Weddings Are Murder

by Valerie Wolzien

  “Exactly. What to give the kids—that was the question we grappled with as well. We thought and we thought and we thought. We wanted something that would look toward the future, while at the same time being a tribute to their lives and their love in the present.”

  Susan found herself wondering if the check she and Jed were going to present Stephen and Chrissy with this evening qualified on either score. But her future relative was continuing.

  “We got nowhere on our own, so we consulted our spiritual advisor, our astrologer, and our guru.”

  Susan didn’t have any idea how to respond. She realized most of the eyes in the room were on Rhythm—and the rest were on her. She sipped her drink and tried to look intelligent.

  “We were desperate. Blues was writing down her dreams each morning looking for a clue. She’d found her old tarot cards and was playing and replaying her future. I had plans to go on a spiritual retreat and think of nothing, absolutely nothing else, and then the answer walked right into our front yard.” He paused and looked around the room at his friends, who were looking back, expectant expressions on their faces.

  “What walked into your yard?” Jed asked.

  “The answer to our dilemma. The perfect present for the kids.”

  “Which is …” Susan prompted, finishing off her drink, hoping for something to dull the shock of whatever was coming.

  “The obvious. Something for them to grow together in their care. Something that will teach them responsibility and discipline, yet will provide continuous love.…”

  Susan tried not to giggle. It almost sounded like he was talking about buying a dog for a young child.…

  And then she couldn’t believe her ears—he was talking about a dog! Or, more correctly, a pair of dogs.

  “Potential show dogs, naturally, so if the kids decide that they want to go in that direction …” Rhythm continued, apparently unaware of the surprised expressions on Jed’s and Susan’s faces.

  But Stephen and Chrissy were going to start their married life in a small apartment in Philadelphia! Where would they put two dogs? Who would housebreak them? Train them? Walk them? Susan was still asking herself these questions when she realized everyone in the room was looking at her expectantly. “What a … What an interesting, creative wedding gift!” she said, as enthusiastically as she could manage.

  “Yes. Definitely.”

  Well, apparently Jed wasn’t going to be much help here.

  “We love dogs, of course, and I’m sure Chrissy will be thrilled …”

  “That’s what we all thought!” A woman came across the room and put her arm through Rhythm’s. Thank heavens! This must be Stephen’s mother. The dead woman was a stranger.… Susan spoke her first thought aloud, only to be disappointed.

  “No, I’m his aunt. His real aunt, not his commune aunt,” came the reply.

  “I guess we should explain that all of us in the commune felt that we were related. And the children were raised to use familial terms when they spoke with us.” This from the man Susan had assumed was the Canfields’ minister.

  “But the dogs. The important thing here is the dogs!” A redheaded woman (surely too young to be Stephen’s mother) got them all back on track. “The dogs are here. I have them. They’re in my car. And they should come out,” she added, when neither Susan nor Jed responded immediately.

  “Oh, yes! Of course!” Susan jumped. “But where will we put them?” She noticed that no one had yet identified the breed of dog. But all puppies were small, weren’t they?

  “I thought your daughter’s room would be the choice. Then she can get to know them. Brides never get much sleep the night before the wedding now, do they?” the dog-keeper continued.

  “No, but …” Susan didn’t know what to say, but she certainly didn’t think much of that idea.

  “Why don’t I help you get them from your car, and they can stay in Clue’s run for the time being,” Jed suggested. “That way they can get used to a new place without being … uh, without being overwhelmed by too many strangers,” he ended tactfully.

  “Clue? I assume that’s a dog’s name.”

  “Actually, her full name is Susan Hasn’t Got …” her husband started to explain.

  “She’s a golden retriever. She’s very sweet and friendly. I’m sure they’ll all get along,” Susan interrupted. There was little need to share this particular family joke now, as far as she was concerned.

  “We’d better get them out right away,” Jed insisted. “Then we’ve all got time for one more drink—if anybody wants one—before we go to the church. Wouldn’t want the bridal party to think we’d deserted them.” He left with the puppies’ caretaker and Rhythm.

