Chapter 3 - The Gift for the Bride
I ended the call and slipped through the service double doors, moving silently down the carpeted hallway toward the bridal suite.
The door was propped open with an antique brass stopper. Inside, three bridesmaids in blush pink gowns were sipping champagne, laughing and snapping selfies near the vanity. In the center of the room stood Vanessa Vance, admiring herself in the full-length gilded mirror. She looked breathtaking, completely radiant, and utterly oblivious to the monster she had agreed to marry.
"Excuse me," I said, stepping into the room.
The laughter cut off abruptly. The maid of honor turned around with an irritated frown. "The florist? We already approved the centerpieces. You're not supposed to be back here right now."
"I have the primary bridal bouquet," I said evenly, holding up the cascading arrangement of white phalaenopsis orchids, gardenias, and silver eucalyptus. "It requires a final pin adjustment before the walk down the aisle."
Vanessa turned around, her face breaking into a radiant smile. "Oh! It's gorgeous! That's exactly what I showed Adrian on Pinterest! He told me he personally designed this arrangement with a boutique florist in Manhattan to surprise me."
My chest burned, but I maintained a placid, professional smile. "He certainly has an eye for recycled designs. Miss Vance, could I speak with you in the dressing alcove for thirty seconds? There is a structural wire in the stem that needs your personal approval so it doesn't snag your lace."
Vanessa waved her bridesmaids off with a light laugh. "Give us a second, girls. Grab another bottle of champagne from the cooler."
The bridesmaids giggled and stepped through the side door to the balcony, leaving us alone in the quiet suite.
Vanessa stepped into the private dressing alcove, smoothing her silk train. "What's the issue with the wire?"
I closed the oak door behind us. I didn't reach for the flowers. Instead, I reached into my apron, pulled out my smartphone, and opened my digital photo album.
"Miss Vance, how long have you known Adrian Parker?"
Vanessa frowned, her playful expression fading into suspicion. "Why would my florist ask me that? We met six months ago through my father's business associates."
"Six months ago," I repeated nodding slowly. "And did he happen to mention where he was living three months ago?"
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"He was managing an overseas technology rollout in Zurich," she answered defensively, crossing her arms over her lace bodice. "Who do you think you are? Why are you interrogating me on my wedding day?"
"Because three months ago, Adrian wasn't in Zurich," I said, turning my phone screen toward her. "He was being lowered into plot 42-B at Oakridge Cemetery in a closed casket. And I was standing right beside his mother, holding her hand while she sobbed over his supposed corpse."
