother lying spread-eagled on a back stairway, you're out of your mind! What are we supposed to do? Throw a tablecloth over her?”

“You're brilliant!” I ran past Kate and up the stairs to the cocktail area. I pulled an ivory damask linen off the nearest cocktail table and went back downstairs.

“You're not serious?” Richard stared at me.

“Come on.” I started down the back staircase toward Mrs. Pierce. “I need help covering her.”

“I'll have no part of this,” Richard followed me down and stood on the last step with his hands on his hips. I unfurled the cloth over Mrs. Pierce and let it float down over her sprawled limbs.

“Damn,” I said. “It's too small. We'll need one of the bigger linens from the dining tables. Do you have any extras?”

Richard folded his arms over his chest and shook his head. “No, and don't even think of using my hand-beaded silk cloths, either. They cost me a fortune to get cleaned.”

“Okay, then, we'll have to make do,” I tugged the fabric over one of her feet and it slipped off her head. “Can you fix your side? It's all twisted.”

“I'm calling the police.” Richard snatched the tablecloth off Mrs. Pierce and marched up the stairs. “Unless you want to set up a champagne fountain over her?”

“Wait.” I started to protest, then stopped. My shoulders sagged. “I'm not sure what got into me.”

“You can't help it.” Richard flipped open his phone. “It's the wedding planner in you.”

I listened to his side of the conversation with the emergency dispatcher. After hanging up, he led me away from the stairs to Kate.

“I'll stay here until the police come, and make sure no one sees the body,” Richard said. “Annabelle, you're going to have to tell the family before they see the paramedics arrive.”

“This just keeps getting worse and worse.”

“I'll go downstairs and wait for the police,” Kate said.

“Let's go.” Taking a deep breath, I fixed a smile on my face as Kate and I made our way down to the foyer.

Guests stood milling around the tables, apparently continuing the cocktail reception from upstairs. I spotted the bride and groom near the dance floor as Kate headed for the front entrance.

The groom had his arm secured around the bride's waist and both were smiling, the bride gazing adoringly at her husband whenever he spoke.

I hadn't gotten very close to the bride or the groom while planning their wedding. As a matter of fact, I'd only met them a handful of times. Safe to say Clara Pierce hadn't liked to share the decision-making process.

My eyes rested on the bride. Elizabeth was a sweet, Barbie-doll blond girl as placid and easygoing as her mother had been argumentative and difficult. Usually mother-daughter wedding planning could be counted on for at least one tearful exchange, but Elizabeth had never objected to her mother's firm handling of the wedding. I'd never seen the two argue. Kate had claimed once, with some amount of disdain, that the girl was too lovestruck to notice anything. Easy to see why.

Dr. Andrew Donovan was everything a woman, or her social-climbing mother, could dream of. Tall and darkly handsome, the young doctor had an intoxicating smile and an Ivy League pedigree that satisfied even his future mother-in-law's hunger for status. After hearing Mrs. Pierce extol his virtues for nearly a year, I wasn't sure whether Elizabeth or her mother loved him more.

“Excuse me, Dr. Donovan.” I touched his sleeve to get his attention. He stared at me blankly for a moment, and then bestowed one of those famous smiles on me.

“The wedding planner!” he said loudly to the group around him. “Hasn't she done a fabulous job?”

“Thank you.” I tried to make my voice sound natural. “May I speak with you for a moment?”

“Is anything wrong?” The bride tore her gaze away from her husband's perfect features.

“Of course not, dear. What could be wrong?” The groom answered before I had a chance to speak. “I'll be back before you can miss me.” He kissed her on the nose, and then followed me to the middle of the dance floor, where no guests could overhear.

“There's been an accident,” I tried to get the words out as fast as possible. “Mrs. Pierce fell down a flight of stairs.” When he didn't respond immediately, I continued. “She's dead.”

The doctor put a hand over his eyes.

“Where is she?” He pulled his hand away from his face. “Maybe I can help.”

Before I could answer him, two uniformed policemen arrived, and I watched Kate direct them upstairs. The crowd buzzed with curious chatter and a few people tried to get past Kate to follow the police.

“Andrew!” Elizabeth ran up to her new husband and clutched his arm. “What's happening? Why are the police here?”

The groom put his arms around her, and I turned away. Wouldn't it be better if she heard it from him than from me? I didn't want to have to see her face when she found out her mother was dead and her wedding ruined. Knowing brides the way I did, I couldn't be sure which would upset her more.

I pushed through the crowd of wedding guests and headed toward the front door. I needed fresh air.

“Whoa, there, ma'am.”

I'd run headlong into a man in a wrinkled, blue button-down shirt. Obviously not a wedding guest.

“Sorry.” I stepped back, sizing him up. Dark hair, broad shoulders, and hazel-brown eyes that held mine without faltering. I sucked in my breath. Wow.

“Are you in charge here?” He'd apparently given me the once-over and then decided that I didn't look like a wedding guest, either.

“Well, I'm the wedding planner, so I guess…”

“I'm Detective Mike Reese.” He held out his hand and I shook it. “You're the one who found the body, right?”

“My assistant and I both found her. My name's Annabelle Archer.”

