Just Murdered by Elaine Viets Read Free Book Online Page B

wasn’t sure if he was greeting her or in a flap over the flowers.
    She ran upstairs to the bride’s dressing room. Everything was in order. She checked the Hapsburg princess gown again for bloodstains. In the morning sun, the dress glittered like frost. Just looking at it made her arm throb. But she couldn’t see any trace of blood.
    Helen felt sick with relief. If she’d ruined a seven-thousand-dollar dress, she’d lose half a year’s salary. Kiki would make her pay, too—after she had her fired.
    Helen didn’t have the nerve to check out the rose gown. Besides, she was not wrestling that monster hoop skirt this early in the morning. It might reopen the scratch on her arm. She hoped her luck held and there were no blood spots on the rose dress, either.
    Jeff, bless him, had set out an exquisite breakfast buffet of pastries, bagels, and fruit. The room was fragrant with hot coffee. Helen poured herself a cup, enjoying the last peaceful moments of what she knew would be a long day.
    What kind of life would Desiree and Luke have together? They were starting with advantages many young couples never knew: the bride’s money, the groom’s good looks and talent—things couples dream about, yet Helen felt sorry for them.
    She wasn’t sure either one was in love. Desiree clung to Luke, but that seemed more desperation than passion. And Luke was an actor, so it was tough to know his true feelings.
    Besides, what chance did any marriage have with Kiki for a mother-in-law? The bride’s father didn’t seem to care about his daughter. Brendan had never hugged or kissed Desiree at the rehearsal last night. He’d hardly spoken to her. But he’d certainly had words with her mother.
    Poor little rich girl.
    She hoped the bride would have as much fun on her honeymoon as Helen had last night after Phil carried her over the threshold. They’d spent the whole night in bed, but they didn’t sleep much. That man was one hot lover. Helen stretched luxuriantly, her body pleasantly tired and sore.
    She looked out the dressing room window. Four cars pulled into the parking lot. She downed the last of her coffee and rinsed the cup. It was bridal battle stations.
    Four makeup artists and three hairstylists began setting up in the dressing room. They would paint and prep all the women in the wedding party except Kiki. The mother of the bride was having her own makeup artist and stylist come to her home. Kiki planned to breeze in about forty-five minutes before the ceremony.
    Why she didn’t arrange the same service for her daughter, Helen didn’t know. But she was grateful for Kiki’s absence. It was more pleasant without her. Kiki left havoc and hurt feelings in her wake.
    The first three bridesmaids straggled in at seven, looking hungover. Helen hoped the makeup artists had packed plenty of concealer. Those young blondes had enough bags to stock a Coach outlet.
    Desiree and her friend Emily arrived at seven thirty. Emily was wearing what looked like an orange tablecloth. Desiree was a walking corpse. Her skin even had a slightly livid tinge.
    The stylists went to work. Desiree’s droopy hair was twisted into a stylish knot. Then the makeup artist started smearing goo on the bride’s face. Helen had painted entire rooms in less time. But the woman was an artist. When she finally put down her brush, Helen thought she’d created a minor masterpiece. Desiree wasn’t exactly radiant, but she no longer looked like she should wear a toe tag. She even had a chin.
    Soon the room was abuzz with activity. The blond bridesmaids giggled and gossiped while their hair was done in identical twists. Hair dryers screamed. Cans of hair spray spritzed. One makeup artist brandished a mascara wand and said, “Now look up at the ceiling while I get those bottom lashes.” Another held up a sponge and said, “Let me cover that nasty scrape on your arm.”
    At nine o’clock, Desiree was ready to be helped into the Hapsburg princess dress. Helen held