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  “The hospital?” Kate said. “You aren’t actually visiting who I think you’re visiting, are you?”

  “You mean our groom who was shot?” I found a spot on the first level with just enough room for us to squeeze out. “That’s exactly whom I’m visiting.”

  “I thought the detective told you to stay out of the investigation. Isn’t this the exact opposite of that?”

  I wiggled out of the car, being careful not to hit the other vehicle with my door or rub against the side of my dusty car in my black pants and pale blue silk tank. “I fully intended to stay out of things until I found out that not only do the police have no other persons of interest except for us, they haven’t found a single real suspect.”

  Kate inched out of her side then released the breath she’d been holding in. “How did you discover that? Detective Reese?”

  I led the way to the main entrance of the redbrick hospital, holding open the glass doors for Kate. The lobby reminded me of every other hospital lobby I’d been in. Lots of muted primary colors and blond wood with miles and miles of cream-colored tile. I took a breath and wondered if there was a secret “eau de hospital” air freshener that gave the buildings their antiseptic scent.

  “I wish.” I felt annoyed at Reese for not letting me know just how much hot water I was in with the police, and I was no longer convinced that his top priority was looking out for me as he’d claimed. “Leatrice used some new hacker friends to get the police files.”

  “I beg your pardon, what?” Kate stumbled in her black peep-toe heels as we reached the elevator bank.

  “I know. Her hacker network is a whole other story I haven’t delved into but, suffice it to say, Leatrice has appointed herself in charge of our defense team.” A chime indicated that an elevator had arrived, and the metal doors in front opened.

  Kate leaned against the wall of the elevator once we’d stepped inside. “That’s terrifying.”

  “Tell me about it.” I pressed the button for the third floor. “But she was able to get me the groom’s hospital room number and determine that the police aren’t providing security for him.”

  “So the plan is for you to go into the room and for me to stay outside in case anyone shows up?” Kate asked as the elevator doors slid open. “How long do you need to talk to him?”

  “Not long, I hope.” I led the way to the right side of the hospital wing. More beige-and-cream walls broken up by nurses’ stations made out of faux pine. “I just want to ask him a few more questions than the police did.”

  Kate put a hand over her nose. “You read their interview of the groom?”

  I nodded. “Reese didn’t do the questioning. I think his new partner did, and it seemed pretty cursory to me. That or the groom wasn’t in the right frame of mind to answer questions. But since nothing of value was taken from the house, the intruder must have had a personal reason. And if anyone would have an idea about the reason, it would be the groom. I’m hoping he’s more talkative now that he’s out of surgery and recuperating.”

  We reached the room number Leatrice had given me. I glanced at the name on the door and confirmed it was Dave’s room. As I pushed it open, Kate grabbed my sleeve. “What’s the signal in case someone shows up?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. A whistle? A knock?”

  “I’ll think of something.” She pushed me inside.

  As I stepped into the private room, my eyes adjusted to the low light after the brightness of the hallway. The blinds to the large window were closed so the only light came from the attached bathroom.

  “Could I get some water?” The voice coming from the bed was hoarse and quiet.

  I hurried over to the wheeled swing-arm table and poured a cup from the plastic pitcher. I took it over to the groom and held the cup for him while he sat up and sipped from the blue bendy straw.

  “Thanks,” he said, lying back on the inclined hospital bed then sitting up again. “Wait. You’re not a nurse.”

  “No, it’s me. Annabelle Archer. Your wedding planner,” I said. “You probably don’t remember, but my assistant and I found you after you were shot.”

  He shook his head slowly. “I remember you, but I don’t remember you finding me. Thanks, I guess.”

  “I’m so sorry about what happened.” I glanced at his bandaged shoulder. “Did you have to have surgery?”

  He nodded. “They removed the bullet. The doctors say I’ll be fine. My dreams of being a major league pitcher are shot, though.”

  I laughed with him once I heard him chuckle.

