Assumed Identity(62)
“Sure.” She watched him drop the wad of tissue onto the plastic drop cloth they’d put down to protect the carpet while they set up. He’d rolled up the plastic about halfway down the aisle when Robin realized something was off. “Wait.” She counted off the sprays of roses and carnations decorating the end of each pew. “You said the van was empty?”
Leon’s green eyes narrowed. He was getting defensive again. “Yeah?”
She pointed to the remaining rows of undecorated pews. “Where are the rest of my flowers? Does Mark have them in the back somewhere?”
“I can ask him.”
“Never mind. You finish here and take care of the van. I’ll find Mark.”
Robin cursed the ticking clock and hurried down the aisle ahead of Leon. As soon as she stepped onto the marble tiles in the lobby, Jake moved from his post. He wrapped his hand around her elbow and pulled her away from the people coming in the front door.
“Are we done?” he asked. A couple of twentysomething women pointed to Jake, although he didn’t seem to notice. But when one of them whispered the phrase, “Ghost Rescuer,” his grip tightened and his shoulders expanded with a controlled breath. “I’m ready to leave anytime.”
“Not yet.” Robin pulled her arm from his grasp and searched the gathering crowd. “I promise I’m moving as fast as I can. I need to find my assistant.”
“Bow-tie guy?”
Robin swung her gaze up at the apt description. “Yes. Mark. Have you seen him?”
He pointed to one of the two closed doors at the south end of the lobby. “Ladies’ dressing room.”
“Thanks.” When Jake fell into step behind her, Robin turned and braced a hand at the center of his chest, offering him a wry smile. “Ladies’ dressing room,” she emphasized.
No wonder he was so eager to follow her. The two women weren’t the only ones who’d noticed the big man dressed in jeans and a black T-shirt at the formal event. Robin observed at least two other groups chatting and pointing. Either they recognized Jake from that unfortunate picture in the newspaper this morning, or they were simply curious about why a man like him was attending a Kansas City society event. At least she’d convinced him to return his weapons out of sight beneath his pant leg, or else they’d really be talking. Or calling 911.
“Sorry about all this.” She knew the spotlight was the last place where this man wanted to be. She gave him a way out for a few moments. “I left Emma sleeping up front. Do you mind getting her so she’s not by herself?”
“Where will you be?”
“Tracking down someone who’s not doing his job. Don’t worry. I won’t leave the church.”
Robin dodged out of the way of flinging raindrops as a man in a pinstriped suit shook off his umbrella just inside the front door. Brian Elliott. Of course he’d show up at a gathering like this. Half his investment business was to see and be seen by Kansas City’s wealthiest and most influential people. She recognized the woman with him as his executive assistant. Robin exchanged a polite wave and kept moving. She didn’t need the kind of drama or delays Brian could bring into her life right now if she stopped for a conversation.
She’d been through two of the three carved-panel doors earlier in the day, helping the groomsmen pin on their boutonnieres and delivering the rosebuds Chloe Vanderham’s hairdresser was pinning to her hair. Robin knocked on the last door, expecting to step inside to find gushing bridesmaids and Chloe’s mother helping the bride get into her celebration gown.
Instead, she found three women in pink dresses and the mother of the bride standing in a circle around Mark Riggins, talking over each other as they looked at the pictures he was showing them on his phone.
“That’s pretty.”
“How about something for a dinner party?”
“All I need is the color palette or theme you want.”
“I can get it for that price?”
“Mark?” Robin interrupted. “What are you doing? We’re not finished in the sanctuary.” She nosed her way in to Mark, dispersing the group. “Do you have the rest of those flower sprays?”
Mark shut down the internet connection on his phone, but not before she’d gotten a glimpse of the bouquet he’d been showing them. He tucked the phone into his shirt pocket and patted Robin on the shoulder. “Relax, boss lady. Chloe ordered twelve sprays of roses. I put up twelve sprays.”