Accidental Detective_Book 1 Read online

  Book 1

  by Kate Benitez

  © 2016 Cheeky Books Ltd

  Copyright and Disclaimer

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination and have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2016 • Cheeky Books Ltd

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of the trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  Contents

  Accidental Detective - Book 1

  Copyright and Disclaimer

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  More From Kate

  About the Author

  Acknowledgements

  Coming soon, my next release!

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  More From Kate

  Accidental Detective - Book 2

  Accidental Detective - Book 3

  Accidental Detective - Book 4

  Accidental Detective - Book 5

  Chapter 1

  “Hello, you’ve reached Linen and Lace Bridal, this is Anneliese. How may I help you?” Anneliese flicked her dark curls over her shoulder and shifted the phone to her other ear. She was already pulling up the general inquiry form on her computer while throwing a warm smile to Jennifer Tate, who was sitting in the midst of her entourage. The group consisted of the mothers of the bride and groom, two wedding planners, and at least three assistants to whom Anneliese wasn’t exactly clear to whom they belonged. Though she’d noticed that during the past ten minutes that Jennifer had been waiting, none of them had consulted with the striking bride even once.

  Anneliese’s mind teased at the situation while the other half of her brain took inquiry notes. The bride-to-be on the phone wanted to be classic, but unique—two checks in the boxes on her form—and loved mermaid and fit and flare dresses. More check-boxes ticked off on the master list—and finally, wanted bling and not one scrap of lace—another two boxes checked.

  Every bride she’d worked with for the past ten years had wanted to be unique for their special day. Little did they realize that ever since Anneliese had manned the front desk of bridal salons, she’d only had a handful of brides that hadn’t fitted into the neat little boxes on her personal creation, The Checklist.

  Again, her gaze wandered over to Jennifer Tate as the girl on the phone answered the rest of the questions on Anneliese’s sheet. Her fingers dutifully recorded the specifics of the bride’s fiancé, venue, wedding date, theme, and colors, while her mind considered Jennifer’s situation.

  Jennifer was the bride of the season, with a capital T and B. Every season had one and Jennifer, the daughter of one of Boston’s leading lawyers, was engaged to marry a Senate hopeful. Both mothers were of the socialite lineage—leaders of garden clubs, women’s clubs and patrons of hospitals and volunteer societies.

  As a result, Jennifer—a pediatrician with a wealth of pro bono hours as well as an amazing haircut—was prime pedigree for a politician’s wife, and Anneliese had to admit that she was lovely. She caught Jennifer’s eye and gave what she hoped was an encouraging smile then Anneliese turned her attention to setting up a consult session with the phone bride.

  A few minutes later, with her checklist complete, she hung up the phone and noticed Jennifer’s entourage was starting to get twitchy. Anneliese bit her tongue in an attempt to hide her annoyance that the group had shown up a full twenty minutes before their scheduled appointment, which was as much of a wrench in the schedule as showing up twenty minutes late.

  Jennifer’s mother, a woman with a severe blonde bob and icy blue eyes, looked first at her Rolex and then into Anneliese’s green eyes, and asked, “Excuse me, dear, how much longer do you expect the wait to be?”

  Anneliese looked down at the appointment book then at the CCTV screen displaying the main bridal area. The owner of the salon was still kneeling on the floor with pins in her mouth and there were still ten minutes left in the previous bride’s appointment. She turned back to the mother of the bride and gave her a most gracious smile.

  “It’s going to be another ten minutes. I apologize, but we’re running just on time today. Can I offer anyone a beverage? Coffee and perhaps some biscotti? We also have fresh orange raspberry from Le Bouchon down the street.”

  The whole group accepted her offer and gave a long order for their caffeine. She wrote it down on her notepad and when Anneliese turned to head to the small kitchen just off of the waiting room, Jennifer stopped her and with a light hand on Anneliese’s elbow, the girl made her pause.

  “Please, let me help you. You don’t have nearly enough hands to gather all of that.”

  Anneliese gave Jennifer a thankful smile. “I would appreciate it if you don’t mind.” In reality, Anneliese was headed back to a state-of-the-art Tassimo machine and with a few taps on the touchscreen, it could spit out anything from tar-black coffee to a delicate soy cafe mocha, but Anneliese was just willing to bet that Jennifer needed a break from the horde. As the two wandered back, Anneliese started an easy conversation. An itch in her gut told her that there was more going on than overly-involved mothers and wedding stress. Jennifer had looked downright lost and alone out there in the waiting room.

  “So how is everything going, Jennifer? Last time you were here I think you and Robert were trying to figure out if you wanted to relax in Bali or St. Thomas,” Anneliese asked as she turned to gather the necessary K-cups to feed into the machine. Experience told her it was always a good idea to stick to honeymoon questions—they tended to elicit less stress than those concerning stationery or flowers—but when she turned back to the bride, Jennifer looked away and bit her lip. Anneliese felt the itch in her gut grow.

