Love, Laughter, and Murder Ever After (The Wedding Planner Mysteries Book 1) Read online

  “Um...let’s see. The rehearsal is tomorrow—”

  He looked marginally lost.

  “Rehearsal for the wedding,” she clarified. “It’ll be a long day so I had all this running around to do. I didn’t think I’d get it all done, but I did,” she said brightly.

  “Do you have a date?” he asked.

  “To the wedding? I’m not a guest,” she said, implying that no, she didn’t have a date, because she wasn't permitted one.

  “So? You can still bring someone, right?” His thumb was grazing the back of her hand and it occurred to her that Sterling was trying to invite himself.

  “Why are you behaving this way?” she asked, reclaiming her hand and planting both in her lap. “You’re terrible to me one minute then nice the next. You’re so over the top at times in terms of seeming interested in me, I feel like you’re mocking me or just pretending to like me. Then you kiss me. You constantly confuse me.”

  “I’m behaving this way, because this is how I behave,” he said easily.

  She glared at him just as the drinks were being set on their table.

  Sterling lifted his glass. “To you,” he said, which made her smile until he finished the thought. “May you finally admit you have the hots for me.”

  Her brow furrowed. “I’m not drinking to that.”

  “What would you like to drink to?”

  “To solving the murder. May the best detective win.”

  Now Sterling’s brow furrowed. “You aren’t a detective.”

  “Oh, that’s what you think.”

  Begrudgingly, he clinked his beer bottle to her Saki-tini then threw back a long haul, downing as much beer as possible.

  “This isn’t a frat house,” she stated, dryly.

  When he set his beer on the table he said, “I know, but I’m going to need a good buzz going to make it through this date.”

  If Kitty glared at him any harder she’d force a migraine so instead she focused on enjoying her cocktail and reading the menu over.

  “So I wanted you to hear it from me,” he said, liquid courage firing in his veins.

  Kitty glanced up at him and stared into his dark eyes.

  “We arrested Harry Collins.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Kitty grasped Harry’s cold hands through the jailhouse bars, her silver bracelets clanking against metal, pink nails digging into the fleshy backs of his hands. She didn’t know who was more distraught, her or Harry, but the baker certainly hadn’t slept a wink all night. He looked pale. His face was drawn and he was clearly exhausted.

  “What grounds did they have to arrest you?” she asked, doing what she could to squeeze the hope back into him by way of her warm grip.

  “Only the cake sample,” he wheezed and then coughed. It was much too cold in the precinct basement where the holding cells were located.

  “But so much more has been discovered since then.” Kitty pressed her perfectly painted red lips into a hard line. “This isn’t right.”

  “They had to do something,” he said, defeated.

  “Harry, don’t you dare try to make excuses for them.”

  “It’s Duke von Winkle. Of course they’d be sure to arrest someone as quickly as possible. I didn’t admit anything, of course.”

  “What did your lawyer say?”

  “He only told me not to speak. It was a long night to do nothing but sit there in silence while they interrogated me.”

  “You poor thing.”

  Harry brightened momentarily. “You look lovely.”

  Kitty feigned a smile and glanced down at her dress, a gray skirt suit that looked quite professional. All told, she felt it was a bit stuffy for her usual style, but it was more important to project an image of chaste competency at the chapel than one that screamed single and ready to mingle. That’s what her wedding attire was for.

  “For what it’s worth,” he went on. “That detective, Sterling Slaughter was against the arrest.”

  She cocked her head at that. Given Sterling’s nonchalance at The Good Luck bar last night she thought he’d been the one leading the charge. He’d certainly acted like it. It hadn’t fazed him one bit to tell her, in fact he’d seemed to enjoy it.

  “And most of what he interjected during the interrogation,” he added, “was in my defense. He was really rubbing his lieutenant the wrong way.”

  Maybe Sterling wasn’t the devil spawn he made himself out to be.

  “I’m still doing everything I can,” she assured him.

  “Oh Kitty, don’t trouble yourself.”

  “How can I not?” He was losing hope if he had a shred left at all, and seeing him give up was heartbreaking.