  “No more champagne for me … Maybe some bottled water.”

  “Yes, I’m thirsty, too …”

  “You know, water will help with the jet lag and …”

  Susan and Kathleen exchanged looks across the room, then they both headed out to the kitchen.

  “How many glasses? I haven’t had time to count heads,” Susan said, pushing the door open. “Oh, my goodness!” The kitchen was a disaster area. Cardboard boxes lay open on all the countertops. Empty champagne bottles filled the sink. The table was covered with an even larger pile of wedding presents than the one in the front hall.

  “It’s a mess, but don’t worry. No one is going to look in here …”

  “What about breakfast tomorrow?” Susan asked, deciding, first things first, and emptying the cupboard where her glasses were stored onto a large tray.

  “You think you’ll have time to eat?” Kathleen asked, her head in the refrigerator.

  “I invited both mothers and a few of Jed’s and my family members here for breakfast.”

  “Boy, you really do know how to fill a weekend, don’t you?”

  “Everything worked out on paper. Of course, I didn’t plan on extra relatives, two puppies, or a dead body …”

  “Who’s dead?”

  The women turned around and discovered Jed standing in the back doorway. They exchanged glances, but didn’t answer him.

  “Everyone is thirsty, but they seem to want seltzer, not more champagne,” Susan said.

  “Amazing how many people brought wedding gifts with them instead of mailing them,” Kathleen said, walking over to the pile on the table. “Wonder how all these things got through security at the airport.”

  “You mentioned a dead body.” Jed insisted on sticking to the point.

  Susan frowned. “Believe me, Jed, you don’t want to know about it. You see—”

  “That dog … your dog … Your dog is attacking the puppies!”

  Later, Susan realized it was as effective a way to clear the house as yelling, “Fire!”

  Fortunately the rain had stopped or everyone would have looked as casual as Susan. But one end of the dog run was a bowl of mud. And, naturally enough, that was the end in which the animals had chosen to cavort. The puppies were not, of course, being attacked by Clue. The golden retriever (now more chocolate brown than golden) was doing her best to make the little fellows feel at home, rolling around on the ground to the yipping delight of the youngsters.

  Susan realized everyone was smiling at the sight. Except for Jed. He was motioning for Susan to head back to the house with him.

  “I think your husband wants you,” Rhythm said.

  “And I think we should leave you two alone and head on over to the church. We have these wonderful directions and I’m sure we’ll make it.” The woman who had taken care of the puppies made the suggestion.

  “Why don’t you all just follow my car?” Kathleen suggested.

  “Good idea,” she agreed.

  “We’ll leave you two alone for now—but you’ll be at the church …” Rhythm said.

  “We’ll be right behind you,” Susan said. “Don’t worry.”

  Jed waited until everyone had decided who was going to ride with whom and the last car was backing out of the driveway before turning to
his wife.

  Susan was staring at the animals in the pen. “What sort of puppies do they look like to you, Jed? They seem awfully large—”

  “Susan, this is no time to worry about unimportant things. Who is dead? And who do you think the murderer is?”

  TWELVE

  “… And I don’t, of course, have any idea who the murderer is.” Susan ended her explanation as Jed steered his Mercedes into the parking lot beside the Hancock Presbyterian Church.

  “No, I guess it’s difficult to figure that out when you don’t even know the identity of the victim,” Jed said, turning off the motor, leaning back in his seat, and closing his eyes.

  Susan bit her lip, wondering what he was thinking about all this. If he was going to insist on calling the police. How she would convince him that was unnecessary …

  “I don’t suppose it will be possible to discover the identity of the murderer before the wedding,” Jed mused, a stem expression on his face.

  “Well, the police—”

  Jed opened his eyes, turned, and looked directly at his wife. “I got the impression you weren’t going to call Brett about this—otherwise you wouldn’t have worked so hard to keep the body hidden.”