  The bride-to-be looked back at her with a forced smile and said, “Actually, Robert thought with all the press interest we’ll be getting from the wedding, taking a honeymoon straight after will mean him missing out on some good political opportunities. Plus, he said we’ll be far too tired to honeymoon right away—better to do it a couple of months later, when we’re rested.”

  Anneliese nodded. She couldn’t disagree with that last statement as several of her brides had chosen to wait a while after their wedding for their honeymoon until they had enough energy to do something other than nap for the week.

  “Well, have you at least decided where you guys are off to when the honeymoon does eventually happen?” Anneliese asked. “It’s always nice to have something to look forward to,” she said, pushing the sleeves of her black cardigan up so she wouldn’t get any of the specialty biscotti crumbs on her all black ensemble—Linen and Lace’s standard dress code.

  Jennifer fiddled with an empty mug, awaiting its turn with the Tassimo. “No. Robert thinks it’s best to decide when we have a better idea of when we can get away.”

  “Aah,” Anneliese hummed and removed the next completed coffee from the machine before turning to Jennifer to grab the mu
g. She told herself not to butt in—not to make a mess here—but she just couldn’t help it. “Does that bother you at all? That he put his political career first?”

  Jennifer blinked at the coffee machine, currently whirling and percolating a cafe latte and Anneliese wondered if she’d stepped over the line—the one delineating a real friend and a friendly acquaintance. She was just about to apologize for her indiscretion when Jennifer surprised her by answering the question.

  “Yes, it bothers me.” Jennifer looked up at Anneliese, relieved. “You know, no one else has asked if that bothers me. Everyone says something along the lines of, ‘Oh, you’ll enjoy the honeymoon later,’ or ‘How wonderful it is that Robert is so driven,’ but none of those comments allow me to admit to them that I am, in fact, quite upset about it.”

  Jennifer’s face flushed, and her hands punctuated each word. Anneliese became a little worried as Jennifer seemed to be warming to the topic she’d started, so she quickly interjected with a similar, calming sentiment. “You know, you will enjoy the honeymoon after all the press attention has died down.”

  But Jennifer was too far gone. She waved a manicured hand at Anneliese and continued, “It’s not just the honeymoon. There are at least five magazines and three newspapers covering our wedding. Our wedding. This isn’t supposed to be national news, it’s supposed to be a union of two souls, two people in love.” Jennifer crossed her flailing arms and huffed, “The problem is, I think Robert is already married.”

  At this revelation, Anneliese’s mouth dropped open as she set down the drink she’d been pulling from the Tassimo and said, “No! You’re kidding me, aren’t you? He can’t be. A previous marriage might would have shown up in all his political stuff—that sort of thing is a public record, right?”

  Jennifer waved her hand at Anneliese again, leaning against the counter and crossing one gray-booted foot over the other, her other hand unconsciously smoothing down the richly tailored, navy pencil skirt. “Not actually married. Robert would never do anything that rash. He is married to his work, though.”

  Anneliese now saw the situation with sudden clarity—Jennifer had realized that Robert was the type of man who put his career first and his family second, and she was obviously not happy about that. Warning bells began to ring in Anneliese’s head. If only she didn’t have four more coffees to brew! She cleared her throat and tried to backtrack. “Well, as a politician, isn’t it a good thing that he takes his duties as a public servant seriously? That’ll make him a good Senator someday.”

  Jennifer quieted and bit her lip. Anneliese had a solitary moment of hope—perhaps she’d mitigated some of that worry—then it happened. It was the exact moment Anneliese would look back on months later and label as the point where she’d ruined everything. Anneliese watched a single tear roll down Jennifer’s perfectly contoured cheek, and she couldn’t hold herself back. She pressed the start button on the next drink and wrapped her arms around the bride.

  “Oh, Jennifer, it’s ok. It’ll all be ok. Weddings are stressful for everyone involved, and sometimes we’re surprised by the reactions our loved ones have to major life changes. I’m sure Robert is probably clinging to his work as a way to deal with all the emotion.”

  Now Jennifer was crying in earnest, though her waterproof mascara was staying put admirably well.

  “No.” Jennifer was almost wailing, and Anneliese allowed herself a glance toward the waiting room where the entourage was still milling around the blush pink space. No one either heard or—if they did—seemed concerned with the sounds of their crying bride.

  “No,” Jennifer repeated, “he’s always been a little like this, but it’s getting worse. On top of it all, my parents support his choice for us to wait for the honeymoon! They both think he should cater to his career at this ‘important time.’ Can I really live life like that? Playing second fiddle to someone else’s career? And I have an important career myself, but all I want to do is have someone to come home to—a person I’m the most important thing in the world to.”

  Anneliese made soothing noises as she patted Jennifer’s back. Her heart hurt for Jennifer, and she was angry with her mother for disregarding the happiness of her own daughter. She could see how Jennifer had become trapped in the situation. Robert was handsome, wealthy, and a seemingly perfect match for the well-pedigreed Jennifer. Unfortunately, but perfectly understandable, all she wanted was love. Was that so bad? Anneliese hugged her a little tighter.

