Better Off Wed (12 page)

“I'm leaving you, Annabelle.” Richard stood in the doorway of my bedroom. “I've packed up my things in the kitchen, so your apartment is back to normal.”

I sat up in bed, rubbing my eyes. “You're not still mad about last night?” Everything that happened at the Boyd's house rushed back to me. If only it had been a bad dream.

“About the murder you managed to make me the chief suspect for?”

I managed a weak laugh. “I'm sure Reese wasn't serious about that.”

“Right, Annabelle. Policemen always joke around at crime scenes. It's part of their charm.” Richard turned on his heel and stomped down the hall. I jumped out of bed to follow him.

“Come on, Richard,” I begged. “Don't leave like this.”

“You're clearly insane if you think I'm going to stick around and get sucked into another harebrained idea that might get me killed or worse…sent to prison.”

“How could I predict that Boyd would drop dead? This isn't my fault.”

Richard flung open the door. “Your idea to do the tasting. Your fault.”

“Not my idea to serve soup,” I said under my breath.

“I heard that, Annabelle.” Richard rolled up the sleeves of his yellow linen shirt in precise folds. “The soup tasted divine. I sampled it myself.”

“See? The soup couldn't have been poisoned.” I hid behind the door in my tattered red flannel pajamas. Not something I wanted anyone to see.

“Try telling it to the police. On second thought, don't tell anything to the police.”

“Maybe I could convince them that you had nothing to do with Mr. Boyd's death if we proved that he'd already been poisoned when he ate the…”

“Stop right there.” Richard put his arms out like someone bracing for impact. “Don't talk to the police. As a matter of fact, don't talk to anyone. Especially me. Don't call me. Don't write me.”

I sighed. “Richard, you're being ridiculous.”

He bent to pick up a box. “If it's ridiculous to want to go one day without being accused of murder, then I'm guilty as charged. You're a trouble magnet. Stay away from me.” Richard marched to the top of the stairs and tossed his head back. “Good-bye forever, Annabelle.”

I felt as if I were stuck in a gothic novel.

“Come on.” I ran after him as he disappeared down the stairs. “Don't go away mad.”

Richard sniffed. “I'm going to go where no one can hurt me anymore.”

“And where would that be?”

“The Red Door Salon. The one at Fairfax Station next to the Louis Vuitton store.” He choked back a sob. “But don't even think of following me.”

Oh, for crying out loud. Most of my break-ups with boyfriends hadn't been this dramatic. Halfway down the stairs I remembered the torn seat of my pajama pants and ran back up to my apartment. I listened to Richard's footsteps getting farther away. Fine, if that's the way he wanted it. I started to slam the door when I saw Leatrice's head popping up behind the railing of the staircase.

“I couldn't help overhearing.” She walked up to my landing, breathing heavily. For an old lady, she had incredible hearing.

“Come on in, Leatrice.” She would, anyway. I slammed the door shut and hoped Richard could hear.

“Don't be upset, dearie. To tell the truth, I've seen this coming for a while.”

So much for Leatrice's keen perception. “Richard and I just work together. No romance between us, I promise.”

“I thought he'd been staying over.” Leatrice moved the plastic tuxedo bags to sit on the couch. I'd forgotten to return them for the fourth day in a row. I hated paying late fees.

“Just as a friend. So I wouldn't be afraid to stay here after the break-in.”

“He brought so many things with him, I thought maybe he'd moved in with you.”

Who needed a neighborhood watch group when you had Leatrice keeping tabs on you?

I kept my hand over the rip in my pajama bottoms and walked sideways to the kitchen. “Do you want coffee?”

“Not if it's that instant kind,” Leatrice grimaced. “I came up to see if you and Kate are planning to question the two doctors today.”

“We're going to do a little investigative work at Dr. Harriman's office, but other than that we're keeping a low profile. We don't want people knowing we're still snooping around.” I poured the contents of a Nescafé single into a mug. “If Detective Reese questions me one more time, I think he might put me in protective custody.”

Leatrice beamed at me. “Protective custody with the detective. That doesn't sound so bad.”

I moaned and turned on the electric kettle. That morning I needed coffee to deal with Leatrice.

The phone in my office rang and I looked at the kitchen clock. Ten o'clock. Damn. I'd bet the messages were piling up. If I didn't return their calls right away, my clients would send out a search party. The kind with torches and pitchforks. I skidded down the hall in my socks and grabbed the phone on the third ring, managing a breathless hello.

“Did you get the fax of the cake sketches?”

“Hi, Alexandra.” I flipped through the pile of faxes that sat in the machine. “I'm glad you're not a crazed bride.”

