Say Yes to the Death (21 page)

“There you are, and the fit is rather good for a sample,” she said and patted my back. “This is really going to happen, isn't it?” she whispered. “You're getting married to Mr. Malone.”

And I whispered back, “Yes, it's going to happen.”

“This October?” she pressed.

“I don't know,” I confessed, “but soon enough.”

I heard my mother draw in a deep breath, and I did, too. It didn't matter that we were here at Draco's showroom to snoop. This was a special moment, one that neither of us seemed to believe in full.

Then Cissy added softly, “I only wish your father were here. How he would have loved to give you away. Loved it and hated it, too.” She laughed and wiped at her eyes.

“I know,” I told her and reached for her hand.

“Whatever you wear, you will look like an angel, and I will be so proud of you,” she said and squeezed her fingers over mine.

“Thank you.” I sniffled, thinking we had to stop talking like this or I very well could start bawling like a baby.

“No”—­she let me go and brushed my tangled hair from my face—­“thank you for being my daughter. I know I haven't been a perfect mother, and it hasn't been easy sometimes. But you've made my life far richer than I'd ever dreamed.”

Oh, man! Was she trying to make me sob uncontrollably?

“Don't forget that I've made your life crazier, too,” I remarked, because if I didn't say something to lighten the mood, we were both going to break down and Draco would find us here in the dressing room, weeping. I wonder if Starsky and Hutch had ever found themselves in such a situation.

“Yes, you have,” Cissy said with a smile, “at least as crazy as I've made yours.”

A sharp knock sounded at the door, and Mother brushed tears from her cheeks. I sniffed back the threat of tears of my own and said, “Yes?”

“Are you decent?” It was Terra's voice.

“I am,” I told her.

“Then come out,” she said, “and meet Draco.”

Chapter 26

M
other was first to the dressing room door, and I turned around as she opened it.

“Here comes the bride,”
she trilled and stepped out ahead of me, all the while humming,
“Dum-­dum-­da-­dum.”

I took a deep breath and gathered up the skirt of the dress before I plodded out on my tennis shoes less than gracefully. “Here's Mother's first pick,” I said as I paused and let go of the fabric so the hem puddled on the floor. Despite the wealth of mirrors around me, I avoided looking at my reflection. Instead, I focused on the reactions of Terra and Draco.

She had her arms crossed and was frowning. Draco cocked his head, watching me, tapping a finger to his full bottom lip. He looked so dark and brooding amidst the delicate pinks and whites of the room. I imagined him peddling vodka or whiskey, not designing frothy white dresses for women.

“So what do you think?” I asked nervously, worried that I didn't do the gown justice. Why else would Terra be scowling and Draco squinting at me like I'd put it on backward?

“Well, you know what
I
think,” Mother said when they didn't answer.

“Yes, I know,” I replied under my breath.

After an extended pause, during which I listened to my stomach gurgle, Draco sighed and came toward me, his arms extended.

“My dearest Andrea,” he said, pronouncing my name An-­drey-­ah, “you are a most magnificent flower. The dress becomes you.”

There was that strange accent again. He sounded like a bad actor—­albeit a good-­looking one—­trying to portray a man of mysterious origins. I thought I remembered Janet telling me that Melvin Mellon hailed from America's heartland. Well, it was very American to reinvent oneself, wasn't it? Or to pretend to be something one wasn't? Cissy and I were playing detective, although I had to admit we were far less proficient at it than Draco was at playing a male fashionista. His persona certainly didn't seem to hurt his business, considering how the female buyers in the bridal show audience had reacted. So I had to give him props for taking the Madonna Louise Ciccone approach and changing himself into exactly what the public wanted.

“Thank you for the compliment,” I told him, appreciating the flattery, phony accent notwithstanding. “It's a gorgeous gown.”

“No, thank
you
for doing it justice,” he said and took my hands, bending over to kiss them. “Terra has told me so much about you and your delightful mother. It's a pleasure to finally meet you both.”

“The pleasure is all ours,” Cissy said, blushing like a schoolgirl.

“Ditto,” I replied, which might not be considered the de rigueur response per my Little Miss Manners classes all those years ago, but that was all I had.

Draco smiled warmly—­oh, yeah, he was good, I mused—­and he let go of my hands, but not before I'd spotted the tattoo on his left ring finger.

Surprise, surprise.

It looked exactly like Terra's.

“Oh, fudge,” slipped from my mouth, and I wanted to bang my head against the powder pink wall. My mother had been right about Terra keeping secrets. This one was a whopper.