  Jennifer pulled back and looked Anneliese in the eye. “Do you think I’m wrong?”

  “No, honey, I don’t think you’re wrong at all.” Anneliese couldn’t help it—she didn’t think Jennifer was wrong for wanting unconditional love and attention over being a prominent political wife.

  “Thank you, I appreciate your honesty” Jennifer said softly before excusing herself to go to the bathroom.

  Anneliese continued to fix the rest of the beverages, setting each cup next to another in a pleasing fashion, all the time thinking about Jennifer and her situation. Sometimes emotional brides like her would come into the salon—girls who were too far in to back out—and each time, she secretly wished that they would simply run and choose not to waste another minute with a man they didn’t truly love—or who didn’t truly love them. It had never happened, though. For all the tears and all the confessions, every one of them had walked down the aisle and gradually she’d see their divorce records pop up in the Boston Globe over the following months and years. All that wasted time, she thought.

  Anneliese had been in a few relationships herself, but she’d never stayed if it had seemed as if their future wasn’t headed toward wedding bells. She’d always thought it better to move on and open herself up to someone new who’d love her like she wanted to be loved, rather than stay in a situation that just wasn’t working. Almost as that thought left her head, she heard Jennifer leave the bathroom and walk back out just as she put the biscotti on the tray. Perfect timing.

  Anneliese entered the waiting room of the salon right at the moment when both mothers let out twin screams of what sounded like rage and indignation. Anneliese felt the tray tip slightly, but she righted it and managed to slide it onto the wood and glass coffee table in front of the group without spilling anything. Jennifer was still speaking quietly to the two mothers as the other members of her entourage looked on with mixed expressions of shock and glee.

  Out of the corner of her eye, Anneliese spotted one in the group pulling out their cell phone, presumably to capture the situation to share on social media, and she strode quickly across the floor, removing the device from the girl’s hand as politely as she could.

  Anneliese snapped in a professional voice with an edge, “I’m so sorry, but we don’t allow pictures or video to be taken in the salon. It’s a privacy thing. I’m sure you understand,” she said with a wry smile. In truth, she wasn’t exactly sure what was going on, but after her conversation in the kitchen, she had a pretty good idea.

  “When did you decide this? We’re here for your fitting. Your FITTING, Jennifer!” Jennifer’s mother sounded irate, and as her eyes flashed around the room looking for someone to blame, those ice blue irises could have literally cut through steel.

  “You!” she screamed when her eyes landed on Anneliese. Anneliese’s eyes went wide, and she reached back to grasp the edge of the wooden desk she was now leaning against.

  “This is all your fault,” the woman exclaimed, stalking toward her.

  “I’m sorry?” Anneliese looked at Jennifer for clues, or confirmation, as to what may have been said while she was making the last of the coffees. Jennifer closed her eyes and sighed then opened them again and held her head high.

  “I’ve just explained that I can’t marry Robert.”

  Anneliese’s stomach dropped. “Oh,” she said faintly and looked to the ground just as Amanda, the owner of Linen and Lace Bridal, chose to walk into to the waiting room.

  “Welcome back to Linen and Lace Bridal, Jenn
ifer, Mrs. Tate…” The woman’s warm smile soon dropped off as she read the atmosphere of the room, which could have been cut with a knife. Now one more set of eyes searched for Anneliese. “Anneliese, is everything ok with the Tate’s? I know they had a bit of a wait—”

  “Your secretary convinced Jennifer to break off her engagement with Robert,” Mrs. Tate spat out.

  Again, her boss’s eyes swung back around to Anneliese—this time, wide-eyed and incredulous. However, before she could speak, Jennifer piped up again.

  “Anneliese just listened and gave me the space to figure out what my true feelings were, mother. It’s not her fault that it showed me I don’t want to spend the rest of my life with Robert.”

  Anneliese’s eyes opened wide to the truth Jennifer had explained in those two simple sentences and her last thought before the melee that would surely ensue was that this was not good.

  And it hadn’t been good. In fact, none of it was anything close to good, except maybe for Jennifer, who appeared lighter and more confident than she’d ever been in all the time Anneliese had known her. At least, Anneliese could be happy with the fact that she’d saved the girl’s love life—and maybe her entire future happiness.

  Anneliese’s career, however? Well, that quickly went down the drain. For all of Jennifer’s support, Anneliese’s boss, Jennifer’s family, and Page 6 all seemed to agree that the broken engagement was all Anneliese’s fault.

  Anneliese had killed ‘The Wedding’ of the season and the way it had been rumored and reported, anyone would have thought Anneliese had single-handedly been responsible for clubbing a pod of baby seals—Boston society could not have been more upset.

  But if that wasn’t bad enough, the ripple effect of her heart-to-heart with Jennifer Tate had extended to her job prospects as well. Her boss at Linen and Lace had let her go immediately and the firing had hurt, but Anneliese understood—she was the fallout of Amanda’s damage control for her business. Even with the salon’s long-standing reputation, it couldn’t withstand being the reason for the biggest society shocker of the year.