Chapter 31
THIRTY-ONE
Savilla stopped by to check on Lacy and me just as we got back to our suite, and though she didn’t come right out and ask the question, I could tell she wanted to know if the wedding would go on as scheduled.
“The wedding is as planned,” I said firmly, and when my sister appeared confused by my tone, Lacy tried to intervene.
“Even though a man was murdered?” Savilla asked, stricken. “And even though Charlie is behind bars?”
Both of those were great questions, ones that I was pretty confident everyone here this weekend would be asking.
“Deputy Wright is on it, and her team believes it’s an isolated incident. Someone had beef with Todd, and they did their worst. Keeping everyone here will buy her time to look into the suspects’ backgrounds.”
When I finished speaking, I realized that in my nervousness I’d been talking very quickly.
Part of those nerves came from hiding so much from my sister, but at least the second half of my statement was true.
The wedding was happening in part to solve a murder, but Savilla didn’t seem convinced.
She started to protest, but Lacy interrupted her.
“And, um, I’m dying to marry Anton, which is, um, a very poor choice of words, I realize, but it’s just…” Lacy trailed off, looking to me to take over.
“It’s what Todd Anderson would’ve wanted. He was very excited about being in this ceremony.” That was likely true too, I realized, though Todd had probably been much more excited about filching an expensive painting than anything else.
I hated lying to Savilla, and I swore in that moment that when all of this was said and done, I would fill her in on every detail.
Savilla took my words in stride, sensing that I wasn’t telling her the full story but also willing to trust me.
“Of course, you want your big day to be as soon as possible, and I’m sure you’re right. Reverend Todd would want you two to be joined in holy marriagimony just like you planned.” Savilla gave both of us a generous smile. “Everything will be perfect and I’ll see you in the Salon in a few.”
While we prepped and preened in the hours leading up to the ceremony, I heard nothing from Charlie or Jill. The Swanson family was strangely absent as well, no longer causing a fuss over who would marry Anton or bursting into the room with their loud personalities.
I kept checking my phone as the makeup artist and hair dresser worked their wonders, turning me into the maid of honor that I was always meant to be.
Aunt DeeDee popped in and out, zipping us up and pouring us more drinks, and Savilla and Jemma kept the conversation lively, making me glad that I hadn’t let my sister in on this mystery at least. One of us needed to be oblivious enough to not be freaking out.
I only hoped that mine and Lacy’s nerves would be attributed to the large guest list rather than to fear of whoever had killed Todd.
I still hadn’t heard a peep from Deputy Wright as I stood in the Salon in full makeup and an updo, ready to make my way down to the ballroom with the rest of the party.
Lacy’s mother was helping her get into her dress, now fully repaired, and two photographers were milling about, snapping candids and buzzing in and out of view.
“You know you don’t have to do this,” Lacy’s mother had told her. “It’s been… quite a weekend. We can reschedule, perhaps try a destination wedding next summer.”
Lacy hadn’t told her parents about the stolen art or our side investigations, but they knew a man was dead and that was enough.
“I want to marry Anton,” Lacy had answered, which was true.
I stood next to Savilla, who stood next to Jemma, in front of a long mirror, waiting to see Lacy in her full glory.
“Maybe it will be your turn soon?” Savilla said, interrupting my thoughts.
“For…?” I asked, genuinely unsure what she meant. For thieving? For murdering?
“For nuptials!” Savilla finished. “For maritated bliss!”
Although I guessed she meant “marital” and “consummated”, the word sounded more like some kind of marination, a prospect that wasn’t nearly as inviting. But I wasn’t going to argue with her this afternoon.
“What about you?” I said to Savilla. “You really seemed to enjoy holding Ollie for hours during the bachelorette party.”
“I have no romantic prospectives, but I’d love to be a doting auntie,” Savilla answered, raising her eyebrows.
“Ooooh… me too,” Aunt DeeDee said, coming into the room and immediately getting in on the conversation. “Can’t you just see a little Dakota–Charlie combo running around these halls?”
I could not see it, but I didn’t want to burst their bubble. “Maybe someday, but first we need to make sure he’s out of jail. Visiting him at the penitentiary for two hours each Saturday might put a damper on our future plans.”