I was pretty bad at math, but I could put two and two together. Terra had told me she'd come to Dallas with a friend who knew Olivia and got her the job with the Wedding Belle. Terra had attended the Art Institute of Indianapolis, which was definitely in the Midwest and was a design school for artists and designers of all stripes. Could that be where she and Draco had met before he'd done
Operation: Runway
? But if they were married to each other, why would Draco have feigned a relationship with Olivia? Was it just for the publicity, as Janet had suggested? Had Terra taken the job as Olivia's sidekick to keep an eye on them? Either way, it seemed pretty weird.

I couldn't help wondering what the hell was going on.

“Andrea?” Draco saw my confused expression. “You're not pleased, I can tell,” he remarked, “but I think I can fix that.”

He snapped his fingers at Terra.

“It's not the dress,” I said, but he didn't seem to listen.

“Fetch a veil for Andrea, would you?” he told Terra, and he nodded toward a round rack flush with headgear. “Grab the one with the seed pearls. And pull her hair off her face. We should give you the full effect, yes? It doesn't seem like you're happy, and I want to make you a happy bride.”

“That's all right. I don't need a veil . . . really.” I tried to nix that plan of action, for all the good it did.

Mother was practically jumping up and down. “Yes, bring on the veil,” she drawled and clapped her hands.

Terra grabbed a floor-­length model and returned. I winced as she roughly scraped back my unruly hair with the comb before tucking it onto my crown. Then she pulled the tulle forward so it covered my face. I felt like I was trapped behind mosquito netting, and I didn't like it.

“Um, I'd rather not,” I said and flipped the netting right back over my head so I could see clearly again.

“Yes, of course, you don't have to wear it down,” Draco insisted. “Why cover up such a lovely face, eh? Leave it pulled back so all your family and friends can see your bliss.”

“I like the veil,” my mother said, looking at me askance.

I wanted to pull her aside and tell her it wasn't the veil that was the problem.

But I didn't. Instead, I stared at Terra.

She'd hardly said two words in Draco's presence. She seemed überupset, and I wanted to know why. She kept stealing glances at him, and I wondered if she had gotten tired of the whole charade. Had she said anything to the cops?

“You're awfully uptight, Terra,” I remarked, and her head snapped in my direction. “Did you have trouble at the police station? You said you had to go talk to them again this morning. Is anything wrong?”

“I don't know. Is it?” she asked, crossing her arms and looking defensive, hostile even. “A little bird told me you've been busy this morning, too, talking about Olivia.”

Oh, boy, this was so not good.

I swallowed. “What's that supposed to mean?”

Terra glared. “Don't play dumb.”

“Ladies, let's not squabble,” Draco said, reaching out to squeeze Terra's shoulder. “Let's leave poor Olivia out of this, shall we? We're looking for Andrea's gown for her wedding—­”

“Are we?” Terra replied, arching her eyebrows.

I glanced at my mother, but she pursed her lips. I could tell she wasn't going to be much help getting us out of this one.

“Maybe you should just say what you're thinking,” I told Terra, “and stop with this whole passive-­aggressive
shtick.
”

“You want me to say what I'm thinking?” Terra frowned. “You might not want your mother to hear. Although she must be in on it or she wouldn't be here.”

“I came to buy Andrea a gown,” Cissy said, for all the good it did.

“Incredible.” Terra chuffed. “So you've got her lying, too?”

“Mother's not lying,” I returned the volley. “She does want to buy me a gown.”

“But that's not what you're really after, is it, Andy?”

Ah, there she went again, trying to deflect her guilt onto me. Well, it wasn't going to work. I'd had a lot of practice with guilt, and I was pretty sure I could beat her at this game.

“What I'm after is a little honesty,” I said, brushing my hands on the silky embroidered skirt. “I can't believe you don't want that, too. I'll bet it's been hard for you both, hasn't it, keeping such a huge secret for months,” I pressed on, deciding someone had to get to the heart of the matter. If I waited for Terra or Draco to spill their guts, I might turn into Miss Havisham for real, wearing this wedding gown and sprouting cobwebs.

How had Terra kept mum for so long? I'm surprised she hadn't busted out with the truth on the finale of
The Wedding Belle'
s first season . . . unless she and Draco had signed a confidentiality agreement, which I'd bet was the case. Had they promised to stay apart as long as Olivia was alive and needed a beard?

Well, what about now that Olivia was dead? Could they finally stop pretending?

“I don't know what secret you're talking about,” Terra said. She tightened her arms over her chest and pursed her lips. She wasn't going to be such an easy nut to crack.

“How about this one,” I said and wet my lips, deciding to go ahead and take the plunge. “When you spoke with the Highland Park police, did you tell them that you're really Mrs. Melvin Mellon?” I asked, because I was sure no one would be more interested to hear about that than the po-­po.

My mother sucked in her breath.

