Terror in Taffeta Read online

  Mrs. Abernathy let out an exasperated sigh. “It’s dinnertime, Fernando. Tell Kelsey’s little friend we’re eating. She can call him later.”

  “It’s not Evan,” I said, offended that she’d assume it was my fault. “He’s flying right now.”

  “Then who is it?” Mrs. Abernathy demanded.

  “It’s a young man,” said Fernando. “He asked for Kelsey specifically.”

  “Okay,” I said, bewildered. “Did he say who he was?”

  Fernando bowed his head slightly before replying. “Yes, madam. That girl, Dana?”

  I nodded. I wasn’t sure where this was going, but I was pretty sure I didn’t want anything to do with it.

  “It is her fiancé.”

  We all looked at each other, trying to identify the person at the table to whom this might make sense. I didn’t know Dana had had a fiancé, and judging by the look on her face, Nicole didn’t, either.

  “He has flown in from the States,” Fernando continued. “Shall I send him in?”

  “Um, sure,” I said, glancing around the table for approval. As much as I hated to disrupt dinner, this new development had gotten the better of my curiosity, and everyone else nodded in agreement.

  “Of course, Fernando,” said Mrs. Abernathy. “Send him in. The poor boy.”

  As soon as Fernando left the room, we all tried to cram an hour’s worth of speculation into the ensuing two minutes. Why hadn’t Dana told us she was engaged? Why hadn’t she invited him to the wedding? And was she flying on to Barbados without him? How had he known where to find us? Was he heartbroken? Would there be tears? Would he—please, oh, please—be taking over the duties that had been dumped on me?

  All whispering stopped as the door swung open a few moments later. A tall, skinny guy with messy brownish-blond hair stood in the doorway, looking teary-eyed, jet-lagged, and awkward as all hell.

  “Hi, I’m Kirk. Kirk Larsen.” His eyes darted around the room, not sure exactly whom he should be introducing himself to.

  The moment might have been uncomfortable if it weren’t for Mrs. Abernathy, who seamlessly switched into hostess mode. “Fernando, set another place, please. Kirk, you must be starving. Please, put your things down.”

  “Thanks,” he said. He dropped a backpack on the floor next to his rolling suitcase and gratefully took the chair Fernando had pulled up to the table.

  We all stared at him, not sure what to say.

  “I’m Kelsey,” I said. “We’re so sorry for your loss.” The introductions and condolences continued around the table.

  “Dana told us such nice things about you,” Nicole said. I cocked my head at her lie. Bless her heart. Nicole would do anything to make someone feel better.

  “Thank you. I talked to Dana’s mom Sunday night, and she told me what happened.”

  “Have you arranged for a place to stay?” I asked gently. What was one more guest?

  “No, when I heard the news, I packed my things and came.”

  “Well, don’t you worry one bit,” said Mrs. Abernathy. “We’ve got plenty of room here, at least until Friday. You can stay with us.”

  “That’s awfully nice of you,” Kirk said. “But really, I don’t mind finding a hotel.”

  “Don’t be silly,” Mrs. Abernathy said. “I insist.”

  His voice cracked with emotion. “Thank you. I don’t even—thank you.”

  “Fernando,” I said, “can you send a housekeeper to make up—oh, shoot.”

  “What is it?” asked Mrs. Abernathy.

  “Well, the only room that’s open is … was…” It was Dana’s. I couldn’t get the word out.

  Mrs. Abernathy chimed in: “Kirk, is it okay if you stay in Dana’s room? Kelsey’s removed her belongings already.”

  “About that—her things are still in there.” I cringed, waiting for the response. “I was going to finish after dinner.”

  Mrs. Abernathy looked disappointed in me, but she bit her tongue in the presence of our new houseguest.

  “That’s okay,” Kirk said. “I’ll finish packing her stuff. I was planning on doing that anyway. I promised Mrs. Poole I’d settle Dana’s affairs.”

  Yes! I felt bad for Kirk, but I was happy to be absolved of Dana duty. I’d let him deal with her belongings and the coroner’s office; I had plenty to do just tending to Mrs. Abernathy.

