Sky high pies 29- The bride cried murder by Mary Maxwell

Author:Mary Maxwell
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: UNKNOWN
Published: 2019-05-29T22:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 21

Lacey Lancaster looked like a fluffy swirl of cotton candy when she and another middle-aged woman strolled into the coffee shop at the resort around two o’clock on Tuesday afternoon. She was dressed from head to toe in pink: pink sunglasses, a pink blouse, pink Capri pants and pink running shoes.

“There you are!” she called, fluttering the fingers of her right hand. “I’m sorry that we’re late. Queen Tara of Procrastination couldn’t decide which shoes she wanted to wear.”

I glanced at the other woman’s feet: orange flip-flops that coordinated flawlessly with her carrot-colored yoga pants and tank top.

“Tara Weaver,” she said, handing me a business card. “If you need an event planner in the greater Sedberry vicinity, I’m the only choice that makes sense.”

Humble, I thought, glancing at the card. Events Extravaganza, it read. Tara Weaver, Chief Executive Officer & Creative Visionary. The background was a glamour shot of Tara dressed in a slinky black velvet dress, multiple strands of pearls and the kind of hazy grin seen on dental patients after they inhale a big cloud of nitrous oxide.

“Thanks very much for the card,” I said. “What a distinctive design.”

The corners of her mouth lifted. “Isn’t it, though? That came to me in a dream. It was literally the middle of the night. I just sat up in bed, woke my husband and said, ‘Black velvet, pearls and a pair of Louboutin metallic crystal sandals.’”

“Which set her back two grand,” Lacey said, removing her sunglasses to reveal an abundance of smoky shadow and heavy eye liner. “But nothing’s too good for Tara.”

I checked the business card again. The pricey sandals weren’t even visible in the photograph.

“What’s the problem?” Tara asked her friend. “Your husband could you buy ten pairs out of petty cash any old day of the week.”

They shared a high-pitched giggle that made my skin crawl, but I kept a smile on my face and waited for the hilarity to subside.

“I’m sure the sandals are beautiful,” I said.

Tara reached into her handbag. “I’ve got a bunch of pictures on my phone,” she said. “Would you like to—”

“Let’s save that for another time,” Lacey said. “I’m sure Katie has better things to do than ooh and aah over shots of your feet.”

Tara arched one eyebrow. “Suit yourself,” she said.

“Let’s not be that way,” Lacey said. “You know that I love you, Tay-Tay.”

I flinched at the pet name, but the two women missed it because they were gazing at one another like love struck friends on the playground during recess.

“Anyway,” Tara continued, after we shook hands and I sat down, “it’s so good to hear that you’re trying to help Detective Westgate figure out who killed Adam Dorsey. I was at the bungalow when it happened, but had just gone outside in the back to help Marisol load a bunch of leftover food and supplies into the van.”

“Did you hear the gunshots?”

She pursed her lips. “How could I not? They were so incredibly loud! Just bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang!”

I smiled.

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