  “You probably don’t remember much about that day.” I offered him the water again and he drank.

  He cleared his throat and winced. “I remember having my morning coffee. I like to sit at the kitchen counter and check news on my phone while I drink my coffee.” He paused. “Tricia was upstairs in bed. She’d been worn out by the wedding and was trying to build up her strength for our honeymoon.”

  “That’s right. You were going to Paris. When were you leaving?”

  He pressed his eyebrows together like he was trying to recall the date. “A week after the wedding. Tricia wanted time to rest and tie up loose ends.”

  More like she wanted to write all her horrible reviews, I thought, but I kept this to myself. “So you were downstairs and Tricia was upstairs. Do you remember hearing anyone come inside?”

  “No. But I’d already stepped outside that morning to check the temperature so I might have left the front door open when I came back in. Our neighborhood is usually very safe.”

  “Were you sitting with your back to the kitchen doorway?”

  He moved his head up and down slightly. “The only thing I remember is hearing a loud noise and getting knocked off the barstool onto the ground. My face hit the floor and that hurt more than being shot. At least at first. Then everything went black.”

  “So you didn’t see the shooter?”

  “No.”

  I walked over to the pitcher and refilled the plastic cup. “Dave, do you have any idea who would want to shoot you?”

  “No clue,” he said, turning his face away from the light spilling out from the bathroom. “None of it makes any sense. The cops said that nothing was stolen.”

  “Do you and Tricia have any enemies?” I asked. “Anyone who would want you both dead?”

  “Enemies?” He paused.

  I heard Kate’s voice from outside the door. “Whip-poor-will! Whip-poor-will!”

  As odd as it was, I was pretty sure that was my signal to get out. I put down the plastic cup and pitcher.

  The groom sat up. “Wait a second. Why are you asking if someone would want us both dead?”

  I opened my mouth and closed it again. Had no one told him that his wife had been shot and killed? I backed toward the door. “I’d better let you get some rest. Again, I’m really sorry.”

  “Did something happen to Tricia?” he called after me. “Tell me!”

  I pushed the door open and closed it behind me so people in the hallway wouldn’t hear the groom yelling after me. Kate stood next to the door wearing a white doctor’s coat and a surgical mask over her face.

  “MOB and MOH at two o’clock,” she hissed at me and handed me a green surgical mask.

  I glanced at the nurse’s station and saw the bride’s mother and her best friend with their backs to us. We would need to pass by them to leave. I took the surgical mask and tied it around the back of my head. “You don’t happen to have an extra lab coat, do you?”

  “Sorry, Charlie.” She handed me a clipboard. “But this will make you look more official.”

  I took it. I could hear the groom still yelling inside his room, and I felt a knot begin to form in my stomach. That was not how I’d intended that interaction to play out. I knew I should go back in and calm down the groom but I also knew that I could not get caught talking to him. “Let’s go.”

  We walked briskly by the nurse’s station and down the hall. As we turned the corner, I chance
d a glance behind me. The maid of honor had turned her head to watch us and before she disappeared from view, I saw her red-rimmed eyes grow wide.

  Chapter 12

  “Wait!” A hand shot into the elevator before it closed, and the doors opened back up. Madeleine stood in front of us breathing heavily from chasing after us down the hospital corridor. She wore the same clothes she’d had on yesterday, and I noticed flecks of dried blood on the sleeve of her pink cardigan. Her eyes were bloodshot, black mascara lines trailed down her face from crying, and lose strands of hair had fallen from her ponytail into her face.

  Kate pulled the surgical mask down from her mouth as we stepped out of the elevator. “Hey, Madeleine. Imagine running into you like this.”

  Madeleine ran her eyes over the white doctor’s coat Kate wore and the clipboard I clutched to my chest. “Do you two moonlight here?”

  “No,” I said, wondering how to explain away Kate’s odd attire. “Kate’s just . . .”

