Chapter 5
I kept a close eye on everyone as I stood at the table with my cake the next evening. The police had cleared the room for use again only two hours before the wedding ceremony was scheduled to start, which meant the hotel staff and I had scrambled to set up everything.
The ceremony was over and Honey mingled through the crowd, making a point of tracking down all the people who’d been in the hotel the night of the wedding rehearsal—which, according to reports, had been the entire wedding party.
Because I was the hired help, it was my job to stand behind the cake table or in the corner out of the way, rather than chatting with guests—a rule I mostly intended to follow. It gave me a chance to watch everyone and see how they interacted. It was a smaller group than originally planned, but that was okay by me. One hundred people instead of a hundred and sixty meant I could see all the possible suspects.
The tone of the event was far more subdued than it would have been a couple days earlier. Even from my corner, I could see the tears, comforting touches and delicate sniffles against lacey handkerchiefs. Was this a wedding celebration or a wake? It was hard to tell, and the answer was, of course, that it might have been a bit of each.
After everyone had eaten their dinners, the bride and groom went through the ritual cake cutting and serving. They were totally circumspect about it—no frosting on the face for this couple. Then they moved away for the next set of pictures and I took off the top layer for the bride and groom to freeze for their first anniversary and sliced the next tier to be served to guests.
There’s a science to slicing wedding cakes so all the pieces are the same size and no one feels picked on if they get a smaller piece than their neighbor. I seldom had the opportunity to do the cutting when I worked at the DeMille Hotel—I’d trained several of the wait staff there to do the job properly. Despite people’s regrets that the masterpiece had to be destroyed, no matter how gorgeous, how elaborate the confection, it was, at heart, still just cake—fabulous and delicious, but cake all the same. I never felt bad about seeing one massacred for the guests to enjoy. It was meant to be eaten. If I wanted my art to last forever, I’d have taken up painting instead.
Jeff, best man, and the guy I nearly plowed into Friday evening, was the first of the wedding party to amble my direction.
“Chocolate almond, or vanilla with raspberry filling?” I asked when he stopped at the table.
“Vanilla, thanks. Is this going to taste as good as it looks?” His smile was flirtatious.
“Better. I guarantee it.” I flirted right back, leaning in and allowing my lips to curve. So I wasn’t looking for love—did that mean I couldn’t enjoy myself? My pride was wounded, my heart broken, but a good flirtation always helped me feel better after a breakup.
His eyebrows lifted. “That certain, are you?” He forked up a bite, smiled, chewed for a moment and muttered from the corner of his mouth, “Holy cow, you weren’t exaggerating.”
I grinned, always happy to see people enjoy themselves. “Never doubt that my food is as good as my reputation.”
“Reputations are delicate things,” he said.
“They can be, yes.” I’d heard from Honey that Jeff and Valerie were attorneys for competing firms. “But you would know all about reputations. Lawyers have to protect their names as carefully as pastry chefs, don’t they? Too many losses and you become persona non grata.”
His eyes flashed back to mine. “Who told you?”
I blinked, surprised by his defensive question. “About what?”
He paused, took another bite of his cake and chewed for a moment. The move was very deliberate as his legal mind seemed to consider his words. “I thought you were referring to the lawsuit I fought against Valerie. Our clients had a business deal go bad. Valerie magically came up with some crucial evidence which cost us the trial.”
He stuffed another bite in his mouth, not paying attention to the food anymore. “Fabricated was more like it, though. And she couldn’t have won without the evidence. I don’t mind people playing hardball, using the loopholes of the law to get what their client wants, but I draw the line at making things up.”
“I understand that,” I said, making sure my voice oozed sympathy. “When I was in culinary school, there was a competition with the other students. We had to create a dessert, and one guy used a recipe he’d filched from a famous chef. He won the prize, and I know he didn’t deserve it.” Yes, I’m referring to Roscoe—so you see why I was so offended by Valerie’s suggestion that he was the better pastry chef. What were the odds that we’d end up living only an hour apart?
“Then you understand where I’m coming from. I’m sorry to see her dead, but Valerie didn’t play by the rules.” Jeff’s plate was already empty. He stared at it as if surprised to see the cake was gone, then looked at me. “It was delicious. Thank you.”
Had he even noticed it after that first bite, or was he being polite? “You’re welcome. I hope you remember me if you ever need a special-occasion dessert.”
“I will.” He set the dirty plate on the table.
He was ready to walk away, but I wasn’t finished with him, so I hurried with another question. “Valerie must have been doing well at her law firm, considering all the fancy clothes and jewelry she had. Do you think that case helped her climb the ladder?”
“I’m sure it would have helped in the long run, but I doubt it did anything yet. Valerie’s always had more money than sense, or at least, she spends as if she does. I know she doesn’t make that kind of money at her job. I figured it was a trust fund or something.” He shrugged.
One of the bridesmaids approached and requested a slice of chocolate cake. I tried to place her, but couldn’t do it.
“I hope you enjoy it,” I said as I handed her a plate. Her bottle-blond hair was teased into a chic halo around her head.
“Thanks. I’ll try.” Her words were dry and she shot Jeff a nasty look before heading back into the crowd.
