Happily Never After (Claire Hartley Accidental Mysteries #3)
Chapter 1
CHAPTER ONE
To Do:
- Call caterer
- Groomer appointment for Rosie
- Email city of Los Angeles
“Absolutely not. I said buffalo plaid, not tartan plaid. Yes, there is a difference. I was very clear when I spoke to Janice. Is she available?”
On hold, Claire Hartley tapped her foot against the Italian floor tiles in her kitchen. The sun was beginning to set on the cool April evening, sending long shadows across the acres of impeccably manicured yard that had been freshly mulched in near-freezing temperatures the week before. She straightened the Jell-O shot Battleship station at the breakfast nook.
The line picked back up. Claire took a deep breath and collected her thoughts. She was letting the stress of the day get to her. Being shouty and rude was unprofessional and unkind.
“Listen, I know you’re just trying to do your job. I respect you as a caterer, and I know you’re capable of wonderful service. But if the waiters don’t show up in the agreed-upon buffalo plaid bow ties, it’s going to compromise the entire party aesthetic. They won’t match the napkins.”
Maybe she was being a little extra. But this was the first of Luke’s birthdays they would celebrate as a couple. He deserved a perfect day.
Janice muttered something apologetic on the other end.
Movement in the foyer drew Claire’s gaze. “Oh, Mindy, can you put those on the back table in the ballroom, next to the whiskey fountain? Thank you.”
Mindy, Claire’s assistant and one of her best friends, plucked a case of snifters from the island and disappeared down the hallway. The smell of hibiscus and spearmint gum lingered in her wake.
The hold music resumed. Apparently being polite wasn’t going to work either.
“Caterer not cooperating?” Nicole Collins asked, new diamond wedding band sparkling on her ring finger. An expensive camera was slung around her neck, partially obscured by her waterfall of chestnut-colored hair. Kyle, her husband as of two months ago, seemed to be attached to her hip. He was dressed for the occasion in a sport jacket and loafers. Nicole glowed next to him in her strappy, amethyst cocktail dress. They were both tan, fresh off a plane from their two-week Caribbean honeymoon.
“I told you not to use them again. Not after the McCaffery proposal.” Nicole paused to bring her camera to eye level and capture the plaid-and-burlap birthday banner Claire had just finished hanging in the foyer.
“Caviar at a vegan proposal,” Claire muttered, shaking her head. “I stretched the party budget too thin. They were the only option left. If they don’t show up in buffalo plaid, they’re going to get a less than enthusiastic review on Yelp.”
The hold music ended. “Hello, yes? Oh, hi, Janice. I understand. Thank you so much for taking care of it. I appreciate the discount. The chefs will still be here within the hour? Wonderful. Bye.”
With a sigh, she crammed her cell phone into the sweetheart neckline of her emerald-green, floor-length dress. It was a crime that formal dresses didn’t include pockets. She left Nicole and Kyle in the kitchen, where they had huddled into the breakfast nook to canoodle in that extra smug newlywed way.
She started down the wainscoted hallway, eyeballing the floor for stray hair. Spotting several clumps undoubtedly left there recently by her absent corgi Rosie, she swore and twisted the knob on her office door. It was locked, but she hadn’t been the one to lock it. A flutter stirred in her belly, and she rubbed at the scar on her wrist. Surely they wouldn’t sneak into her house during a party. They’d been silent for months.
It took standing on her tiptoes to reach above the doorframe. Her pinky brushed against the tiny silver key. She crammed it into the small hole in the knob. Pop. The door swung open.
Something crashed to the floor. Her heart leapt into her throat. She flipped the light switch on and stormed into the room, grabbing the nearest weapon—a wrought iron lamp.
“Oh, hey, Claire,” came a voice from the floor.
She glanced down. Mindy lay flat on her back on the rug. The cap of a pen seemed to be stuck in her mane of raven hair, and the neckline on her black cocktail dress was crooked. Her green eyes sparkled in amusement. As disheveled as she was, she looked like a portrait that belonged in a museum.