Alexandra laughed. “I sent them to you and the Murphys yesterday. I wanted to know if you'd heard from Mrs. Murphy yet.”

I found the cake sketches and sat down at my desk. “I haven't checked my messages this morning. Yesterday turned out to be a bit hectic.”

“Another deadly client?”

I winced. “You could say that. Okay, I'm looking at the cake designs.”

“Do you think I made the bow cake too hideous?”

I studied the drawing of a tall, tiered cake with what appeared to be giant tongues rolling down from the top. “I think it's safe to say she won't choose it.”

“Mission accomplished.” Alexandra sounded pleased with herself.

“There's my Call Waiting. I'll let you know what Mrs. Murphy says about the cake.”

I clicked over to the other line, half expecting an irate Mrs. Murphy to be screaming about bows.

“What a sexy voice, Annabelle.”

Who was this? A pervert who knew my name? I cleared my throat. “Can I help you?”

“It's Maxwell Gray.”

The photographer from the Pierce wedding. Famous for photographing society brides and hitting on anything in a skirt. Except his brides. Bad for business, he said.

“Right. How have you been?”

“Swamped with nothing but calls from people wanting to hear about the Pierce murder. I haven't gotten any work done. What have you been up to?”

Setting traps for suspects, sneaking around people's houses for clues, witnessing a client's death. “The usual.”

“I wanted to tell you that I rushed the proofs from the wedding. I thought the bride would like to have the portraits of her mother as soon as possible. If you want to look at them before the bride and groom pick them up later this afternoon, stop by the studio.”

Most photographers sent me sample pictures for my portfolio, but I didn't always get a chance to see the photos before the client. I hoped Maxwell didn't have any ulterior motives. “Thanks. I'd love to see how the museum photographed. Kate and I have an appointment first, but how about I swing by in a couple of hours?”

“I'll be waiting.”

Technically snooping around Dr. Harriman's office with Kate couldn't be considered an appointment, but I shrugged off my little white lie. Seeing the wedding pictures would be just the thing to take my mind off the murder case for a while. And Richard claimed I couldn't stay out of trouble. What did he know?

Kate swung into a parking space in front of the Chevy Chase Cardiology Center, missing the car next to her by mere inches. “So what's the plan again?”

I flipped my phone shut, feeling less guilty about doing more investigating. I'd spent the entire drive to Dr. Harriman's office on my cell phone with brides and felt completely caught up. I knew that feeling would last five minutes at the most.

“Simple,” I explained. “We go into the office and you make a scene to distract the receptionist while I sneak into the records room and see if Dr. Boyd is a patient.”

“What kind of scene?”

I slipped on a pair of sunglasses. “Anything you want, as long as it's dramatic.”

Kate sighed. “We need Richard for something like this. He's the best at faking illness.”

“Well, he's not talking to me at the moment, so we'll
just have to manage without him.” I opened the car door and tried to wedge myself out in the tiny sliver of space Kate had given me.

She stood waiting for me behind the car when I'd finally managed to squeeze out. “Maybe I should go in ahead of you so I can have time to create the distraction, and you can slip by me.”

“Sure.” I nodded and brushed the dust off my pants. It looked as if I'd polished the entire side of the car with my legs. “The next time I'm going to be the wheelman.”

We walked to the front of the steel office building, and I watched Kate go through the revolving glass doors. I looked at my watch and cursed in my head. We should have synchronized. For all I knew, Kate could have run into a cute security guard and not even have been past the front lobby by then.

I watched another couple of minutes tick by and decided to go inside. I found Dr. Harriman's name on the directory in the lobby and got on the elevator to go to the fifth floor. As soon as I stepped off the elevator, I heard Kate's raised voice. Good old Kate. Her distraction sounded very distracting. I felt bad for ever doubting her.

I opened the door to Harriman's offices and met with a verbal outburst so loud I almost ran back out. Kate stood at the receptionist's desk punctuating each sentence with a string of curses.

“Ma'am, we're a cardiology practice.” The receptionist looked as if her patience was wearing thin. “We can't help you with your Tourette's syndrome.”

My mouth almost fell open. Perhaps I should have been more specific about the type of distraction. At least all eyes were on Kate.

I slipped through the waiting room and into the back offices as Kate yelled something about spanking. I would have to give the girl a raise.

I walked down the hall passing three examination rooms and a men's bathroom. Where did they keep their files? I rounded a corner and froze. Dr. Donovan stood at the end of the hall, but he appeared to be studying a patient's chart and didn't see me. I took a few steps backward and ducked into the men's bathroom I'd just passed.

