Marriage, Monsters-in-Law, and Murder

by Sara Rosett

  “Yes, really. Are you ready to dress up?” Summer asked.

  Livvy nodded. Nathan shrugged.

  “Oh! Graham, we have more good news.” Summer swiveled toward him. “The doctors are bringing Julia out of the coma today.”

  He looked surprised. “Oh, ah—good. I didn’t realize. No one said anything to me.”

  “Don’t worry. I talked to her sister—Audrey, isn’t it?—who said the doctors say Julia is doing better. They expect her to come out of the coma just fine. You should be there.”

  “That’s wonderful. But what about the wedding? The ceremony and everything. I don’t want to bail on you,” he said as he looked toward Mitch.

  “Don’t even worry about that,” Brian said. “You need to be with Julia. Go on. Nothing is as important as someone’s health,” Brian said as his glance strayed to Summer.

  “That’s right. Go on,” Summer said, patting his arm. “With everything that’s happened, it really brings into perspective what’s important. Who cares if we have an uneven number of bridesmaids to groomsmen?”

  “Don’t let Patricia hear you say that,” I said in a low voice.

  “You know what?” Summer said. “She can be upset if she wants to, but things like that aren’t worth wasting any worry on.”

  “I’m sure one of the ushers can stand in for you,” Brian said, his glance going to Mitch. “That will even up the numbers and keep everyone happy. You wouldn’t mind, would you?” Brian asked Mitch.

  “Not at all. I’d be happy to do it,” Mitch said.

  “Let me make a call.” Graham returned to his table where he’d left his cell phone. He stood there a moment, the phone pressed to his ear.

  I motioned for Summer to pull up a seat from a nearby table. “So tell me about the new ceremony. What do you need from me?”

  “Nothing,” Summer said, a grin on her face. “It’s all taken care of.”

  “Everything? Are you sure?”

  “Yes. It’s only a few little tweaks. Everyone can still meet at the same places, just the location of the ceremony has shifted. The reception is still the same.”

  “Summer, I really think we should go over the changes.”

  “No time. Here comes the rest of the Avery clan,” she said, eyeing the group of aunts and uncles who had just entered the dining room. “I know every one of them will want to hug me and make sure I’m okay. Then I have to get to the spa for my hair and makeup.”

  “Well, okay,” I said. “It’s your wedding.” If she wanted to go with the flow that was fine. I’d try to handle things as they popped up. I studied her face closely. She looked awfully relaxed for a woman who had endured multiple pranks and a bout with poison. I waved her closer and asked in a low voice, “Did they give you something at the hospital before you left?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Maybe something to relax you?”

  “No, why?”

  “I don’t know. You seem to be handling the stress of your wedding day really well, considering, you know, what’s happened over the last few days.”

  “I’m determined to not worry about it,” she replied, also speaking softly. “Brian is on hyper-vigilant alert.” Her glance shifted to Mitch. “As well as Mitch, Dad, and you. Not to mention all the other assorted relatives who are here. This is probably the safest I’ll ever be.”

  Graham returned to our table as he ended his call. “It’s all good. I spoke to Audrey. I’m going to check in with Julia this morning, but I’ll be able to make it back here in time for the wedding.”

  Livvy tugged on Summer’s hand. “Aunt Summer, I thought he”—she pointed to Brian—“wasn’t supposed to see you before the wedding.”

  “That’s an old wives’ tale.”

  “A tale?” Livvy said with interest. “That’s like a story, right?”

  “No, an old wives’ tale is an idiom.”

  Nathan snickered, and I leaned forward to clarify. “That’s a grammar term. Idiom, not idiot.” I’d learned a lot about how little boys’ brains worked during the last few years.

  “Oh,” he said, clearly disappointed.

  Summer said, “The old wives’ tale is that if the groom sees the bride before the wedding on their wedding day, it’s bad luck, but that’s just a superstition. You know, something that people believe, but it’s not based on fact. We’re having no more bad luck around here.” Summer said the last sentence almost as a declaration.

