“Brett, am I going to have a nervous breakdown right here or are you going to tell me what’s worrying Erika?” She realized she was becoming slightly shrill.
“She thinks … She’s sure, in fact, that someone tampered with the decorations and caused the flowers to fall.”
“What?”
“Erika says she found one of those tiny Swiss Army knives on the floor near where the cord holding up the flowers broke.”
“So?”
“She thinks it was intentional.”
“Brett, we’re talking about a small part of a swag of lilacs. What reason could anyone have to intentionally cause them to fall on the flower girl? Or fall at all?”
“Believe me, Susan, I asked the same question. But Erika has a point here. The other side of this is, why would someone—anyone—go to the trouble of unclipping the cords holding up the swag?”
Susan, realizing Brett was serious about this question, thought for a few seconds. “Maybe a prank?”
“Susan, do you know anyone who might not want this wedding to take place? Someone who might have been hoping Chrissy would marry him instead of Stephen?”
Susan blinked; this was the last thing she had been thinking about. “I … I don’t really have any idea. Chrissy’s always been popular. There have been boys hanging around since she was fifteen. And she’s been away at college for the last four years—who knows how many young men she dated there—or how serious she was about them. Or they were about her.” She paused, remembering the succession of men who had been brought home on vacations. One had dyed his hair orange and purple. The next had shaved all his off, and made up for his lack of locks by growing a long beard. Then there had been the anarchist.… She must be crazy to worry about Stephen. But she realized Brett was expecting a response. “Why are you asking? Do you think someone wants to interrupt her wedding? You don’t think anyone wants to hurt her?”
“Look, I don’t want to worry you,” Brett said. “It was something Erika suggested. She thought … ”
“What did she think? You can’t leave it hanging like that,” Susan insisted.
“She was concerned about that Tom Davidson—the photographer who is helping her at your church. You must know him—I just saw him downstairs right now.”
“Of course, I know him. He’s always struck me as a nice young man.”
“Well, that may be. But Erika seemed to think he was paying an awful lot of attention to Chrissy. And then, when the flowers fell and Erika found the knife, she began to wonder if maybe he, or someone else, wanted to interrupt the rehearsal for some reason.”
“To keep Chrissy from getting married?” Susan asked, incredulous.
“Well, it is just one explanation for something that is worrying her,” Brett suggested.
“You think it’s something more serious.”
“I don’t think it’s anything. As far as I know, the flowers falling was an accident, and the fact that Erika found the little Swiss Army knife was just a coincidence. After all, it could have fallen from someone’s pocket or purse during church last Sunday.”
“Is that what you really think? You don’t seem particularly worried.”
Brett chuckled. “Frankly, yes. I’m nuts about Erika, but she really hates it when anything goes wrong, and she sure doesn’t like to admit that she’s made a mistake.”
“Then—”
“But don’t tell her I said that, please.”
Susan, passing up an opportunity to learn a little more about a relationship that had interested her since its inception, merely nodded. “So you don’t think I have to worry,” she said.
“I think—” But it would have to remain a mystery. There was a loud crash as if someone had fallen into one of the many boxes and trunks that lined the attic walls and then Chrissy appeared. She was crying and slightly hysterical.
“Mother! You won’t believe what’s happened.… Someone has stolen my wedding dress!”
TWENTY
“What? Brett, someone stole Chrissy’s wedding gown! You have to do something! Call someone … We should search the area.…” Susan, excited, grabbed Brett’s sleeves in both hands. She did, however, have some idea of how silly she sounded.
“Susan, calm down. Were there diamonds on this gown? Was it made of something so valuable that a thief could turn it over to a fence and make some sort of profit?”
“Valuable? Of course it’s valuable! What else is Chrissy going to wear tomorrow?” Susan cried, impatient with his male attitude.
“You’re thinking this is some sort of prank, aren’t you, sir?” A calm (inappropriately so, Susan thought) voice asked the question.
Susan was surprised to find Stephen standing beside her daughter. “What are you doing here?” she asked, immediately realizing just how rude she sounded. “I don’t mean …”
“Please don’t worry about it. I can understand your surprise. It’s awfully late. It’s just that I tried to call and explain, but someone hung up on me, so then I thought I’d better come right over and explain in person what’s going on. Or what we think might be doing on.” He amended his statement as he wrapped an arm around Chrissy’s shoulders.
“We think? You mean, you and Chrissy?” Brett asked, taking an unreasonable amount of time to call out his officers and inform them about this crime, Susan thought.
“Yes. We think someone is trying to keep us from going through with the service tomorrow,” Stephen said.
“You mean that’s what you think,” Chrissy said.
Susan, pleased to see her daughter standing up for herself, smiled for the first time since she had arrived home. “What do you think is going on?” she asked the young woman.
“I don’t think anything’s going on—”
“Then where do you think your dress has gone? It didn’t just get up, put itself in its box, and walk away,” Stephen interrupted.
“A box? What box?” Jed had joined them.