Jemma laughed. She’d been mostly unfazed and unafraid by the events of the weekend, which was how she operated most of the time. I still remembered wandering through the tunnel under the estate during the pageant, with her attempting to keep me from freaking out.
“I never want kids,” Jemma said, as she wrinkled her nose in distaste. “They poop and sleep. Then, they walk and poop and sleep. Then, they complain and walk and poop and sleep. Kids aren’t like wine. They don’t improve with age.”
Savilla swatted playfully at her, and she put an arm over each of our shoulders, looking at our reflections in the glass. Momma would’ve been proud to see us like this, even if it was in the middle of a criminal investigation.
“Bridal party, ready?” called a member of staff who was applying to be the Rose Palace’s full-time wedding coordinator. Savilla had told her that directing this ceremony could be part of her trial run.
“Ready.”
I turned as Lacy stepped forward in her full regalia for the first time, swaths of fabric fitted around her perfect figure, tulle and satin shrouding her as if she were a gift to be unwrapped.
“You look like a dream,” Savilla said with a sigh.
“Perfection,” Aunt DeeDee declared.
“You look like the prettiest meringue ever,” I said, making Lacy and the others laugh. I took her hand in mine and squeezed. “Really, though, you are so beautiful.”
“Ditto,” Lacy said, and I knew that she meant it in all the ways. “I’m sorry Charlie’s not here.”
“Me too, but it’s okay. Like you said, today’s just a blip on the rest of our lives.”
“A blip,” Lacy agreed, stroking the back of my hand with her thumb.
“Time to line up,” the coordinator shouted, just as Deputy Wright burst into the room, startling all of us.
“We have it!” Jill called loudly enough for the other side of the house to hear. She was waving something in her hands, and Charlie was right behind her, looking just like I’d seen him a few hours earlier, but now free from behind those bars.
My heart raced as Charlie hurried toward me, pulled me to him, and lifted me off the ground in a tight hug. He smelled a bit musty, but in that moment I didn’t care.
“What do you have?” I asked, finding my words.
“The prepaid phone registration,” Jill answered.
“Who owns the phone?” Lacy asked.
“We don’t have a full name, but we do have an initial,” Jill answered. “Does M. Swanson mean anything to you?”
“It could be Michael Swanson, but Charlie said the person on the other end of the line was a woman, so it’s more likely M as in Myrtis,” I suggested. “She seems very in-the-know. If she didn’t make the call herself, I could see her picking up a phone for someone.”
Jill turned to Charlie. “Any idea how she got your number?”
He lifted a shoulder. “A quick search of the station’s website would do it.”
Jill’s eyes were astounded. “Really? Is mine there too?”
“No, only the sheriff’s. It’s such a small community that it’s been common practice ever since the station put up a website back in 2000.”
“Probably needs to change now,” I said, a bit saddened by the reality that Aubergine wasn’t as safe as I’d once imagined. Apparently, trouble came to us even if we weren’t looking for it.
“First things first.” Charlie nodded slowly. “Dakota, we need you to do the heavy lifting. We can’t exactly walk into the ceremony looking like this.” He motioned to the deputy in her full uniform before pointing at himself. “And I’m supposed to be in jail. We’d be sure to spook the criminals.”
“Wait.” Lacy inserted herself into the conversation. “Are you planning to call this person during the ceremony?”
“That’s the idea,” Charlie admitted, though I could tell it pained him to interrupt her ceremony, especially after everything else this weekend. “Dakota will be our lookout from the front, and we’ll be watching from the back to see if anyone checks their pockets or their bags when it buzzes.”
“And if they threw out the phone already?” I asked, catching the confused expressions of Savilla, Jemma, and Aunt DeeDee, but also not having time to explain right then.
“They could’ve tossed the phone, yes,” Jill said, “but my guess is that they haven’t, especially since they don’t have all of the paintings in hand yet.” I knew this was true because I still had the Perry piece I’d taken from the lockbox hidden in my room.
Jill continued: “And the phone is obviously key in all the planning for this weekend.”
“You think they’ll only toss the phone after all this is done and dusted,” I said, my mind racing.