  Brian nodded and reached for her hand. “I think there’s some people who want to talk to you.”

  They walked away hand in hand and were engulfed in the group of relatives near the doorway. I watched them and saw that Brian was keeping an eye on Summer. Mitch was as well. Summer was probably right. She probably was safer now than she had been all week. I turned back to finish my breakfast. Despite Summer’s relaxed attitude there was a lot to do before the ceremony today.

  “Mom, that’s Dad’s glass,” Livvy said.

  I looked down at the glass of orange juice and realized she was right. This glass was almost empty and I’d only had a few sips from my nearly full glass. I replaced Mitch’s glass, setting it down. “They were so close together. I picked up the wrong one and didn’t notice.” A thought jolted into my mind. “Oh,” I said suddenly.

  Mitch looked up from his plate. “Ellie, are you okay?”

  “The champagne,” I murmured, reaching for my phone and bringing up the pictures of the rehearsal. I flicked through them again, then looked at Mitch. “I was wrong. So wrong. This changes everything.”

  Tips for an Organized Wedding

  Delegation is the key to making sure the big day runs smoothly. Even if you plan everything yourself, you can still hire a wedding day coordinator. Or, a cost-cutting option would be to draft a trusted family member or friend for this role, but it can be a stressful job. Make sure that if you recruit a friend or family member, he or she is okay with essentially “working” on the wedding day. A detail-oriented person who doesn’t mind handling any crisis that pops up is an ideal choice.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “Changes what?” Mitch asked as he cut into his stack of pancakes.

  I shifted my chair closer to Mitch and showed him the pictures of the rehearsal. “It was the champagne. The poison was in the champagne.”

  “But Redding said there were no traces of poison in anything they tested,” Mitch said.

  “Yes, but they weren’t able to test the individual glasses. They’d already been washed by the time Redding got there. They tested the residue in the bottles and there wouldn’t have been anything in the bottles that were served to everyone because the poison was only added to one glass, the one Summer drank from. Look at her champagne glass,” I said, tapping the phone’s screen. It was the photo of Summer and Brian that Livvy took seconds before they drank their first toast. Their narrow champagne flutes were pressed together and while the rims of the glasses were at the same level, the difference in the amount of liquid was easy to see now. Before, when I’d looked at the pictures, I’d been so focused on looking at people, searching for someone furtively slipping something into Summer’s food that I’d overlooked the disproportionately large amount of champagne in Summer’s glass.

  “See? Hers is filled almost to the top, while Brian’s is only about two-thirds full.”

  “Yes, it is, but that’s not proof—”

  “Of course not. We can’t be one hundred percent sure, but you know how they are, these event dinners.” We’d attended many formal dinners, called Dining-outs, as part of Mitch’s military career, as well as various Hail and Farewell events that were usually much more casual. “They don’t top off everyone’s glass to the brim at events like this one,” I said. “When the servers make their rounds they give everyone roughly the same portion, but they certainly don’t fill your glass completely. I’m sure it’s a money-saving thing for the resort.”

  “So you think someone added some sort of liquid that contained the poi
son to Summer’s glass?”

  “Yes. Think about it. Of all the food and drink served that night, it would be the one thing the poisoner could be sure she’d consume. Maybe not a lot, but she would have to at least take a few sips following the toasts. If the poison was highly concentrated . . . it might be enough.”

  “Enough to make her sick and send her to the hospital,” Mitch said, his voice tight.

  I lowered my voice even more as I flicked back to pictures that Livvy had taken. She was quite the shutterbug and had taken thirty or forty, so the moments before the toast were well documented. I found the video, made sure the sound was off on my phone, then hit play. The image came to life, and there was only a slight wobble in the picture as Livvy panned across the head table, capturing a waiter as he moved along filling each person’s champagne glass. He finished serving everyone at the head table and I knew the video would end in a few seconds. I paused it. “Look at the glasses,” I said, handing the phone to Mitch.

  He zoomed in and slid the picture back and forth, studying each glass. “But they’re all the same. No one has more than anyone else.”