  “Very germ conscious,” Kate finished my sentence for me. “I have a phobia about germs in hospitals. They’re breeding grounds for all sorts of infections, you know. So I always wear a mask and coat when I visit.”

  Madeleine’s eye twitched when Kate mentioned infection.

  Kate reached out a hand and placed it on her sleeve. “But I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

  Madeleine nodded then pulled her eyes away from Kate to look at me. “We didn’t get a chance to talk after the police arrived yesterday. I’m afraid I fell apart a bit.”

  “That’s perfectly understandable,” I said. Now it was my turn to put a hand on her arm.

  “We would have been just as hysterical as you were if we weren’t so used to being at crime scenes,” Kate said.

  Madeleine looked confused, and I shot Kate daggers.

  “Not that you were hysterical,” Kate said after seeing my expression. “That was the wrong word. Upset. You were just upset.”

  “Why have you two been at so many crime scenes?” Madeleine asked, her gaze moving between us.

  I sighed. “We’ve had the misfortune of being around a few mishaps at our weddings.”

  “Mishaps?” Madeleine asked. “Like accidents?”

  Kate snapped her fingers. “Accidents. Exactly. Accidental deaths.” She hesitated. “Not really accidental so much as murders, though.”

  I closed my eyes and tried not to groan out loud. When Kate got nervous, she had a habit of rambling and sharing way too much information.

  “You’ve been involved in murders?” Madeleine’s voice barely rose above a whisper.

  “We’ve never killed anyone,” I said.

  “No way.” Kate shook her head. “We’re the ones who solve the cases.”

  A look passed across Madeleine’s face. “So you could find out who killed Tricia?”

  Even though I was admittedly poking around in the case, it was only to clear Kate’s and my name. I did not want to promise anyone that I could track down a killer for them. I jabbed Kate’s leg with my foot. “Kate’s joking. We leave the investigating to the police.”

  Madeleine frowned. “That’s too bad. I was going to tell you something I forgot to mention yesterday in all the chaos.”

  “Did you see something?” I asked. “A clue?” I may not have wanted to be tasked with tracking down a murderer, but when push came to shove, I couldn’t resist information that could help my cause.

  She shook her head. “It wasn’t something I saw, it’s something I know. Tricia and Dave had been having a feud with their next-door neighbor for months. The one who lives in the redbrick house with the white door.”

  My shoulders sagged. Another person Tricia antagonized? This wasn’t exactly breaking news.

  Madeleine looked behind her then continued. “It started when they both put up political signs. For opposing candidates. Words were exchanged. It got heated.”

  “But this is Washington,” I said. “Politics is everywhere. You won’t last long in this town if you get worked up about every person who disagrees with you.”

  “Their neighbor hadn’t been here long.” She waved a hand. “I don’t remember. All I know is he took their politics very personally. And you know Tricia when she’s challenged.”

  Or even when she’s not, I wanted to say.

  “So you think this feud was bad enough that the neighbor walked into their house and shot them?” Kate asked, her voice sounding unconvinced.

  Madeleine shrugged. “I know it sounds extreme, but this guy had serious anger-management issues. And he was armed to the teeth. Or at least that’s what he told Tricia and Dave.”

  “So he has guns?” I asked.

  “According to him, he has lots. I think he waved a handgun at them once from his porch.”

  I tapped my shoe on the floor as I thought. “I’m happy to pass this information on to the detectives working this case. Do you know the guy’s name?”

  “Frank something. I remember because Tricia used to call him Effing Frank.”

  I allowed myself a small smile. “That sounds like Tricia.”

  Madeleine put a hand to her mouth and gave a combination of a laugh and a sob. “It’s pretty classic Tricia.” She dropped her hand. “Listen, I know you probably think the same thing everyone else does. That Tricia was difficult. That she was unpleasant. That she could be mean.”

  I looked at Kate, who looked at her shoes.

