The Bride Wore Crimson Page 18

  “I’ve tried finagling it out of Troy, but he’s staying as mum as a mummy.”

  I closed my eyes, tuning out the music and voices in the bar, and tried the exercise I’d recommended to Lisa Marie.

  I see the storeroom as it was when I entered. I glance around. The only sign of disturbance is the steamed glass in the largest cooler. I approach. My gaze goes to the smaller cooler. Flowers and plants. Nothing of note. I gaze toward the large cooler and feel uneasiness begin to stir inside me. I swallow hard, restraining the panic that wants me to open my eyes and end this walk down memory lane. I force myself onward. I’m struck by something odd. There is no sign of the devastation inside the cooler from this side. Not so much as a shard of glass on the floor by the door. A rose petal. A twig. All the destruction and chaos are contained within, hidden by the fogged glass.

  I opened my eyes. Meg was staring at me like she used to when I played guinea pig to her cooking skills. A little eager, a little fretful. “Did it work?”

  I nodded, kind of amazed that it had. I filled Meg in on what I’d recalled, then said with conviction, “She wasn’t shot.”

  “How can you be sure?”

  “Several reasons. With all of the theories flying around, no one has said anything about hearing a gunshot. Not even Flora. She brought up my screams but not a word about a loud bang.”

  “You’re right. I haven’t heard anyone at the diner mention hearing a gunshot either.” Meg licked whipped cream from her upper lip.

  “Next, the lack of gore. We know from forensic shows that when someone is shot there’s always blowback or blood splatter. But there was none of that.”

  “What about a bullet hole in the cooler?”

  I shook my head. “Nope. No telltale odor either.”

  “What odor?”

  “You know, the smell that firing a gun causes.”

  “Can’t say I’ve ever smelled that.”

  Neither had I, but all I recalled was the scent of roses and greens and a slightly funky odor that I assumed was dead body. “We need a copy of the autopsy report.”

  “Fat chance.” Meg’s brow creased. “How will knowing the cause of death help us figure out who killed her?”

  The crowd noise was increasing, I realized, as I had to lean in to hear this last question. I was suddenly aware that we could be overheard, and I squirmed, glancing around to see if anyone was listening to our conversation. “Maybe we should take this somewhere more private.”

  Meg ignored that. “I’ve been thinking that Willa was put in the cooler to conceal the time of death.” She watched TV mysteries, too, and she’d even done the makeup on one of the CSI franchise shows. She knew things even I didn’t.

  “If I hadn’t arrived when I did to pick up the roses for the bridal shop, and if Flora hadn’t been too busy to have them at the counter, the body might not have been discovered until late in the day.”

  Meg nodded. “Which would’ve given the killer time to come up with a solid alibi.”

  I thought about this as I sipped my drink. “Whoever killed her planned it.”

  “I agree. Why else would someone take that name tag if not to frame Lisa Marie?”

  “That means when Lisa Marie followed Willa into the flower shop, the killer followed after her, later taking advantage of the second argument and somehow luring Willa into the storeroom.”

  “Yep.” Meg slurped the last of her drink.

  I gulped down the rest of my own. “We should question Flora and Violet.”

  “The Flower Girl will be closed for the night by now.”

  “Tomorrow, then.” We abandoned our drinks and started walking back toward Front Street. Dusk cast shadows along the route. Streetlights didn’t exist this far away from the main area of town, and a soft wind rustled through the leaves of trees, giving me shivers. It wasn’t cold. It was the talk of murder that had me a bit edgy. But do you think I could get my mind on something else? Hell no. “Who do you think might’ve wanted Willa dead?”

  “Gee, she was such a sweetheart, I can’t imagine,” Meg said. “Unless you mean everyone unfortunate enough to come in contact with her.”

  “That’s not helping.”

  “Sorry, I calls ’em like I sees ’em.”

  “I was hoping to narrow the suspect pool, not make it as large as Puget Sound.” I rubbed the back of my neck as a creepy uneasiness swept over me again. It wasn’t a feeling like we were in imminent danger, but more like a foreboding. As if something bad was going to happen. Soon. Maybe I should leave the detecting to the detectives and stop scaring myself.

  I decided to switch to another topic that was bugging me. “So, have you made any decisions regarding your wedding?”