“The box the dress was shipped from Italy in,” Chrissy explained. “I was worried about the dress becoming crumpled—you know how silk chiffon is, and that fabric is so fine”—Susan took note of the gown’s material—“so when I saw that Stephen had the box it arrived in, I asked if he would give it to the Archangel so she could put the dress back in it—if that makes any sense,” she ended, biting her lip. “It’s sort of late.”
But not too late for Susan to notice that someone must have emptied the box before it was turned over to the Archangel. Had Stephen done it? She glanced over at him. The young man was looking at her daughter in a manner she would have approved of before she found herself questioning his part in this murder—or its cover-up. There were too many questions here. What had happened to the body? Had Stephen mentioned finding a dead woman to anyone? If he hadn’t, why hadn’t he? Certainly, he must have been shocked to find her.… Unless, of course, he had known the body was in the box. And who would know that except for the person who placed it—her—in there?
She frowned. Jed’s expression was equally grave.
“Now, I know it’s late, but just let me get this straight,” Brett said. “Who had the gown?”
“The Archangel,” Susan said, then realized she would have to explain. “That’s the woman who was the commune’s minister … or not exactly a minister, more like a spiritual leader—”
“Actually, she sewed in whatever it was that she thought was important and gave the dress away to—” Chrissy started to explain.
“To my parents. Well, my mother actually.” Stephen picked up the story.
“Where is your mother?” Brett asked.
“In her room at the Hancock Inn, I assume … Oh, you mean where did she have the dress.”
“Exactly.”
“In her room. She was going to bring it over here in the morning.”
“Why was the dress at the Inn?” Jed asked.
“I took it over there to show Stephen’s parents,” Chrissy said. “Then it came back here, but later the
Archangel wanted to sew some sort of small talisman in it. She said she would give it to Stephen’s mother when she was done with it. And she did.”
“And why they had it—” Stephen began.
“They had it because your mother wanted to bring it over here in the morning. She asked for it,” Chrissy cried, sounding outraged. “I did it to be nice to your parents! Your mother insisted. Said she’d never had a daughter and wanted to share in the morning before the wedding with me.”
“So why didn’t you just ask her to come over for breakfast or something? Why did the dress have to stay with her overnight?”
“I did!” Chrissy’s eyes flashed. “I said I’d bring the dress home and that she was welcome to come over first thing in the morning and help me dress. And the Archangel offered to bring it over tonight, but your mother almost insisted on bringing it in the morning. What else could I do?”
“I—”
“Everyone’s tired …”
“Maybe we should worry about this later.”
The three adults broke in at the same time. But it was Stephen who stopped the argument from escalating. He clasped Chrissy’s hands in both of his and apologized. “I’m sorry. What isn’t my fault here is my parent’s fault. I should have warned you about my mother’s need to get intimately involved in the lives of everyone around her.”
“No, it’s my fault. I should have insisted on the dress coming home with me. My own mother hasn’t even seen my dress.…” Chrissy’s maturity was short-lived, and tears started to seep from the corners of her eyes. “And now no one is going to be able to see it. I don’t know what I’m going to wear tomorrow. I was … I thought … All I wanted to do was look beautiful for you … for our wedding.”
The last words were wailed into Stephen’s shirtfront and, as his arms closed around her daughter, Susan offered a prayer that this young man had nothing to do with the body in the box.
“You don’t have to worry about that,” Stephen insisted, gently kissing the crown of Chrissy’s head. “You don’t have to worry about anything.”
“Maybe the Henshaws should all go to bed,” Brett suggested. “Stephen can tell me where the dress was last seen and I’ll call out some of my men to talk to the staff at the Inn and search the area if it turns out to be necessary. That dress didn’t walk away by itself, after all.”
“But—” Susan began.
“What about the fire alarm?” Jed interrupted.
Brett sighed. “Maybe you should put a call in to your alarm company. Who do you use?”
“It’s one of the smaller companies—they took over Kathleen’s business when Alex was born. I’ll call Kathleen,” Susan said, inspired.
“At this hour?” Stephen glanced down at his watch.
“Mother is always calling Mrs. Gordon. I told you,” Chrissy explained, sounding like her old self.
“That’s right. You said they had solved crimes of some sort together, didn’t you?” Stephen gave Susan a long look. She couldn’t decide if he was wondering about the genes that might be passed on from a woman with such a peculiar hobby or … or if he was wondering if she and Kathleen might know about the body … or if he was wondering how much she knew about his part in the disappearing body … “You know, I am going to call Kathleen,” Susan said. “Maybe she’ll know what to do here.”
“I think—”
“I think it’s time for you to go to bed,” Stephen interrupted Chrissy. “You don’t have to worry. I’ll find your gown before tomorrow morning.”
“Oh, Stephen …”
Susan thought for a moment that her daughter was going to swoon in her fiancé’s arms. But she didn’t have time to be irritated by the girl’s unliberated behavior; what, she wondered, was Stephen going to do now? And how could she find out?
“Maybe everyone should go to bed,” Brett repeated. “I can call when we find the dress.”
“Wonderful,” Jed said, starting down the attic stairs. “Coming, Susan?”
“We’d better give them some time to say good night,” Brett said.
