Killer Wedding (21 page)

“But why toss her onto the
Triceratops
?” Holly asked.

“In Rhodesia, they have a custom of displaying the bodies of those who have been executed. In public. Hung on a stake. In the town square. As a warning to others.”

“So you think Albert Nbutu was applying that quaint custom to Vivian?”

“I do. And when he moved her body, he discovered a tube of lipstick and a jeweled lighter.”

“The lighter was Vivian's. That makes sense,” Paul said, figuring out how this might impact his client. “But
he could have found it any time after the body was moved, Maddie. There's no evidence to the contrary.”

“Not that the police have, no,” I agreed. “But the lipstick is another matter. That shade of MAC lipstick was never worn by Vivian Duncan. She was a Chanel addict down to her makeup. That MAC lipstick belonged to the bride, Sara Silver.”

“Holy cow,” Holly said, “I'm sure you're right!”

“And when I mentioned that to Honnett this afternoon, he checked it out. They won't be able to connect that exact tube of lipstick to Sara, but that is the same shade she buys. They're convinced it was hers. And if they can make a deal with Paul here, I believe they are prepared to allow Albert to walk out of that cell if he'll testify he found the lipstick underneath the body. And they may even deal on the INS issue.”

“This is too good!” Paul said, relishing the thought. “The police asking our permission to let our man go. Well, I gotta run, children. I'm on my way to make Albert Nbutu a free man.”

Paul kissed Holly and me on the tops of our heads and left.

Holly and Wesley stood up, too.

“Where are you guys going?” I asked. I was high on getting answers and didn't want to be left alone.

“I'm going to put this beautiful cake away,” Wes said, ever the fastidious one. “Whipped cream frosting, you know, needs to be kept cool.”

“I'm going to make a phone call,” Holly said, moving towards her desk in the entryway.

“Who are you calling at this hour?” I asked.

“My dad. I suddenly miss him a whole lot.”

A
week had come and gone, allowing all the events fit to print, to be printed. The arrest for murder of the ward of one of T.V.'s favorite oldies was custom made for L.A. T.V. news, so we had little trouble keeping up on Sara Silver's arrest and confession. Or on the revelation to the press that poor Sara had been addicted to prescription painkillers and was requesting permission to attend a detox clinic before her trial.

Maneuvering, Paul had called it. If Sara had claimed she was addicted to hummingbird wings, Paul would have found it more believable. He could be so cynical, sometimes. And for very good reason. Sara was working on her case the way rich lawyers advise, spinning some tale to take the heat off her selfish, foolish self.

We sat around the living room downstairs, Wes, Holly and I, recapping the events, since so much had been resolved in one short week. Paul Epstein would soon be joining us to announce the third final settlement agreement he'd hammered out with Five Star. So we were fairly apprehensive.

“Oh Maddie, tell Wes what we found out about that car-jacking thing,” Holly prompted me.

“Oh, yes. Remember when I first met Vivian?”

“No,” Wes said, deadpan. “Of course I do. Who did the car-jacking, anyway?”

“She was never car-jacked, really.”

“What?”

“That's right. When Ralph Duncan was talking to the police, he admitted that he and Vivian had been quarreling that day and she had insisted he get out of the car and find his own way home.”

“So he stole her car?”

“Well, not exactly. But they did start scuffling, I guess. He said he drove off in a hurry.”

“I'll say. Didn't he barely miss you?” Wes asked. “What are these people thinking?”

“Yes, but because she was Vivian Duncan, she manufactured a whole song and dance about car-jackers. How do you like that? It was a much more glamorous story than that she had finally pissed off her poor husband to the point where he had shoved her down onto the pavement, trying to get into the car and get home.”

“She was fairly clever at spinning tales,” Wes said.

“Which didn't end up winning her any contests,” Holly commented.

We all shook our heads.

“Madeline, I talked to Beryl Duncan this morning,” Wes said.

“You did?”

“I was wondering how Esmeralda was doing. We had sort of bonded, you know.”

Wes was a real dog person. I understood he had become attached.

“She said her father was doing okay. He is selling the house, he decided. It seems too big for him and Esme now that Vivian is no longer there to fill it up. And Beryl was pretty excited, really. She had just closed that Kip England divorce settlement she'd been working on.”

“That's right,” I said, recalling how worked up she had been over it. “She represented the wife.”

“So you'll love this,” Wes said. “She got Kip England to give his ex 20 million dollars.”

Holly whistled. “That's my dream amount of money,” she said.

I looked at her. “You have a dream amount of money?”

“Sure. You know, if you had that much you'd never worry about money again. That sort of thing. What about you, Mad. What's your dream amount of money?”

