Murder of a Wedding Belle (15 page)

“Good. I hate to think she’s taking advantage of vulnerable young women at a time when they’re too excited to be cautious.” Skye thought for a second, then went on to the next matter on her mental list. “What did Brian Cowden say when you questioned him?”

“He claims he left Belle at the country club, and since Larson couldn’t ID him and we didn’t have a motive for him, there wasn’t anything we could hold him on.”

“Isn’t being shaken down by Belle a motive?” Skye asked.

“No, because he offered you the same deal. If he killed her in order to not have to pay her, why would he be willing to give you money?”

“Nuts!” Skye gnawed on her thumbnail. “Did Martinez or Quirk find anything while we were in the city?”

“No.” Wally shook his head. “Martinez called every number in the vic’s cell phone directory, but no one admitted to knowing anything about a bitter ex or Belle begging for a second chance. Most said she didn’t have relationships; she had hookups and publicity dates.”

“Publicity dates?” Skye had never heard that term before.

“From what I gather, it’s someone who goes out with a celebrity to get their picture taken by the paparazzi,” Wally explained. “You said she was upset she didn’t get the media exposure Paris Hilton gets. This was her way to be photographed more.”

“Oh.” Skye wasn’t surprised. Nothing about the California crowd shocked her anymore. “How about Quirk’s interviews this evening with the vendors we spoke to in the afternoon?”

“They didn’t yield anything either.”

“Nuts!” Skye felt defeated.

“And no luck reaching Belle’s parents. Their employees insist they’ve passed on the message to contact me about an urgent matter regarding their daughter, but neither Mr. nor Mrs. Canfield has called back.” Wally shook his head. “The only positive thing about not being able to get in touch with her folks is that it gives us a good reason not to release the name of the victim.”

“Because the next of kin hasn’t been officially notified, right?” Skye asked. When he nodded, she added, “Not that everyone around here doesn’t know, but at least the national media hasn’t found out.”

“Thank goodness.” He ran his fingertips along her inner arm. “I’m glad you decided to stop by tonight rather than waiting to tell me tomorrow.”

“Me, too.” Skye was silent for a moment. “Oh, one more thing. I almost forgot the call I got tonight when I was working at the motor court.”

“What kind of call?”

Skye told him what had been said, ending with, “Too bad I couldn’t tell if it was a man or a woman, and the caller ID read ‘unavailable,’ but it would have to be someone I gave my number to, which is pretty much just the vendors.”

“Not necessarily. Between caller ID and the Internet, getting a phone number is remarkably easy nowadays. I’ll check with your carrier and see if they can trace the call. Too bad it’s not as easy as those TV shows make it seem.”

“I still think it’s one of the vendors we talked to today.”

“Telephone threats usually amount to nothing, but I’ll follow up tomorrow to make sure.” Wally frowned. “Although, to be safe, you’d better stay here tonight.”

“I’m fine,” Skye said, but her tone wasn’t convincing. She hated to admit that she dreaded being by herself in her big old house after all that had happened. It wasn’t that she was scared. It was more a deep sense of sadness for Belle and for all the people involved. She’d been trying to think of the murder as just another case, but she knew that once she was alone, she couldn’t stop herself from dwelling on the personal aspects of Belle’s death. “I have a long day tomorrow.”

“I’ll set the alarm for six,” Wally coaxed.

“Then you’ll turn it off and sneak away like this morning.” Skye refused to meet Wally’s eyes, knowing one look into their warm brown depths would persuade her to stay against her better judgment.

“I promise to be ruthless.” Wally put a hand over his heart. “No matter how much you beg for five more minutes or how cute you look.”

“Well ...” Skye wavered. “I am tired, and if I stayed, I could go to sleep faster.”

“Who said anything about snoozing?” Wally’s grin was devilish. “You didn’t think I meant
sleep
when I referred to begging, did you?”

 

Wally woke Skye with a kiss and a cup of tea. She had seen a bumper sticker that read: I LIKE MY MEN LIKE I LIKE MY COFFEE, SWEET AND STRONG. She smiled to herself; Wally fit that description to a T.

As she sipped, he told her his plans for the day. “First, I’m going to interview Hallie, and while I do that I’ll have Martinez and Quirk determine if any of the suspects have an alibi for the newly narrowed-down time of death. After I finish with Hallie, I’ll talk to more of the businesses involved with the wedding. How about you?”