  “True.” Susan realized what he was—or wasn’t—saying. “Do you think I should try to solve this myself? That I don’t need to notify the police?”

  “I think—even though Brett is as tactful a person as you could want—I think it will destroy Chrissy’s wedding if this becomes known right now,” he said solemnly.

  “That’s what I thought!” Susan cried.

  “Which is not to say that I think you’re doing the right thing. Hiding the body is illegal—and you’re putting that nice Tom Davidson in jeopardy, too. But you had no choice. To do anything else would ruin the most important day in Chrissy’s life.”

  Susan could hardly believe her ears. “So you think I’m right. And you’ll help me investigate …” She saw images of Mr. and Mrs. North, and a smile began to play around her lips.

  “Susan, I don’t think we—or you—should investigate. I think we should move the body to someplace safer and hope no one finds it until after the wedding. Whoever the woman is, everyone will assume she’s just missing, not dead … not murdered. Then, tomorrow night, we can take Brett aside, show him the body, tell him the entire story, and throw ourselves on his mercy. And if he doesn’t throw us both in jail, I’ll be very surprised.”

  “Then …”

  “Of course, some of this is going to depend on who the dead woman is …”

  “Do you want to see her?”

  “Ah …”

  “I think that’s Tom’s van—parked over near the handicapped ramp.” Susan pointed. “She’s in the back. But … Oh, no. That’s the best man,” she added as a good-looking young man walked out the back door of the church. “Do you think he’s looking for us?”

  Jed glanced at his watch. “I don’t know. But we’re almost fifteen minutes late.”

  “I need to talk to him—just for a moment—he delivered the dress to the Yacht Club, Jed. I have some questions to ask him—”

  “You seem to have missed your chance to talk with him in private,” Jed said, motioning to a young woman with flaming red hair who had just joined the best man. “I think we’d better get inside and see Reverend Price—and Chrissy.”

  “And Chrissy! Yes. And maybe I can find out where her gown is.” Susan remembered the other problem that had been worrying her, and she leapt out of the car and trotted toward the church. Jed glanced at the best man, who now seemed to be throwing up in some bushes by the parking lot; the young woman, with a concerned look on her face, was standing by his side. Jed, deciding that the best man didn’t seem to need his care, hurried after his wife.

  The decorating seemed to be finished, and Erika and Tom Davidson were busy setting up lights at the back of the sanctuary. Chrissy, Stephen, and the rest of the wedding party (minus the best man) were standing around the chancel laughing at something Reverend Richard Price had just said. Susan stopped for a moment and admired her daughter. Chrissy, tall and thin, wearing a navy miniskirt, white silk shell, and high-heeled white sandals, her long blond hair pulled off her face with a scarlet silk scarf, looked excited and happy—the very picture of a young woman on the eve of her wedding. The minister waved and Susan hurried up the green carpeted aisle.

  “Ah, here comes the mother of the bride now. Good evening, Susan.”

  “Hi, Dick.” The Henshaws had been friends of their minister for years. “Sorry to be so late.”

  “You’re not late.” He glanced down at his watch. “In fact, you’re a little early. We plan on at least a twenty-minute delay in the schedule the day before the wedding. Tomorrow is another story. You would not believe how late some people are for their own weddings. Not that we would expect that sort of behavior from Chrissy,” he added, beaming at the young woman.

  “Chrissy’s never late,” Stephen asserted, apparently believing he was standing up for his betrothed.

  Susan wondered if he was marrying another Chrissy than her daughter. Her Chrissy had made lateness something of an art form. On her sixteenth birthday she had not only been the last person to arrive at a party given in her honor, but she had arrived at the wrong restaurant. And while being late to meet her parents for her graduation ceremony from college, she had discovered, and adopted, and then found good homes for three tiny calico kittens abandoned in a field near the campus. Susan glanced at her daughter to see how she felt about her future husband’s assertion. Chrissy, however, was staring intently at something—or someone—at the back of the church.