  “All of those things are true,” Madeleine said. “She was an unhappy person and she took it out on everyone around her. Trust me, I know. I’ve known her longer than anyone except her mother. But she didn’t deserve to be murdered in her bed like that. And Dave certainly didn’t deserve to be shot in the back.”

  “Of course you’re right,” I said. “No one deserves that.”

  Madeleine met my eyes. “It’s important to me that Tricia gets justice.”

  I heard a loud throat clearing and saw the bride’s mother staring at us from the other end of the hall.

  “I’d better go.” Madeleine began backing away from us. “I thought my duties would be over after the wedding, but I’m still chauffeuring Tricia’s mom around in her car. Not that I mind. It beats my Honda Civic. And she doesn’t critique my driving like Tricia did.”

  “At least we never have to drive our clients around,” Kate said once Madeleine was out of earshot. “Your critique of my driving is bad enough. If I’d had Tricia rating me, I might have driven her off a cliff.”

  “But think how much pain and suffering you would have saved us.”

  Kate shrugged off the doctor’s coat. “I’ll keep it in mind for the next bridezilla.”

  Chapter 13

  “Did you get any good intel?” Leatrice asked when I walked in my apartment. She sat on the dining room table with her legs crossed and swinging beneath her.

  “Not from the groom.” I dropped my purse on the couch and headed for the kitchen. “He didn’t see whoever shot him. He didn’t even hear anyone come in. But the maid of honor made a point of telling us about a feud they had with their neighbor.”

  Leatrice tapped a finger to her chin. “Interesting. Was the feud bad enough to kill over?”

  “She says the guy waved a gun at them once.” I opened the fridge and plucked a cold bottled Mocha Frappuccino from the door.

  Leatrice slid off the table. “Our first alternative suspect. Aren’t you glad you went to the hospital? Even if the groom wasn’t helpful, the maid of honor made up for it.”

  I took a long swig of the cold coffee drink and rested the bottle on the counter. “I’m pretty sure the groom isn’t glad I went.”

  I replayed the sight of the groom’s face when I let it slip that his wife was also a victim. He’d been shocked and upset. Not that I blamed him. It was bad enough to find yourself in the hospital with a bullet wound but then to be told by a virtual stranger that your wife of one day had also been shot? I hated to think what he was going through now.

  Leatrice poked her head o
ver the chest-high opening between the living room and kitchen and pushed back one side of the wooden accordion shutters that divided the two rooms. “What do you mean?”

  Before I could explain, a pounding on my door caused us both to jump.

  “Annabelle! Open up!”

  “Goodness.” Leatrice put a hand to her throat. “If that’s the UPS man, he needs to work on his customer service.”

  I came out of the kitchen and sighed. “It’s not the UPS man.” I knew exactly who it was and why he was pounding on my door and yelling. I opened the door and Detective Reese stood in the doorway, his arm up ready to recommence pounding.

  He strode into my living room, tossed his blazer over a dining room chair, and spun on his heel. “Are you completely insane?”

  Leatrice looked from him to me, her eyes wide. “Which one of us is he talking to?”

  I closed the door and turned to face him. “He’s talking to me.”

  “You’re damn right I’m talking to you.” He took a few long steps across the room, raking his fingers through his dark hair. “Do you have any idea what you’ve just done?”

  “I know I shouldn’t—”

  “Not only have you interfered with an ongoing police investigation that I specifically asked you to stay out of. For your own good, I should add. But you snuck into a hospital room of a man who was recovering from a gunshot and told him that his wife was dead.”

  Leatrice sucked in a breath. “He didn’t know his wife was dead?”

  I shook my head. “I didn’t say dead.”

  “Correction. That his wife was also a victim.” Reese interlocked his fingers behind his head and looked up at the ceiling. “Now he’s hysterical, the hospital is upset because they had to sedate him, the family is upset because they didn’t get to break the news to him at a more appropriate time, and my boss is screaming at me because a person of interest in the case is terrorizing victims.”

  I tried hard not to roll my eyes. “I would hardly clasify this as terrorizing.”