by Sara Rosett
“The same,” Graham said. “No change, which the doctors assure us is good.”
Audrey glanced down at the muffin I held and said, “Why don’t you join us? Graham was on his way to get some food for us. I haven’t had anything since this morning, but everyone assures me I should eat even if I don’t feel like it.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t want to intrude.”
“No, please do,” Audrey added, and pulled out the chair beside her.
I reluctantly slipped into the seat because I didn’t see how I could turn it down without being rude, and Graham went off to the food area.
As soon as I was seated, Audrey turned toward me. “You must be part of the wedding party.”
“Yes. The bride is my sister-in-law.”
“So you were around Julia these last few days?”
“Yes.”
Audrey flicked a glance toward the food line where Graham was pushing a tray and selecting food. “So how did she seem?” There was a tension in her voice and an intensity in her gaze as she watched me.
I unwrapped the plastic around the muffin, buying myself a little time to figure out how to word my response. “She seemed a little nervous at first, but mostly happy,” I said, thinking back to all the times I’d seen her and Graham cuddled together and the loving looks they’d exchanged. “She really seems to like Graham.”
Audrey seemed to relax a little. “Good. That makes me feel better.”
I broke off a bite of the muffin for myself, then offered her a section, but she shook her head. “Why do you ask?” I wondered if Graham had told her about the incriminating things found in Julia’s room.
Audrey licked her lips. “I suppose you’ve heard about what happened after Brian and Julia’s breakup?”
“Yes. I heard a few things.”
“Yeah, well, she went overboard there for a little while. She’s the first to admit it, now. So when I found out that she was at Brian’s wedding . . . well, I was shocked. I thought she’d put all that behind her. She certainly sounded like she had.” Audrey gazed across the room and her expression softened. “I was so happy for her. She said she’d finally found a guy she really loved. And he loved her, too.”
“Graham,” I said, thinking that Graham hadn’t seemed quite so smitten with Julia when I talked to him earlier. Had Julia been indulging in wishful thinking when she described her relationship to Audrey? Or had Graham’s feelings cooled?
“Yes.”
“But you were worried about her this weekend?” I asked. “Is that why you asked about how she acted?”
Audrey nodded. “She called me on Wednesday. She was so upset about the wedding. Especially after she’d switched everything around at the last minute. She was supposed to come see me this weekend. We were—” Audrey broke off as Graham set down a tray with two sandwiches and packages of chips.
“I wasn’t sure what you’d want,” he said. “I got ham and turkey. Your choice.”
Audrey reached for the sandwich closest to her. “It doesn’t matter. Anything is fine.”
I finished off my muffin and dusted the crumbs from my fingers. “It was nice to meet you, Audrey. I better get back to Summer’s room. My husband should be back by now.”
Graham asked, “So what’s the plan with the wedding?”
“We’re not sure yet. The tentative plan is to go ahead with the wedding tomorrow if Summer is released in the morning. I’m not sure where, though. I’ll call you when things are settled.”
Graham nodded. “Just let me know.”
Audrey looked up from her uneaten sandwich. “Yes, now that I’m here, you don’t need to be with Julia every minute. Although I know she would want you nearby. She’d say that, if she could . . .” She looked away as she tried to control a surge of tears. She swallowed. “Sorry.” She picked up a napkin and pressed it to her eyes.
Graham shifted in his seat uncomfortably and gave me what I thought was a warning look. So he hadn’t told her about the paintball gun and the poison ivy. Well, I couldn’t blame him. There was only so much you could unload on a person at one time. Seeing her sister in a drug-induced coma was probably all that Audrey could handle at that moment.
I pushed my chair back. “Let us know if anything changes, okay?”
Graham nodded, and I slipped away, feeling awful for Audrey and for Julia. Even if Julia couldn’t have poisoned Summer, she could still be responsible for the paintball and the poison ivy. How horrible to know that once she woke up—if she woke up—she’d have to face the consequences of those actions. If she really did those things. I sighed and called Mitch. He was already back and in Summer’s room. I said I’d be up in a minute and detoured to the gift shop where I browsed the selection of plants.
