Purrfect Poison Read online

  He’d recently found one outside of Cedar Valley, and was doing the final paperwork, but that also meant he’d been spending some extra time at Hazel’s place—which wasn’t unwelcome. Though it was interesting to have three people there when Hazel was so used to it being only herself and her fluffy black cat, Anthony Ray.

  Too bad Anthony Ray wasn’t here now.

  Hazel shrugged. “I don’t know if Colton wants it. It’s not something we discussed, and he seems sort of like a permanent bachelor to me.”

  Celia raised an eyebrow. “If he was a permanent bachelor, I don’t think he’d be taking care of his fifteen-year-old niece. But, do whatever makes you happy,” Celia said with her signature warm smile.

  Hazel nodded and was about to say more when Rosalie returned to the table.

  She looked right at Hazel. “Your sister is having some words with a woman inside the house. I thought you might want to intervene before Esther’s claws come out,” she said.

  Hazel rose and stepped toward where Rosalie had pointed. While Esther had infinitely more patience than Hazel, when she lost it, it could be epic. Hazel scooted past tables, gave a tight smile to Raj, who looked concerned, and ducked inside.

  Her eyes quickly swept over the ornate wood paneling and crisp floral wallpaper in a warm rose. The floor shone with such a high polish it looked dangerous enough to slip and fall.

  She spotted Esther, her sister’s lips pulled into a deep frown.

  A woman a good head shorter than Esther pointed a finger at her. The woman’s hair was brushed into a severe ponytail, and her makeup looked like the type that had been carefully drawn on and perhaps even airbrushed, every flaw swept aside. Her pink lips pulled into a frown as well, and she threw her arms in the air. Not only was she shorter than Esther, who was nearly as tall as Hazel’s five feet nine, but she had a petite build as well. Probably no larger than Esther’s daughter, Ruth, who was only eight.

  “I can’t believe this. You messed up my wedding cake at the last minute! What am I supposed to do? How do I get a sugar-free wedding cake a day before my wedding?” the woman cried, not even trying to keep her voice down.

  Esther’s arms were crossed, and Hazel could tell she was trying her hardest to be apologetic. “I already said I was sorry, but I didn’t receive a special order for a sugar-free cake. And if I had, I would’ve made it very clear that I don’t make specialty cakes like that. I can give you the name of a baker in Reno who does,” Esther said in a much calmer voice than Hazel imagined she would use.

  The woman rolled her eyes. “Do you think I haven’t contacted all the bakers in Reno already? They’re booked solid! And how hard can it be to make a sugar-free cake?”

  Esther gritted her teeth. “Harder than you can imagine. I can’t just swap out sugar for something else. It won’t taste right.”

  Oh dear, it was worse than Hazel imagined. And she wasn’t sure if breaking up this argument was the best way to introduce herself to her client for the first time.

  They’d only talked via email, though Hazel knew what the woman looked like since she’d seen pictures of the bride on the news station’s webpage. She hadn’t imagined Monica Lopez would be so small in person.

  “But I can’t eat sugar in cake because I’m diabetic. Are you trying to kill me?” Monica asked, her hands on her hips. No matter how small, with her attitude and that look in her eyes, she seemed to dwarf Esther at the moment.

  Yeah, Hazel better step in, even if it did give her a bad first impression. “Diabetic? Hey, Esther, isn’t Marjorie Collins diabetic? Her mom used to make the sugar-free cakes at school, remember?” she said and nudged her sister’s shoulder.

  “Who are you?” Monica said and her drawn-on eyebrows lifted nearly to her hairline.

  Hazel forced a smile and held out her hand. “Hazel Hart, your wedding photographer, and you hired my sister to make a cake, but there seems to be a miscommunication. I was on my way to the bathroom and heard you. Sorry for eavesdropping, but I thought I’d offer an option Esther hadn’t,” she said and glanced at her sister.

  Esther nodded tightly. “That’s an idea, but Carol Collins isn’t a professional baker. And I’ve never made that cake before.”

  Monica rolled her eyes. “Well then have her make it. Give me the woman’s number, and I’ll call.”