But Susan was rushing down the stairs and didn’t bother to reply. She hoped Stephen and Chrissy’s good-nights took a good long time—or, at least, time enough for her to change her clothing, drive out of the driveway, and park down the street. She had no intention of letting Stephen leave here without an escort. To be safe, she would call Kathleen. After all, the mother of the flower girl and ring bearer might as well be as tired as the mother of the bride—if there were a wedding, she thought, closing the bedroom door behind her and heading straight for her closet.
Black. If she was going to be snooping around in the dark, she needed black clothes. She dressed in leggings, a long sleeved black T-shirt, and, alas, dirty white Keds (she had decided to trade consistency for traction), and was pulling stuff off the top shelf of Jed’s closet when he entered the room.
“What are you doing?”
“Looking for a flashlight. Don’t you keep one in here?”
“I keep two of them in there.” Her husband squatted down and pulled a box off the shoe shelf near the floor. “Which do you want?” He offered a choice of a foot-long Maglite or a Coleman torch.
Susan chose the Maglite. “Heavy, isn’t it?”
“Yes. Now, are you going to dash out into the darkness this minute, or can you take the time to tell me what you’re planning on doing?”
“I’m going to call Kathleen.” She grabbed the phone. “I just hope I’m in time …”
“For what?”
“To find out where that young man is going tonight.”
“Susan, you’re not telling me that you’re going to follow him?”
“What else?”
“Susan—”
“Jerry. It’s Susan. I know it’s late, but I have to talk to Kathleen for a moment.” Susan ignored her husband and spoke into the receiver. “Hi, Kath, I need your help.”
“I—”
Susan impatiently put a hand on her husband’s arm. “Stephen is going to leave here in a few minutes—I’ll explain later,” she continued into the receiver, “and I think he’s going to head over to the Inn. Would you drive over and see what he does when he gets there? Without him knowing that you’re watching, if possible. I know it’s late. But he gave the box to his parents—and I assume the dress wasn’t in it at that point.”
Kathleen understood immediately, and with a few more words, Susan hung up.
“I can—” Jed began.
“You need to stay here in case Brett calls,” Susan said.
“Susan, you’ll be running around in the dark and there’s a murderer loose somewhere. I think I should be with you.”
“Jed, you’re right about the murderer. Which is why I’ll feel better if I know you’re here with the kids.” She headed out the door.
“Are you going to tell me where you’re going?”
“I’m going to follow Stephen—he might not go to the Inn, after all,” Susan said, as the bedroom door swung closed behind her.
“But—”
“Jed, I have my phone with me. I’ll call you as soon as I know anything …” Susan called the last words over her shoulder as she ran down the stairs, through the hallway, and into her kitchen. She was taking the time to mentally applaud her foresight at not tripping over any of the boxes in the hallway, when she smashed right into the largest dog crate she’d ever seen.
Naturally, she startled the puppies inside, and just as naturally, the poor things began to bark their heads off.
“Damn! Shhh! Shhh!”
“Susan? Jed? Something wrong?”
Susan was horrified to see Brett stick his head in the kitchen door. “It’s me, Brett. I … I just …” She looked around the room and an answer came to her. “I’m having Jed’s and my relatives in for brunch tomorrow … and now it appears as though the Canfields will be here. I … I was just making sure I have everything organized before I go to bed.” She noticed that the skeptical expression rema
ined glued to his face. “Maybe you’d like to come over, too? You can bring Erika. I’m planning on starting to serve food around nine.…” She felt something strange seeping into the sides of her Keds and, looking down, discovered that she was standing in a puddle of puppy pee. “Shit.”
Brett chuckled. “That, too.” He nodded. “Over there in the corner by the refrigerator. I guess one of them made a pit stop on the way to its crate and no one noticed.”
“I thought I smelled something. I guess I have more to do than just worry about breakfast,” Susan said, relieved to be honest for once, but wishing Brett would leave so she could be on her way. “Of course, the dress is worrying me more than anything else,” she hinted broadly.
“I’ll go to the Inn and see if I can track it down.” He paused. “You don’t know any reason why your future in-laws might have hidden the dress, do you?”
“Heavens, no. Do you?”
“No. But obviously something strange is going on here.”
“Brett, they’re California people. It’s probably just something New Age or Millennium-ish or something like that,” she ended weakly. What could she say to get this man to leave? How was she going to follow Stephen if he left before she could get out of here?
“Well, I’ll leave you to your cooking and cleaning,” Brett said, turned, and left the room.
Susan heard the front door slam as the kitchen door swung closed behind Brett. Without a thought for what she was now tracking across her quarry tile floor, she ran across the kitchen to the garage. If she hurried, she might just manage to see where Stephen’s car went.…
TWENTY-ONE
So much for going to the Hancock Inn. Stephen was obviously heading to the Yacht Club from the time he pulled out of the Henshaws’ driveway. Good thing his direction stayed so consistent, Susan thought grimly. In the fifteen minutes it took them to travel from home to the club, it was difficult not to come to the conclusion that Stephen was avoiding the police. More than once on their joint jaunt across town, he had turned abruptly and Susan, following as closely as she dared, had noticed a patrol car traveling slowly down the street they just left.
Weddings Are Murder Page 15
