Newlywed Dead (18 page)

“Thank you for calling Xi Omicron Mu. Have a nice day.” She hung up on me and I frowned. Xi Omicron Mu was a dead end.

Or was it? I put the name into my search engine and a whole lot of pictures popped up. In fact, there were 1,245 pictures. That was too general so I typed in homecoming and the date two years earlier. This time a hundred pictures popped up. People don't understand that their Twitter, Tumblr, and Instagram accounts can be easily searched.

I started to go through the pictures, but it was a long, slow slog and I still had to finish the details for an important party. The nagging thought that I knew someone who went to Xi Omicron Mu stayed with me. I sighed, finally, and put the sleuthing work away. It was time to concentrate on the Brad and Jen extravaganza and how it tied in to Samantha Lyn and Clark's proposal.

Everyone, including Samantha Lyn, knew I was against Clark proposing to her, but Mrs. Fulcrum and Mrs. Thomson were adamant that they would have a proposal. I liked Samantha Lyn, and even if I couldn't prevent her from marrying Clark, at least I could give her a party.

The event was going to be couched as a fund-raiser for autism. I put in multiple hours' worth of work designing posters that explained the fund-raiser. The title was going to be ‘Cool Cats on Ice'—a jazz-age event with cocktails and dancing. I ran off a half dozen posters. I planned to place the posters around the country club and other areas where Brad and Jen and the Fulcrums and Thomsons hung out. It would give authenticity to the event. The families and members of the country club would buy tickets to the event. Brad and Jen would think the night was staged for Samantha Lyn and Clark and they were coming to watch. Samantha Lyn would think it was a fund-raiser and get her surprise engagement as special as I could make it. If it worked the way I hoped, I would walk away with two satisfied customers and maybe raise some funds for a good cause.

*   *   *

That night, Gage was over at my house. I was elbow deep in the double-proposal event. “So, I've got the Ice Pit rented,” I said. “There is seating for one hundred and fifty and all the tables and chairs and everything inside is made of ice—even the glasses. So it all glitters and, see, it's lit from underneath with Jennifer's favorite colors.” I pulled up pictures that the venue had sent me.

“It looks cold, but cool,” Gage said with a grin. He sat across from me on the couch with his laptop on his lap.

“They supply these great faux fur coats for everyone who enters.” I showed him a picture of the coats. “But I really want to jazz it up a bit.”

“That's where I come in,” Gage said. “I'm delivering jazz-age costumes for all the guests to dress in prior to entering the space. I've got racks of flapper gowns in all sizes and shapes. There are bins of pearls and sparkling cubic zirconium necklaces, chandelier earrings, and tiaras. The guys have a full range of zoot suits to wear under their faux fur.”

“Yes, I'm hiding the proposal by announcing that it's a fund-raiser for my autism charity. Everyone must come in costume. I made these posters this afternoon and put them up at the country club. Tomorrow I'm doing an e-mail campaign. It's sort of last minute, but the Fulcrums and Thomsons didn't give me enough time to make it look like a real deal. You know, an event that people plan for a year in advance.”

“It doesn't matter that it's rushed,” Gage said. “What matters is that it appears like the real thing. I'm certain it will, with my help, of course.”

“Of course,” I said. “Now, there will be three tents outside the Ice Pit set up as dressing rooms. One tent will be specifically for Jen and Brad and for Samantha Lyn and Clark's guests. Then the other two will hold Jen and Brad's friends and family—one for the guys and one for the dolls. You have the tents ready, right?”

“I do,” he said, his blue eyes twinkling. “Are you going to have fake guests this time? You know, to mingle with the families?”

“Well, with the posters and tiny bit of publicity, I'm hoping for a few people coming who expect the fund-raiser.
I sent a note to the local autism charity board and they will be promoting it as well. Then I've asked Samantha Lyn, Clark, and their parents to participate. Samantha Lyn at least was excited to help. She has a friend who has an autistic brother. The moms are in on the event, of course.”

“Of course,” Gage said.

“Finally, I told Jen the proposal event is for Samantha Lyn and asked her to kind of handle the mothers since they all know each other from the country club. Jen agreed.”

“What about Brad?”