The detective nodded. “Your assistant already spoke to one of my officers. Would you mind coming back to the body with me? I have a few questions for you.”

I followed him up the stairs to the back galleries. The sculptures that were so eerie in the dark seemed harmless with all the lights on. Detective Reese led me to the rear stairway and down to the middle landing. Several uniformed officers blocked the remaining stairs and another snapped pictures of the entire area. I waited at the landing while the detective went down the staircase and knelt beside the body. Two men in tuxedos followed a police officer down to the body and began examining it. One of the advantages to having lots of doctors as guests. A few minutes later, the paramedics rushed by me down the stairs.

Mrs. Pierce hadn't improved any since we'd last seen her. The blue of her dress cast a purplish hue on her skin and her contorted mouth had become pale and waxy.

“Not bad looking,” Kate walked up to me.

“What?”

“He's hot.” Kate pointed at Detective Reese. “Who is he?”

“A detective.”

“You know, I've never dated a cop,” Kate watched the officers working around her. “There are some cute ones here, too.”

“And here I viewed this whole ‘mother of the bride dying' as a negative thing.” Kate didn't hear me. She'd wandered over to talk to one of the officers. My next assistant would be a little old lady with cataracts.

“Annie.” Richard hurried up to me. “I've been searching all over for you.”

“I'm waiting to be questioned by the detective.” I motioned to the only person clustered around the body not in a uniform.

“Well, lucky you,” Richard gave me a nudge, and then became serious again. “I'm not sure if I can keep these guests calm much longer. They want to know what's going on.”

“Have you told them anything?”

“Well, I couldn't exactly make an announcement that their hostess is twisted up like a human pretzel, now could I?”

“I'll have one of my men make an appropriate announcement.” The detective joined our conversation. He turned to Richard. “You must be the caterer who placed the 911 call.”

Richard winked at me. “Well, we know why you made detective so young.”

Detective Reese ignored Richard's comment. He wore latex gloves and flipped open a small notepad.
“We found this on the body. Do either of you have any idea what these names and notes mean?”

“Those are Mrs. Pierce's recorded infractions.” My stomach tightened at the sight of the familiar spiral notepad. “She always had it with her.”

“Infractions?” The detective looked confused.

“Mrs. Pierce was…how would you put it? Well, particular about the way things were done.” Richard gestured to the notebook with a wave of his hands. “If she didn't like what someone did, she would write their name down in that notebook. We called it her ‘hit list.'”

“Interesting.” Detective Reese glanced up at Richard. “What did she mean by writing the words ‘skewers too sharp' next to your name?”

“Oh, heavens.” Richard tossed his head back in a manufactured laugh. “She wanted me to dull the skewers I used on the Indonesian satay station so she wouldn't poke herself in the roof of her mouth.”

“Did you?”

“Have you ever seen a blunt skewer?” Richard tapped his foot on the ground. “Defeats the purpose.”

“Who's Maxwell Gray?” The detective turned to another page in the notebook. “And how would he have ‘taken the wrong side?'”

“The photographer.” I noticed that my palms were getting sweaty, and I tried to wipe them on my pants without anyone noticing. “Mrs. Pierce was compulsive about being photographed from her right. She had me remind him a dozen times.”

“So what did you do to upset her?” Detective Reese's eyes met mine as he opened to the page where Mrs. Pierce had written my name in big, scrawling letters.

“I wouldn't let her rearrange the guest's table assignments at the last minute.”

“I'm afraid I'm not following.”

“She felt that some guests weren't dressed well enough, so she wanted them moved to the back.”

“Naturally.” Detective Reese cleared his throat. “When did this altercation between you two occur?”

“It couldn't have been more than ten minutes before we found her.” I picked at a loose thread on the sleeve of my jacket. “But I wouldn't call it an altercation. I mean, she was pretty drunk, so I didn't take it too seriously.”

The detective's eyes widened. “She appeared drunk when you last saw her?”

“The woman could barely stand up.” Richard leaned close to the detective and gave him a nudge. “I'm surprised she could remember Annabelle's name, let alone write it down.”

Reese turned to me and took a small step away from Richard. “Did you see her argue with anyone else tonight?”

“My assistant, Kate, mentioned that Mrs. Pierce had an issue with the sushi chefs, but I don't think it was serious.”

“Why all the interest in the hit list?” Richard rested a hand on the detective's arm and lowered his voice. “Do you suspect foul play?”

“Just getting all the information.” Reese returned Mrs. Pierce's notebook to the plastic evidence bag and backed away from us. “Excuse me for a second.”

“He seems nice.” Richard's eyes followed the detective. “Don't you think, Annabelle?”

“Richard.” I grabbed him by the shoulders. “He's a cop.”

“I know.”

“Nice or not, I get the feeling he considers us suspects.”

“Why would he even be thinking this is anything but an accident?” Richard readjusted his shirt collar. “The woman was clearly drunk and took a spill down the stairs. End of story.”

“Not exactly.” Kate walked up and motioned for us to follow her away from the group of nearby police officers. When we moved out of earshot, she lowered her voice to a whisper. “They think it may not have been an accident.”

“How do you know?” Richard's face drained of color, despite all the hours he'd put in at the tanning salon.