Cast for Murder by Jeanne Quigley

Author:Jeanne Quigley
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Jeanne Quigley
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Julia Rogan’s event-planning business was located on a tree-lined street in Bolton Landing, a Barton neighbor to the south. Her office was on the end of a row of three other shops: a hair salon, florist, and travel agent. Scrawled on the shop window in elegant script was her new venture’s name: Soirees by Julia.

I took a glance at the window display before going inside. A vase stuffed with a giant arrangement of assorted flowers stood in the center of the bay window. I wondered if Julia had paid for it or if the floral shop two doors down had loaned it to her in an entrepreneurial act of synergy (I bet all four businesses were in a constant state of mutual recommendation). An opened white album beside the vase displayed a photograph of a bride and groom standing under a tree, a large swath of grass surrounding them. In the window’s right corner a placard held on a small easel announced in elegant script the nature of Julia’s enterprise. Whether the celebration was a wedding or vow renewal, baby or bridal shower, retirement party, corporate event, or birthday party, Julia’s talent would make the day beautiful. One item in her list caught me by surprise: Julia was available for divorce parties, too.

“I suppose that’s a cause of celebration for some,” I muttered.

I stepped into the shop, soothed at once by a blast of warm air and scent of lavender and vanilla. Along the right side of the shop were shelf and table displays of candles, photo albums, and guest books. Right near the door was a selection of reading material, including books of poetry for weddings, verses for vows, and toasts for every occasion. There was an oak table to my left and behind it a shelf of white binders. I noted the label on one binder’s spine: Destination Weddings. At the back of the room were a desk and three cushioned chairs around a coffee table.

Behind the desk sat a woman in her early thirties. She acknowledged me with a smile and held up a finger, signaling her phone call would end in a moment.

Julia ended her call and greeted me. After shaking my hand, she brushed aside a long strand of the auburn hair that had fallen across her brow and rested her wide, green-eyed gaze on me. “What type of event are you planning, Veronica?”

“I’m not planning a party.”

“Oh?”

“No.” I felt compelled to apologize. “I’m here about a mutual friend. Gigi Swanson. I understand you recently left your job at Townsend’s.”

Julia pressed her hand against her heart and her eyelids fluttered. “I’m heartbroken over her death.” She paused for a beat. “That’s right. You’re starring in the BCT’s latest production. Is it still going to go on?”

“Yes. Sophie Morrissey is now the director.”

“Good for Sophie. Are you here selling tickets to the show?”

“Not exactly. Though . . .” I filled her in on the gala benefit and asked if she would attend.

Julia pouted in dismay. “Oh, I’m so sorry I can’t make it.

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