  “Well, it’s settled, then,” said Mrs. Abernathy. “Fernando, please tell the housekeeper to freshen up Dana’s room.”

  “Very well,” said Fernando, exiting back into the kitchen.

  I felt excited about my newly lightened load for about twenty whole seconds before it hit me: the condoms! I didn’t know what Dana had been doing with a fully stocked condom drawer and I didn’t want to know, but I definitely didn’t want to leave them there for Kirk to discover. I didn’t really care about protecting her reputation, but I did care about protecting Kirk.

  “Will you excuse me?” I asked. “I just want to make sure they…” I pointed toward the door, then dashed through it, making record time up to Dana’s room. I retrieved the package from the garbage can, stuffed seven or eight foil squares into my various pants pockets, and wadded the empty box up into an unrecognizable ball that I hid in a planter of bougainvillea in the courtyard.

  I slipped back into my seat as Kirk was finishing up a story. “So anyway, that’s how we met.”

  “Had you set a date yet?” asked Nicole, clearly wondering why she hadn’t been invited to be in the wedding party.

  “It was all very sudden,” Kirk said, “but we wanted to do it before the baby came.”

  Vince choked on the bite of steak he had taken, coughing furiously while Nicole patted him on the back.

  A baby? A baby?! Poor Kirk. Dana had struck again, just like she had with Trevor. Brody and I focused our attention on our plates. Mrs. Abernathy simply stared, as expressionless as a Botox junkie. I hoped that for Kirk’s sake no one would mention the Dana and Trevor saga. It was too late for it to matter.

  Kirk looked alarmed at the reaction. “I’m sorry. Hadn’t she told you? Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything.”

  “Wow,” I responded, just to have something to say. “I had no idea. Then again, I’m just the wedding planner. Why would she tell me, right?” I was hoping we could gloss over the facts of who knew what, because if Dana really had been pregnant, surely she would have told Nicole, and it was clear she hadn’t said a word about it. Which could only lead me to one conclusion—one that was most likely shared by several members of our party.

  “Well,” Kirk said, “she might not have wanted to say anything till she was a little further along. We had just found out.”

  “I guess so,” Nicole said. “She hadn’t even started to show.” The expression on her face hardened as she caught up to what the rest of us had already concluded.

  “Well, we’re doubly sorry for your loss, then,” Mrs. Abernathy said, acting much kinder than I thought she was capable of being.

  We made polite chitchat, asking Kirk about his flight and how long he planned to stay; then Fernando returned to let us know that Kirk’s room was ready.

  “You must be exhausted after your flight,” I said, pushing my chair back. “C’mon, let’s get you settled in.”

  While Kirk gathered his bags, I heard Mrs. Abernathy clearing her throat behind me. “I believe you dropped something,” she said.

  Lying on the floor next to my chair was a ribbon of condoms, which I quickly snatched up and stuffed back into my pocket under the scrutiny of Mrs. Abernathy’s stare. Dammit. What was I going to say, “They were Dana’s”? I sheepishly shrugged and tilted my head toward Kirk, hoping Mrs. Abernathy would pick up on the psychic messages I was sending her. She didn’t. She just looked at me and shook her head.

  “Really, Kelsey. What are we going to do with you?”

  CHAPTER 16

  The next morning, I woke early and grudgingly began searching for a new place to stay in San Miguel de Allende. After l
eaving a message with my favorite rental agency, I called a few of my old standbys, only to find that they were booked.

  I did a cursory search from my laptop, running some dates through a couple of reservation sites. How many nights? Well, that was a big question mark, but I started with five, just to be safe. Nothing was available. I tried four days; still no luck. Three? Two? How could it be there was nothing available? I expanded my search parameters to include three-star hotels. Mrs. Abernathy wasn’t going to like it one bit, but at least she wouldn’t be sleeping in the bus station, using her Louis Vuitton luggage for a pillow. Still, nothing was coming up.

  Finally, my contact at the rental agency called me back. Lydia had helped me out many times before, and I was optimistic that she’d be able to find something for us.