  “You’ll be late for the wedding rehearsal,” he told her, releasing her hands, though she kept a tight grip. “Really, Kitty, I’ll be okay.”

  “Have you eaten?” she asked.

  Harry shrugged. “There’s nothing here to satisfy my sweet tooth.”

  She smirked and then opened her purse and produced a small box then glanced over her shoulder to be sure the guard wasn’t watching. He wasn’t.

  “What’s this?” Harry whispered, pulling the little box through the bars.

  “Open it,” she whispered through a smile.

  When he did, Harry saw a cute cupcake nestled within. He was beaming in an instant and then popped the cupcake whole into his watering mouth.

  “That ought to tide you over, at least until I come back tonight.”

  “But the wedding is tomorrow,” he objected. “You’ll run yourself ragged.”

  “Don’t you worry about me.” She gave him one last squeeze through the bars before she left, visions of the von Winkle - Astoria wedding bubbling up in her nervous mind.

  The Carlyle F. Barnes Memorial Chapel was an elegant stone structure with a tiered portico, arching stained glass windows, and a mauve tiled roof that enchantingly picked up the lavender hue of the lilac bushes in bloom that surrounded it. Compared to the mass riches that Duke von Winkle had had at his disposa,l the chapel itself was surprisingly modest, though its fairytale appearance perfectly captured Contessa’s highest expectation. She'd wanted to feel like a princess on her big day, and she would.

  Kitty was the first to arrive that afternoon when the spring sun shined overhead, warming the plush landscape and enhancing the wonderful scents of flowers and freshly-cut grass that were carried on lazy breezes. She took a moment to breathe in the sight and remind herself why she’d opened her business. Love was the highest honor—to give and to receive—nothing else in this world mattered so much, and Kitty was dedicating her life to uniting men and women into that very special form of love. This was her day just as much as it was Contessa’s, and tomorrow would be as well.

  The priest was the next to arrive and Kitty shined as she greeted him, went over the basic rundown of the ceremonial proceedings, and otherwise prepared for the families to turn up.

  When they did, she wasted no time giving them a tour of the grounds and refreshing their memories in terms of where the reception would be held—behind the chapel on the expansive acreage adorned with sculptures, fountains, and flowers in bloom—and where the bride and groom’s chambers were. Lastly, she went over the general timeline for tomorrow’s ceremony, but couldn’t be sure they were truly absorbing the information.

  Once she felt everyone was acquainted with the pertinent run down, Kitty alerted the priest, and the actual rehearsal got underway. As she cued and ushered the bridesmaids and groomsmen, whispering reminders of who needed to stand where, Kitty kept her gaze trained on Astrid and Gerald Astoria.

  What had the poison bottle been doing in their bathroom?

  Astrid seemed downtrodden and in a daze. She only returned smiles, never offered them. Her gaze was otherwise locked in space, cast downward. Was it the look of a woman who didn’t wish to give her son away to Contessa? Or was it the mark of guilt?

  Gerald on the other hand seemed in good spirits, but Kitty found it pe
culiar. During the handful of occasions she’d interacted with the groom’s father, he’d been unquestionably terse, curt in his responses, and generally agitated by Duke von Winkle. Now that Duke was dead, Gerald’s mood had lifted.

  “I must use the ladies’ room,” said Roxanne, whispering to Kitty from behind, as she placed a warm hand on her shoulder.

  Kitty swiped her headset from her ear and faced the bride’s stepmother, meeting her sheepish gaze with a smile.

  “You have two minutes,” she warned, though with the utmost respect.

  Kitty used her headset to listen to the priest, who she’d dressed with a tiny microphone so that she could hear precisely where in the ceremonial proceedings he was in order to conduct and cue the families from the hall at the back of the chapel.

  As Roxanne scurried off down the hall, Kitty noted her violet gown and the silk scarf around her neck that did little to compliment the Grecian style dress, though it was a similar hue. In fact, Kitty found the scarf a poor accent and had tried to talk Roxanne out of wearing it, but the sentimental importance was too great for the woman to relinquish the 12th anniversary gift her late husband had given her.