Charlie had received a call about security at The Rose during the rehearsal dinner; Todd was then shot and fell from his fourth-floor balcony at The Rose; there had been a note appearing to blame Charlie in the man’s pocket…
Yes, everything about the murder started with that first call to Charlie.
As I thought about the phone, my eye fell on something pink peeking out from beneath the low couch, close to where I’d found the bag on Friday night when Bella had been in here slashing Lacy’s dress and presumably stealing the painting.
It was the same pink bag.
I glanced at Lacy and then at the others gathered there. “Has anyone else been in here today? Besides us?”
Savilla shook her head. “Definitely not. This room is off limits to regular guests.”
That didn’t stop Bella on Friday night, I thought, but didn’t say. “Then whose is this?”
Savilla’s eyes widened and she tilted her head. “That’s a Birkin bag,” she said. “They’re handmade by Hermès and worth twenty to thirty grand, easy. I noticed Bella carrying it on Friday night. Maybe she stopped by?”
No one answered Savilla’s question as I opened it, remembering the weapons that had been inside two nights earlier.
I saw that the pricey bag still contained the same items. I removed the box cutter, one that had likely cut canvases out of frames.
I pushed open the blade and could still see the fragments of the thick fabric.
“There’s also pepper spray, this short round telescope thing…” Jill wordlessly handed me gloves, and I removed the objects from the bag one at a time.
Charlie’s eyes widened as he shot a look at the deputy. “That’s a silencer.”
That caught my attention. “Could it have been used when Todd Anderson was shot?”
“It’s likely.” The deputy turned back to me. “You mentioned that Bella was carrying this bag. Do you know for sure that it’s hers?”
“It’s a Birkin,” Savilla clarified again, obviously not grasping quite what mattered in this moment.
The deputy shook her head slightly. “Do you know for sure to whom this Birkin belongs?”
“I thought it belonged to Bella,” I said, trying to remember when I’d first seen her carrying it.
Something vague she’d said crept into the edges of my mind.
“But,” I continued slowly, “Bella did say something strange when I found her here on Friday night: even as she asked me to give her the bag, she said it wasn’t hers. ”
“Have you seen anyone else with it this weekend?” Charlie asked.
My eyes lit up. I had seen someone else with it.
At the Morning Brew in the late hours of the bachelorette party, Charlotte had slung it across her shoulder and patted it affectionately, almost as if she had her own baby inside. And then I suddenly saw the image of her when I’d first met her before the bachelorette party on Friday night.
She’d taken yellow-tinted glasses from her hair and placed them in the bag.
This bag was hers, and those glasses weren’t for reading or for driving or for keeping the sun out of her eyes; in fact, those glasses wouldn’t even be comfortable in the daytime. They were for nighttime, for the minute that she needed to see clearly in the dark to take deadly aim.
“It has to belong to Char—” As I started to say the cousin’s name, it was as if a light bulb went off in my head. Her name could’ve been turned so easily into a nickname by family and friends.
I let out a soft gasp as understanding dawned and I muttered, “Blame Charlie.” I was stunned as I turned to Charlie. “That note wasn’t talking about you at all.”
Charlie studied me, trying to follow my reasoning.
“Big Mike is a nickname, so is Charlie, which means Charlie has to be…” I bit my lip, running the details through my mind at lightning speed to ensure they made sense. It did. It had to. “Charlie is Charlotte Swanson.”
Jill looked at me puzzled, so Charlie explained the notes. “That could be it,” she mused when he finished.
I started to hand the bag to Jill, but as I did so, I noticed that it was still heavy, with some kind of weight moving in the bottom of it. I reached my hand inside, but nothing was there. Still, I was sure this bag wasn’t empty.
I flipped open the box cutter and reached inside to cut open the fabric in the bottom.
“Don’t,” Savilla said, with a gasp and an outstretched hand.
I gave her a gentle smile. “This is evidence, Savilla. Not just a pricey bag.”
“It’s not just a bag,” Savilla said, “and it’s a work of art.”
“But not worth a man’s life,” Jill said, taking the bag from me and quickly cutting into the bottom. Her eyes widened as she reached inside and pulled out a gun.
Charlie studied it, knowing in an instant the make and model. “This has to be the gun that killed Todd Anderson.”