  Like are you going through with it?

  “Wow, talk about shifting gears.”

  “Well…”

  She gave a soft laugh. “I have. And I hope it will make you as happy as it’s making me.”

  Anticipation swept through me, shoving the uneasiness aside. “What’s going on?”

  Meg said, “This past week showed me that putting something off for a better time or the right time or until all the stars are aligned in the heavens is just plain risky. Life is fragile and susceptible to crazy influences. I need to grab what’s strong in my life and go for it. With or without Granny O’s ring.”

  “Oh my God, that’s wonderful!” I grabbed her and hugged her. “What time frame are we looking at? Do you have a date?”

  “As soon as we can manage. Troy and I have an appointment with Reverend Bell tomorrow morning to arrange the date and hour.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

  “I wasn’t going to tell you until the expo ends. You’ve got enough stress, worrying about Billie, trying to help Lisa Marie. The whole upset of finding Willa.”

  “Nothing is as important as your wedding. In fact, what are you doing out with me tonight when you should be with your fiancé, confirming plans?”

  “He’s looking into a lead on the robberies tonight.”

  “A lead? A serious lead? That’s great.” A surge of anticipation swelled in me. I wanted every detail but had to bank the excitement since I knew I wouldn’t get anything. “I know, I know, you can’t tell me anything about it. Darn it.”

  She hesitated.

  “What?” Why did I feel like I wasn’t going to like her answer?

  “He’s… ah… Look, don’t be mad at me, okay? I told him what Hannah had said about it seeming like the thief was stealing a wedding. He called her, and she asked him to meet her at the bridal shop tonight to discuss it. She wanted to show him something she thought seemed odd.”

  My uneasy feeling crept from the shadows and raised goose bumps on my limbs. My strange cousin and her stranger ways. “What could something at the bridal shop have to do with the robberies?”

  “I have no idea.” We’d reached Front Street and turned toward Blessing’s. “He didn’t give me any details other than that.”

  “I suppose I’ll have to ask Hannah.” My curiosity meter was pinging like a smoke alarm. If I went straight to the shop right now—

  “Meg!” a male voice called.

  We turned to find Dillon jogging up the sidewalk toward us with the gait of a couch potato. He caught up, bent over, and gasped for breath. “I’ve been trying to find you. I just came from the jail.”

  “Did you get in to see Lisa Marie?” Meg asked.

  “Nah. The sheriff was being a prick. But her attorney was just coming out. He wouldn’t help me get in to see her either, but he gave me this note to give to you, Daryl Anne.”

  Dillon handed me a sealed, plain white envelope. I wasn’t sure that I should open it with him there. Waiting, however, was not an option. I moved to stand under a streetlamp and slid my finger through the upper flap. It contained a single sheet of paper with printed lettering in pencil.

  I remembered. Some of the temps, who are working the shops during the expo,

  were at
a couple of the tables. Hannah was also there. Lurking. Watching me.

  “Hannah was there,” I said to Meg.

  “Your cousin?” Dillon said. “Where is ‘there’? What does that mean?”

  “Nothing.” I didn’t want him to say anything against Hannah that might be repeated and thrashed through the town gossip machine.

  Meg seemed pale, as if her creatively applied makeup had washed away with the tide. Maybe it was the lighting. Maybe I was misreading her alarm. But then she grasped my arm so hard, I knew I wasn’t mistaken.

  “We have to go, Dillon,” she said, tugging me up the street. “See you later.”

  We hurried away from him, moving at a quick clip toward the bridal shop. “Troy’s alone with her.”

  I wanted to deny that Troy was in danger. Hannah wasn’t a killer, was she? What would she have had against Willa Bridezilla? “Let’s not jump to conclusions, Meg. Lisa Marie said there were other temps there that day, not just Hannah. And even if she is the killer, she has nothing to fear from Troy. She thinks Lisa Marie’s arrest will keep her safe. Why would she harm Troy?”

  “She’s always been a few pencil strokes shy of a full eyebrow.”

  I couldn’t argue with that, or quell the urgency that was eating at me.

  “I’ll feel better when I see Troy,” Meg said.

  His police sedan was parked at the back of the shop.