I skipped over the pink and blue arrangements for new moms and was contemplating an ivy when a woman with an apron over her striped shirt asked if I wanted some help.
“Yes, I need something cheerful. Two arrangements, in fact.”
“We have a medium-size arrangement with daisies. Nice and bright and happy.” She took one out of the refrigerator and set it on the counter, then picked up a different vase. “Or if you want a completely different arrangement in blue with some purple and pink accents, we have this nice one with poppies, snapdragons, and foxglove. Bit unusual, this one, but really nice.”
Something about her words bothered me, but I couldn’t pin it down.
“Or we have roses,” the woman said, drawing my attention back to the counter.
“No, the daisies and the blue arrangement will be fine. I’ll take them both.”
She moved to the cash register and rang the sale up. I told her to send the daisies to Julia and the poppies to Summer.
The woman paused as she wrote out the instructions. “Now, this one isn’t going to someone who has pets, is it?” She pointed the pen at the poppy arrangement.
“No. No pets at all.”
“Oh, good. I always like to make sure because some folks will take the arrangements home, and they have no idea that the foxglove is poisonous.”
“What?” I looked up from signing the credit card receipt.
“The foxglove.” She touched the bell-like flowers hanging in from the tall central stem. “They’re quite poisonous to animals and even people.”
I scribbled the rest of my signature and called Mitch. When he picked up, I said, “We have to get back to Camden Island. I think I may know what made Summer sick.”
Tips for an Organized Wedding
Once your budget is set, there are several ways you can keep costs under control.
• Keep the wedding party small
• Limit the guest list
• Check prices for days other than Saturday. You might save a significant percentage on your venue by picking a Friday or Sunday as your wedding day
• Off-season weddings, like winter weddings, can also cut costs
• Pick in-season flowers
• Use more greenery and fewer flowers for arrangements
• Consider other options for centerpieces and decorations besides flowers such as candles with greenery, floating candles, or even accents that echo the setting or time of year, such as shells for a beach wedding or pine boughs and pinecones for a holiday wedding
• Serving brunch or only cocktails will be less expensive than dinner for the reception
• For the reception and the rehearsal dinner, a buffet-style meal will usually be cheaper than a sit-down dinner
• Barbecues and picnics are additional options to cut food costs
• To keep costs down for an open bar, either limit the selection of drinks available, go with house beers and wines, or limit the time the bar is open
• Hire a deejay instead of band or create your own playlist
• Pick a smaller layered cake for photos and the cake cutting, then add a sheet cake to serve guests
• Keeping the “wedding” word out of the conversation with vendors—use “party” or “event�
��—until the price is agreed on as there are often price bumps when the “w” word is mentioned
Chapter Fifteen
“No, I didn’t use any foxglove at all.” Denise shook her head.
“None? Are you sure?” I asked.
“Yes, come look for yourself.” Denise, who had been seated on a rocking chair on the back terrace, closed the book she had been reading and stood up. Mitch and I followed her through the resort to the flower preparation area. She waved her hand at the glass coolers. “See, no foxglove.”
She was right. In my excitement to return to the island and ask her about foxglove, I’d completely forgotten that Summer had chosen white and cream flowers with only bright green leaves for accent colors. On the ferry back to the island, I’d done a quick Internet search on my phone for foxglove, and in all the pictures of the poisonous plant, the flowers were purple. I swiveled toward Mitch. “Could it be somewhere on the grounds? In the landscaping?”
“I’ll find out,” Mitch said, already turning away as he pulled up a picture of the plant on his phone.
I turned back to Denise. I had probably offended her by insinuating that one of her plants was used to hurt Summer. “I’m sorry . . . I was just so sure . . .”