  Hazel remembered what those cakes looked like—not acceptable for a wedding in the least—and shot a glance at her sister. Esther’s face screamed for help. “Or, you could ask Carol to make the cake and frosting, and you can decorate it. That way it has Esther’s flair, but no sugar. Is that a good compromise?”

  Monica looked ready to blow her top again, but let out a huff of air instead. “Fine. I would prefer to taste the cake before I buy it, but I guess in this case, I don’t have a choice. Thank you, Ms. Hart. You’re required to be here tonight for the rehearsal. It’s in your contract,” she said, turned, and marched away.

  When she was out of earshot, Esther let out a breath through her nose. “They never said anything about a sugar-free cake.”

  Hazel rubbed her younger sister’s back. “Yeah, this sounds like it’s going to be fun,” she said, infusing her voice with plenty of sarcasm.

  “She’s not going to be thrilled with Carol’s cake. I don’t remember it tasting great, but I guess I don’t have a choice now,” Esther said. “I honestly didn’t remember Marjorie had diabetes or that her mom used to make that awful cake for birthdays at school, so thanks.”

  Hazel smiled. “What are sisters for? Is Violet helping you? I mean, if you guys are up too late decorating, she can stay at your place, so you don’t have to drive all the way to mine.”

  Esther nodded. “Oh yeah. She’s gotten really good with cupcakes, so thanks for the tip.”

  Since Sheriff Cross didn’t want his fifteen-year-old niece getting into trouble during the summer, they thought it was a good idea that she worked part-time, and it just so happened Esther needed someone in her bakery. Violet filled the role perfectly, not to mention she always manage to bring home extras for Hazel. She didn’t need it, but she couldn’t deny that a cupcake now and then livened her spirits.

  “Why didn’t she tell you she was diabetic to begin with?” Hazel wondered aloud.

  Esther shrugged. “I think her fiancé is the one who emailed me, so I guess he forgot. But diabetes is a pretty big thing to forget.”

  Hazel nodded. Yeah, it was. “Good thing she asked. Can you imagine if she ate the normal cake and then went into a diabetic coma at her own wedding?”

  Esther shut her eyes and shook her head. “Why do you always have to come up with the worst possible scenarios? Yeah, I can imagine, and I’d probably get sued and lose everything. So, I’m glad that didn’t happen. But now I have to track down Carol and her sugar-free cake recipe. I’ll see you tomorrow,” Esther said, gave Hazel a quick hug, and hurried out.

  As Hazel turned to step back outside, she heard Monica Lopez’s voice again, this time coming from a narrow hall that led to the bathroom. It sounded like she was on a phone call.

  “What did I tell you? You do this, or you know what will happen. And it won’t be pretty. We had a deal, and there’s no backing out of it now unless you want… I don’t care. Follow through or else,” she said.

  Hazel stood still and held her breath.

  What was that about?

  Was it some shady business deal? But then, it was also a one-sided cell phone conversation, which could mean it wasn’t as nefarious as it seemed on the surface.

  Esther was right; Hazel’s thoughts did tend to go dark places. But after the events of the last few months, and her time working as a forensic photographer for the LAPD, she couldn’t help it.

  Still, as Hazel stepped back out into the Lakeside Inn’s patio, she wondered what kind of bride made threats the day before her wedding.

  Not the pleasant kind—that much was clear.

  Chapter 3

  “Hey, sorry I’m so late. Just as I
was closing, a group of people showed up and wanted a saloon shoot in the Old West studio,” Michael said as he trotted under the arbor. “I didn’t think they would take long, but it ran over. Did I miss it?” His stomach growled as he said it.

  Hazel gave him a sympathetic smile. “You did, but the rehearsal dinner will be—shoot! In about twenty minutes. You are late.”

  Michael pushed a pudgy hand through his flop of brown hair and shrugged sheepishly. “Next time I’ll say we’re closed.”

  A glance around the patio told Hazel all the guests attending the high tea were gone, and the tables were slowly being cleared and made ready for the rehearsal dinner. The rehearsal was going to take place in the inn’s interior, though the wedding was set for the garden.