“Seriously, Mindy? There are five bedrooms upstairs. Sawyer, you might as well come out,” Claire called into the room. Where could the mammoth-sized man possibly be hiding?
A pair of chocolate-colored eyes peeked over the edge of her scrubby, shabby-chic desk. It had been a hand-me-down from her mother. And now it was soiled. A moment later, six feet and seven inches of steel and sinew appeared.
“Hey, Claire. Great party.”
“It hasn’t even started yet.” She crossed her arms. The man may have saved her from a serial killer last spring, but that didn’t mean he got to exchange bodily fluids on her desk. “Can you take this party upstairs before you give someone else a heart attack? And Mindy, I could use your help with coordinating the—is that yours?”
A hot pink, lacy thong that she had most certainly not left there dangled from the picture frame that housed her business degree.
“I don’t know how that got there. I’ll dispose of it for you.” Mindy stood and stuffed it into her clutch.
Claire set the lamp back down and leaned over to pick up their robot vacuum, shaking her head as she shut the door and turned it on. It chugged merrily down the hallway, banging haphazardly off the molding and sucking up clumps of dog hair. Where was that dog, anyway?
Her phone dinged with a notification, and she glanced down then nearly dropped it. Shit . Luke’s flight was arriving twenty minutes early. He refused to check a bag, so there would be nothing to slow him down once he exited the plane.
She scrolled through her recently dialed numbers and found the limo driver.
“Ted! Hi, it’s Claire. Listen, Luke’s flight is landing twenty minutes early. Oh, you are? That’s great. Thank you so much. Tito’s outside with the sign, right? It’s not checkered, it’s plaid. It’s part of the party aesthetic. Listen, just pick him up, okay? Shoot me a text before you leave the airport, and then again when you’re about to pull up the driveway.”
Thank god she had told the driver the wrong time on purpose. Luke landing at the airport with no ride was not part of the surprise party.
She hung up and opened the French doors to the ballroom. It was almost perfect. Pictures of Luke growing up were artistically arranged on tables that were soon to be covered in his favorite foods. A whiskey fountain bubbled merrily in the corner, next to a display of miniature pies—Luke hated cake—that stood nearly three feet tall. A bartender set up glasses at the bar in the corner. At least Mindy had managed to take the snifters to the ballroom before getting busy.
Stepping out onto the stamped concrete patio, Claire waved at George, the plump, middle-aged videographer who worked for her proposal planning business when Luke wasn’t available. He was testing out the projector, which was hooked up to Luke’s video game console.
Cornhole boards and ladder golf stood a few feet away. Cocktail tables were scattered across the backyard under the stars, and a bartender was beginning to set up at the wet bar next to the pool. If anyone walked away from this party hungry and/or sober, it was their own fault.
Was that the tip of a snoot poking out from beneath the banquet table? She strode over and lifted the edge of the tablecloth.
“Rosie! Drop the beanbag,” Claire scolded.
Her elusive corgi clamped down even harder on the plaid beanbag and sprinted out from her hiding place, rocketing toward the edge of the yard. Her nails scrabbled over the dance floor that had been erected over the pool. Claire threw her hands up in the air and crossed the patio back to the house. That furry asshole was as stubborn as she was adorable.
Mindy rushed into the ballroom, nearly slipping on the marble tiles. Her dress was still crooked. “You invited Luke’s mom? Are you insane?” she hissed.
“What? Rachel? I didn’t?—”
“Hello, Claire,” a cool voice said.
Her shoulders bunched up like someone had just run an icicle down her spine.
“I came by to drop this off for Lucas, but I see you’re otherwise occupied.” Rachel eyed the tinkling whiskey fountain and buffalo plaid coasters as if they were going to leap off the table and strangle her. If only.