But Denise didn’t look upset. She stood staring at the flowers behind the glass, tapping her chin with a finger. “But there is lily of the valley.”
“Lily of the valley?”
“Yes. It’s poisonous, too, like foxglove. My cat got out of my yard a few years ago and ate some lily of the valley that was growing in my neighbor’s garden. It was just a little bit, and she recovered, but the vet told me every part of the plant is poisonous—leaves, stems, flowers, everything.”
“And there was that arrangement yesterday that was messed up.” We stared at each other a moment, then I said, “Do you still have it? The arrangement?”
“Yes. I never throw out anything until the actual event is over. Just in case, you know.” Denise went to the farthest end of the refrigerator and reached inside.
“No, wait. Don’t touch it,” I said.
“What?”
“Fingerprints.” I pulled out my phone and typed the words lily of the valley and poison into the browser’s tiny search bar.
“Oh.” She let the glass door slide closed. While I waited for the results to load, we both stared at it. She had placed it in the very back, and we couldn’t see it very well. “Can you tell if any flowers are missing?”
Denise squinted. “This side looks fine, but I’d be able to tell you for sure if I could turn it around. I used five sprigs of lily of the valley in each arrangement.”
“Here we go,” I said as I clicked on one of the results and scanned the text. “Highly poisonous, like you said. It’s a convallatoxin,” I said, stumbling over the word, but remembering the doctor today had mentioned it when he spoke to Summer. “Symptoms include nausea, vomiting, flushed skin, disorientation, dilated pupils, decreased heart rate, and coma.” I closed the browser and switched to the phone with shaking fingers and dialed Redding’s number.
As I listened to the buzz of the phone ring on the line, Denise asked, “Summer, did she have those symptoms?”
“Almost every one.”
Redding picked up. “Detective Redding. Ellie Avery again. Sorry to call you again, but I’ve found another possibility for the poison.”
* * *
Redding was on his way back to Camden Island when I talked to him, and I stayed with Denise until he arrived. Wearing gloves, he removed the plant from the cooler and put it on the counter. “You said you could tell if something was missing?” he asked Denise.
She leaned over the arrangement, but didn’t touch it. “Yes.” She nodded decisively. “This plant is missing two of the lily of the valley stems.”
Redding made a note. “And you said it was Patricia Abernathy who pointed out that this plant had been tampered with?”
I nodded, then Redding said, “Tell me again what happened.”
“As the rehearsal ended, I went to the banquet room to check on everything for the dinner. I’d been in before the rehearsal and everything looked great, but when I got there the second time, Patricia was already there. She was upset about that flower arrangement,” I said, nodding at the one with the broken stems. It looked worse now than it did yesterday. “Patricia wanted to speak to the manager, but I said we should find Denise. I was sure she could actually fix it.”
Redding looked toward Denise. She settled her back against the counter. “I was in here—cleaning and straightening up when Mrs. Abernathy came in.” Denise tilted her chin toward her chest and said in a tone that indicated that Patricia’s reputation was something to be aware of, “You know who she is? One of the mothers-in-law?”
“Yes. I know her,” Redding said.
Denise gave a quick nod. Redding’s voice conveyed that he was aware of how difficult Patricia could be. “When I saw her I knew something was wrong,” Denise continued. “She’s one of those people who is never happy. She pointed out the damage to the arrangement and was very upset.”
“Was the lily of the valley missing yesterday?” Redding asked.
Denise’s forehead wrinkled as she contemplated the arrangement. “Possibly. I’m afraid I was only focused on the damage. I didn’t count the stems.”
Redding nodded, then asked, “So Mrs. Abernathy carried the vase in here and put it down?”
“No, that was me,” I said.
“Did you handle this as well?” Redding asked, pointing to the flower arrangement.
“Yes,” Denise said.
“The waitress touched it too,” I added. “She moved it to replace the tablecloth. Water had spilled out of the vase.”