“Well, I couldn't have him be a part of this proposal, as that would seem too obvious,” I said. “So I got Toby to meet with Brad under the pretext of doing some work for his firm. Toby agreed and he has already made plans to meet with Brad at the coffee shop around the corner from the event. It's close but not suspiciously close to the Ice Pit.”

“Wait, Brad met Toby at your last proposal event, won't he suspect Toby of helping you?” Gage asked.

“You know, Toby,” I said. “He isn't exactly the most social.”

“That's true.”

I smiled. “Toby's business reputation turns heads. Brad said he's looking for a job in California. Toby has some venture capital in start-ups out there. I'm sure the last thing Brad is thinking about is my proposal business.”

“Right,” Gage said with a nod.

“Toby will explain after they arrive at the coffeehouse that he has to attend this fund-raiser. Brad will say, ‘Hey, Jen is there.' Toby will take Brad with him and when they
arrive, Toby and I will hide Brad. I'll give him the ring, and the moment the band starts to play their song, I'll get Brad behind the screen so that he is backlit. He'll get down on one knee and I'll light up the screen with the words ‘Jen, will you marry me?' Brad will say the words into a microphone. Then, when Jen has her mouth covered and tears in her eyes, the screen will go up and Brad will step out with the ring, get back on his knee, and she will say yes.”

“Wow,” Gage said. “I'm always amazed by how you do this. You really have this all worked out.”

“I have help from my friends,” I said, and put my laptop aside. I moved over next to Gage. “I couldn't pull off these fun events if I didn't have you.”

“Is that right?” He put his tablet aside and pulled me into his arms.

“Yes,” I said, and wrapped my arms around his neck. “I'm a very lucky girl.”

He smiled and kissed me. “I'm a lucky man to have such a lucky girl in my arms and in my life.”

That was the end of proposal planning for the night. After all, there's more to life than working and amateur sleuthing.

I met my mom for lunch at Samboni's Pasta House. “Hi, Mom.” I kissed her on the cheek and unbuttoned my coat. “How are things?”

“Not too bad,” she said, and watched me take off my coat and hang it on the back of my chair before I sat down. “You look good.”

I glanced down at the black turtleneck sweater and jeans I wore. “Thanks, Mom.”

“How are things with you and Gage?”

I couldn't stop the grin that spread across my face at the mention of Gage's name. “Good.”

Mom tilted her head and studied me. “Good. It's nice to see that look in your eye.”

“What look?” I picked up my menu and pretended that her close attention wasn't bothering me. I mean, who wants their mom to know they had a great date the night before?

“The one your sister had when she started dating Warren,” Mom said. “When's the wedding?”

“What!” I put down my menu. “We have only been dating for a few months.”

It was Mom's turn to grin as she perused the menu. “When it's right, it's right.”

I gave her the stink eye but she ignored me.

“What's up with your proposals?” she asked. “How did the foodie one go?”

“It went great. Laura and Monica are so cute together and their friends and family were so happy for them.”

“Good,” Mom said. The waitress came over and took our orders for drinks, soup, and pasta. Mom handed her the menus and then leaned on her elbows. “So, how's the investigation coming along?”

“Investigation?” I tried to act casual but there's no ignoring my mom. She somehow always knows all.

“The one for that dear girl who died at Felicity's reception.”

“You haven't told Felicity about that, have you?” I asked, and sipped my water. “I don't want her to feel like her entire marriage is cursed.”

“Of course I haven't told her. She's still on her honeymoon.” Mom leaned back. “The kids won't be home for another three days.”

“Have you heard from her?” I asked. The waitress brought us soup and breadsticks.

“She's on her honeymoon,” Mom said, and picked up her soup spoon. “She's not going to contact her mother.”

“I thought maybe she'd send pictures of the trip,” I said, and shrugged. My soup was made with potatoes, leeks, and Italian sausage. It was warm and wonderful on a cold, dreary winter day.

“I'm sure they'll share pictures when they get back,” Mom said. “Not everyone feels the need to post constant selfies.”

I paused. “How do you know what a selfie is?”

“It's all over the Internet,” Mom said with a shrug and dipped her spoon into her chicken tortilla soup. “Everyone's into taking pictures of themselves or their food.” Mom sighed. “All the knowledge in the world at their fingertips and all anyone wants to do is take a snapshot of their smiling face.”

“Well, not me,” I said, and went back to my soup.

