Weddings Are Murder

by Valerie Wolzien

  Susan felt a small twinge. “But you didn’t all have the same last name,” was her only remark.

  “No. We did think about it. Because we wanted to be one big family. But there were too many smaller units within the commune family.”

  “You mean, like you and Rhythm being married.”

  Blues nodded. “Exactly. And there were other married couples, too.”

  “When you think about it, we were a pretty conservative group for a bunch of people experimenting with alternative lifestyles,” Rhythm added. “Getting married wasn’t all that politically correct back in those days.”

  “Back in those days no one knew the term ‘politically correct,’ ” someone (Susan thought it was the woman known as Rivermist) called out.

  “Back in those days we defined what was politically correct,” High Hopes insisted loudly.

  “Back in those days we wouldn’t have listened to a word we were saying,” Rhythm insisted. “In those days what we said was, never trust anyone over thirty—and look which side of that marker we all seem to have landed on.”

  “To those of us who lived to be over thirty!” Blues toasted, holding up her glass.

  “To those of us who lived to be over forty!” Freedom called out to the cheers of the group.

  “To those of us who have made it over fifty!” came the next toast from across the room.

  There was much laughter and giggling.

  “And to those of us who didn’t.”

  Susan looked at the speaker. The Archangel had made the final toast, and there was a solemn expression on her face.

  SEVENTEEN

  The Henshaws and the Canfields were standing in the doorway of the Hancock Inn’s restaurant, saying good-bye to their guests.

  “Lovely, lovely party. Can’t tell you how we’re looking forward to the wedding tomorrow.” Dot and Brad Morris were among the last guests to leave the rehearsal dinner.

  The young people had left early. Susan had overheard continued rumblings about a bachelor party, but Chrissy and Stephen had been firmly led off by the Archangel, so apparently any party would be taking place without the groom in attendance.

  “You look like you could use a good night’s sleep,” Dot said.

  “Probably just jet lag …”

  “Lots of last-minute details …”

  Susan and Blues simultaneously offered excuses for their respective appearances.

  “This wedding stuff seems to be harder on the parents than I, at least, would have suspected,” Jed said diplomatically.

  “True. And I think our wives are coming through with flying colors,” Rhythm insisted. “Besides, no one is going to be looking at either of these lovely women tomorrow afternoon. Chrissy will be the center of attention—as a lovely young lady like her should be. Now, who would like to come up to our room for a nightcap? We brought a very special bottle of brandy from a small winery in Sonoma.”

  Susan, wondering how to refuse without sounding impolite or standoffish, was relieved when Jed found the perfect excuse.

  “You know, Rhythm, we’d love that, but I forgot to ask Chad to check on the kids’ new puppies, and I’m afraid now he’s taken off with his girlfriend. So Susan and I should head over and get them adjusted to the house before Chrissy comes home …”

  “That’s a very good idea!” Blues agreed so eagerly that Susan wondered if she hadn’t been terribly happy with her husband’s offer. “You’re not planning on keeping them in Chrissy’s room overnight, are you?”

  “Well, we thought …” Susan began.

  “Don’t be tactful. It was stupid of us to think the puppies should spend tonight with Chrissy,” Blues insisted. “She should get as much sleep as possible tonight—and you know how puppies like going outside.”

  “Definitely.” Susan nodded vigorously, not knowing exactly who was going to be taking the puppies outside tonight, but hoping it would be either her husband or her son.

  “Well, it’s been a fine day, but we’d better get going,” Jed suggested, tugging on his wife’s elbow.

  “We won’t keep you any longer. Wonderful evening. Going to be a wonderful wedding tomorrow, I’m sure of it.”

  Susan left the Inn wondering if Rhythm was capable of speaking in a normal, moderate tone of voice. She’d seen no evidence of it all day. “Do you think the puppies will need walking? After all, they’ve been outside all afternoon,” she asked, as Jed opened the door of his Mercedes for her.

  “Susan, the damn puppies are the last thing on my mind,” Jed answered, starting the ignition. “Have you figured out who the dead woman is?”