“I don't know,” I said. “I think maybe it's not too good to get too comfortable.”

“Glad you said that,” Paul said, entering the room. “Hi Maddie, hi guys.”

“Paul! What's happening already? We're going nuts. What does Five Star want from us?”

“Your bank statement, for a start.”

“I beg your pardon,” Wesley said.

“Here's the deal, kids. We take it or leave it. It's totally up to you. Five Star understands that you have had expenses this year. They are willing to sell you back your company…”

“Oh, no. Here we go again,” Wes said, looking grim.

“Eh, eh, eh…let me finish. They want some of their cashola back, naturally. But they figure, if you deduct what you spent for reasonable expenses, including the party you did for the pope and so on, they will drop their lawsuit and you may go back to business as of tomorrow morning.”

“Do we get to keep the money we spent paying off Maddie's mortgage?” Wes asked, concerned. “And there was an equal amount I used for a down payment on the house I'm remodeling.”

“That was three hundred thou for Maddie's mortgage and another three hundred for you, right, Wesley?”

“Right.”

“Sorry, no. They won't accept that. It must go back.”

“Holy cow,” Holly said, worried.

“Do you think this is the best offer we'll get?” I asked, trying to readjust to being poor again.

“I do,” Paul said. “But we can go on and fight them in court. That's always an option. It will take time because they are bastards and they know the more time it
takes the longer you're out of work, but that doesn't mean we might not win in the end.”

I looked over at Wesley, who was coming to terms with our reality. Perhaps it would have been best had we never had a taste of the rich life.

“Holly,” I said, “I changed my mind. In answer to your question, my dream amount of money is three hundred thousand dollars.”

Wes smiled. “Mine, too.”

“Well, then,” Paul said, with a smile, “you may like to hear what I've arranged.”

We all stared at him.

“See, Five Star's attorneys understand the world. Especially they understand bloodsucking lawyers, you should pardon that expression. They easily agreed that a reasonable expense would cover your attorney's fees for this litigation.”

“Well, good,” I said, feeling a little better. At least Paul would be paid. I could feel less guilty for all the time he'd given us.

“No, Maddie, I don't think you fully appreciate what I'm saying. Five Star will allow an expense of eight hundred thou for attorney's fees.”

“Eight hundred thousand dollars?” Holly was stunned. “Paul! That's wonderful! You're rich!”

“Hey, what do you take me for? Come on, now. I mean I will bill you for eight and you will pay me eight, and then I will send you each a check for four hundred thousand dollars.”

“What?”

“Oh, come on, Maddie. It will be perfect. You'll get to keep your house and so will Wesley, and you can start up Madeline Bean Catering again.”

“You mean Mad Bean Events & Catering,” Wes corrected, but he and I were so excited we could hardly quibble about a name.

There was hugging and congratulating. Holly ran to get us all drinks.

“But you will bill us for real,” I insisted, as I gave Paul a big hug.

“Don't worry about me,” he said. As always. “Oh, and I have news. They finally released Albert Nbutu.”

“Well, it's about time.”

“The INS have agreed to allow him to stay in the country for now, but they are tough mothers. We're still working on it. The police have dropped the other minor charges, so that should help.”

“What will he do?”

“Right now he wants to stay in Los Angeles. He wants to get to know his daughter,” Paul said, shaking his head.

Holly returned, hearing this last. “Oh, man. That's going to be difficult.”

Paul said, “We'll see. Who knows, once Sara is treated for her poor, unfortunate
addiction problem
, she may eventually accept him.”

I rather doubted it, but I was not willing to share my dark opinion of human nature with the group when we were busy celebrating our good fortune. Back in business! How sweet that was.

“I spoke with Zelli,” I told everyone. “He called.”

“So what's up with that?” Paul demanded. “Is Arlo back, or is it going to be this Zelli character?”

“Don't forget Chuck Honnett,” Holly added. “What is going on there?”

“Hey,” I said, with affection, “give a girl a break. I'm just playing the field. Anything wrong with that?”

“What did Zelli say?” Holly asked.

“He is so odd,” I said. “I cannot believe how blasé he is about the most bizarre events. He seems to have managed to get away with those seven matched emeralds.”

“Good for him,” Paul said. We looked at him. “Well, why not? He took the risk and he beat the cops at the airport.”

“But he and I had some unfinished business. He still
had the payment from this client of his for the jewels. The money has already been deposited in a Swiss bank account and Zelli was willing to let me decide to whom he registers the account.”

“I love this guy,” Holly said, breathing deeply. “I could marry this guy.”