  Kitty returned her gaze to the crack in the chapel doors and watched a set of bridesmaids and groomsmen walk at a waltzing pace down the aisle and then she cued the next pair.

  When the bridesmaid and groomsman parted just before the altar and took their respective sides, Kitty noticed Astrid wasn’t where she was supposed to be. Gerald was milling around the hall behind Kitty, but Astrid was worming her way down the side of the chapel.

  At least she was headed in Kitty’s direction, she thought. This shouldn’t hold up the proceedings. But as Kitty watched and willed the woman to pick up the pace and return, she noticed a jarring detail.

  Astrid was wearing the exact same silk scarf around her neck as Roxanne’s. Identical.

  “I apologize,” said Astrid, slipping through the grand wooden door Kitty was peering through. “I got turned around on my way back from the ladies’ room.”

  She smiled so as not to cause the groom’s mother undo pressure. “You’re fine. One minute to go.”

  Now that Astrid was standing directly beside her, Kitty took a good, long look at the silk scarf, hoping her eyes had played tricks on her prior. But they hadn’t.

  “It’s sweet you wore the same scarf as Roxanne,” Kitty commented. “Now you both match in every way.”

  “Try telling that to Roxanne,” she said with a brow raise.

  “Oh, had you not coordinated on purpose?”

  “I wouldn’t have worn it if I thought it’d disturb her so much.”

  Something in her tone told Kitty that wasn’t true, and the truth was quite the opposite.

  “You could always take it off,” she suggested.

  Astrid frowned at that and said, “It was a gift that holds great sentimental value. I’ll do no such thing.”

  “A gift from whom?” asked Kitty wondering if the sentiment related to the wedding directly.

  “Well, if you must know, Duke.”

  Shock and confusion washed over Kitty, but in the same breath she heard the string quartet switch tempo.

  “Gerald! Astrid!” she whisper-yelled. “You’re up!”

  Quick like a bunny, Kitty yanked the wooden door wide open and shoved them down the aisle.

  Duke had given Roxanne the silk scarf for their wedding anniversary, and according to Astrid, he’d also given her the exact same one? Why? Sterling’s prior mention of silk came to mind. He’d asked her if the word meant anything to her. Had he been referring to the duplicate silk scarves? Had he known Duke had given Astrid the exact same one as he had his very own wife? Was Sterling paces ahead of her regarding Duke’s mysterious death?

  Kitty realized she’d slipped into deep thought and time had escaped her when she heard the priest through her earpiece. He was thanking the families and offering encouraging words for tomorrow’s blessed ceremony.

  Hopping to it, she rushed up the aisle, smiled warmly at each family member—giving special attention to Contessa—and then invited everyone to The Lotus, a luxurious restaurant she’d booked for the rehearsal dinner.

  “I’ll be there promptly at five-thirty,” she told them. “Please aim at arriving by six. That gives everyone exactly an hour to get changed and head over.”

  Then Kitty stole Contessa’s attention and drew her away from the families.

  “How are you feeling?” she asked with care. “Are you feeling good about the chapel? The priest?”

  Contessa shrugged, which caused her wedding gown to shift noisily and further caused Kitty to widen her eyes so as not to roll them. The difficult bride had insisted everyone be in full wedding regalia for the rehearsal, a demand that was not only entirely unnecessary, but had caused a great deal of confusion and time delays, not to mention risk that the garments may be soiled, stained, or otherwise damaged.

  “I wish Daddy could see this,” she said sadly. “I’ve been thinking about it, and I’d really like Bernard to carry a basket of Daddy’s ashes.”

  Kitty hadn’t a clue who Bernard was.

  Off Kitty’s confusion, Contessa clarified, “My poodle.”

  Good grief!

  “Then, after the wedding ceremony, I’d like to toss Daddy’s ashes after the bouquet.”

  “Pardon me?”

  “I said I’d like to toss them. Onto the crowd.”

  Kitty cleared her throat and tried not to seem alarmed.

  “You’d like to spread your father’s ashes into a crowd of unsuspecting people?”