He winced.
My curiosity perked, but I tried not to be too obvious. “Who was that? I don’t think I caught her name earlier.”
“Janice. She’s Tad’s sister,” he answered. He started to move away.
“Things must have been pretty busy here the night Valerie died,” I asked, desperate to get some more answers from him before he melted back into the crowd. “Was there a wild bachelor party after the wedding rehearsal that night? Bachelorette party?”
“No, that was a few days earlier. Both Tad and Analesa decided they wanted to be fresh and alert for their wedding instead of hung over. I understand the women were going to get together and do their nails or something, though.” He shook his head as if to say women were incomprehensible to him. “Thanks again.” He raised a hand in greeting to one of the other guests and headed off with a vague goodbye to me.
I made notes on the little paper I had stuck in my pocket.
I remembered Valerie’s red fingernails when I found the body—the same color she’d been wearing during the wedding rehearsal. Had she chosen not to join the others, or did she just prefer red? Did she go hang with the other women for a while, then go out, or did she skip the girl time?
A dark-haired woman came over, holding the hand of the little girl I’d seen at the wedding rehearsal dinner Friday night. Valerie’s little girl. “What can I get for you ladies? Chocolate or vanilla with raspberry filling?”
“Vanilla,” the woman said. She looked pale and tired. “How about you, Dahlia?” she asked the girl.
“Chocolate.” Dahlia was very decisive, though she also looked very sad and a little cross.
“Great choice.” I handed the slices over. “I saw you here a couple nights ago,” I said to Dahlia.
The woman answered as Dahlia stuffed a huge bite of the cake in her mouth. “Yes. She’s Valerie’s little girl.”
I studied the woman more closely. “You must be a sister. You look a lot alike.”
“I’m Lidia, Valerie’s older sister. I arrived last night after they let me know.” Her voice broke and she paused to get it back under control. “My apologies. Did you know my sister well?” Her pain was palpable.
“No. We spoke only the one time Friday evening.” I chose not to tell her the subject of our conversation. No need to bring it up now, after all. “I’m surprised you’re here tonight. It’s such a tragedy for you.”
Lidia touched a hanky to her cheek. “Yes, but Tad insisted that he wanted Dahlia here, to get her mind off things, so I brought her for a while.” Her breathing hitched and she gave me a watery smile. “I think the plan backfired.”
“I’m so sorry.” My heart went out to this woman. Even if Valerie hadn’t exactly been the nicest person ever, it must still be hard for her sister. “Are you going to be in town for a while?”
Lidia nodded. “For the next few days while they sort everything out. Dahlia and I are all she had, so I’ll be settling the estate.” She turned her head as someone called her name from the crowd, and I looked up to see Tad gesturing to her. “Looks like I’m being summoned,” she said to me. “It was good to meet you.”
“Same here.” I watched with sympathy as she led the little girl back into the crowd. Settling a family member’s estate was never easy. I’d done it first after my parents’ deaths, then with my grandma, so I was intimately aware of the stresses involved. Dahlia stretched her arms up to Tad, and he passed the cake to Lidia, then scooped up the little girl. She snuggled into him, tucking her face into his chest, looking lost.
My resolve to investigating the murder strengthened. That child needed answers, and knowing her pain, I was going to be make sure she got them.
A few minutes passed as I continued to hand out cake to guests before Honey ambled over and scooped up a slice of chocolate.
“Learn anything interesting?” I asked.
“It’s hard to interrogate people without letting them know what you’re doing, but I did manage to get a little information.” She closed her eyes as she savored the first bite. “Oh wow, I forgot what this was like. You so need to live in the area where I can taste-test for you all the time.”
I laughed. What was a best friend for if not to fawn and praise once in a while? “You’ve got me. Now, what did you learn?”
“Analesa’s mom confirmed that all the bridal party, as well as family members, were staying here in the hotel. Their house has been leased, you know.” She said this in all seriousness, as if I was in the loop on local gossip and of course I would know.
“Why did they do that?”
“Mr. Plumber’s company transferred him out of the area a couple years back so they moved, but he plans to retire in another year or two. They didn’t want to sell.”
“But of course they couldn’t leave the house vacant,” I answered the question myself. “That explains why everyone stayed here.” Honey consumed the cake with gusto while I reined in my own longing for a slice. Working with sugar and fat all day showed on my hips. I knew I needed to stay away from the goodies, or at least try to refrain from eating more than one piece.
Especially after enjoying two éclairs the previous afternoon and a brownie last night. Fat city, even if they were delicious. I really needed to start working out again.
Instead of obsessing about the food, I turned the conversation. “Okay, so everyone was here. Jeff told me the girls might have had plans to do their nails after the wedding rehearsal, but the wild parties were held days earlier.”
“Okay, you noticed the fingernails, didn’t you?”
I had, since I’d been watching after talking to Jeff. Analesa and her attendants all wore what appeared to be the same shade of pale pink fingernail polish. It matched the color of the bridesmaid dresses, and the sash around the bride’s white dress. The pink rose bouquet and trailing pink ribbons were the same shade as well. “But Valerie’s nails were still red when she died, so she didn’t join them that night.”