  I unlocked the door, and we stepped inside. The lights in the office area were turned off, including the night-lights. My pulse wobbled.

  “Where is everyone?” Meg whispered.

  “Mom’s out with Whitey, and Gram’s at the casino playing bingo.”

  “I mean, Troy and Hannah.”

  Of course she did. I spotted a light beyond alterations in the warehouse where the shipments arrived. “This way,” I whispered.

  We stepped as silently as possible. My heart seemed to want to crack my ribs and escape. I was sure Meg could hear it, unless her own pulse was roaring in her ears. We emerged into a ten-by-twenty area with brick walls, a bay for deliveries. Metal dress racks and cardboard boxes dominated the space. This was Hannah’s domain. She logged in the shipments when they arrived, accounting for each dress on the invoices and ordering new gowns as needed. A secondhand desk stood against the wall, a service lamp the only light source.

  “Where are they?” Meg whispered, fear cracking her voice.

  “I don’t know.” I strained to hear a sound, not sure which direction to head next. And then I spotted one of the racks. It had been overturned as though something hard was knocked into it.

  “What the hell went on in here?” Panic had joined the fear in Meg’s voice.

  I didn’t want her to know I was just as scared. Plastic-wrapped gowns were scattered across the concrete floor. I thanked God for the protective coverings, but a large spray of blood on one of the zippered bags nearly stopped my heartbeat.

  “Listen,” Meg said, grabbing my hand.

  I heard it then. Muted sounds coming from the main salon. Chanting or singing. I couldn’t make out which. I only knew something was wrong. Very, very wrong. I pointed toward the landline on the desk. “Call 9-1-1, Meg.”

  “Wait.” Meg caught my arm, digging into her purse. “You need a weapon.”

  She slapped something into my palm that looked a little like brass knuckles, only it was plastic. “What is this?”

  “It’s a Zap Blast Knuckles stun gun. Nine hundred fifty thousand volts. Daddy had Troy take me to buy this after we were attacked by my mother’s killer. It’s great for jogging and fits in my purse.” She gave me rapid-fire, how-to instructions and turned toward the phone.

  I shoved my fingers through the slots, the device weighty on my knuckles. Feeling armed and dangerous, I gathered my courage and hastened to the salon. Memories of facing down Meg’s mother’s killer swamped me. My feet felt like sandbags. My brain screamed for me to wait for the police. To let them handle it. But then I pictured the blood on the plastic bag and a worse fear gripped me. What if Hannah had hurt Troy? I was praying Meg hadn’t leaped to that same conclusion, deciding to follow me, because there was no predicting what she’d do.

  I wasn’t sure what I thought I could do. But I had to do something.

  I stole to the edge of the salon and froze at the sound of someone humming the wedding march. I peered into the room. My eyes widened. It had been transformed into a makeshift chapel. Folding chairs, usually stored in the warehouse, faced a podium. The window mannequins were seated on either side of a red carpet runner. Every drop of liquid left my mouth. A lone mannequin remained in the display window. Seth’s photo posters were aligned to block the glass from the view of outside passersby.

  Candles were everywhere. Rose petals strewn here and there. Troy was slumped in a folding chair in the groom’s spot. Hannah wore a puffy Cinderella wedding dress, a glittery tiara securing a heavy veil that hid her face. She was softly humming “Here Comes the Bride.”

  A low moan touched my ear. I guessed it was coming from Troy. Please don’t let his injury be serious. Or life-threatening. Meg can’t lose him, too.

  “Do you have any idea how long I’ve waited for this moment, my love?” Hannah said, her voice different. Deranged.

  She grasped Troy by the hair, moving his head as if he were nodding. He groaned. Still alive. But I winced and glanced away, my gaze landing on the desk that Seth was using during the expo. His brochures had been removed. A wedding cake stood in the center with an antique wedding server set beside it. The missing Roosevelt set? My hands grew slick. I nearly dropped the stun gun.

  “Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue.” She held her hand up to the light. “This beautiful diamond ring covers it all. It’s new to me, it’s old, it’s borrowed, and it’s blue. Perfect. Like us. Like our wedding. Like our love.”

