Murder of a Wedding Belle (30 page)

The bride and groom were the first to enter, and Skye squirmed when she saw what Riley was wearing. Skye had chosen a simple black dress with an empire waist and hanky hem. Riley had on a slinky, pale pink sheath with matching Manolo Blahnik sandals and Escada croc clutch. In comparison, Skye felt underdressed and dowdy, the very picture of a country cousin.

The rest of the bridal party’s arrival distracted Skye from her discomfiture, and she quickly assembled everyone in the ballroom, then checked her list. Bride, groom, best man, three groomsmen, maid and matron of honor, two bridesmaids, mother and grandmother of the bride, and photographer. They were missing Nick’s father, stepmother, and half brother. And—
crapola!
—the officiant.

Skye ran her finger down the page, looking for the name and contact information of the person performing the ceremony. Nothing.
Holy moly!
The bride would have a heart attack or, more likely, a cousin attack if the person officiating was AWOL.

Skye spotted Nick in a corner on his cell phone and went up to him. Surely, he wouldn’t get as upset as Riley would if there was a problem.

Nick finished his conversation. “Tell the driver to turn south on Thrasher Road, Dad. No, road, not street.” Irritation roughened his voice. “The country club is a couple of miles down on the left.” He hung up, muttering, “Just what I need, a chauffeur who can’t read a fricking map. The limo company is going to hear about this.”

Skye cringed but tried to look on the bright side. At least the groom’s family was on the way. After Nick tucked the phone in his pocket, she asked, “Do you know who is supposed to perform the ceremony?”

“Don’t you?”

“Well, not exactly.”

“Isn’t that what we’re paying you for?” He glared at her. “To
exactly
know everything?”

Skye felt her cheeks burn. “Well, uh, the thing is, I assumed that Belle had booked someone.”

“You screw up,” he raised his voice, “and blame the dead girl?”

“I’m not blaming anyone. I’m explaining.” Skye refused to back down. “I’ve only been the wedding coordinator for five days.”

“I didn’t get where I am by allowing people who work for me to make excuses.” Nick’s bland face was getting redder by the second. “Stop whining and find someone.”

“But ...” Skye trailed off, not sure how to respond. She hadn’t seen this side of the groom before. In their past encounters, she’d been puzzled by his docile acceptance of Riley’s demands and wondered why someone as powerful as Nick would put up with his fiancée’s nagging. Now that she saw his true colors, she realized Gus had been right. Nick must enjoy indulging his wife-to-be, but he didn’t cut anyone else any slack.

He turned his back on her and grumbled, “If idiots grew on trees, this place would be an orchard.”

Why had she thought Nick would be more reasonable than Riley? “I’m not—” Skye attempted to defend herself but bit off her words when Nick whirled around, grabbed her arm, and pulled her close. She felt a moment’s panic. Was this the guy who the Dooziers had witnessed yelling at Belle? Had Nick killed Belle in a homicidal rage when she messed something up?

While Skye was trying to find her voice, a hand clamped down on Nick’s shoulder and jerked him backward. “Let her go.” Wally’s tone was low, but the threat was loud and clear.

Nick started to protest, but one look at Wally’s furious expression and he shut his mouth.

Skye hadn’t noticed Wally’s arrival, but she was thankful to see him. She moved to his side and whispered, “I need to talk to you alone.”

Once she had Wally in the hallway, Skye said, “Thanks for the rescue.”

“My white horse is always at your service, darlin’.” Wally hugged her. “Not to mention my pistol.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, cowboy.” Skye grinned. “Now, let me make your day.” She filled him in on the Dooziers’ information, ending with, “So Earl saw either Zach or Nick arguing with Belle.”

“Shoot. Earl Doozier’s not exactly a reliable witness.” Wally ran his fingers through his hair. “But I’ll snap a picture of both guys’ backs tonight and show them to Earl tomorrow morning. There’s no use attempting to get an identification from him now. By this point in the festivities, he’ll be too drunk to see straight.”

Skye nodded. “At least we know neither Zach nor Nick is going anywhere for the next twenty-four hours.” She bit her lip. “Unless I can’t find someone to perform the ceremony, that is.” She explained about the lack of an officiant.