“Yeah, I noticed,” Mom said. “I thought maybe you'd post one or two of you and Gage. Are you two keeping it on the down low?”

“What?” I asked. “Mom, where are you getting these terms?”

“What, I can't be modern and up to date?” Mom asked back. She looked disappointed.

“It's fine, Mom,” I said, giving in to her pout. “No, we're not hiding our dating status.”

“But you still have ‘single' listed on your Facebook
page,” Mom pointed out. “I figured after a couple of months you would switch that to ‘in a relationship.'”

“Gage and I haven't talked about our status,” I said. “I won't post anything until we do.”

“What are you waiting for?”

I squirmed, uncomfortable with the conversation. “Stop pressuring me. I'm sure when the time is right, Gage will broach the subject.”

“Maybe he's waiting for you to broach it,” Mom said, and gestured with her spoon. “Men do that, you know. Did you tell him you were still uncertain about you and him and Bobby?”

“Yes, but that was two months ago,” I said.

“Time is nothing to a man,” Mom pointed out. “Look at how long he followed you around before he got the nerve to ask you out. What was it eleven or twelve years?”

“I was dating Bobby.”

“Don't let him wait another eleven or twelve years before he takes the next step,” Mom said. “Nobody wants to have kids when they are old.”

“Mom.” I really tried not to roll my eyes.

“What? Twelve years from now you'll be forty. That's old for having kids. I'm just saying.”

I pushed my empty soup bowl away. “Why did you ask me to lunch? Was it to badger me about my relationship?”

“No,” Mom said. “Tell me about your investigation into that girl's death.”

“Ashley,” I said. “Her name was Ashley Klein. She was from here. I went to see her mother the other day.”

“Did you bring her a casserole?”

“Yes,” I said with a nod. “Lasagna and bread and wine. All ready to freeze and eat whenever. That way if she was inundated with casseroles she could freeze it, or if she wanted to—”

“She could eat it that night,” Mom finished. “That's my girl. How was her mother? Poor thing, nobody wants to outlive their children.”

“She seemed okay . . . at peace with it. Ashley really suffered the last few years. She and her best friend were gunned down. Ashley survived, but her friend Kiera died on the scene. When Ashley came out of her coma she didn't remember anything . . . for a while.”

“Was she remembering things? Do you think that's why she was killed?”

“You know, she told me she was having headaches and strange flashes, but couldn't put things together.”

“So she wasn't killed for remembering,” Mom said as the waitress placed plates of pasta in front of us.

“I'm not sure,” I said. “Her mother has this scrapbook that shows Ashley growing up. She was head cheerleader and prom queen. She had a full scholarship until that day she was shot and left for dead. After she woke up she couldn't get over her grief and her guilt to continue with school. She acted up and dropped out of school. When I met her I thought she was ten years older than me. She was skinny and clearly unhappy. She had that rough look, you know?”

“Yes, dear, I remember her,” Mom said, and expertly
twirled her pasta with a spoon and fork. “I thought she didn't look like the usual bartender type for a high-society event.”

“I know, right? But here's the thing, she'd done a few other high-society weddings. In fact, she met Samantha Lyn at one.”

“I can't believe that poor girl is still with that Clark,” Mom said, and shook her head. “Seriously, she is smart and young and pretty. What is she doing with the Fulcrum boy?”

“Their mothers are set on them getting married.”

“No!” My mother put down her silverware to emphasize her disgust.

“Yes,” I said, and nodded. “They have hired me to do the proposal and engagement party. I went to see Samantha Lyn. You know I do undercover interviews of all my clients, except Monica. I had to trust Laura that Monica would be good with the proposal.”

“And she was?”

“She was,” I said, and smiled. “It was great. Toby came and I set him up with Amelia. Remember Amelia?”

“Oh, yes,” Mom said, and her eyes sparkled. “What a sweet girl. She's perfect for Toby. Aren't her parents members of the country club?”

“They are,” I said. “And I think Amelia liked Toby.”

“How was Toby with being set up?”

“I'm not sure,” I said, and frowned. “I think he was good with it. I'm going to have to ask him if he's asked her out again since then. You know he isn't the quickest learner when it comes to human relationships. And Amelia is not
the kind to call him and push.” I tapped my chin. “I may need to step in and ensure they meet again.”

“So now you're a matchmaker?”