Denise said, “But I did touch the vase when I checked the arrangement.”
“Yes, I’d expect that.” Redding bagged the whole thing, vase and all, in an evidence bag, then placed it in an empty cardboard box that had been stashed under one of the tables. “Is this room open all the time? Anyone could come in?” he asked.
“Yes,” Denise said. “I don’t have a key. I usually don’t worry about locking up the floral arrangements.”
“Of course not,” Redding said as he stripped off the gloves. “I’ll have one of my deputies contact you. We’ll need to get your prints for elimination purposes.” He tucked the box under his arm as he turned to me. “We’ll begin re-interviewing everyone who was at the dinner, see if anyone saw anything suspicious. Now, can you point me in the direction of the waitress you spoke with yesterday, Mrs. Avery?”
“Yes, I’ll try.” I moved into the kitchen area with him and pointed out a thin woman in her early twenties. “That’s her there. The one with her hair in a ponytail.”
As Redding headed in her direction, Mitch came into the kitchen. He shook his head at my expectant look. “Nothing,” he said. “No foxglove in the landscaping, but the groundskeeper said he couldn’t be sure it wasn’t growing wild somewhere around the island. What’s this about the lily of the valley?” Mitch asked as we left the kitchen and went back through the dining room. By the time we were in the lobby, I’d caught him up on what had happened. I glanced around, looking for Patricia, but I didn’t see her on the front veranda. “I think Redding will be interested in talking to her, and I don’t think it will be a pretty sight.”
“Yes, but he’s got to explore that possibility.”
“I know,” I said with a sigh. “With Julia out of the picture, it pushes the questions about Patricia and Ned back to the front of the investigation.”
“And don’t forget about Yvonne,” Mitch said.
“After what I saw today in Summer’s hospital room . . .”
“But that’s today. She was all for making up with Summer today, but how did she feel earlier?” Mitch asked. “Maybe she thought another scare would cause them to call off the wedding or postpone it.”
“She did seem cool toward Summer at the rehearsal,” I said, thinking of the b
rief small smile I’d seen her give Summer. “And it was only after Summer went to the hospital that she changed.” I shook my head. “But I still think that Yvonne was legitimately grief-stricken about Summer’s condition.”
“Maybe it was guilt.”
I blew out a sigh. “Okay, so she’s a possibility, along with Patricia.” I looked away. “I can’t believe we’re back to this, thinking that one of Summer’s mothers-in-law would deliberately endanger her. What are we going to do tomorrow? If Summer is released and the wedding goes on, will she be safe? We can’t keep an eye on her every second. She’ll be eating and moving through the crowd. If anyone truly wants to hurt her, tomorrow would be another opportunity.”
“I’m sure Redding is doing everything he can to find the person who did it.” Mitch indicated with a tilt of his head that I should look over my shoulder. I turned and saw a deputy escorting Patricia through the resort. Her nasal tones were audible. “. . . incredibly inconvenient. I really don’t see why he needs to speak to me again.”
The deputy murmured something about follow-up questions, but Patricia noticed I had turned to watch her. Her angry gaze focused on me, and I turned quickly away to look out the window and saw two resort employees in raincoats carrying the metal arch around the side of the resort. I hurried outside, but stopped at the edge of the steps under the shelter of the roof overhang. The rain, which had beat down on us as we took the ferry back to the island, showed no sign of letting up. It continued to cascade down and puddles had formed on the shell drive and walkways. “Where are you taking the arch?” I called, raising my voice so that they could hear me over the steady rush of water through the gutters and drain spouts. One of the men shouted, “It will be around the back.”
A man in a raincoat holding an umbrella stood at the base of the steps. At the sound of my voice, he turned, and I saw it was Mr. Markham. He pulled a walkie-talkie away from his mouth and said, “Don’t worry, Mrs. Avery, your sister-in-law called me and gave me very specific instructions. I will see that everything is arranged, just as she asked. It will be no problem at all.”