“Since questioning the vendors and sorting through the deliveries ate up most of Monday, I couldn’t touch base with the venue or the other people working the event, so that’s on my agenda for today.” Skye put the mug on the bedside table and stood. “But the top of my list is to call the engravers and get new menus and programs made up.” She explained about the misspelling.

“Good thing Frannie spotted that error.”

“Definitely. And on the positive side, Belle used a local company, so the new stuff won’t have to come all the way from California. Plainfield is considerably closer than Los Angeles.”

“That’s a lucky break.” Wally leaned against the doorframe and watched Skye pull on her jeans.

“And the bridal party is out of my hair until after lunch.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. They’re all going to Tiffany’s at Oakbrook to shop for wedding jewelry. Belle’s inconvenient death messed up Riley’s original plan to shop there on Sunday, so to make it up to her, Nick’s taking the whole group along. Riley adores having an audience. They should be leaving Scumble River by nine.”

“Then I better get going so I can catch Hallie before she takes off.” Wally kissed Skye good-bye. “Call my cell if you need me.”

Following a quick pit stop at home, Skye arrived at the motor court freshly showered and dressed in khaki shorts and a white sleeveless cotton blouse. Grabbing her purse and Belle’s binder from the passenger seat, she hopped out of the Bel Air, glad to see Frannie and Justin waiting in Frannie’s car, a secondhand Ford Focus.

The teenagers met her on the cottage’s front step. “Ms. D.,” Frannie said as Skye fumbled with the key, “we were wondering if sometime today, during one of our breaks, we could interview you about the murder.”

“Sorry.” Skye had told Frannie and Justin to call her by her first name now that they weren’t her students anymore, but they couldn’t seem to bring themselves to do so. “I can’t talk about an ongoing investigation.”

Justin held open the door and waved Skye and Frannie inside before complaining, “But this story could be our in for JJC’s student newspaper.” Both teenagers were journalism majors.

“Yeah,” Frannie added. “We have to submit a portfolio, and Ms. Steele says she’ll run our stories, so we’d both have a great clipping to include.”

Kathryn Steele, the owner of the
Scumble River Star
, the local weekly paper, had left Skye several messages asking for information about the murder. Clearly, when Skye hadn’t returned her calls, she had gone with Plan B.

“Sorry, kids.” Skye picked up the phone on the desk. “You already have lots of clippings. The best I can do is to give you an exclusive interview after the case is solved.”

“But, Ms. D., what if Ms. Steele doesn’t want it then?” Justin whined.

“Kathryn will want it.” Skye dialed. “Now, how about you two get to work? The flowers are arriving tomorrow, so Iris needs all the boxes in cottage three unpacked and the materials sorted out.”

“Okay,” Frannie conceded. “Do you need us to do anything here before we go?”

The engravers answered, and Skye held up a finger to the teenagers, indicating that they should wait. “Hi, this is Skye Denison. I’m the new coordinator for the Erickson-Jordan wedding.”

“What happened to Ms. Canfield?”

“She couldn’t finish the job, so I’m taking over.” Skye hedged, knowing Wally wanted to keep Belle’s death a secret as long as possible.

“Oh. Okay. What can I do for you?”

“I’m afraid you’ll have to redo all the menus and programs.” Skye’s tone was firm but pleasant. “You misspelled the bride’s name. It’s Riley, not Riled.”

“We engraved what we were given.” The woman’s tone was equally firm but not as pleasant.

Skye fumbled with the binder, looking for the order. When she couldn’t find it, she said, “I don’t have the original, but I’m positive Ms. Canfield would not make that kind of error.” She hadn’t expected the engravers to try to blame Belle, but she should have. This would be an expensive order to redo, and the business wouldn’t want to foot the bill.

“It was sent digitally. You need to find the computer file.” The woman’s voice was impatient.

“Right. I’ll do that and get back to you. In the meantime, you need to redo the order. Do you have a sufficient quantity of the Crane pearl white paper?”

“Yes. That’s no problem.”

“And I need everything no later than Thursday.” Skye inwardly cringed, afraid the engravers would say two days was impossible.