Terra fumed. Her face was so purple that I expected steam to rise out of her ears.

“An-­drey-­ah, Terra, please, don't be like this,” Draco said, stepping between me and Terra. He lifted his hands in plea then realized I was staring at the tattooed ring so he dropped them to his sides. “Why can't we forget this nonsense and move on to another dress? It's so rare to fall in love with the first one you try on.”

“Cut the crap, Draco, Melvin, whoever you are,” I said testily. “Apparently, Terra's been doing some snooping—­”

“I'm the one who's been snooping?” Terra cut me off, her eyes flashing fire. “Why don't
you
stop wasting our time and be honest, huh?”

“Me?” I blinked.

“Yes, you!” she insisted, clenching hands into fists. “How convenient that you didn't tell me yourself about being at Olivia's office right after Millie slashed her throat, and how convenient that you didn't spill that your fiancé happens to be the defense attorney who's representing the woman who killed Olivia!”

“How'd you find out about Brian?” I asked, because I was awfully sure at this point that I hadn't told her anything about Malone being a lawyer.

“Online,” Terra said in a tone of voice that implied,
Duh.
“I saw an old engagement announcement in the
Park Cities Press
when I Googled his name. It said he worked at a big law firm downtown. So did the article from today's
Morning News
about him defending the killer cake baker.” She turned her glare on Cissy. “I don't know what the two of you think you're going to find out with your Snoop Sisters routine—­”

“Wait, you saw the engagement announcement in the
Park Cities Press
?” Cissy piped up, sounding pleased. “See, Andrea, I told you someone would notice.”

Somehow, I refrained from hitting myself in the head with the heel of my hand.

“Speaking of the
Park Cities Press,
it's pretty popular with you Kendricks women, isn't it?” Terra paused to point at me. “Uncle Jas said that this one showed up at Belle Meade this morning with a reporter, nosing into his business and asking lots of questions about Olivia.”

“Uncle Jas?” I squawked. “As in Jasper Pippin? The florist Olivia deflowered,” I babbled on, then waved a hand. “You know what I mean.”

When Terra said nothing, I knew I was right.

Oh, hell. Was he the relative she'd been living with since she came to town? Had Olivia known about their relationship? Was it part of this bizarre love/hate triangle—­um, square—­they'd cooked up to punch up the ratings for
The Wedding Belle
?

“Was that Jasper's car you borrowed yesterday when you came to the condo?” I asked. “I saw the TSFA bumper sticker and the one about honking for roses. He used to be on the TSFA board before Olivia humiliated him on national TV, and now he's got some big secret project in the works.” I paused, cocking my head. “Funny, how it came along so quickly after Olivia's death.”

Terra's gaze shifted over to Draco, but he didn't do anything at all except stand there and listen.

I gave it my best shot, asking, “That top secret project doesn't happen to be Planet Wedding, does it? Were you and Jasper and Draco plotting to put it together before Olivia was murdered?”

Terra clenched her jaw.

It was Draco who jumped in to answer. “You don't understand,” he said, and Terra sighed, shaking her head as he spoke. “Salvo Productions has offered us a new show. Terra, Jasper, and I are all involved. If anyone was working behind Olivia's back, it was Sammi Garber and the other producers. They didn't want Olivia to know until the taping had gotten under way. They were afraid she'd be livid.”

If my mouth fell open, it was with good reason.

That was even crazier than I'd imagined.

“Let me get this straight,” I said, trying to wrap my head around the whole thing. “So you two were planning to jump Olivia's ship, and no one wanted to tell her? Did she find out and pitch a fit? Did one of you kill her and pin it on Millicent Draper since she was Olivia's latest target?” My gaze went from one to the other. “Which of you actually did it? Maybe it was Uncle Jasper? Or is it like one of those teen movies where the friends pinkie-­swear to never tell?”

“No.” Draco began shaking his head.

Terra's face pinched. “It wasn't any of us.”

“Right,” I replied. I suddenly felt like part of a reality show that wasn't reality at all, and I didn't know what to believe.

Draco reached out his hands like a beggar. “It's the God's honest truth,” he said, dropping his accent. Without it, his voice had the flatness of a corn-­fed Midwesterner, and he seemed a lot less mysterious. “We had nothing to do with Olivia's death. Why would we want her dead? As long as she was alive, she was money in the bank. Our careers would be nowhere without her and Salvo Productions.”

“If you're so innocent, why haven't you publicly acknowledged that you're married? Did you at least tell the police?” I asked Terra, whose red cheeks turned milky pale. “I'll take that as a no,” I said flatly. “If Mother and I noticed your matching wedding band tattoos, someone else will sooner or later. How long could you go on pretending, and why?” I stared at Terra.