Death on the Aisle Read online

  “How are we going to do that?” Fern asked. “Lock the stepmother in a closet until the wedding is over?”

  I ignored Fern’s suggestion, even though it didn’t sound so bad. “We’ll come up with something.” I tried to sound more sure than I felt. “This wedding is going to happen. Trust me.” I’d spent too many hours on dock permits and water safety plans to let this event fall apart at the last minute.

  Fern rubbed his hands together, and the bells of his sari tinkled. “Let the games begin.”

  Chapter 3

  “Can we please stop for coffee?” Kate rested her head against the passenger window of my car. Her hair covered most of her face, and she tried to shield the sun with her arm.

  “I told you we were getting an early start this morning.” I’d swung by Kate’s apartment in upper Georgetown and coaxed her down after a mere three calls to her cell phone. “And it isn’t that early, anyway. It’s almost ten.”

  “We did have a wedding yesterday, remember? Whatever happened to having a day off? You know, Sunday fun day?”

  “Whatever happened to not going out with the bridal party after the weddings?” I headed down Wisconsin Avenue passing the always-bustling hair salon, Dry Bar, where Kate frequently had her hair blown out. Traffic was light so far, but the city was still waking up.

  I glanced up at the windows of Carine’s Bridal Atelier knowing it wasn’t yet open, but envisioning the racks filled with designer gowns. I loved having one of the chicest bridal gown salons so close to the Wedding Belles headquarters.

  Kate peeked at me from under her arm. “Was that ever really a hard and fast rule?”

  I tried to give her my best tough boss glare. “Well, it should be.”

  Kate, per usual, had made fast friends with the groomsmen at our wedding and had been invited to go out with the whole bridal party afterward. Since the dancing went on until the early hours of the morning, I knew Kate had been out late. Which made waking her up bright and early to go to the boat with me even sweeter.

  My days of thinking going out after a wedding was a fun idea were long over. After being on my feet for twelve hours or more, all I wanted to do was go home, take a hot shower, and crawl into bed.

  “I thought Ian was back from tour and taking you out,” Kate said. “Shouldn’t you be tired too?”

  Ian was the leader of the eighties cover band called The Breakfast Club. He had spiky blond hair, tattoos, and a Scottish accent. Truth be told, he was much more Kate’s type than mine. She liked guys who looked dangerous. I liked men with steady jobs. But DC’s dating scene was notoriously bad, so I’d loosened my rules for Ian. The fact that he was very cute also played a part.

  “We didn’t go out.” I rolled down my window to enjoy the late summer air before it got stifling. Shops were starting to set out sidewalk signs, and a few people sat at the umbrella-topped tables outside Marvelous Market. “He just stopped by at the end of the wedding since his bar mitzvah at the W Hotel ended early and he was right around the corner.”

  “Nice to have a hot boyfriend with an equally weird work schedule.”

  “He’s not my boyfriend,” I said a little too quickly. “As a matter of fact, we decided to cool things off.”

  Kate’s head snapped toward me. “Cool things off? How can you cool things off when you never heated things up?”

  “I guess not according to your definition,” I said.

  Kate leaned her head against the window. “Not according to anyone’s definition.”

  I raised my voice to talk over her muttering. “Anyway, we both have really crazy schedules. It’s hard to connect, so we’re going to be friends.”

  “Does this have anything to do with the detective?” Kate asked. “And can you roll up the window? It’s cold in here.”

  “Reese?” I started to roll up the window then stopped. “How can you be cold? It’s June.” I looked at Kate’s melon-colored sleeveless sheath, which ended at midthigh. That explained it.

  Kate sighed. “Yes, Reese. The steamy detective we can’t seem to stop running into. I definitely noticed sparks the last time we saw him.”

  When we stopped at the light at M Street, I reached in the backseat with one hand and grabbed a black cotton cardigan. “Here, put this on.”

  Kate sat up and slipped her arms into the sweater. “So? Did you dump Ian for Reese?”