  “Not at all. Every time I think I’ve identified her, it turns out that the woman I think is dead is alive …” She stopped.

  “Don’t worry. I know exactly what you mean. Did you think she was the Archangel?”

  “Yes, did you?”

  “Yup. You could have knocked me over with a feather when that woman walked in the door and everyone started greeting her.”

  “I must admit I was thrilled when I realized Stephen’s mother was alive and well,” Susan admitted, thinking back to her earlier assumption. Then another thought struck her. “Jed! I still have no idea where Chrissy’s gown is!”

  “Didn’t you ask her?”

  “I started to, but then I stopped … I didn’t want to say anything about the box the dress was shipped here in …”

  “Susan? What’s wrong?”

  “I … I just realized something. I’ve been assuming the dress was shipped in that box, but it could have been something else, couldn’t it?”

  “Something else that was shipped to our daughter a day before her wedding. Shipped from Milan.” Jed was silent for a moment. “Well, I guess anything is possible …”

  “Maybe the girl who made the dress sent something else. You know, as a wedding present. She’s a seamstress. She might just have dress boxes around that she uses to ship other things.… It is possible, isn’t it?”

  “But not likely. Did you ask Chrissy when her dress arrived? I didn’t see anything that looked like a dress box in the hallway—although it might have been hidden by last-minute gifts. An elephant could have been hidden under the pile that was delivered this afternoon.”

  “Jed! Don’t you think you’re exaggerating?”

  “Not one bit.” He yawned. “You don’t really think we’re going to have to walk those puppies, do you? As you said, they’ve been outside all day long.”

  “Jed, do you think Stephen’s family is a little strange?”

  “Which family are you talking about? Rhythm and Blues or the entire commune clan?”

  “Well, Rhythm and Blues are the ones I was thinking about. I mean, giving them two dogs …”

  “A pair of potential prize-winning champion bull mastiffs,” Jed corrected her.

  “Bull what? Jed, those are the great big, ugly, mean dogs …”

  “They may not be to our taste, but they’re not a breed known for their meanness.… At least, I don’t think they are,” Jed said, a little more slowly.

  “You mean, you hope not.”

  “Definitely.” He turned the car on to their street. “Did we leave every light in the house on?”

  Susan peered through the windshield. “I can’t imagine why. It wasn’t even dark when we left. The sidewalk lights are on timers, but I don’t understand the rest …”

  Every window in the house was lit up. Light streamed out the windows of the double garage doors as well. A Volkswagen van was parked at the curb—a very familiar-looking van.

  “Jed, that’s Tom Davidson’s car!”

  “The one with the body in the back.”

  “The one with the back door open …” Susan said, as Jed, apparently reading her mind, stopped his car on the street behind the van. The Henshaws jumped out of either side of the auto and met at the back of the van so they discovered simultaneously that it was empty. Well, not quite empty, Susan amended. There were at least half a dozen crumpl
ed bags of garbage from various fast food restaurants that had been tossed on the floor sometime in the past.

  “What do you think?” Jed asked.

  “I suggested he put the body—”

  “Susan, you told him—”

  “Of course not! He didn’t know it was a body! What I meant was that I asked him to put the box—I called it a box—in the garage.”

  “Why?”

  “Well, he thinks it’s a wedding present. What excuse can you think of to ask someone to carry a wedding present around in his car the day before the wedding? Jed?” She said his name when he didn’t seem to be responding.

  “Do you hear someone yelling?” her husband answered slowly.

  “Yelling what? Oh, no, you don’t think he opened the box, do you?” Without waiting for an answer, Susan started to run up the driveway toward the garage.

  “Susan, I think the yelling is coming from the backyard …” Jed began.

  “It’s coming from my backyard, to be more precise,” Dan Hallard, popular ObGyn, and the Henshaws’ next-door neighbor, called out from the front porch of his large home. “The young man making the noise said something about Chrissy’s wedding presents, leapt over my hedge, fell onto the barbecue, broke at least two pieces of the expensive outdoor furniture my wife just bought, and ran off. Over his shoulder he called out what he apparently thought was an explanation for his strange behavior. He said there was a problem with one of Chrissy’s wedding presents.”

