Murder of a Wedding Belle (25 page)

May chose that moment to pop up. “You girls.” She tsked. “We ask you to do one simple thing, and you do it slower than sows rolling in mud.”

Ilene stomped off in a huff, muttering something about not coming here to be called a pig.

Skye closed her eyes and counted to ten, twice. Now she’d have to track down Ilene later and find out if Riley had changed the wedding into a costume party without telling her. God knows she didn’t want to bring the subject up with another guest and add grist to the gossip mill, although maybe she could ask Kevin’s mother. She’d also better check what other rumors where flying around about the exotic event.

The garage had been scrubbed to within an inch of becoming an operating room. Jed’s workbench and cabinets were covered in white sheets, and his model tractor collection, which was displayed on a long, narrow shelf circling three of the four walls, had been polished until the Farmall red, Caterpillar yellow, and John Deere green glowed like the lights of a traffic signal.

The food was set up buffet style, and, as the guest of honor, Riley headed the line, followed by her grandmother, mother, and the bridesmaids. The other guests arranged themselves roughly according to age, oldest first. Skye had been assigned to pour the iced tea, milk, and coffee, so she was one of the last to fill her plate—which was fine with her, since she was still full from dinner.

When her aunt Kitty passed by her, Skye asked, “Have you heard anything about coming in costume to the wedding?”

“No.” Kitty, married to Skye’s uncle Wiley, was Kevin’s mother. “Can’t say as I have.”

“Good.” Kevin must have just been teasing Ilene. “Because it’s not true.” He’d probably been trying to get out of attending the extremely formal event altogether.

When everyone had been served, Skye took her place at the head table between Riley and Tabitha. Paige was on the bride’s right side, and Hallie next to her.

“Hi,” Skye said, determined to keep things light. “Everyone having a good time?”

“No.” Riley sulked. “This day has been one big bore.”

“You didn’t enjoy the baseball game?”

“It sucked,” Riley answered. “How long has it been since the Cubs won a World Series?”

“I have no idea.” Skye shrugged. “But I do know you’d better keep your opinion to yourself. Most of the family are rabid Cubs fans, especially my mother, and you do not want to get May started.”

Riley opened her mouth to reply, but Skye cut her off with, “I’ve been meaning to ask, do any of you know the names of Belle’s most recent boyfriend or any of her exes? Maybe someone who was ticked off when she dropped them?”

The bride and bridesmaids all shook their heads, and Riley answered for them all, “None of us were really friends with her, and from what I gathered, she went through guys like emery boards, throwing them out after nailing them a few times.”

Tabitha nodded, then changed the subject. “The food is wonderful. It reminds me of my family’s get-togethers. Different flavors, but that same homemade taste.”

“The women on both sides of my family are good cooks.” Skye patted her stomach. “Maybe too much so.”

“In my culture, that’s impossible.” Tabitha grinned. “In fact, my mama nags me to eat more.”

“Mine does, too.” Skye’s smile was rueful. “But then she also tells me I need to lose weight.”

Tabitha tsked. “We have a saying in my country, ‘Fisherman don’t smell he own basket.’”

“In other words,” Skye said, “a person can see the flaws of others but not their own.”

“Right.” Tabitha smiled. “That’s why mothers are so hard to please.”

“Not for me,” Riley chimed in. “I don’t try to please anyone but myself. And if someone gets hurt, too bad.”

Skye frowned. Was Riley joking? She hoped so but couldn’t be sure. And the thought made her wonder: Was her own cousin so narcissistic that she was capable of murder?

Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow

“
N
o way!” Skye’s brother, Vince, shook his head. “Sorry, but I cannot cancel my Saturday regulars and do the wedding for you.” He owned the Great Expectations hair salon and was the best stylist within a hundred miles.

It was ten o’clock Thursday morning, and Skye had stopped by the salon after speaking to the hairdresser, who was supposed to be flying in from California on Friday. The woman had told her that if Belle was no longer the wedding consultant, she wasn’t coming, and Skye hadn’t been able to persuade her to change her mind.

“Please, please, please,” Skye begged her brother. “I’ll pay you twice what you’d make keeping the salon open that day, and I won’t need you until nine thirty, so you can still fit in any regulars who insist on having their hair done.”

