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“Fine, if that’s the way you’re going to be about it,” he said sulkily.
“It is.”
His good-bye was curt. Jaclyn hung up, figuring she wouldn’t hear from him for the next few months. Part of her was relieved, part of her was sad, and all of her was exasperated; the latter was pretty much her default setting when dealing with her father. She loved him, but she never relied on him. Her rose-colored glasses had been broken a long time ago and she saw him as he was, warts and all.
Funny how exasperation made her feel a little less worried about her precarious legal situation. No, she wasn’t less worried, just not as focused on being worried. Jacky was good for that, at least.
She hurriedly finished dressing, grabbed her appointment book, then for a split second looked for her briefcase before memory slammed into her head. The cops had her briefcase. “Oh, no,” she groaned, momentarily closing her eyes in dismay. She needed her briefcase; it held all the details of the rehearsals and weddings that were rushing at her like high tide. Surely she could get it back today … couldn’t she? She couldn’t think of any reason why she wouldn’t be able to get it, because her briefcase didn’t have anything to do with Carrie’s murder, other than just lying there at the scene. Or would they consider it evidence? Maybe it was covered with Carrie’s blood.
Crap. Crap, crap, crap!
Knowing it was her own fault—leaving her briefcase behind—didn’t help the situation. She had Eric’s card in her purse, with his private cell number written on the back. She hated to call him for anything, but maybe he’d say No problem, the briefcase wasn’t the murder weapon, you can pick it up at headquarters. Maybe. Doubtful, but maybe. Because she was a suspect, she thought they’d probably keep the briefcase as proof she was there, as if they needed any more proof. Maybe the briefcase was circumstantial evidence, a reason for her to go back to the reception hall after meeting Madelyn.
She’d never know if she didn’t try. A quick glance at the clock, though, told her that it might be too early to call. The fact that she didn’t even know what hours he worked pointed out to her all over again how incredibly reckless she’d been to sleep with him on such short acquaintance.
Even if she couldn’t retrieve the briefcase, she still had all of the information in physical files and on her computer at the office; it would be time-consuming to access all the files and pull the pertinent information out, but she could do it.
Frustrated, she made the drive to Premier; the parking lot was empty, the building dark, so she got her little bash-and-dash flashlight out of the console. Armed with the flashlight and her pepper spray, she unlocked the back door and let herself into the building. With the lights on and the door securely locked again, she put on a pot of coffee and began the daily routine of making a list of everything that had to be done that day. They had two wedding rehearsals that night; Madelyn was taking the pink one, and Jaclyn had the Bulldog one.
The Bulldog in question was, of course, the University of George’s mascot, Uga. This wasn’t the first football-themed wedding she’d done, and wouldn’t be the last. They were, after all, in the South.
Diedra arrived next, surprising Jaclyn because her assistant was just twenty-four and had a very active social life, which meant she wasn’t habitually an early riser. She was punctual, usually getting into the office at eight on the dot, but “early” seldom happened in Diedra’s world.
She struggled in, carrying her purse, her briefcase, a venti Starbucks cup, and a large covered platter. When she saw her, Jaclyn leaped up from the worktable and hurried to take the platter before Diedra dropped it. It was surprisingly heavy, considering its size. “What’s this?”
“Food. Double-deluxe brownies, to be exact, with fudge icing. Made by my own dainty hands, because I figured if there was anything a murder suspect needed, it was chocolate.” Diedra set her cup of coffee down and shed her other burdens.
Jaclyn’s mouth started watering as she set the platter on the table. “Double-deluxe?” She didn’t know what that meant, but if it had to do with chocolate, it had to be good. Then she said, “How did you know?”
“Your mom called Peach, Peach called me. It’s silly, thinking you’d have killed the bitch, though if you had I’d give you an ironclad alibi, and you wouldn’t even have to pay me.” Diedra’s dark brown eyes sparkled. “I shouldn’t speak ill of the dead, but, damn, it’s tough not to when you can’t think of anything good to say.”
“She can’t have been all bad. She had family and friends who loved her. We only saw the demanding side, and, really, no one deserves to die just because they’re demanding.”
“And petty and spiteful,” Diedra sai
d drily. “Don’t forget those parts.”
“Okay, she was demanding, petty, and spiteful. She still didn’t deserve to die.” Jaclyn didn’t know why she was defending Carrie; she hadn’t liked her, was glad Carrie had fired her, and the only reasons she was upset about the murder were because of where it had happened, and because she herself was a suspect. She did feel sorry for Carrie’s fiancé, but she’d have felt a lot sorrier for him if nothing had happened and he had actually married her.
“So, how did it happen? Was she shot? Clobbered over the head?”
Jaclyn paused, realized that last night neither Eric or Sergeant Garvey had said exactly how Carrie had been killed, and she’d been too rattled to ask. “I don’t really know. I just assumed she was shot.”
“You mean you didn’t ask?” Diedra looked astounded, as if she couldn’t believe Jaclyn’s oversight.
“I didn’t think about it. I was pretty upset when the detectives were interviewing me.” The smell of the still-warm brownies was getting to her, bringing her appetite back with a vengeance. She lifted the aluminum foil and took a deep breath. “How early did you get up to make these?”
“Too damn early. I wouldn’t have done it for anyone else.”
“Well, thank God you came in early today of all days. One of the reasons the detectives were questioning me was that I left my briefcase at the reception hall, which means they have it and I don’t.”
Diedra looked taken aback. “You don’t ever forget your briefcase.”
“I did yesterday. I didn’t even realize I’d left it until the detectives mentioned it. The time with Carrie was upsetting.”
The question in Diedra’s eyes made Jaclyn draw a deep breath. She hated to go into the sordid details, but Carrie had slapped her in front of so many witnesses there was no way to keep it quiet. “It was a disaster from start to finish,” she said. “Gretchen quit, Estefani was about to quit, then Carrie slapped my face and fired me.”
“Oh. My. God.” Diedra’s mouth dropped open. Appalled, she stared at Jaclyn.