  “Which direction was he going?”

  “Toward the Ledbetters’.”

  “Let me know the amount and we’ll pay for all the damage,” Jed said, following Susan in running toward the Hallards’ backyard.

  “Don’t worry about it. The damn stuff was ugly and uncomfortable. I’ll just tell my wife it wasn’t sturdy enough to be left outside and move the old redwood furniture back out on the patio. I was storing it in the garage, just waiting for an excuse. See you at the wedding tomorrow! … Unless, of course, you’re in the hospital with a broken leg,” he added, as a loud crash indicated that Jed had followed Tom Davidson’s lead in demolishing the Hallards’ outdoor furniture.

  “Jed! Jed!” Susan took the long way through the hedge (via a gate) and sprinted after her husband, calling out his name.

  They disappeared into the night, following the sounds of someone crashing through the darkness. Fifteen minutes later, panting, filthy, and more than a little annoyed, they had circled the large block and found Tom. He was sitting, head in hands, on their front doorstep.

  The Henshaws were both out of breath, so the younger man spoke first. “I’m afraid I’ve failed Chrissy—and you two, of course.” He spoke sadly. “I was waiting for someone to come home when I heard barking out back. I thought it was Clue and went to say hello. She was lying in one corner of the pen and so I thought I’d go in and see her—it was dark back there, you see, and I had no idea she wasn’t alone. And then, when I opened the gate this horde of animals dashed by me. I saw the bows around their necks and realized they must be the dogs that Chrissy and … and her fiancé were talking about at the rehearsal, and—”

  “The puppies! You’re worried about the puppies?” Susan realized that she was so relieved, she actually felt slightly faint—or could that be the result of too little food, too much wine, and an impromptu midnight run?

  Tom looked even more depressed, but he answered the question. “And Clue … I’m worried about Clue. She dashed right out of the gate after them.”

  Susan spun around. “Clue’s missing?” she cried. “Jed, we should call the police right away. She’s wearing her collar. Someone will find her, don’t you think?” Her heart was pounding. Clue, the dog who shed on her furniture, stole food from the table, and insisted on slowly sniffing her way around the block in the worst weather imaginable, was missing. Alone somewhere. Maybe frightened … hit by a car … lying by the side of the road … Susan was so upset she didn’t even notice at first when a bright red Mustang convertible pulled into the driveway.

  “Hey, Mom! Look who I found over on Dogwood Lane!” Chad climbed from the car, followed by a very tired golden retriever.

  “Clue! Clue. Come here!” Susan knelt down in the manner approved by her teachers in obedience classes. Clue, sighing loudly, wandered slowly into her arms and allowed herself to be petted.

  “Gee, Mom, you’ve got to be more careful. She could have been hit by a car.”

  “It isn’t your mother’s fault the dog got out. She escaped from her run while I had the gate open,” Tom said, getting up to greet the dog.

  “I don’t suppose you have any idea where the other two puppies are?” Jed asked his son.

  “Other two puppies? You mean the mastiffs escaped as well?” Chad said.

  “Did you say mastiffs? Are you sure about that?” Susan asked. She had been hoping it was just a rumor.

  “Yeah. Neat gift, huh? You know they’re going to grow up to be over a hundred pounds—they’ll make Clue look like a wimp!”

  “Over a hundred pounds each?” Susan asked. “Chrissy and Stephen are going to keep two hundred pounds of energetic dogs in an apartment in the middle of Philadelphia?”

  “Maybe it’s better for the kids if they just stay lost,” Jed muttered, starting to walk away.

  “Jed! Where are you going?”

  “To put the car away. It’s going to be a long day tomorrow and I’d like to get at least a little sleep.”

  “Jed! You’re not going to bed!”

  “Yes, Susan, I’m going to do exactly that. And I suggest you do the same.”