  “I didn’t dump anyone. It was mutual,” I said, making the left onto M Street. I didn’t mention Reese had asked me out the last time I’d seen him. I didn’t mention it because then I’d have to explain how our first date got cancelled when he got called in to a big homicide case right after he’d arrived at my apartment to pick me up.

  She shrugged. “You know how they say a bird in the hand is worth two bushes?”

  “No,” I said. “They don’t say that.”

  “All I’m saying is maybe you shouldn’t have dropped Ian until you were sure about Cutie Cop.”

  I shot her a sideways glance. “Cutie Cop?”

  “He needs a nickname.” She motioned up ahead. “Now can we please get some coffee? Baked and Wired is only one block away. I’ll run in so you don’t have to park the car.”

  “Fine. Get me anything with mocha.” I swerved over to a semi-legal street parking space so Kate could hop out.

  “Have I told you lately you’re the best boss ever?” She blew me a kiss and ran down Thomas Jefferson Avenue. Impressive, considering the sidewalk jutted up in places and she wore heels. Her navigating skill in stilettos had always impressed me, and these were, by far, the lowest shoes I’d ever seen her wear. Two and a half inches, tops. Flats were simply not in her repertoire. She hurried over the canal bridge and then disappeared into the little bakery with the bright pink bicycle leaning out front.

  Kate had a point. Why had I dropped Ian when things with Mike Reese had barely gotten off the ground? Maybe it had something to do with the fact that I never understood why Ian was into me. Guys in bands usually had girlfriends who were equally cool and tattooed. I spent my life picking table linens and writing wedding timelines, had a collection of tasteful black suits, almost always wore my long auburn hair in a ponytail or bun, and had never even considered getting a tattoo. It felt like we didn’t match and, call it the wedding planner in me, but I was big into things matching.

  I couldn’t say Detective Reese was exactly like me, either, but at least he didn’t go on tour every few months and have a closet filled with kilts and leather. And I had to admit his dark hair and hazel eyes were a particular weakness of mine. My stomach did flips just thinking about him.

  Kate threw open the car door and handed a bag across to me. “I got you a Smurfette and a mocha.”

  “A what?”

  “A Smurfette—blueberries and lemon. Sounded amazing, and I know you love lemon. I got the birthday cake one.”

  I peered into the white paper bag. “Cupcakes? You got cupcakes for breakfast?”

  “First of all, it’s not breakfast. It’s after 10 am, which means it’s practically lunch,” Kate said. “Second, cupcakes are just like muffins with icing, and everyone is fine with muffins in the morning. It’s really unfair to cupcakes, if you ask me. And these are not just any cupcakes. These are hands down the best in the city. Trust me. I’ve tried them all.”

  I believed her. If there was one thing Kate loved above men (and maybe shoes), it was sugar. Cookies, cupcakes, brownies—she loved it all. It amazed me she stayed so thin. The only thing I could figure was dating and running in heels burned an awful lot of calories. I relied on wedding stress to keep me fitting into my size six jeans.

  She pulled out her chocolate cupcake topped with swirls of vanilla frosting and began to peel off the wax paper wrapper. “I figured we needed some serious energy to deal with the Ship of the Damned.”

  She made a good point. I put my coffee in the cup holder next to me and held my cupcake in one hand as I merged back into Georgetown traffic. I wanted to get down to the docks and do
some damage control with the bride before it got too late.

  “So what’s our strategy here?” Kate asked. “Take out the stepmom? Sweet-talk the dad? Throw the TV crew overboard?”

  “I’m hoping we won’t have to ‘take out’ anyone,” I said. “I just want to find the bride, calm her down, and sort out this mess with the TV crew.”

  “Oh, is that all? You know,” Kate said through a mouthful of cupcake, “our job always sounds easier than it actually is.”

  For once, I completely agreed with Kate.

  Chapter 4

  “Wow.” Even though Kate wore sunglasses, she still shielded her eyes as she looked up at the ship that was to hold our upcoming wedding. We stood on the dock next to the yacht waiting to be let on board, and I glanced around me at the District Marina. Our floating wedding venue was so massive it made the other boats look like toys bobbing in a bathtub.