She stiffly held out a small, lapis-colored gift bag.
The odds that the bag contained a live snake were low, but not zero. Claire took it like it was a bomb and gingerly set it on a cocktail table. “Thank you, Rachel. Luke’s flight hasn’t landed yet. We were just having a small get-together to celebrate his birthday. You’re welcome to stay, of course. He’ll be so surprised.” Because she wasn’t invited.
“I suppose I could stay for a few minutes. Just until he gets here,” she said, already trailing off as she spotted the bar outside.
“Oh—okay.” Claire barely had time to blink before Rachel’s Manolos had clacked across the marble tile and disappeared.
“At least your boobs weren’t out this time,” Mindy said, picking up Rachel’s gift bag and moving it to a table in the corner. It had been several months since Claire’s first meeting with Rachel, during which she had fallen into the pool and lost her top when Rachel arrived unannounced at Luke’s house. Rachel had also briefly served as a defense attorney for the man who tried to kill Claire, so they were definitely even now. They hadn’t made much headway since.
Claire’s phone vibrated, and she pulled it out to see a picture and text from Luke. His childhood sports hero, Tito Corona, held a plaid sign stating “L Islestorm.”
Luke: Is this for real??
“Look.” She shoved her phone at Mindy, who was rearranging the pies on the display. “He’s on his way.”
“He’s totally fan-boying.” She picked up a pecan pie and took a bite. “What did he play again? Baseball?”
“Professional wrestling.” Claire smiled. Mindy’s interest in sports did not extend beyond how the players looked in their uniforms.
“Huh. How did you find him, anyway?” Mindy stepped back and surveyed the display as she munched.
“Donna from the flower shop dated him in high school. He lives in Philly.”
“Damn, Donna. Can I ask an insensitive question?” Mindy polished off the mini pie.
Claire raised her eyebrows. “Is there any other kind of question with you?”
“Shut up. How are you affording all of this? With our plan coming up and everything, I mean.”
Claire glanced around the ballroom. She didn’t want Rachel snooping in her business, and definitely not in her financials. Luke didn’t even know about her and Mindy’s plan. “I just wanted to have one last celebration before we really buckle down. I want him to know how important he is to me. And besides, I’m paying for this mostly with ad revenue from people streaming the proposal videos, actually.” A dozen proposal videos on their YouTube channel were pulling in a surprising amount of cash.
“Didn’t you look at last week’s paycheck?” she added. “We had a huge bump in traffic.”
Mindy shrugged and reached for the mojito the bartender had just set down. “It’s direct deposit. As long as the rent’s paid and my checks aren’t bouncing, I don’t really pay much attention.”
Claire shook her head and dragged one of the cocktail tables an inch to the right.
A gaggle of Luke’s friends walked into the ballroom, and she waved them into the backyard. Despite a strict no gift policy, she had now added two six packs of beer and a Cuban cigar to the table with Rachel’s gift bag. Scanning the ballroom and the yard showed that everything was under control for the moment. There already seemed to be a rousing game of flip cup happening near the eastern tree line.
The catering team arrived, sending the smell of smoked ribs wafting down the hallway. They set to work in Luke’s kitchen, making his favorites—miniature bacon cheeseburger sliders, smoked ribs, mac and cheese, and soft pretzels.
“I’m not complaining, but Luke eats like a toddler,” Nicole observed, snatching a cup of mac and cheese from a passing waiter.
Claire shot her a dirty look before glancing at her phone. “Oh shit, he’s here! Kyle, get everyone from the back. To the living room. And lights off, please,” she said to the chef, who sighed and moved his pan to an unlit burner.
Twenty people piled into the living room, ducking behind furniture and stumbling over each other in the dark. Rachel refused to crouch and instead stood behind a coat rack, sipping a dirty martini and inspecting her nail beds.