  With Michael there to assist, they got the equipment ready, which included setting up tripods, strapping on their expensive Nikon digital SLR cameras, and getting the lighting just right.

  Hazel’s father taught her from a young age that it was better to perfect a photo when you took it rather than to try and fix it later. Even in this age of digital photography, she still held to that belief. It made everything easier in the long run.

  Soon enough, the guests began trickling onto the patio for their dinner. Hazel stayed out of their way, and gave them all polite smiles when they raised an eyebrow at her.

  Sure, she would’ve liked to have gone home and put on something slightly more comfortable, but the dress would do.

  The next day she’d have to be similarly dolled up for the wedding. It was the one downside of doing special event photography. She knew some photographers came in jeans and T-shirts, since they weren’t going to be in the pictures, but her father also taught her that professionalism should carry through to everything, including in how she presented herself.

  Truthfully, she would’ve gone with leggings and a tunic if she could’ve gotten away with it.

  “So you’re the photographer?” a man said, and Hazel started from her business of setting up one of the reflective screens that would soften the shadows on her subjects.

  “Yes, Hazel Hart,” she said and held out her hand.

  The man in question gave her a warm smile and a firm handshake. He was about her height, and his hair was a nondescript color somewhere between brown and blond. He’d brushed it behind his ears, though it looked a bit messy. He wore wireframe glasses, and had a roundish face that made him cute in a teddy bear kind of way. He also wasn’t dressed like the other guests. Instead of slacks and a dress shirt, he wore jeans and a Hawaiian shirt with palm trees and flamingos all over it. Odd choice for a wedding in the mountains, but Hazel wasn’t one to judge.

  “Looks like you got a nice set up here,” he said, and whistled when he got a good look at her camera. “You know, I offered to shoot the wedding, but Monica wanted to go all out. She said it was her big day and she wasn’t going to have me hovering over her the whole time,” he said with a laugh.

  Hazel raised an eyebrow. “Do you work with her?”

  The guy shoved his hands into his pockets and nodded. “Yeah, Stan Baker. I’m the cameraman for KQTV in Reno. Been working with Monica since forever.”

  Michael kept throwing hungry glances at the tables, since the waitstaff was bringing out rolls and butter, and Hazel gave Stan a neutral smile. Making small talk with guests was always just a tad awkward since it was rude to say ‘hey, I’m a little busy here, you can get back to celebrating now?’

  Instead, she decided to go for something else. “Well, Monica seems nice.”

  Stan laughed and didn’t take the hint when Hazel turned away to adjust one of the lights. “Nice? Are you sure you actually met her? She’s a lot of things, but nice is not one of them. And I think she’d probably agree with that statement.” He threw a glance at the bride-to-be.

  She’d enter the room wearing something far more put together than the black work out leggings and slinky T-shirt she’d had on before. Now she was in a strapless pale pink dress that fell just above her knees and hung in several fluffy layers. It looked more like a prom dress than something to wear to a rehearsal dinner, but once again, Hazel wasn’t going to judge.

  Monica’s eyes scanned the crowd, a plastic smile on her heavily made-up face. A man approached. He was about a foot taller, muscular and reasonably handsome—though his ears were a little too big for his head and his hair cut a little too close to hide that fact.

  “And here she is. Well, I’ll let you get back to work,” Stan said and slipped to a table in the corner of the patio. His eyes fixed on Monica, but the gleam of light on his glasses made it impossible to read his expression.

  Hazel lifted her camera and got ready to start snapping pictures.

  “Friends, colleagues, and family, we’re both so honored you have agreed to come to our wedding at the Lakeside Inn. We know it was a bit of a trip for some of you, especially the ones coming all the way from San Diego,” Monica said and cast a smile at a certain table filled with what Hazel assumed were Monica’s sister and her sister’s family.

  “Since we don’t have a lot of time, we’re going to have a meal, and then do the rehearsal. If you’re not involved in the wedding, feel free to relax for the rest of the night. Again, thank you,” she said, and her fiancé squeezed her shoulder, leaned down, and kissed her on the cheek.

  Monica tilted her head up to accept it, though she didn’t return it.