Wally pulled out his cell. “Want me to try and get a county judge?”

“Do you think one of them will do it?”

“Probably,” Wally drawled. “They all owe me a favor or two.”

Skye kissed him. “You’re the best.”

“I’ll remind you of that on Sunday,” Wally teased, then turned serious. “I checked with the Canfield attorney, and he claims the two-thousand-dollar weekly deposits into Belle’s account did not come from her parents. And Belle did call her grandmother GiGi, so it probably was her father she was referring to when she asked for a second chance.”

“Something isn’t adding up here.”

“You’re right,” Wally agreed. “I have a feeling that if we could find the missing piece, we’d solve the murder.”

Nick’s family finally arrived at that moment, and Skye turned her attention back to her wedding-planner duties. After explaining that Wally would fill in for the officiant tonight, but a judge would be there tomorrow for the actual ceremony, she rounded everyone up and proceeded with the rehearsal.

The run-through was going smoothly until Skye handed her cousin the mock bouquet.

Riley’s brow furrowed, and she hissed, “What’s this piece of crap?”

“We always attach the bows from the shower gifts to a paper plate for the bride to use at the rehearsal,” Skye answered. “It’s considered good luck.” Which her cousin would need if her groom turned out to be Belle’s killer. “I know you’ve been gone from Scumble River a long time, but really ...”

Natasha, Nick’s stepmother, had been standing to the side with her son, Luca Jay, the ring bearer. At Skye’s words she taunted Riley, “Come now, darling. Since you insist on having wedding in flyover country, surely you are willing to abide by quaint customs.”

Earlier, Skye had found Natasha’s slight Eastern European accent charming, but she was beginning to reconsider.

Riley glared at her future stepmother-in-law. “You haven’t come to one single event before this. And now you appear wearing that ... that hideous outfit. You have no room to talk, so just shut the hell up.”

Skye had to agree with her cousin; Natasha’s attire did seem more like a costume than a dress. It looked as if a red silk and gold lace tablecloth had been wrapped from her chest to her knees. Then a tutu skirt of tulle fluttered from her shins to her feet. Circling her brow were three gold chains with a huge ruby brooch in the center.

“You will not speak to me that way.” Natasha shook her head, sending her long curls rippling down her back. “This gown is Alexander McQueen original and cost over ten thousand dollars.” The shapely blonde sneered. “I am Russian royalty and you are country bumpkin.”

“Royalty, my ass!” Riley screeched. “More like a mail-order bride from Siberia who married some rich old geezer to stay in the United States.”

Natasha took a deep breath that nearly had her breasts escaping the confines of her dress’s bandeau top. “Last person who talk to me that way no longer alive.”

Skye took a hasty step between the two women, wondering whether Natasha and Belle had ever crossed paths. “Ladies.” She glanced down and saw that Luca Jay’s baby blue eyes were rounded and his rosebud mouth puckered, as if he were about to cry. “Not everyone knows you’re kidding.”

Natasha and Riley followed Skye’s gaze and moved apart, but the women continued to glower at each other.

Finally, Riley turned her back on the older woman and said to Skye, “Let’s get this over with.” She grabbed the paper plate bouquet, then ran a slim hand down the pale pink charmeuse of her strapless sheath. “How do I look?”

“Truth aside,” Natasha sniggered, “you look fabulous.”

Riley stiffened, then almost as if in slow motion, she swung around and smashed her mock bouquet over Natasha’s head, causing the paper plate to disintegrate into confetti. Who knew such an ethereal-looking bride could pack such a wallop?

In the next instant, Natasha lunged and fastened her hands around Riley’s throat. Instinctively, Skye wrapped her arms around the older woman’s waist and pulled with all her not inconsiderable weight. Natasha’s grip loosened, and she and Skye staggered backward, falling into an ungraceful heap on the floor.

Everyone had been staring, frozen, but when Skye and Natasha hit the ground, their menfolk ran toward them. As Wally helped Skye to her feet, she watched Jay Jordan lead his son and wife away while picking ribbon and bows out of Natasha’s hair.

Once the Russian woman was gone, the rehearsal went smoothly. And when they entered the dining room, Skye was relieved to see that Nick’s stepmother was seated at the far end of the horseshoe, and Riley was at the center.