“So what did you say?” Wes asked.

“Well, first I told Zelli that Honnett will hold onto the rest of the stones, those forty-five rough emeralds we found in Vivian's office. He's not sure if Ralph Duncan will ever get his hands on them, though. It seems the State Department wants to get involved and they may just turn them over to The Republic of Zimbabwe.”

“Really. Imagine that,” Paul said.

“The thing is, Zimbabwe has been strengthening its friendship with the United States recently. They've even sold a license to mine emeralds to a U.S. mining company. Zelli was philosophical about the loss of those other stones. He said the Zimbabweans would eventually put them on the market. He expected he would see them again. And he's even talking about doing a deal to represent Zimbabwe in the sales.”

“This is a man who seizes every opportunity,” Wes said, thoughtful. Perhaps he was worried I'd move to Switzerland soon.

“Oh, yes. And the best part. He agreed to transfer the Swiss account with the payment of seven hundred thousand U.S. dollars to the name of Albert Nbutu.”

That last announcement got quite a rousing reaction. The only one who was in the least subdued seemed to be Holly.

I sat down next to her, as Wesley and Paul discussed the ramifications of all these new business deals.

“Holly, you look a little down. What's the matter?”

“With me? Nothing. No, I'm not down. It's just that it's so wonderful that Albert will get his dream money, and that you and Wesley will end up with the company intact and still get your dream money.”

“But where is
your
dream money?” I looked at my sweet assistant and sighed.

“Everyone,” I announced, catching the men in mid-discussion. “In honor of the restart of Mad Bean whatever we're gonna call it, I'd like to propose a promotion. I think we need to promote Holly Nichols to Vice President and Manager.”

That started everyone talking about how we were going to go forward and what new parties we were suddenly free to pursue.

Interrupting our chatter, the phone rang and I picked it up.

“Hello, Madeline? It's Darius, darling.”

My friend and florist. I hadn't spoken to him for a while.

“I'm totally swamped, sweetie. We're doing more weddings this June than ever before. Luckily Whisper Pettibone has taken the reins of Vivian Duncan Weddings and we are going strong. Do you know, he didn't lose one bride? Amazing. So I was just calling to find out how you are doing.”

“Me? I'm fantastic. I just got the news that our company is back on track. We should have several events booked by next week. I'll call you.”

“Thanks, pet. Oh, and I've been following the news about the Sara Silver thingie. Can you believe it? We met her together, and I swear, I could never see it coming.”

“I don't think everyone who is capable of murder looks like a raving lunatic, Darius. In fact, it's scarier to think they look like Sara Silver.”

“So true. And I was hoping you weren't getting too down on yourself. Not depressed, are you?”

“Depressed? Why would I be depressed?”

“Good for you. Just don't go there.”

“Go where?”

“Well, I just meant that when you were in my shop last month, when you were doing that tabletop for Sara and her fiancé, didn't you talk those two into getting
married? I mean, wasn't that match breaking apart and then you glued it back together? I just thought you might be feeling some regrets, not that you
should
. But if you hadn't done such a brilliant job of patching up that dishy young man with Sara Silver, it's more than likely they'd not have gotten married and Vivian might still be…well, no good to moan about what could have been. No reason at all. Just wanted to stay in touch.” And then Darius, realizing he'd said way, way too much, rang off.

I slowly replaced the receiver.

“What now?” Wes asked. “Bad news?”

“Not exactly,” I said, but I was not ready to talk about the issue Darius had raised.

Here we all are, unwitting accomplices to all of life's agonies. We turn left, and we are almost killed by a wildly out-of-control car whirring by. Lucky we stopped. We turn right, and we never realize that by taking just one step, safe and well-meaning as we may be, we may have allowed a deadly chain of events to keep rolling by, taking with it another's life.

But surely, even had I not gotten involved, Vivian would have patched up the Sara Silver-Brent Bell union. She would have had her wedding. But would she have met the same fate? I wondered. Would just the extraction of one element, me, have altered the course of events to such an extent that the results would not have been fatal?

“Hello,” Holly said, waving a hand.

I looked up, back to the present, still unsettled.

“Did you ever tell Wesley about your gift?”

“Oh,” I said, snapping back. “I almost forgot. Holly found a box left for me this morning.”

“You're kidding. It's not your birthday.”

“That's right, it isn't. But here's the thing. Arlo was very inspired by our dinner last week.” I pulled a small box from out of my pocket. “He sent me a get-back-together gift.”

I opened it and the group crowded around to see. Inside the little box from Tiffany's was a pair of earrings.
They were classic little studs made from two beautiful emeralds set in yellow gold.