“We can do that, but there’ll be a rush fee.”

“Only if it wasn’t your mistake, I assume,” Skye quickly added.

“Yes.” There was a long pause. “Of course, but it wasn’t our fault.”

As she hung up, Skye frowned. She had no idea how to find a file on someone else’s computer. It really was time for her to stop traveling at 33 rpm in an iPod world. When the wedding was over, she would sign up for a computer class.

But first, she had to solve the more immediate problem, and the answer was staring at her with an impatient look on his face. She had nearly forgotten that she had a computer whiz on the payroll.

“Justin, there’s a change of plans. I need you to find a file on Belle’s laptop.”

“Awesome.” He grinned and cracked his knuckles. “Where is it?”

Damn!
“I don’t know.” Skye started dialing again. “Let me check with the chief and see if the crime techs took it, and if they didn’t, if it’s all right for us to go in Belle’s cabin.”

After speaking to Wally, Skye said to Justin, “The techs have it, but if you go to Laurel, Chief Boyd is clearing you to use it there.”

“Should I go now?”

“Definitely.” Skye handed Justin her keys. “Here. Use the Bel Air. It has a full tank of gas.” She knew Frannie’s father had forbidden her from loaning out her car.

Once Justin was gone, Frannie moved toward the door, a pout on her face. “I guess that means I’m on my own unpacking the floral stuff.”

“Yep. I need to go out to the country club and make sure everything is going smoothly with the ceremony and reception setups.”

“How are you going to get there?”

“Crap!” Skye smacked herself on the forehead. “I forgot about that when I loaned Justin the Bel Air.”

“Guess you’ll need someone to drive you.” Frannie smirked. “If you and I both unpack, it’ll go quicker; then I can take you to the country club.”

“You win.” Skye briefly considered calling around to borrow a car but figured it would be quicker to do it Frannie’s way. “Let’s get cracking.”

Something New

“
S
hoot. Who knew so much junk was involved in arranging a few flowers?” Frannie looked around at the boxes stacked five deep in cabin three.

“None of this is junk.” Iris Yee stood in the open doorway with her hands on her nonexistent hips, glaring at the teenager. “And I’m doing a hell of a lot more than arranging a few flowers.”

Skye stepped in front of Frannie. “Of course you are, Iris. Belle said your creations are legendary.”

“Really?” Iris’s delicate features, a blend of Asian and European, were impassive. “I’m flattered. I would have never guessed she felt that way.”

“Well, I doubt she would have brought you all the way from the West Coast if you weren’t the best.”

“Perhaps.”

Frannie glanced pointedly at the wall clock, and Skye asked, “Is there any special way you want the supplies unpacked?”

Iris gestured to the worktables positioned against the four walls. “Sort the materials according to whether they’re for the tall gold centerpieces, the low crystal centerpieces, the ceremony arch, or the body flowers.”

“How will we figure out what is what?” Frannie made a sweeping motion with her hands. “I wouldn’t know a philodendron from a gardenia.”

“Here’s the list and the inventory.” Iris handed the pages to Skye. “I’ll be back to check on you in a bit.”

“Wait a minute.” Skye stopped her. “You mentioned the centerpieces and body flowers; those are the bouquets, right?” Iris nodded and Skye continued, “But how about the dragonwood branch trees for the cocktail party and the floral hedges that are supposed to line the aisle for the ceremony?”

“My assistant is flying in with them on Friday.” Iris shook her head. “You don’t have a clue.”

“I’m doing the best I can in difficult circumstances.” Skye kept her tone even, believing that a good time to keep your mouth shut was before you put your foot in it. She couldn’t afford to offend Iris. It wasn’t as if she could do the arrangements herself, and where would she get another floral designer at this late date?

“This event will be a disaster,” Iris moaned.

Skye noticed a panicky expression in the woman’s eyes and said soothingly, “It’ll be fine if we all pull together.” The last thing she needed was a vendor meltdown.

“Who knew working without Belle would be worse than working with her?” Iris continued as if Skye hadn’t spoken.

“Oh. I thought you said you and Belle had a terrific relationship.”

“Yes. Of course we did. What are you implying?” Before Skye could answer, Iris turned on her heel and marched away, saying over her shoulder, “If you’re done interrogating me, I have calls to make.”