Fatal Consequences (12 page)

In need of a top-notch wedding planner, Nick went to the one source he could always count on—his adopted mother, Laine O’Connor.

“Senator!” she said when she answered the phone. “What a lovely,
lovely
surprise.”

Nick smiled at the effusive greeting. From the first time John brought him home from Harvard freshman year, Laine and her husband, Graham, had made Nick a part of their family. After John’s death, they had gone out of their way to let Nick know that nothing would change—he would always be an honorary O’Connor.

“How are you, honey?” she asked.

“I’m good. How about you?”

“Oh, you know,” she said with a sigh. “Good days. Bad days.”

The pain he heard in her voice made Nick ache for her, for all of them. “I miss him. Sometimes I forget he’s gone, and then it all comes rushing back…”

“He’d be so proud of you, Nick. I saw the VCU rally on the news. The people of the Old Dominion love you!”

“I’m not sure what I ever did to deserve such an outpouring.”

“You stepped in when they needed you.” Her voice caught. “You stepped in when
we
needed you.”

“Well now I need
you
,” he said, steering the conversation in a lighter direction before his emotions got the better of him. He still found it difficult to talk about his best friend’s violent death, and he knew she felt the same.

“What can I do for you?”

“Sam and I are looking for a wedding planner. Someone who knows Washington, knows how to deal with the million details, someone who can make it all go away for us. Do you know anyone?”

“You need Shelby Faircloth.”

“Who?”

“Lizbeth’s friend from Georgetown,” she said, referring to her daughter. “She’s the go-to person for Washington weddings.”

“You think she’d be interested in taking on ours?”

Laine chortled with laughter. “Are you
serious
? You two are the
it
couple of the decade. She’d
kill
for the chance to put together your wedding.”

“I don’t want her to kill anyone. I’m trying to get Sam a full day off, and the last thing she needs is another body to contend with.” Nick winced, realizing it was too soon to be cavalier about murder, especially with John’s mother. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Don’t apologize for making a joke, honey. We could all use a little more levity in our lives these days. Do you want me to get in touch with Shelby for you?”

“That’d be great. Ask her to come by the house at nine.”

“Tonight?”

“If she wants the job, tell her she has thirty minutes to convince us to hire her.”

“I’ll give her the message.”

“And save March 26th.”

“
This year?
”

“Why does everyone keep saying that? Including the bride?”

Once again, Laine chortled with laughter. “If anyone can make it happen, Nick Cappuano, you can.”

“I guess we’ll find out. So how’s Graham?”

“Oh, honey, some days I wonder if he’ll ever be the same. The double-whammy of John’s death followed so closely by Julian…I don’t know.”

“I need to get out to see him.”

“He’d enjoy that. Why don’t you and Sam come for dinner on Sunday?”

Pulling up his calendar, Nick was already figuring how he could rearrange his schedule to make it to the family’s weekly Sunday dinner. He hadn’t made it to a single one since the campaign began. “I can do it, but I’m not sure she can. She’s caught up in another hot case.”

“The business with Henry, I’m sure.”

“Yes.”

“What could he have been thinking? And poor Annette.”

“Do you know her well?”

“We’ve been friends for years. She has to be beside herself. They’re speculating on the news that he’s going to resign. Have you heard anything?”

“Nothing definitive, but there’ve been some rumblings on the Hill.”

“Might be for the best—for Annette and the children.”

“Maybe so.”

“I’m sure you’ll be hearing from him, but Terry is due home this week. I think the additional two weeks were what he really needed. It was good of you to hold the job for him.”

“I’m looking forward to working with him.” Nick had offered the deputy chief of staff job in his office to John’s older brother Terry, provided he spend at least thirty days attending in-patient alcohol rehab. On his own, Terry had tacked on two extra weeks, which Nick had taken as a good indication of Terry’s determination to stay sober. “Well, I won’t keep you. Thanks for the info about the wedding planner.”

“Happy to help. Let me know if there’s anything else I can do.”

“I certainly will. Give Graham my love. I’ll be there Sunday.”

“We’ll see you then.”