  Hazel snapped several pictures of them standing there, and she followed Monica and the fiancé, Pablo, at a discreet distance and snapped photos as they went to each table and thanked their guests for attending.

  Once she finished, an older woman tugged on Hazel’s skirt. “Your assistant looks famished. You know, you can sit down and have dinner. I don’t think Monica wants you taking pictures of her eating,” the woman said with a smile. She was petite as well, and though not quite as thin as Monica, the family resemblance was unmistakable.

  “You must be Monica’s mom,” Hazel said.

  The woman nodded and let out a sigh. “Yes, and I know my daughter can be a little headstrong, but she just wants everything to be perfect. So please, enjoy yourself while we do,”

  Hazel nodded and shared the good news with Michael.

  His expression went from relieved to ecstatic in the manner of seconds.

  Hazel was a little too stuffed to enjoy all of her dinner, but she had to admit the food was impeccable. The guests were all served several courses, steak and new potatoes cooked in olive oil and herbs. Hazel made a note to ask if Esther could repeat that recipe, or maybe she’d ask Sheriff Cross. He was a much better cook than Hazel . And it seemed like something he’d be good at.

  Michael finished off his plate, and cast sideways glances at Hazel’s.

  With a sigh, she slid it in front of him. “Go ahead. I stuffed myself full of scones earlier.”

  With a grin, he dug in.

  The only thing Hazel didn’t consume was the copious amounts of wine flowing at each table. She wasn’t sure that was a good idea. She’d been to plenty of weddings before, and while drinking the night before was fun, it also meant many of the guests and members of the wedding party would have killer hangovers at the ceremony—not great for performing their duties, overall.

  As everyone finished off dessert, Michael kept frowning at the soon-to-be married couple. “He looks so familiar. Doesn’t the groom look familiar to you?”

  Hazel squinted at him. “Not really. He’s supposed to be a weatherman, but I never watch the news for Reno.”

  Right, he’d lived in Reno for a while, so maybe that’s where he’d seen the man.

  Michael’s eyes lit up. “He’s that guy. Can I get his autograph?” Michael asked, practically bouncing in his seat.

  “Autograph? From a weatherman?” She stifled the desire to laugh.

  Michael nodded eagerly. “He’s hilarious. Oh, I’ll show you,” he said and yanked out his cell phone. In a few seconds, he had it open to YouTube and a video titled: Weat
herman Bloopers.

  Hazel raised an eyebrow. She used her phone for mostly phone-related things, like calls and texting, and sometimes, taking discreet pictures. But never for watching videos.

  Michael played the video with the volume low, but Hazel still got the gist. Every time the weatherman’s map messed up, Pablo would come up with a funny way to mend the situation. She supposed his good humor would help in his marriage to someone like Monica, and she found herself chuckling from time to time.

  “Okay, when there’s a break in the festivities, you can ask for his autograph if you really want it,” Hazel said and patted him on the shoulder.

  Michael gave her a grateful nod and put his phone away.

  Soon enough, the wedding party moved toward the hall for the rehearsal, and the rest of the guests started trickling either out to explore Cedar Valley’s nightlife—which was pretty much nonexistent—or going to their rooms.

  On the way, Hazel spotted a strikingly handsome man with tan skin and bleached blond hair speaking with a middle-aged woman. They were tucked into a narrow hallway near the stairs. The woman was taller than Hazel, thin and statuesque, and her skin was a deep ebony. Her hair was cropped close to her head, and her eyes were narrowed into slits. She looked like a statue of an Egyptian goddess come to life.

  “I don’t know who she thinks she is. After everything she’s done this last month, she invites me here like it’s nothing,” the woman said under her breath.

  The man nodded, white teeth bared. They were so straight and bright they reminded her of tombstones in a military cemetery. “Tell me about it. She keeps bragging about some secret deal, and then she has the gall to say she’s a bigger star than me. I’ve been at the station so much longer, Candace. You don’t really think she’s a bigger star than me, do you?” the man asked and looked ready to pout.

  Hazel pouted on occasion, and knew it wasn’t particularly becoming of a woman of thirty-five. It looked even worse on the man, no matter how handsome he was.