“There’s not enough money in the world to make me get involved with our crazy cousin’s wedding.” Vince’s butterscotch blond locks brushed the collar of his bright blue polo shirt as he shook his head. “Loretta told me about the fit Riley threw at her shower last night. Which, by the way, I was surprised Loretta was invited to.”

“Mom likes her.” Loretta Steiner was Skye’s sorority sister, occasional attorney, and possibly her future sister-in-law. Until a few months ago Skye would have said the chances of the latter were slim to none, since Vince had a love-’em-and-leave-’em reputation, but he seemed to have changed. Now it wouldn’t surprise her if Vince and Loretta announced their engagement by the end of the summer.

“Riley was a little distraught,” Skye explained. “She didn’t want the shower to begin with; then she was unhappy when it turned out to be in Mom and Dad’s garage. When she realized the gifts weren’t from her registry, she sort of lost it. She especially hated the macramé plant holder shaped like an owl and the traffic-cone orange plastic bowls.” Skye patted his arm. “But I’m sure she wouldn’t be a problem for you. Women are putty in your hands.”

“No.”

“I’ll pay you three times what you’d make that day at the salon.” As Vince started to shake his head, Skye added, “And I’ll run interference with Mom the next time you’re in trouble with her.”

“No matter what the reason?” Vince’s green eyes held a calculating expression.

“No matter what.” Skye hoped he didn’t have something awful in mind.

“Pinky swear?” He held out his hand.

Skye crooked her little finger through his and agreed, “Pinky swear.”

As she left her brother’s shop and headed downtown, Skye hummed a few bars of “Bad Boys and Blondes,” the bossa nova tune she’d heard at the dance lesson. With Vince onboard, the good ship Riley’s Wedding was back on an even keel. Skye only hoped the rest of the day went as well.

After meeting Frannie and Justin at the bowling alley and getting them started decorating for the bachelor/bachelorette party that night, Skye took off for Plainfield to pick up the newly engraved menus and programs.

During the hour drive, she considered what they had discovered so far about Belle—which, except for the fact that she was extremely demanding, extorted commissions from the vendors, and passed counterfeit money, wasn’t much.

Skye hadn’t spoken to Wally since their dinner the night before, but unless Belle’s parents had told him something that suggested a new lead, or he’d learned more about the obnoxious customer who had tried to walk out on his bill at the Feed Bag, the case was at a standstill.

Just as Justin’s MapQuest directions had promised, Skye found the engravers on Route 59, a little north of Plainfield’s main street. The menus and programs were ready and looked perfect, and she was back in her car in less than fifteen minutes. Before she started the engine, she called Wally for an update.

“Any news on the guy from the Feed Bag?”

“Yes.” Wally’s amused tone held a tinge of irritation. “Unfortunately.”

“He’s the leader of the counterfeiting ring?” Skye guessed.

“No. He’s Belle’s father’s attorney.”

“You’re kidding me.” Skye was floored. She would have never guessed. “How did he get to Scumble River so fast?”

“Mickey Canfield sent him on the Canfield’s private plane as soon as he hung up from talking to me yesterday morning,” Wally explained. “A better question is: Why did he come?”

“You mean why the attorney and not the parents?”

“That, and why anyone came at all.”

“And the reason is ...?”

“The explanation the attorney gave me is that Mr. and Mrs. Canfield are too broken up to travel.” Wally paused. “Which could be true, but we’re not even ready to release the body, so there was really no need for anyone to make the trip yet. It’s not as if a corporate attorney would know anything about a criminal investigation or be able to help find Belle’s killer. He admits he only met her once or twice at formal dinners.”

“So you think there’s something he’s not telling you,” Skye guessed. “Like he’s here to make sure nothing we find out makes the Canfield family or corporation look bad.”

“Bingo.” Wally’s voice was rueful. “Considering our first meeting, the lawyer isn’t exactly my biggest fan. On the other hand, he did agree to meet me at the bank to have the hundred-dollar bill he tried to pass examined, and it was legit.”