Nick put down the phone, and reached for the framed picture of him and John that he kept on the credenza. Blond, handsome and utterly charming, John O’Connor had had it all until his twenty-year-old son murdered him in a fit of rage. As Nick stared the brother of his heart, he realized John’s death had left him without something else he’d soon need: a best man.

Sam spent the evening online reviewing the websites of senators whose offices were cleaned by the dead women. Lightfeather, Ackerman, Stenhouse, Trent, Lewis, Cook and finally Cappuano. Sam hadn’t visited Nick’s site since he took office and was immediately captivated by the photo of him. “Wow,” she said. “Will you look at that?” Tall, handsome and distinguished, wearing a dark suit and a serious smile, he projected an aura of quiet authority that stirred her.

“Whatcha looking at?” Nick asked as he came into the room.

Embarrassed to be gawking at her fiancé’s photo, Sam spun around in the chair. “You, as a matter of fact.”

His brows knitted with confusion. “What about me?”

Sam turned back around so he could see the computer screen. “I
love
that picture.”

“Do you? I thought it was kind of dorky.”

“Um, no. Definitely not dorky.”

“Is that so?”

“No wonder the women of the commonwealth are filling stadiums to overflowing at your rallies.”

“Cut it out,” he said, flustered. “What are you doing on my website anyway?”

“Something my dad said earlier. I stopped to talk shop with him after work.”

“What did he say?”

“That people only kill ‘the help’ when they know too much.”

“What’s that got to do with my site?”

“I was just looking at the sites of every senator they worked for—yours more out of curiosity than anything.”

“What’re you looking for?”

“Not sure yet. Anything that ties the seven of you together.”

“Who are the other six?”

Sam rattled off the names.

Nick sat in one of the other chairs in the comfortable study. “Some heavy hitters on that list.”

“What do they have in common?”

“Ackerman, Cook, Lightfeather and myself are all Democrats. Stenhouse, Lewis and Trent are Republicans. Ackerman and Stenhouse are party leaders. Cook and Lewis have more than thirty years in the Senate, but Trent is relatively new. The Oregon governor appointed him after Tornquist flamed out in a scandal, and Trace was later elected. He’s still in his first full term.”

“A few are on the same committees. Any bad history between any of them like there was between Graham and Stenhouse?”

“I could do some digging into that and let you know.”

“Keep it on the down low for now. I don’t want any of them to know I’m even looking into them at this point.”

“You really think it was one of them?” Nick asked, incredulous.

“The thing is, I have no idea. This investigation is going nowhere fast. We have two dead immigrant women, both of them pregnant, working for a company that provides a service to Congress. One of them was romantically involved with a senator, carrying his child and had an uncertain immigration status. And despite Lightfeather’s airtight alibi, I can’t help but wonder how it’s possible he didn’t have something to do with her murder. He had so much to lose.”

“But you’re not focusing on him, are you?”

“Not at the moment. I just feel like I’m missing something—something huge that’s staring me right in the face.”

He reached for her hand and drew her out of the chair and into his lap. “What you need,” he said, massaging the tension from her shoulders, “is some time away from the case, some TLC and some sleep.”

“Mmm,” Sam said with a sigh. “You’re good at that. If things don’t work out for you in the Senate, you might find work as a masseuse.”

Nick laughed and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Remember how you solved Julian’s case? How it all came together while you were sleeping?”

“In the hospital with my head throbbing from a concussion and my hairline on fire with forty stitches.” They’d both been injured in a car crash that occurred after gang members shot at them. “Maybe you should knock me over the head rather than giving me a massage.”

“The point is you need to step back from it to gain some perspective.”

His talented fingers drew a moan from her. “So no knock on the head?”

“Nope.”

The doorbell rang, drawing Sam back to reality.

“That’ll be your wedding planner,” he said.

She moaned again. “I really have to do this right now?”

He nudged her off his lap and stood. “Remember, this was
your
big idea.”

“I already hate her.”

“I already feel sorry for her.”

“Awww, I love you too.”

Laughing, he nudged her toward the door.

Standing on their doorstep was the tiniest pixie of a woman Sam had ever seen.