  “I told you it was big,” I said.

  The ship was technically a superyacht and spanned over 160 feet from bow to stern. It rose three stories above us with each level getting progressively smaller, much like a tiered wedding cake. I knew the helicopter pad, which would be our dance floor, and the hot tub, which we were covering to use for the ceremony, were on the top.

  The sides of the ship gleamed white with only the boat’s name, Mystic Maven, swirling in black script across the pristine surface. What wasn’t white on the boat was shining chrome. I could only imagine how much effort it took to keep all of it polished and was glad that wasn’t my job, although as a wedding planner I’d had to do far worse tasks before.

  “Welcome aboard,” a voice called to us from above. “You must be the wedding planners.”

  “Yes,” I called back, even though I couldn’t see where the voice came from. “Annabelle and Kate.”

  “I’m Mandy, the chief stew.” A tall, leggy woman with straight brown hair appeared at the top of the gangway leading onto the ship. A woman who could have passed for her slightly shorter and less leggy twin stood next to her. “This is Caren, one of the crew. Leave your shoes in the basket, put on some slippers, and come on up.”

  She motioned to a pair of baskets at the bottom of the gangway: one empty and one filled with leather slippers. Kate and I both exchanged our shoes for black leather slide-on slippers with the boat’s name embossed on the top.

  “Maybe I should get the name of my apartment building put on my slippers,” Kate said under her breath. “It’s a nice touch.”

  I elbowed her in the side. “Oh, be quiet.”

  We walked up the wooden bridge linking the ship to the dock and met Mandy and Caren at the walkway that ran along the outside. I noticed they both wore a black uniform with Mystic Maven embroidered on the left side in the same script used on the slippers and the side of the ship. These people clearly understood branding.

  “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you,” Mandy said, giving us each a quick handshake. “Mrs. Barbery wanted me to get you settled before she joined you.”

  We shook both women’s hands. I reminded myself Mrs. Barbery was the stepmother of the bride and not even the first one.

  “So what exactly is a chief stew?” Kate asked. Sometimes I was glad Kate was direct because it saved me from asking so many questions.

  “I oversee what goes on inside the boat, from making sure the owners get their breakfast on time, to ordering new uniforms, to managing the inside staff.” Mandy waved for us to follow her. “I only came on a few months ago, but all the staff has talked about is this wedding.”

  “It’s pretty unusual to have a party for over a hundred guests on a yacht,” Caren said. “We’re used to the owners having dinner parties for six to eight friends.”

  “How many are on staff?” I asked.

  Mandy thought for a moment before answering. “Fourteen including the captain.”

  “Fourteen?” Kate’s mouth gaped. “Where do you all sleep?”

  “The crew quarters are downstairs. The ship also can sleep up to twelve guests in addition to the family, but we rarely have that many people stay on board.” Mandy led us into a casual dining room that held a tufted beige banquette curved around the wall and a polished wood table. Papers were spread across the table.

  Kate whistled. “This is some boat.”

  “Don’t forget Kristie is expecting one hundred fifty wedding guests,” I said. “It has to be.”

  “And this is some wedding,” Mandy said. “I don’t know how you do this for a living.”

  “When we aren’t planning weddings, we’re solving crimes.” Kate winked at the two women. “Sometimes I think the crimes are easier.”

  I jabbed Kate with my elbow. I knew she meant it to be a joke, but it was too close to reality to be funny to me.

  “Seriously?” Caren asked, her dark eyebrows disappearing under her bangs.

  “Not really,” I said, giving Kate a look that forbid her to add anything. “I mean, we have ended up solving a few cases but our involvement was accidental.”

  Both women nodded but seemed taken aback. Perfect. The last thing I needed was for the crew to be whispering about our bad habit of falling into crime investigations. I did not want that information getting back to our client. I’d found that brides did not like crime to mentioned in the same breath as their wedding planners.

  “We were hoping to talk to Kristie this morning,” I said. “Is she around?”