A pair of headlights wound up Luke’s serpentine driveway. The lights flashed over a shape, and Claire’s breath hitched. What the hell was that, a hunchback? Her heart rate skyrocketed. The lights shifted, revealing a clumpy bush that bore an undeniable resemblance to a stooped human being.
She exhaled noisily. Get it together, girl. She definitely would have remembered if one of the members of ESA, the group of murderous frat boys who had tried to kill her the summer before, was a hunchback.
Sawyer crouched next to her on the floor. He put a reassuring hand on her shoulder, and she relaxed. Even if there was a murderous hunchback in her front yard, she was well-equipped to handle them. Six months of self-defense lessons with Sawyer, who owned a private security company, had turned her into a machine.
It had been almost a year since she had been drugged, kidnapped, and nearly murdered in a newly constructed hotel owned by one of her clients. Barely three months later, she and her friends almost single-handedly took down a local ring of kidnappers and serial killers masquerading as a fraternity, Epsilon Sigma Alpha, at her alma mater. Nightmares about that night still plagued her—her father’s blood swirling into the moonlit lake, sweaty, meaty arms wrapping around her from behind. The crunch of a broken nose.
Even though ESA had fallen silent, she still looked over her shoulder every time she walked the streets of West Haven. Her brain incessantly scanned for danger, cataloging all the men in a two-block radius. Prickles of fear caused her to turn around abruptly in grocery stores, trying to catch the person she was certain was staring at her, tracking her. Last week, an abrupt about-face had startled an old woman so much that she screamed and dropped a glass jar of pickles.
The local chapter of ESA may have been taken down, but there were more. A quick Google search had revealed two dozen chapters spread across the United States. Fraternity details had been wiped from university websites after the West Haven branch had been shut down, but that hadn’t stopped Claire’s research. Barney Windsor and his cronies were just the tip of the iceberg. Something told her this silence wasn’t going to last for long.
The limo pulled to a stop, and Tito slid out first, followed by Luke, who didn’t seem to notice that his side yard was full of vehicles. The two appeared to be deeply involved in conversation as they came up the walkway, Luke enthusiastically gesturing with his toned arms. He raised his hand to the keypad, typing in the code and pushing the door open.
“ Surprise ,” everyone yelled as he flicked the light on.
“ Fuck .” He juked to the side and covered his junk with one hand.
Everyone laughed and clapped while Luke leaned against the breakfast nook, hands on his knees.
“Happy birthday, handsome,” Claire said, sidling up next to him and giving him a kiss on the cheek. “You didn’t think I would forget, did you?”
Luke unclenched one hand to draw her close. “You’re insane.”
“Yeah, yeah. I love you too.”
He dipped her suddenly, kissing her deeply. The muscles in his back rippled as she gripped them for balance. Her heart swelled in her chest, and all thoughts of ESA vanished like they were wiped from a whiteboard. Warmth spread from her fingertips to her toes. Did he really need to be present for his birthday party? Nobody would notice if they disappeared upstairs for a few minutes, right? They had just replaced the comforter and pillows but had yet to break them in. An arm with a snake tattoo reached between them and startled her out of her hormone-fueled thoughts. His friend Andy never did have a grasp on personal space.
She stepped away and let the throng of friends and family descend on him. Luke smiled and laughed as he shared anecdotes with each of them. He was a grumpy pain in the ass at least sixty percent of the time, but she loved him anyway.
“Great party, Claire,” Kyle said through a mouthful of ribs. “The whiskey fountain is a nice touch.”
“Thanks.” She picked up a glass of white wine. The surprise was over. Luke was having a great time. Finally she could relax and enjoy.
Kyle took a step closer to her and lowered his voice. “Do you have a second to talk? It’s about the case. I know it’s not the best time, but I think you should hear it from me first. You know, rather than on Marnie in the Morning .”
So much for relaxing. She set her glass down more forcefully than she intended to on the granite countertop. What was it this time?
“Okay,” she said reluctantly, and followed Kyle back down the hallway.