  “This weekend?” she asked. “Oh, no. Kelsey, I hate to tell you this, but I’ve got nothing.”

  “Are you serious?” I asked, tapping my pen on the notepad that was waiting for me to jot phone numbers down on it. “Nothing at all?”

  “I’m afraid not. This weekend is the San Miguel Chamber Music Festival, and everything’s booked.”

  Mrs. Abernathy was going to kill me. I should have started calling sooner, but how was I supposed to know the chamber music festival was coming to town? It’s not like the streets were filled with the sound of cellos warming up—although their ominous sound would have probably made a fitting accompaniment to all the drama.

  “Okay,” I sighed. “Call me if anything opens up.” I hung up the phone.

  After seriously lowering my standards, I found some rooms available at a two-star motel on the outskirts of town, and I went ahead and reserved them just in case. Picturing the look on Mrs. Abernathy’s face when I helped her get checked in at the Casa Grande provided plenty of incentive for me to keep looking. Besides, considering Zoe’s situation, no one in the family was going to want to stay at someplace called the Big House.

  I sighed and slumped in my chair. Why couldn’t we just stay here in the villa? Stupid vacationers with their stupid rental agreement.

  At a loss as to what my next move would be, I decided to go visit Brody since I had some time to kill before my appointment with Jacinda. He opened the door, greeting me with “Oh, good, you’re up,” then yanked me inside before I even had a chance to say good morning. “I couldn’t sleep last night after our surprise guest arrived, so I spent some more time with the files.”

  That got my attention. His eyes were dancing with excitement—not to mention a vaguely self-congratulatory look that could only mean good news.

  “Wow, I was going to see if you wanted to go get croissants, but this is way better. Please tell me you found something.”

  “I found something. Dana had an entire dossier on LionFish.”

  “A dossier? What do you mean?”

  He opened his laptop and pointed at a spreadsheet with lots of red numbers. “She had all this information on the company, like e-mails and financial records.”

  “Really? Why?”

  “From what I could tell, the company was failing. Which in and of itself isn’t all that remarkable, except for the investors.”

  “The investors?” I didn’t know where he was going with this, but I perked up based on his tone alone.

  “Apparently, it wasn’t just Ryan’s company that was at stake. He had gotten his friends involved, too. And guess who was a silent partner? His best friend, Vince Moreno.”

  “Wow, that’s awkward.”

  “Only if Vince knew,” Brody said. He raised his eyebrows expectantly, waiting for me to catch up.

  I peered at the screen, then looked back at Brody as I started to piece it together. “What do you mean? Vince didn’t know the company was in trouble?”

  “Not according to these,” he said, double-clicking a folder to reveal dozens of backed-up e-mail files. “Ryan had been keeping it a secret from everyone, but somehow Dana found out. Apparently, she had a few thousand dollars invested, and when she realized it was gone, she found a way to get it back.”

  “You don’t mean…”

  “She was blackmailing him.”

  “Seriously? Whoa…”

  “Yeah. And he was paying her out of the company’s funds—which only compounded their financial problems.”

  “Wow,” I said, soaking it all in. “So if Dana was blackmailing him, that means he had a motive to kill her.”

  “That’s the best motive we’ve heard so far,” Brody said.

  A thought occurred to me, propelling me off the bed. “Brody! The tickets!”

  “Yeah? What about them?”

  “Remember? Dana was flying on to Barbados. This explains why there was no return flight home.”

  Brody nodded in agreement. “Right! Because she wasn’t going home.”

  I paced back and forth, excitedly putting all the pieces in place. “She was blackmailing Ryan, she came here to get the money, and she was going to disappear for a while. If you remember, she wasn’t even going to come until a couple weeks ago. I bet the only reason she changed her mind was so she could get her hands on the money.”

  Brody let out a low whistle. “Wow, good work.”

  “Thanks, but it was mostly you,” I said modestly.

  His blue eyes twinkled mischievously. “Oh, yeah, sorry, I meant me. I’m awesome.”

  “In fact,” I said, ignoring him, “it was probably Ryan who went to her room that night.”