“That would be my guess. Here comes Millie now. She was the third roommate with Valerie and Analesa in college. You see what you can find out from her, I’ll go interrogate the mother of the groom.” She grinned and glided across the room while managing to greet and schmooze with everyone in sight. The woman was a marvel.
Millie was a pale blonde with a mole near her mouth reminiscent of Christy Brinkley’s—which had me wondering if it was real, or an affectation intended to draw attention. Her mouth was wide and sulky, and, despite the pink everywhere else, was slathered in Come Get Me red lipstick. “I want a little piece of the chocolate,” she said.
I handed her a plate. “All the pieces are pretty much the same, sorry.” I considered suggesting she not finish the whole thing, but knew from experience that once she tried it, she’d finish it off. Most people did.
I looked at her hands. “It’s fun that your fingernails coordinate with all your dresses.”
“Yes, we had a girls’ pampering night after the wedding rehearsal.” Her voice hitched and one of her hands fluttered to her chest. “Sorry, I’m just still so upset. I can’t believe this happened to Valerie. I’ve known her for so long. Did you know we were roommates with Ana in college? Like three peas in a pod.” She held back a small sob. “I’m sorry—it must have been so horrible for you. Weren’t you the one to find her yesterday?”
A chill and twinge of revulsion came over me when I thought of the blood everywhere and the color of Valerie’s skin and I had to swallow hard and beat it back. “Yes. It was so difficult. It could have been worse though. I didn’t know her well.”
Millie nodded, picked up a fork and tasted a bite. She made a humming noise in the back of her throat. “Wow. I never knew cake could taste so good.” Her mournful air disappeared as she took another taste.
“Thank you. That’s such a kind thing to say.” Her sudden attitude change confused me. My cake was amazing, but I’d never seen it improve someone’s mood so fast.
“Not kind—honest.” She gave me a calculating look. “You’re opening a shop here in town?”
“Yes, hopefully in the next few weeks. It depends on how long it takes to get all the paperwork and supplies.” I tipped my head and looked at Millie’s perfectly manicured hands again. “Did Valerie go to the girls’ night party? I could swear she hadn’t gotten her nails painted between dinner and . . . you know.”
“Oh, no. She said she wouldn’t be there, that she’d take care of it in the morning while we all dressed. She had a date, I guess.” She tried to act like it didn’t bother her, but her voice held an edge of spite. “She always had a date, or three.”
Under normal circumstances, I would have let that tidbit of information float on by, not the least interested in pursuing it, but this time I chased it. “Is that what she and Analesa were arguing about after the wedding rehearsal?”
“Yes, well, more or less. Not the date that night, but the way she was always had to have a guy around. Valerie flirted with Ana’s younger brother, who’s a bit tender-hearted, not up to dealing with such a barracuda.”
I smiled as I remembered Analesa’s brother. “Is he here? I haven’t seen Shawn in years. I must have missed him when he came in.” I glanced around for the grown-up version of the skinny kid I’d known as a teen. I’d expected to see him that day, but hadn’t caught a glimpse of anyone who looked likely.
“I saw him earlier,” Millie turned and studied the crowd. “The guy there, standing with the woman in teal.”
I spotted Shawn, maybe thirty feet away, though it took me a moment to be sure it was him. It’s amazing what twelve years and fifty pounds can do to a guy. He was hot now! Was it in the genes? Did the Plumber family members start out homely and become beautiful before they were twenty-five? Did they have a freaking fairy godmother or something? It was so unfair. Not that I was interested, because I totally wasn’t, but dang.
“I didn’t see him Friday.” I know I would have remembered him.
Millie smirked. “Into younger men, are you?”
I must have shown more of my appreciation for his current look than I’d meant to. I caught myself. “Not particularly. I remember him as a scrawny, freckled little boy.” And he was only a couple of years younger than me, anyway.
“He’s not scrawny anymore, is he?” She glanced at him again with a look of female appreciation.
I realized I’d gotten off topic and needed to bring it back to Friday night. I watched the last bite of chocolate cake disappear as Millie ate it, and hurriedly said the first thing that came to mind. “Do you think Valerie could have met with Shawn after she left you guys?”
“What? Oh no, it sounded like she had plans with some local guy. I have no idea who. It couldn’t have been Shawn, though, since Ana called him around nine, nine-thirty, and said he was shooting pool downtown with some old buddies.” She paused and tipped her head. “I suppose he might have been lying. It never occurred to me. I hope that’s not true, though, since he could be blamed for her death. He’s a sweet kid.”
I didn’t remember him being a sweet kid. A bit of a terror, yes, hilarious and full of fun, absolutely, but not sweet. I supposed anyone could change. “So how late did your girls’ night go? You must have been tired after the travel and practice.”
“I don’t know, sometime before midnight.” She turned to look at me, as if realizing I’d been pumping her for information. “What are you, one of those nosy neighbors who has to have all the gruesome details? Because I have nothing to say to you people. I don’t know anything about her death—I just came here to be with Ana and help her through her special day.” She stomped off—not as gracefully as Valerie had managed, I noted.