  “Right.” I took the phone back, skipped over the section where Livvy panned away from the hand table, then moved to the last frame of the video Livvy had taken. “Now look at this.”

  “Yes, I see it. It’s fuzzy, but I can tell there’s more in this glass, but . . .” Mitch looked up at me. “But it’s in front of Brian, not Summer.”

  “I know,” I whispered. I flicked my finger over the screen, sliding the next picture into place, which was of Summer and Brian clicking their glasses together with Summer holding the fuller glass.

  “But that means . . .” Mitch looked away from me, his gaze scanning the room as he worked through it.

  “That Summer picked up the wrong glass, like I did just now. It’s easy to do at formal dinners with all the silverware and glasses. I know I have to check and see which glass is mine sometimes.”

  Mitch clicked the screen, making it go black. He turned more toward me. “So the poison was meant for Brian?”

  “Yes, I think so. Which changes everything. Maybe it’s Brian who is in danger, not Summer. If Ned hadn’t taken the golf cart, Brian would have been driving. He would have had the accident.”

  Mitch glanced swiftly around the room, then ran his arm along the back of my chair so he could lean in and whisper in my ear. “But what about the poison ivy and the paintball?”

  “Distractions, I think,” I said, voicing one of the thoughts that had been buzzing through my brain for the last few minutes. “Setting the stage so that the incident with the golf cart would look like an accident. It would be considered another prank, but one that had gone horribly wrong. There’s only one person who could have coordinated it all. . . .”

  I waited, to see if Mitch would come to the same conclusion I had. His gaze scanned the room and came to rest on a table not far from us. Mitch looked back at me, his eyebrows raised.

  “Graham. I think so too. He could have planted the paintball gun, the poison ivy, and the socket wrench in Julia’s room very easily, using the connecting door. And he was sitting right beside Brian at the dinner. Who would have a better opportunity to add something to his drink than the person seated beside him? He could have taken some of the lily of the valley from the flower arrangement that was damaged. He went in the resort to change while all of us were at the rehearsal. I spoke to him on the steps, but I didn’t go inside with him. He could have slipped into the banquet room, taken some of the lily of the valley, and then gone upstairs, or he could have taken some on the way down, but I’d assume he’d have to cut it up, or pulverize it or something before he added it to Brian’s glass. No one would drink something with bits of leaves or flowers floating in it. So it would make sense he would take it on his way upstairs so he could”—I swallowed, not wanting to think about how cold and calculating he’d been—“prepare it.”

  I looked across the room at him. He sat half turned away from us, his face in profile. The waitress reached to move his empty plate. He nodded at her and smiled. “How can he look so normal, so friendly? And the way he’s been treating Brian . . . how can he act like his best friend and then try to poison him? I don’t understand.”

  “Neither do I,” Mitch said. “Who knows why? But you better tell Redding.”

  “Yes, and send him these pictures, too,” I said.

  Graham stood and pushed his chair in. He headed for our table. I immediately dropped my phone to my lap like a kid caught trying to pass a note in class. He gave us a polite nod. “See you in a few hours.”

  Mitch said, “Okay. Give Julia our best wishes for a speedy recovery.”

  “Thank you, I will.” For just a second his gaze slipped from Mitch’s face toward Nathan, then he smiled. “See you later this morning.”

  Curiously, I looked over at Nathan. There was nothing to see except his plate swimming in syrup. He’d taken advantage of our preoccupation with the photos to drench his pancakes. He lifted a soggy bite to his mouth and chewed in satisfaction. Why that extra moment of attention from Graham? There was nothing to look at but a sticky little boy . . . and his paper airplane, which was balanced on the top of an unused coffee cup from his place setting.

  “Ellie, did you hear what I said?”

  “Hmm, what? I’m sorry.” I turned back to Mitch.

  He looked toward Graham’s back as he walked through the tables to the restaurant’s entrance. “Julia. He’s going to visit Julia this morning.”