The pixie extended her hand. “Shelby Faircloth, at your service,” she said. Her Southern accent was deep and charming. Even though she had to be in her early forties, she could’ve passed for twenty-five.

Sam always felt like an Amazon next to tiny perfect blondes like Shelby and Christina Billings.

“Come in,” Nick said. “Can I get you anything? A glass of wine maybe?”

“Oh, I’d love that,” Shelby said. “It’s been a
really
long day.”

While he went to get the wine, Sam took a moment to study Tinker Bell. She wore a pink suit and sky-high pink stiletto heels that reminded Sam of those favored by Assistant U.S. Attorney Charity Miller. On another woman, the abundance of pink might’ve looked ridiculous. On Shelby Faircloth, it just worked.

“I can’t believe we’ve never met before,” Nick said as he handed Shelby a glass of pinot grigio.

“I don’t get out to the farm very often,” she said, referring to the O’Connor’s Leesburg home. “But I see Lizbeth and Royce socially and occasionally have the pleasure of running into her parents. I know there’s nothing I can say to ease your grief, but I was so very saddened by John’s death.”

“Thank you,” Nick said. “It was a terrible loss for all of us.”

“I can’t imagine.” Shelby took another sip of her wine and then put the glass on the table. “Well, you only gave me thirty minutes to convince you to hire me, so I’d better not waste any time. Now if I had my druthers and could do anything I wanted for you two, I’d have the service at St. John’s, the Church of the Presidents, with a reception immediately following at the newly renovated Hay-Adams. I can picture you, hand in hand, dashing across H Street with the White House in the background.” She sat back in her chair and sighed, caught up in her own vision. “Old Washington, classic, timeless. Just like the two of you.”

Sam and Nick exchanged glances. While she wanted to barf at Shelby’s description of them, she had to admit she could see the wedding just the way Shelby described it and the vision wasn’t totally repulsive.

“What do you think?” Shelby asked.

“I’m intrigued,” Nick said. “You can make this classic, timeless wedding happen in six weeks’ time?”

“Oh, absolutely. The whole town will be clamoring for a piece of this one.”

“And you’d keep all that clamoring far,
far
away from us?” Sam asked.

“As far away as humanly possible. That’s what you’d be hiring me to do.”

“How much would we be paying you to run interference for us?” Sam asked.

“It doesn’t matter,” Nick said. “Whatever it takes to make it as stress-free and perfect as possible, I’ll pay it.”

Sam wondered if he had lost his mind. “Wait a minute—”

He leaned over to kiss the words right off her lips. “We’ll fight about that later.”

“Aww,” Shelby said, “you two are even cuter than you seem on TV.”

That earned her a glare from Sam.

“Mentioning our cuteness will not gain you favor with the bride,” Nick said with a smile.

Shelby made a poor attempt to curb her grin and stood up. “Duly noted. I don’t want to outstay my welcome. Shall I send y’all an estimate along with ideas for flowers and some of the other details I have in mind? In the meantime, you can check out my website for photos from other weddings I’ve done, testimonials, references, the works.”

She and Nick exchanged cards.

“Sounds good,” he said. “Thank you.”

“Are both the venues you suggested handicapped accessible?” Sam asked.

“Absolutely. I never would’ve proposed them otherwise.”

“Will you mind if I call you Tinker Bell?”

Shelby laughed. “No problem at all. I like to think of myself as a magician of sorts.”

“That’s exactly what we need right now.”

Shelby shook hands with Sam and Nick. “It was so great to meet you both. I promise if you hire me, you’ll have a wedding they’ll talk about for years to come.”

Sam wasn’t at all sure how she felt about that.

Nick saw her out and joined Sam on the sofa. “So? What’d you think?”

“I still can’t believe you got Tinker Bell to plan our wedding.”

Nick cuffed her jaw. “How about St. John’s and the Hay?”

“You don’t want to get married in a Catholic church?” She’d been surprised to note at John’s funeral that Nick had obviously spent a lot of time in church.

“With you not being Catholic, St. John’s would be less complicated,” he said. “I can’t picture you going through the marriage retreat the Catholics would want us to do.”

Sam made a face at that. “I bet even the Catholics would make an exception for the dashing Senator Cappuano.”