After popping into the kitchen to let Allison know they were ready to eat, Skye slipped into her chair. Wally was on her right and Paige on her left. The food was delicious, and a different wine was served with each course. Skye was careful to take only a sip of each, but Paige drained every glass.

As they waited for the dessert, Paige got unsteadily to her feet and marched toward the door, announcing that she needed to use the little girls’ room. Skye observed her wobbly gait and hastily decided to join the tipsy woman, discreetly steadying the redhead as her stilettos skidded on the slick hardwood floor.

When Paige emerged from the bathroom stall, Skye was applying a coat of red amber to her lips. She dropped the lipstick tube into her purse and said, “Well, only one day to go.”

“Right.” Paige washed and dried her hands. “And once Riley has her perfect wedding, we can all relax for a while.” She ran a comb through her hair; it fell in a flawlessly straight curtain nearly to her waist. “Things certainly would have been different for her if she’d married her high school sweetheart and never moved to California.”

Skye couldn’t believe her luck. She had almost forgotten that she wanted to know what had happened with Riley’s hometown beau. “You know, I wasn’t in Scumble River when Riley was in high school. Who was her boyfriend, and why didn’t she end up marrying him?”

“I don’t remember his name. Riley told me about it our freshman year of college, so it’s been a while,” Paige explained. “But they broke up briefly the middle of their senior year.”

“Briefly?” Skye asked. “I’m confused. Did they get back together?”

“Yeah, a month or so later they made up. But it was too late.”

“Too late?” Skye couldn’t contain herself. “What do you mean? What happened?”

“He had already asked another girl to the senior prom and refused to renege, which meant Riley didn’t have an escort, and by that point, all the decent-looking guys were taken.” Paige frowned. “I think that may be another reason she decided to have the wedding in Scumble River. She wanted to show the town that she was no longer the girl without a date to her senior prom. Now she’s a princess.”

“You’re probably right,” Skye agreed, then asked, “So they broke up again. This time for good.”

“Yes.” Paige tsked. “But the worst part was that the night of the prom the brakes failed on his car, and he and his date were in an awful accident. The girl was scarred for life, and he never walked again.”

“Oh, my. How awful. Riley must have felt terrible.”

“Not so you’d notice.” Paige shrugged her tanned shoulders. “When she told me about it, she almost seemed to be gloating.”

“I’m sure that’s not the case.” Skye scrambled for something to say, wondering how far Riley would go if Belle had somehow disappointed or upset her.

“And now that Riley has found her true love, I’ll bet she’s really sorry about what happened the night of the prom.”

“I wouldn’t call Nick Riley’s true love, but he has all the characteristics that make her happy.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.” Paige pushed open the restroom door and said over her shoulder, “She and I both like our men the same way we like our chocolate bars: rich with big nuts.”

Final Touches

“V
ince, this is Paige Hathaway, Tabitha Urick, and Hallie Jordan.” It was the day of the wedding and they were all gathered in the dressing room at the country club. “Ladies, this is my brother, Vince Denison.” Skye finished the introductions, then asked, “Who do you want to work on first?”

“I usually start with the bride, but you said she was running late.” Vince plugged in a set of hot rollers and a curling iron.

“She just phoned and is on her way, but it’ll probably be at least thirty minutes.”

Skye frowned, thinking of the call. Riley had been hysterical because she couldn’t locate her grandmother’s silver cake server. When Skye reminded her that Dora had brought it to the club last night and it was lying on the cake table ready to be used, her cousin had slammed the phone down, but not before Skye heard her screaming at her mother.

While Vince and the makeup artist, who had arrived late yesterday from California, got started on the bridesmaids, Skye went to check on the groomsmen, who were assembled in the country club’s bar. Since Nick had rented the entire clubhouse for the day, they had the whole place to themselves. Skye found them sprawled on sofas and chairs, drinking Bloody Marys and watching ESPN.

She examined their tuxes and saw that they were all in order. Jay and Natasha had promised to bring Luca Jay already dressed at one p.m., just in time for the pictures to be taken before the ceremony. Everyone agreed the little ring bearer would be bored waiting around the country club with the rest of the bridal party, which provided Skye with a good excuse to keep Natasha and Riley apart for as long as possible.