  Mandy motioned for us to take seats at the table and started stacking the papers into piles. “She’s doing yoga downstairs in the gym. We’re not supposed to disturb her until she’s done. Imbalances her energy or something. But she should be finished pretty soon.” She tapped Caren on the arm. “Can you go check without disturbing her?”

  “Of course.” Caren disappeared through another door in the room.

  Kate’s eyebrows popped up. “There’s a gym on board?”

  “Oh, it’s small,” Mandy said. “Like a big closet attached to the steam room.”

  Kate looked at me. “Steam room?”

  Mandy gave a half smile. “Helps Mrs. Barbery with her stress. And after all the things that have been happening, that’s a good thing, believe me.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked. “The TV crew?”

  “Oh, no.” Mandy moved a silver tray with glasses and a pitcher of water from the sideboard to the table. “Mrs. Barbery loves publicity. What she doesn’t love are accidents. Mr. Barbery, the bride’s father, is crazy about this boat, and if anything happens to it he goes nuts. And when Mr. Barbery goes nuts, his wife practically lives in her steam room.”

  “So what’s been going on?” I asked.

  Mandy shrugged as she poured out three glasses of ice water. “Nothing major. Just some little things. A rail on the stairs came loose, the tender fell from where it hangs at the back of the ship, and the doorknob to the pantry jammed and locked our chef inside for a couple of hours.”

  “That doesn’t sound so bad.” Kate took her water from Mandy and inspected the glass etched with the name of the ship. “Wait. What’s the tender?”

  “It’s the smaller boat we have hanging from the stern,” Mandy explained. “But it’s still a sizable motor boat.”

  “Yikes,” Kate said.

  “Exactly. The hull of the tender cracked so no one is happy about that.” Mandy lowered her voice. “Kristie thinks the boat has bad energy and all these things are a sign she shouldn’t get married here.”

  “What does Mrs. Barbery think?” I asked.

  “She’s not happy about all the glitches, but she’s also been planning on having a wedding on this ship for months. The invitations went out weeks ago, and her friends are starting to fly in from all over the world.” Mandy took a long drink from one of the glasses. “There is no way she’s canceling this wedding. I think she’d have it even if the bride didn’t show up.”

  “That would be different,” Kate said. “I wouldn’t mind a bride-free wedding.”

  I shot Kate a look t
hen turned back to Mandy. “So then it’s not the TV crew that Kristie’s upset about?”

  “Well, it didn’t make her happy, that’s for sure.” Mandy’s voice got even lower, as though she expected the bride to be crouching outside the door. “But I think it was just the icing on the cake. She’d been getting worked up for the past few days. Every time something would happen, she’d become more convinced the boat has bad energy. When the TV crew came aboard, she just lost it and started yelling about moving the wedding.”

  I knew Kristie was very attuned to energy vibrations, as she put it. We’d even chosen the wedding colors, pale blue and silver, based on their positive vibrations.

  I leaned close to Mandy. “Do you think Kristie is serious about not getting married on the ship?”

  “Well, she seemed to calm down after talking to her father,” Mandy said. “Between you and me, I think he’s trying to keep them both happy at the same time, but owes it to his new wife to keep her more happy.”

  “What do you mean?” Kate asked.

  “Well, Mrs. Barbery loves entertaining on the ship, but she won’t be doing that for the next three months because her husband gave the bride and groom the ship for a round-the-world honeymoon cruise.”

  “By themselves?” I asked.

  “Well, with the crew,” Mandy said. “But not Mr. and Mrs. Barbery.”

  Kate’s eyes widened and she looked at me. “Did you know about this?”

  I shook my head. “No idea.”

  Kate wagged a finger at me. “You never find out where couples are going for their honeymoons.”

  Now it made sense. “So he’s making it up to his wife by letting Diamond Weddings film her hosting a big society wedding on board.”

  “That’s what we all think,” Mandy said. “So in an ideal world, the daughter gets her trip around the world, the wife gets her appearance on national TV, and everyone’s happy. So long as Kristie gets enough peace and quiet to forget about the TV crew, we should be okay.”

  Kate looked around. “The ship does seem quiet.”