Chapter 107
Andrew called Lily and informed her that I would be consulting on the wedding as Andrew’s personal wedding planner, regardless of the fact that I was temporarily not associated with Ever After Weddings. She seemed both furious that I had gone above her head and impressed that I had found a way to do so. She just had one condition: I had to retrieve the binder for Lisa and Bob’s wedding when there weren’t any clients around so that people wouldn’t think that I was still working there.
In compliance with that condition, I made an appointment with Terri to pick up the binder that Wednesday early in the morning, when no clients were scheduled to stop by and customers were less likely to just drop in.
As I entered the bridal shop soon after its opening, most of my now-former colleagues avoided me. I didn’t blame them, though. I would’ve avoided someone I thought was a murderer, too.
Terri, however, stayed at the counter, for the moment. She looked up from the work spread out before her and gave me a closed-lipped smile, which I tried to return.
“Hey, Crystal,” she said with less gusto than usual.
“Hi, Terri,” I replied, trying to be as cordial as possible. “I’m just here for the binder.”
“You know where it is,” she said, pointing back to where we kept the binders. “I need to go get something out of the back.”
Without waiting for a response, Terri dashed toward the storage area. I huffed. Even though I understood why they were all acting the way they were, it didn’t mean that it hurt any less.
I shrugged off the insult and quickly dug out Lisa and Bob’s binder. The quicker that I got out of there, the better.
“Come to pillage?” a detestable voice sneered.
I mentally groaned.
Miranda.
Miranda had not given me as much trouble as Fabian, but she had made her dislike of me well known. She had been pro-Samantha as well and took every chance she could to remind me of that. She was probably the last person I had wanted to see here, besides Lisa or Bob.
“Hello, Miranda,” I said through gritted teeth. I stood up, the binder pressed close to my chest, and faced Miranda.
She smirked. Her bleached-blonde curls bounced against her rounded face. Her arms crossed over her chest, her sharp, red-painted nails tapping against her upper arm.
“How’s unemployed life treating ya?” she asked, tilting her head so that her curls fell into her face.
“I’m keeping busy,” I said, rubbing my thumb subconsciously along the front of the binder.
“Yeah, I heard that you slutted your way back onto Lisa’s wedding.”
My grip on the binder tightened.
“I did not…‘slut’ my way back onto it,” I almost growled. I breathed in through my nostrils and out through my mouth. “Andrew was not comfortable switching wedding planners this late in the game, so he hired me as a personal wedding planner until I can get my…misunderstanding cleared up.”
“Keep telling yourself that.”
I merely shook my head and went towards the door.
“Tell Terri that I’ll see her later.”
“It’s cute that you think that you’re going to win this case,” Miranda said behind me.
I froze at the door.
“Why is that?” I asked.
“The evidence against you just seems pretty iron-clad.”
I pulled my phone out of my purse and brought up the recording app.
“How do you know that?” I asked as I pressed the record button. “The papers have said nothing about the evidence.”
I turned to face Miranda, my phone behind my back. A wicked grin stretched across her face.
“Oops, did I mention the evidence?” she asked mock-innocently.
She strutted up to me, her eyes never leaving mine. Chills ran down my spine, but I stood my ground.
“All that I mean is that there’s enough evidence to put you away for a long time,” she continued, “and it’s partially thanks to me.”
Internally, I knew where this going. Outwardly, though, I forced my brow to furrow so that I could appear confused and egg her on.
“What are you talking about?” I asked, doing my best to not give myself away in my tone.
“Where do you think your fingerprints came from?” she hissed. “You really should be careful where you leave your coffee mug.”
“Wait a minute,” I said, feigning shock, “are you saying that you gave my fingerprints to whoever is framing me?”
“Yes, of course!”
“But why, Miranda?”
“Because you don’t deserve to be Head Wedding Planner. Even Terri would be better at it than you are. Then you got the one good candidate, Samantha, fired for stealing!”
“She got herself fired by stealing!”
“She wouldn’t have been stealing if you hadn’t stolen her promotion in the first place!”
I hesitated. I didn’t know how to respond to that accusation.
Was it true? Had I swooped in and stolen the promotion from someone—like Samantha or Terri—who had worked hard and truly deserved it over me?
I shook myself from these thoughts. Whether I had deserved that promotion or not, I did not deserve to be framed for murder. Not over a stupid job.
“You didn’t do this by yourself,” I asserted.
“Well, no,” Miranda said, deflated by my claim.
“Who put you up to it?”
Miranda lifted her chin defiantly.
“If you haven’t already figured it out, then I certainly won’t tell you.”
Her eyes flitted to the binder, but the motion was so brief that I could have imagined it.
I was about to push the matter when Terri walked back into the room. I quickly stopped the recording.
“Oh, Crystal, I thought that you had left,” Terri said. The lack of joy in her voice pained me.
“Don’t worry, Terri. Crystal was just leaving,” Miranda said, her eyes daring me to argue with her.
I nodded.
“Yeah, I was. I’ll see you later, Terri.”
Terri hesitated before responding with, “See you later, Crystal.”
I didn’t have an appointment with Mr. Chevalier, but when I called him and told him that I had important information for the case, he asked me to come to his office immediately. I stood in front of the door to his office, the nerves eating at my stomach. I knew that I had to give him what I had recorded, but it didn’t make me any less anxious to discuss it with him.
At last, I knocked on the door.
“Come in,” Mr. Chevalier’s muffled voice called.
I walked into the cramped office and took a seat in one of the uncomfortable chairs in front of his desk.
“Good day, Ms. Blanchard,” Mr. Chevalier said.
“Good day, Mr. Chevalier.”
“So, you have some information that might be helpful for your case?”
I nodded and pulled my phone out of my purse.
“It’s actually something that I recorded while at my workplace, Ever After Weddings, this morning. I think you’ll just want to listen to it.”
I pressed the play button. As the recording played back, Mr. Chevalier’s eyes widened.
“Ms. Blanchard,” Mr. Chevalier said after the recording ended, his index finger stabbing the desk beside my phone, “we might have our smoking gun here.”