  I felt my eyes widen. “And they’re bringing her out of the coma today,” I said, a sick feeling coming over me. If we were right, and Julia wasn’t guilty of all the pranks, if she was just a scapegoat whom Graham had set up to take the fall for him, she’d be able to deny everything if she was awake. I reached for my phone, as Mitch said, “Approaching monster-in-law at two o’clock.”

  “I can’t get sucked into wedding details . . . or even arguing with her right now.”

  “You go,” Mitch said. “I’ll run interference for you.”

  I slipped away from the table, automatically shouldering my tote bag, which had been on the back of my chair. I’d only gone a few steps when I darted back and scooped up the paper airplane. “Just borrowing this for a minute,” I said to Nathan.

  He would have protested, but his mouth was too full. I turned and escaped as Patricia picked up her pace, her gaze fixed on me. As I hurried away, out of the corner of my eye I saw Mitch stand and move into her path as he said, “Ellie will be back in a moment. Minor emergency that requires her attention. Why don’t you wait here with us for her?”

  Mitch really was great. Not many husbands would sacrifice themselves to casual chitchat with the likes of Patricia, I thought as I scurried through the tables. When I reached the lobby, I slipped into a chair that was nearly hidden under the huge leaves of a potted banana plant and dialed Redding’s number. It went immediately to his voice mail. My shoulders dropped. I didn’t want to leave this as a voice-mail message. I hung up. I’d try again in a second.

  While I waited, I pried the folds of the paper airplane apart and skimmed the text. It wasn’t the same page I’d looked at yesterday, but it was definitely part of a real estate contract. Mentions of escrow and title company details filled the tiny text.

  I looked consideringly toward the library, debated for a second, then stood and quickly paced down the hall. Except for one person at the far end of the table, the business center area of the library was deserted. I went to the recycling bin. It was still unlocked so I flipped it open and dug around inside.

  “Um . . . I don’t think you’re supposed to do that.” The woman at the table frowned at me.

  “Just looking for some papers that were thrown in here by mistake.” I shifted the papers around, but there weren’t any documents like the one I held in my hand.

  I let the lid fall back into place and redialed Redding’s number as I strode out the door of the library. The p
hone rang again. If he didn’t pick up this time, I would have to leave a message.

  I went back to the lobby, intending to leave my message then return to the dining room, but then I had another thought. There were more airplanes upstairs in Nathan’s suitcase. Just as I turned toward the stairs, Graham stepped inside the lobby from the veranda. My steps checked slightly as I twisted my head around so I could see where he was going. He paused, caught sight of me, and his gaze dropped to the paper airplane in my hand.

  A slight change came over his features as his gaze connected with mine. He looked determined and . . . not angry exactly . . . but cross. Probably exactly the way I looked when Livvy forgot her lunch and I had to turn the van around and rush back home to get it before the late bell rang at school.

  For a second, I considered sprinting across the lobby back to the dining room, but that would take me right into Graham’s path, and I didn’t want to get anywhere near him at this moment. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe I’d misread him. Perhaps he had simply forgotten something and returned to the resort to get it before he left the island, but I didn’t want to find out. I turned and headed up the stairs at a quick pace, but nothing that would look unusual or draw Graham’s attention back to me if I’d been mistaken about the way he looked at me.

  Redding’s voice in my ear startled me. I’d been so focused on Graham, I’d stopped listening to the ringing line on the phone. I pressed the phone to my ear and realized it was Redding’s message, not his voice that was coming through the phone. I took a deep breath, preparing to launch into my message as I reached the landing. The grand staircase folded back on itself and I switched direction, turning back to face the lobby as I climbed the next set of stairs. I gripped the handrail and looked over the banister to the set of stairs I’d just climbed. Graham was already halfway up, taking them two at a time, his long strides eating up the distance between him and the landing. He looked up quickly, his gaze going right to me. He was clearly checking my progress.

  All thoughts of playing it cool and strolling down the hall to my room evaporated when his gaze settled on me. He was coming after me. I was his goal, his target.