  “But the puppies … And the … the lady … the wedding present in the garage …”

  “Oh, are you talking about that box we put in the back of my van, Mrs. Henshaw? Because you don’t have to worry about that anymore. That’s what I was coming over here to tell you …” Tom began.

  “What? What were you going to tell my wife?” Jed stopped dead in his tracks.

  “Didn’t you put it in the garage?” Susan asked.

  “Nope. I didn’t have to. The groom—what’s his name, Stephen?—he took it from me at the Inn. I figured since he was marrying Chrissy, he would know what to do with it.”

  EIGHTEEN

  That’s when Susan’s purse (strangely silent for the past few hours) began to ring.

  “What the …” Jed, tired and unaccustomed to his wife’s demanding cell phone, was startled.

  Susan, busy trying to figure out what Stephen’s possession of the body meant, didn’t respond immediately. Besides, her purse seemed to have stretched; she couldn’t find the bottom.

  “Mom! You’re supposed to answer your phone!”

  Susan, irritated and tired, emptied the entire contents of her bag onto the top step, much to the delight of Clue, who wolfed down a Mars bar, wrapper and all, before anyone realized what was happening. Susan finally found and flipped open her phone. “Hello? Hello?” She smacked the phone against her thigh. “What’s wrong with this thing?” she asked no one in particular.

  Jed glanced at the numbers flashing in the dark. “Looks to me like it needs charging. Have you been plugging it in at night?”

  “Not enough, obviously. Do you think it’s Stephen … calling about the bo—” she glanced at Tom Davidson “—calling about the wedding present?”

  “Possibly. Maybe we should head inside and see if there are any messages on the answering machine.”

  “Good thought!” Susan flipped her phone shut and grabbed Clue’s collar. “Maybe we better give Clue some cookies—” Before she had finished the sentence, the dog had pulled free and bounded through the door Jed had opened into the house. “I guess she’s hungry.”

  “Do you want me to keep looking for the puppies, Mrs. Henshaw?” Tom asked. “I don’t mind. I feel sort of responsible for letting them out of the dog run the way I did.”

  “We’d appreciate it, but why don’t you come inside and have a cup of coffee first?” Jed offered. “A
nd we should call the police station. Those puppies are pretty hard to ignore. It’s just possible someone found them and called the police already.”

  “Sure.” Tom and Jed entered the house right behind Susan and Clue. Chad remained outside to say good-bye to his driver.

  “If you’ll feed Clue, I’ll check the answering machine,” Susan said, heading back to Jed’s study without waiting for a response. She wanted to be alone to listen to any messages. The last thing they needed now was for Tom to overhear anything about the body he had delivered into Stephen’s hands.

  As she had expected, the light on the machine was flashing. Shoving aside the boxes covering the couch, Susan sat down, fumbling in her purse for a pen and something to write on. By the time she’d unearthed a crumpled envelope and her favorite Waterman, the first two messages had played.

  “Susan … Jed … it’s Naomi. My sister-in-law appeared in town this morning. She’s been dumped by that bastard she took up with after her divorce and she’s been crying ever since she walked in the door—except when she’s eating. Susan, I know this is an imposition, but could we possibly bring her along to the reception tomorrow? I suppose the wedding will depress her, but I know you’re going to have wonderful food. Well, just let me know if it’s impossible. Otherwise, have a good night’s sleep, and we’ll all see you tomorrow.”

  “Jed. Susan. It’s Melissa Ericksen. My stupid husband broke his ankle falling in a gopher hole on the golf course and has to have some sort of surgery—a pin inserted through the bones, the orthopedist says. So he won’t be at the reception tomorrow. I thought you might like to know. When our son got married, so many people called asking to bring last-minute guests … Well, I just wanted you to know you have one empty seat available.”

  Not really, Susan thought, writing furiously.

  “Susan, this is Erika. I’ve been thinking, and if you have a few minutes, there’s something I should tell you. I’ll be going right home after Tom finishes up. You can call me there tonight. Or tomorrow morning, I guess.” She announced her phone number before hanging up.