“Oh, gosh no,” I said. “If I were a matchmaker I'd tell Samantha Lyn to run—not walk—away from Clark Fulcrum. Like I said, I'm not a matchmaker, but I did tell her she should run away.”

“And?”

“And she told me that she had run away crying at the wedding where she first met Ashley because of a fight with Clark. Ashley clocked out of her bartending and took Samantha Lyn home. Samantha told me that she confided in Ashley that she wasn't ready to marry anyone, let alone Clark.”

“Then why is she still with him?”

“That's what I asked,” I said. “Samantha told me it was complicated. I think she doesn't want to disappoint her mother. Mrs. Thomson is dead set on her one and only daughter making a good match, and she sees the Fulcrums as the perfect way to elevate the status of her family.”

“That's terrible.”

“Right?” I shook my head. “Mrs. Fulcrum and Mrs. Thomson are terrible together. All they talk about is how Ashley deserved what happened.”

“What?”

“They are mad because Ashley made friends with Samantha Lyn and Ashley told Samantha to leave Clark.”

“Do you think one or both of the moms killed Ashley?”

“That was my thought.” I leaned forward. “Both of them have Xanax prescriptions, but Detective Murphy said that the idea that they would stoop to murder doesn't fit. After all, Samantha Lyn is still going along with their plan. In fact, the moms wanted me to set up the engagement ASAP. So, I've set it up for tomorrow.”

“No!” Mom protested. “I thought you had a rule that only successful couples who meet your interview criteria would be able to use you. You already ignored that rule when you didn't interview Monica.”

I sighed and put my elbow on the table and my chin in my hand. “I know, I know. This whole thing feels off. You know? But Monica was great and that worked out. And I hate to say it but the moms have given me this huge deposit. I was kind of hoping to use it to propel my business forward.”

“Honey, you can't take it,” Mom admonished. “You would never live with yourself should Samantha Lyn be stuck in a bad marriage.”

“But they are determined whether I do it or someone else does it,” I pointed out. “At the very least, I will be there as a voice of reason when he proposes. Maybe she'll look at me and say no.”

“I think you're reaching,” Mom said, and shook her head. “It sounds to me as if this little girl is trying to please her parents and you are making it happen. I'm disappointed in you, Pepper. I thought you had standards and principles.”

“I do,” I argued.

“If you do, then you should give those women their
deposit back. Take that poor little girl out for a nice lunch and be a friend to her.”

“I tried, she won't listen.”

“It's not Samantha Lyn who needs to listen,” Mom said. “It's you, Pepper. You need to tell those moms no and you need to befriend that little girl. If as you say no one else in her life is listening to her, then you need to step up and do that.”

“The last girl who did ended up dead,” I pointed out.

Mom gasped. “They wouldn't hurt you, would they? Pepper, if you're doing this because you think they would hurt you, then that's even more of a reason not to do it.”

I sighed. “Tomorrow's party isn't just for Samantha Lyn and Clark.”

“No? But I thought you said it was.”

“It's really a cover for another engagement. Do you remember Jennifer and Brad?”

“Who?”

“They were at Felicity's wedding. They were friends of Warren's mom. Anyway, Jen has decided that she wants this glitzy, over-the-top proposal, but it has to be a complete surprise.”

“You specialize in surprise,” Mom said. “Why are you nervous?”

“I'm not nervous.”

“Pepper . . .” Mom said in the voice that said she knew I was lying.

“Fine. Because Jen is a complete control freak. She has been in on almost all of the meetings about it. She
grills Brad about it every night. I can't tell Brad because if Jen is not surprised she won't say yes.”

“That's ridiculous.”

“I know. Brad has tried to propose six times and each time Jen has figured it out and then refused to say yes. Plus, he had to buy her a new ring each time because it has to all be a surprise.”

“That is terrible.”

“Brad seems to be okay with it. You know, he told me that if I thought Jen was a control freak, I should meet her parents.” I sighed. “Brad says Jen's parents want them to move to California as soon as possible so they can live close by.”

“What about the Brad's job? Isn't this Jennifer working?”

“It seems that Jen's parents are job hunting for Brad and Jen right now. Plus they have offered to buy them a house two blocks away.”

“Well,” Mom said, and sat back. “That is controlling.”

“Anyway, Brad gave me the ring he recently purchased for Jen. It's a $100,000 Tiffany ring.”