  I had to get closer, close enough to press the stun-knuckle-thingy against her skin. I fisted my hand, trying to keep it on my sweaty fingers. As I crouched and crept toward the makeshift altar, I heard a whimper from the display window. A chill shot through me. I jerked sideways. Horror slammed into me as I realized what I hadn’t noticed previously. It wasn’t a mannequin in a wedding gown in the display window but a woman in a long light-colored summer dress. A dark liquid stain was spreading across her bodice. Blood. I began to shake. I lifted my gaze higher and saw the ashen face of my cousin.

  “Hannah,” I gasped. The bride at the altar heard me.

  She spun around. She grabbed the knife from the server set. The blade dripped blood. I yelped as she tore toward me with the speed of a bat, the blade extended. I dropped the stun knuckles. They landed with a thump on the carpet. I dove to retrieve my weapon. Next thing I knew I was on the floor, fighting for my life. Screaming. The tip of the knife touched my throat. I struggled harder. She was stronger than me. Searing pain. Hot liquid trickling down my neck. Blood. I was going to die.

  Meg charged in, scooped up the stun knuckles, and jammed the weapon against my assailant’s wrist. Insane Bride shrieked and collapsed on me like a dead bear.

  I gasped, and the world went black.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  There are times when withholding information in order to catch a murderer is the wrong tactic. If someone would’ve told me that Willa’s closed fist had held a button and not Lisa Marie’s name tag, I could’ve supplied a prime suspect. But no one told me. No one asked me. And I am still a little sore. No, I’m not angry. I’m hurting from the cut to my neck and the bruises from the fight with Insane Bride.

  It turned out that Willa had been stabbed, the same as Hannah, with the knife from the wedding server set. The killer had ground down the serrated edges, honing the blade to a deadly sharpness. Although I still reeled from almost being killed, I hadn’t ended up in the hospital or the morgue. Others were not as lucky.

  Mom, Billie, and I clustered together in the ICU waiting room the next morning. Okay, so I had ended up in the hospital. Jus
t not as a patient. Hannah, however, was in dire trouble. She’d had to be stabilized before they could operate on the life-threatening puncture to her abdomen. She’d lost a lot of blood. They’d finally wheeled her into surgery an hour ago.

  We’d been up most of the night and were all pretty frazzled. Mom couldn’t stop blaming herself. “I checked Jenny’s references personally,” she kept saying, as if she’d set a mad dog loose in Weddingville.

  I tried to reason with her. “The references were real. She stole Jenny Carson’s identity.”

  “I should’ve asked the Veiled Bride for a photo ID.” She stared at her untouched coffee cup, the liquid cold for more than an hour now. “I should’ve asked…”

  “Mom, this isn’t your fault.”

  “But Hannah and Troy…” She burst into tears.

  “Troy’s okay.” Seth came through the door at that moment, catching the last of Mom’s self-recrimination.

  I’d never been more glad to see anyone. I rushed into his arms, and he held me close, absorbing my lingering fear and silently letting me know he was my safe haven. He studied me a long moment, checking out the bandage on my neck. “Are you all right, Blessing?”

  “A little scrape,” Gram answered for me. “Shouldn’t even leave a scar, the doctor said.”

  Seth’s smile warmed my insides like welcomed heat on a cold day. “I’m just glad she’s okay.”

  He released me and went to my mother. “Susan, I promise you that Troy is going to be fine. He took a good crack to the head, but he’s got a hard noggin. A few stitches fixed him up. He’ll have a headache for a few days. Otherwise he’s as good as new.”

  “Are you sure?” Mom asked, blowing into a tissue and snuffling, the fountain in her eyes finally shutting off.

  “Positive.”

  “Thank God,” Mom said, grabbing another tissue to dab at her damp cheeks. Her phone rang. She frowned as she pulled it from her purse, a look of dread crossing her face. “I have to take this. It’s Hannah’s parents. They’re vacationing in Mexico. I’ve been trying to reach them all night.”

  I spotted Whitey standing in the doorway, looking like a man who didn’t want to intrude, while wanting Mom to know that he was there if she needed him. He genuinely seemed to care about her. I decided that I might not know him all that well yet, and I hadn’t really given him as much benefit of the doubt as I should, but I liked that he respected my mother’s feelings. It went a long way in his favor.