  Contessa turned, immediately offended that she’d been second-guessed.

  “It’s my wedding!”

  “Of course, of course. We will do that. Not a problem,” Kitty said, backing down to her bizarre and utterly morbid demand. “I only wish little Bernard had been here to rehearse. I mean, dogs can be unpredictable as I’m sure you can imagine. And how will he carry it?”

  Contessa looked annoyed. “Just find an appropriate container!”

  “I certainly will, Contessa. It will be my pleasure.”

  The horrendous bride relaxed a touch at that, and then stalked off toward the bride’s chambers to change just as Roxanne approached, heading in the same direction as her stepdaughter.

  “Roxanne,” said Kitty, catching her. “Not to be nosy, but I must ask you, why do you suppose Duke gave the exact same silk scarf to Astrid?”

  Roxanne turned dark and suddenly awkward in a strange display of offense and apprehension. “I’d rather not discuss it,” she stated curtly before continuing on her way.

  Kitty swallowed hard, riding a wave of shame for having been so forward, and then checked her watch. She’d be late for The Lotus if she didn’t get going. Driving across town would be slow going at this hour so she rushed off, hurrying through the chapel and down the walkway that led to where her Fiat was parked.

  Changing her outfit in her car was a virtual comedy of errors, but it was better than getting ready with the bridesmaids. Nothing screamed functioning without a proper budget like having the help—that was Kitty—use the same facilities as the client, so she made do in the backseat, wrestling and fighting and struggling and failing and then finally succeeding at pulling her coral, frilly cocktail dress over her head, huffing and puffing and sweating and cursing as she went. As soon as the dress was secure Kitty realized the task would’ve been a lot easier if she’d realized the garment had a zipper down the side. Arg! At least she hadn’t ripped it.

  She climbed behind the wheel, started the engine, and hit the gas, screeching out from the curb and flying down Main Street.

  As promised, Kitty was the first to arrive at the restaurant and had just enough time to organize the name cards around each table before the guests started filtering in.

  The hours flew by like seconds as the dinner got underway. Roxanne made a speech on behalf of her late husband, wishing Contessa and Charles a lifetime of happiness,
after which Gerald took the microphone and offered a similar toast.

  Kitty found herself glancing toward the entrance several times. Was she really expecting Sterling to crash the dinner? She told herself no, and yet couldn’t seem to keep her attention on the room. Maybe she’d crack this case and he’d have no choice but to barge in and make the necessary arrests. He didn’t think Harry had truly committed the crime. He’d defended Harry during his nightlong interrogation. Maybe she’d pegged Sterling all wrong. Maybe she could have a guest at the wedding...

  After the dinner, Kitty watched the sun lower into the rolling hills in the distance, causing the darkening sky to flare with the most heavenly shades of red, pink, purple, and orange. She was standing on the back terrace, and though she stood alone, there were a number of guests outside as well. The party had thinned out a bit inside, but the von Winkles and Astorias remained. Roxanne was speaking with Charles at the far end of the terrace and Contessa was catching up with college girlfriends on the other side of the glass door.

  Kitty turned from the setting sun and promised herself not to let Sterling creep into her thoughts. But the very effort only brought him to the forefront of her mind. He’d been brash, mocking her when he’d taken her hand in The Good Luck Bar and she’d felt foolish for savoring his touch, but the fact of the matter was that she had savored it and the warmth had lingered even after she’d drawn her hand away. She’d liked it when he had asked about her day. On some level she’d even enjoyed his boyish teasing. But was there any sense in being wishful? What could Sterling possibly want with her beyond one steamy night?

  Not much, she concluded, as darkness fell all around her.

  Kitty made her way through the restaurant and rounded the corner that led toward the ladies’ room when she suddenly realized Astrid and Gerald were in the throes of a heated though quiet exchange. Gerald was holding Astrid’s upper arm tightly, while the woman cowered away. Kitty hopped back, hiding, and then cautiously peered around the corner at them. Though their voices were low, she was able to pick up on the argument that grew more and more curious the longer she eavesdropped.