  “So what now? Should we go talk to him?”

  “We can’t; he left town right after the wedding. But we could go talk to the police. I’m sure they can track him down.”

  Brody smiled and closed his laptop. “I think this calls for a breakfast cocktail, don’t you?”

  “Yes! Oh my God, I’m so relieved. This proves that he had a motive, and we know he had the opportunity—”

  “Not to mention the devilish good looks.”

  “Brody!” I tossed a pillow at him, but it sailed right past. “He’s a murderer. Don’t tell me you find him attractive?”

  “What? I’m only human. I notice things. Don’t tell me you didn’t.”

  “Whatever. I’m going to let your momentary lapse in judgment pass because you may have just freed us from this nightmare.”

  “So, can we go now?” Brody asked, looking at his watch.

  “Shoot,” I said. “I’m supposed to meet with Jacinda to talk about her wedding, but maybe we could get together afterward? I should be done by noon or so.”

  “I’ll do you one better, if you want. I’ll go to the police station and show them what we’ve found so they can get going on it.”

  “That’d be great!” I exclaimed. “Then maybe we can come home and start packing!”

  “Don’t get too excited. They probably won’t release Zoe just because we bring them a new lead. But hopefully this will point them in the right direction, and maybe in a day or two…”

  “Let’s hope so. I’m coming up empty on places for us to stay, and if I don’t figure out something soon, we’re going to be commuting into San Miguel from Querétaro.”

  We said our good-byes, and I headed toward the jardín, stopping at a little café to order a coffee to go. Transitioning into work mode, I grabbed an extra for Jacinda. Why? Because I’m an awesome wedding planner who takes care of people, anticipating their every need, from officiants to caffeine. If the last few days hadn’t proved that there was nothing I wouldn’t do for my clients, I didn’t know what would.

  I arrived about ten minutes early, settling onto a park bench. The jardín looked different in the light of day, much more subdued than when Evan and I had taken our evening stroll. Which reminded me: I owed him a phone call. I hoped he’d be excited that I’d found a new lead, even though it meant I was one step closer to going home. We’d both known this was temporary, but it was too bad we wouldn’t have more time to see where it might end up.

  Nah, I thought, shrugging it off. It was too bad we didn’t live in t
he same city, but I wasn’t about to feel bad about going back to my own life. He was the one who had decided to move to Mexico. If he wanted to see me, he could literally hop on a plane almost anytime.

  “Good morning,” Jacinda said, interrupting my thoughts and holding up two paper cups of coffee. “Look what I brought you!”

  “Ha!” I picked up the two cups I had secured earlier. “Great minds…”

  “Looks like we’ve got caffeine to spare,” she said jovially. “I brought café con leche. It’s really good. They make it with cinnamon.”

  “Oooh, let’s drink yours first, then. It sounds delicious.” We both took long drags off our coffee. If we were going to be overstimulated, we’d be overstimulated together.

  “I’ve been thinking about your venue,” I said. “I don’t know if you’ve seen the Escuela de Bellas Artes, but it has a similar feel to the Instituto.”

  “Oh, interesting,” she said. “I’ve looked into taking classes there, but I’ve never actually been in the building, I’m ashamed to say.”

  “It’s beautiful,” I replied. “It was part of a church—a monastery, I think—and they turned it into an art school back in the 1930s. It has a courtyard that would be just perfect.”

  “Sounds great! Maybe we can go look at it later.” She popped the plastic lid off her cup, releasing ribbons of steam, then swirled the creamy liquid around to let it cool. “So how does this work—with you, I mean? Do we do a contract, or…?”

  “Well, if this means I’m hired, then yes!”

  “Of course! I’m sorry. I thought it was obvious,” she laughed.

  “Great. Then I’ll write up a proposal, and we can go from there.”

  “I hope you’ll accept these fancy coffee drinks as a down payment, at least until I can get you a check,” she said. We clicked our paper cups together in a makeshift toast.

  “Luckily for you,” I said, “I am easily bribed.” I stood up, a coffee cup in each hand, and gestured toward the church. “Shall we?”