I didn't want to try to explain what I was doing creeping around his offices without an appointment. Not to mention why my assistant had a sudden onset of acute Tourette's syndrome in his waiting room. I groaned to myself thinking of Kate creatively swearing up a storm. I had to get us out of here.

My cell phone began ringing, and I dove into my purse for it. I flipped it open and held my breath. I didn't hear anyone in the hall, but I could hear Richard nearly shrieking on the other end of the phone.

“I'm a little busy right now, Richard,” I whispered, cupping my hand over my mouth to muffle the sound.

“That's what I hear,” he snapped.

“What are you talking about?” I couldn't believe I was arguing with Richard over the phone while hiding in a men's bathroom.

“I went back to your place to make amends and apologize for being a bit sensitive this morning…”

“You're forgiven, Richard.” I cut him off. “Now can I call you back later?”

“But Leatrice said that you and Kate took off out of here like a shot talking about finding evidence.” Richard's voice went up a few octaves. “I know you're
not out there getting into more trouble after all that's happened.”

I heard voices in the hallway getting closer, and I stepped into one of the stalls and pulled the door closed behind me. “Of course not, Richard.”

“Please tell me you have more sense than to get yourself in even deeper trouble than you have already, Annabelle.”

I stepped onto the toilet seat and crouched down so my head didn't poke above the stall. My slingbacks would be a dead giveaway if anyone walked in and saw my feet under the door. “Give me a little credit.”

“Then why are you whispering?”

I gulped and thought for a second. “Kate and I are at a museum. You know I can't talk normally when I'm in a museum.”

“Why are you in a museum?” Richard sounded skeptical. “Which one?”

“The National Museum of Women in the Arts. We're doing a walk-through with a bride.”

Richard was silent for a few seconds. “Does she have a caterer?”

I grinned. Always the businessman. “Not yet, but I promise you can do a proposal.”

“This doesn't mean I'm not still angry with you,” Richard said with a huff. “But send me the information and I'll work on something for your bride.”

He hung up, and I let out a deep breath. I had to get out of there before I got arrested and Kate got dragged off to the mental ward.

As I stepped down off the seat with one foot, the strap of my other slingback slipped off my heel and the entire shoe dropped into the toilet. Damn. Damn.
Damn. I fished my shoe out with one finger and dropped it on the floor, then opened the door to the stall and looked around the bathroom. Two gleaming metal hand dryers were mounted on the walls with not a paper towel in sight. Why was I not surprised?

I slid my foot into the dripping shoe and leaned against the door, listening for voices. Nothing. I poked my head out of the bathroom. The coast was clear. I squished down the hall and dashed through the waiting room, where a group of irritated nurses surrounded Kate. I caught her eye as I slipped out the door and motioned for her to follow me.

I held the elevator until Kate got inside, the two of us breathing as though we'd run a race. We didn't speak until we were out of the building and in the car.

Kate put the key in the ignition and turned to me. “Well, did you find anything?”

“No,” I shook my head. “I ran into the groom before I could find the files.”

“What was he doing here?” Kate stared at my feet.

“And why is your shoe leaking?”

“You don't want to know.” I gave a shudder. “Donovan shares a practice with his father-in-law, remember?”

“I'd totally forgotten.” Kate slumped over the wheel.

“So all of that was for nothing?”

“Well, it wasn't a total waste.” I took a deep breath.

“I learned a few new colorful words.”

Kate gave me a sideways glance. “Now what?”

“Well, you still have your meeting with Jack from the White House, right?”

Kate perked up. “You're right. Maybe he'll be able to tell me something good.”

“You're going to be subtle, right?” I put on my seat
belt as Kate flung the car in reverse. “We don't want word getting around that we're trying to solve this case.”

Kate winked at me. “I'm always subtle.”

I swallowed hard. “Just drop me back at the office so I don't have to watch.”

“What are you going to do while I'm pumping Jack for information?”

“I got a call from Maxwell Gray this morning. The pictures from the Pierce wedding are in, so I'm going to look at them before the bride and groom pick them up.”

“You're going to see pictures of Clara right before she died? How creepy.”

“I didn't think of it that way. I figured we spent enough time planning the wedding. We might as well get some shots of the decor for our Web site.”

“Just be careful you don't get more than you bargained for,” Kate warned. “You know photographers in this city.”

“Not as well as you do, I'm afraid.”

There were few straight men in our business and they all seemed to be photographers. Kate had dated enough of them to have learned to keep her distance.

She arched an eyebrow. “Take my word for it, then.”

“Don't worry, Kate. Everything will be fine.”

“Why does that sound familiar?”