  Susan turned around and spied Erika high up on a tall ladder, attaching a light to the bottom of the balcony. She frowned as Erika swayed slightly, then was relieved to notice that Tom Davidson shared her concern and had dashed across the room to stabilize the ladder. Thank goodness; all they needed was for Erika to fall and break her neck the night before Chrissy’s wedding.

  “Mother, you didn’t hear a word of what Stephen just said to you, did you?”

  Susan, realizing how self-centered she had become, returned to the present. “I’m sorry, Stephen. It’s just that I have so much on my mind these days.…”

  “Stay in the present. Don’t fret about the past. Don’t worry about the future. The way to enlightenment is here. Now.”

  “I wonder if you’ve met my mother, Reverend Price,” Stephen said dryly.

  “Mom! I was wondering where you were. How was your flight?” Chrissy asked, walking down the steps to greet the large woman with flowing gray hair who had walked down the aisle to stand beside Susan.

  Susan watched awkwardly as her daughter and Blues Canfield threw their arms around each other. She had noticed this woman at her own home earlier, but hadn’t caught her name. So Stephen’s mother wasn’t dead. She was relieved, of course. But then who the hell was the dead woman? How could she find a murderer in less than twenty-four hours when she didn’t even know who, exactly, had been murdered?

  “My mother,” Stephen was explaining to Dick Price, “is something of a free spirit. She’s probably spent the last few hours alone in her hotel room meditating—”

  “My son is trying to convince you I’m a flake, Reverend,” Blues said, holding out her hand to greet the minister before she turned to her son. “I have not been meditating. I’ve actually spent the afternoon since we arrived in this beautiful town very productively. And, in fact, we’ve been at your future in-laws’ home drinking champagne for the past hour or so. Lovely home. And lovely people.”

  Blues smiled so sincerely at Susan that she couldn’t resist smiling back. “We enjoyed having you all,” she said sincerely.

  “You all? Mother, you didn’t take the entire crowd over to the Henshaws?”

  “We enjoyed it,” Susan insisted. “Such interesting people …”

  “Mother …”

  “You heard what your future mother-in-law said, Stephen,” his
mother interrupted sweetly. “Isn’t it time we got this show on the road, Reverend Price?”

  The minister, recognizing his role as a man of peace, picked up the hint. “Excellent idea. Now, Chrissy, are you going to rehearse or is someone going to stand in for you?”

  “I’m not superstitious,” Chrissy claimed. “But …”

  “It’s tradition,” Stephen stated flatly. “Brides don’t rehearse for their weddings.”

  Chrissy looked up at her fiancé. The expression on her face was closer to that of Nancy Reagan when her husband was president than Susan liked to think about. “You’re right, Stephen. I’ll just sit in the first pew and watch.”

  “Fine. Now, I understand the person who is going to help me marry this young couple isn’t here?”

  “No, the Archangel has been held up,” Stephen said.

  “Well, that’s no problem. I’ll just go on and we’ll get together when the other minister arrives. The first thing I do on these occasions is talk to all the ushers. We want to make sure people are seated evenly throughout the congregation, which is sometimes a more difficult task than it might appear to be. So, if you don’t mind, ushers to the front of the room, everyone else to the rear. Bridesmaids should figure out what order they want to be in to proceed down the aisle.…”

  “Oh, I have a list,” Susan said, putting her hand in her purse.

  “Are we going to have a flower girl or a ring … Oh, there we are.” Reverend Price looked over his wire-rimmed glasses at Kathleen’s children Alex and Alice Gordon, sitting in the second row of pews. “Alex and Alice. You were so quiet and good that I didn’t even know you were here.”

  Three-year-old Alice smiled complacently, but her seven-year-old brother spoke up loudly. “My mother told me to take care of her.”

  “You’ve obviously done an excellent job.”

  “I told her if she didn’t shut up, I’d put a snake in her bed tonight,” Alex announced proudly.

  Alice’s mouth started to curve downward, and Susan saw it was time to act.