“Hmm.” Skye tapped her fingers on the steering wheel. “Maybe one of the bridesmaids will have an idea about what the Canfields want to keep quiet. I’ll try to talk to them about it tonight at the bachelorette party. They should all be in good moods.”

“In other words, you’ll use truth serum on them.”

“Huh?” Skye had no idea what Wally was talking about.

“Alcohol plus estrogen equals truth serum.”

“That is so sexist.” Skye pretended to be exasperated. “I can’t believe you said that.”

“Hang on,” Wally backpedaled. “The alternate formula substitutes testosterone and works equally well.”

“That’s better.” Skye chuckled. “As long as it goes both ways, you’re forgiven.”

“One other piece of news.” Wally was serious again. “They were able to trace that threatening call of yours to Madame Olga’s dress shop, and she’s now in custody.”

“Really? For threatening me?”

“No. The Chicago police raided her shop last night and confiscated over three hundred thousand dollars’ worth of designer dress knockoffs.”

“Wow!” Skye was just thankful that Riley and her party had picked up their gowns yesterday afternoon. “Did Madame Olga admit to making the threatening call?”

“Yes. She let it slip when they arrested her.”

“Good.” Skye smiled. “One less loose thread to worry about.”

“Unfortunately, she has an alibi for the time of the murder. She was in New York on a buying trip and didn’t get home until Sunday night.”

“Nuts.”

After she said good-bye, Skye asked herself whether she should have told Wally what Cora had said about Riley getting nasty when she didn’t get her way. Skye thought it over and decided that since Belle hadn’t gotten in Riley’s way, that information wasn’t relevant.

Still, when she had a minute, Skye intended to locate Riley’s high school boyfriend and find out what her cousin had done to him. Maybe she’d come up with a way to ask Riley who he was tonight at the party.

As a last resort, Skye would ask her grandmother, but she didn’t want her family to have any hint that she was investigating Riley. Even though Cora had warned her to be careful around her cousin, she would be upset if she thought Skye was trying to prove Riley was a murderer.

Skye drove back to Scumble River by way of the country club. The lights were being installed there today, and she wanted to make sure things were going as planned. The hairstylist had already thrown one monkey wrench into the works, and Skye didn’t want to be surprised by another tool showing up.

The lighting guy was standing on the scaffolding in the ballroom when Skye arrived. He was singing an out-of-tune version of “Like a Virgin” as he wired a chandelier to the ceiling in the center of the room. Another man, apparently his assistant, silently held the huge fixture in place.

Skye stood by the door until they were finished and noticed her, then said, “I’m Skye, the new wedding planner. Do you have a minute?”

The young man nodded, told his helper to take five, climbed down, and joined Skye. “The name’s Cosmo. What do you need?”

“Just wanted to see how you’re coming along.” Skye gestured to the dozens of sconces already lining the walls. “It looks like you’ve got a lot done already.”

“We have two more chandeliers to hang in here.” Cosmo took out a red handkerchief and wiped the sweat from his brow. “Then we’ll move on to the patio and the tent.”

“How long will that take?”

“We’ll probably get the patio done today and finish the tent tomorrow.” Cosmo refastened his ponytail. “Don’t worry, dude. Brian will chew my ass out if we don’t keep on his schedule.”

“Is he like that for all the events you do?” Skye asked, wondering if there was more to Brian than she had picked up on when she’d questioned him.

“Nah.” Cosmo smiled widely, revealing perfect teeth. “Usually he’s pretty laid-back, as long as stuff gets done on time in the end.”

“But not with this job?”

“Right.” Cosmo took out a pocketknife and cleaned some dirt out from under his thumbnail. “He’s been freaking out about this one.”

“Oh? Why is that?”

“Probably because the other planner was such a bitch.” He shot Skye a quick glance. “No offense. Hope she wasn’t your BFF or nothing.”

“None taken,” she assured him. “I know Belle could be a bit much. I was her assistant before she ... er ... left, and she was hard to please.”

“Is there anything else?” Cosmo looked at his watch. “I really need to get back to work.”

She thought a moment and said, “I thought Brian said he was the only one who dealt with Belle. How do you know she was ... uh ... how she was?”

“The thing is ...” Cosmo studied his work boots. “Miss Canfield contacted me a while back.”