“Look, Stephen is going to marry Chrissy. I understand that you might be in a difficult position here …” Kathleen stopped again.
“I know what you don’t want to say. That Stephen might be lying. That he might have more to do with David’s mother’s body disappearing than he’s willing to admit.”
“You know it could be true.”
“Yes. That’s why I have to find out who the murderer is before the ceremony tomorrow. And Stephen brought that up himself—that proves something, doesn’t it?”
Kathleen paused to unlock her car door. “I suppose so, but …” She stopped, leaning across the seats to open the door on the passenger’s side.
“If you’re going to ask me what I’m going to do if I discover that Stephen had something to do with the murder, don’t. Because it’s not going to happen. Period.”
Kathleen started her car and smiled. “I’m glad you feel so confident about him.”
Susan only wished it were true. She leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes. Surprisingly enough, she wasn’t tired. Her heart was racing and her brain seemed to be processing information fast and efficiently. First, she would check out things at the Yacht Club. Or had she better pick up her car and return to the Inn and spend more time with Rhythm and Blues? And had anyone at home taken those damn puppies for a walk?
Her next thought was that someone was punching her shoulder rather roughly. “Wha—?”
“Susan, wake up. We’re at the Yacht Club. Listen, maybe you’d rather I drive you home and you can send someone to pick up your car in the morning. You probably shouldn’t drive if you’re this tired.”
Susan sat up so straight that she bopped her head on the roof of the sports car. “Ow! No. No, I’m okay. It’s a short drive to my house. I won’t have any trouble making it. You’ve done more than enough tonight. You’d better get home to bed, too. Or has Alex outgrown getting up at the crack of dawn?”
“The day he started sleeping late, Alice decided to become a morning person,” Kathleen said. “Jerry says we can’t win.”
“It doesn’t get easier as they get older,” Susan muttered, and then perked up. “On the other hand, for teenagers, sleeping until noon is the norm.”
“Well, at least we have that to look forward to. You’re sure … ?”
“I’m going to be fine,” Susan said, not giving Kathleen time to finish her sentence. “And, if I have any problems, I can always call home.”
“Then I guess I’ll see you in the morning. And be sure to call me if you need anything else—even before daylight.”
“I will.” Susan got out of the car and, slamming the door behind her, marched over to her Jeep. She had things to do. And the first thing was to plug her phone into the battery in her car and call Jed. He could check on the puppies—and clean up whatever they had done on the kitchen floor while he was at it. She plugged in her phone and dialed, while wondering how much time she’d have to straighten up the kitchen before her guests arrived tomorrow. Perhaps she should put in an early-morning call to her mother at the Inn—even if she had to listen to comments on how disorganized she was—surely her mother would come to the rescue and help arrange things before the rest of the family appeared. Wouldn’t she? Susan wondered, listening to the familiar ring. Why wasn’t Jed answering? Where could he possibly be at this time of the night?
“Susan?”
“Jed? Jed, you sound strange … Where are you?” Susan shook the receiver. How did the phone manage to make her husband’s voice sound as though it were coming from behind?
“Right behind you.”
Susan whirled around and almost fell into her husband’s arms. “What are you doing here? What’s wrong?”
“The puppies escaped.”
“They what? Where did they go?”
“Well, the last time we saw them, they were running down the road in this direction.”
“Who’s we?”
Her husband seemed to understand her question. “Chad and me.”
“Chad’s running around out here, too?”
“Yeah, he got out of the car and has been running—cutting through yards and such. The puppies haven’t been sticking to the street, as you can guess.”
“Running around in the dark? Isn’t that dangerous?”
“Not really. The only other people around now are the police. They’re really patrolling a lot tonight.”
“Do you think they know about the body?” Susan asked quietly, looking over her shoulder, afraid of being overheard by her son.
“I have no idea. There was some problem at the church. Someone or something apparently tripped the burglar alarm, but by the time the police got there, whoever or whatever had done it was gone. At least, they were by the time we got there.”
“So you were at the church, too?”
“We actually caught up with one of the dogs in the parking lot there. We both got out of the car and I thought we had it cornered, but then I tripped and fell over one of those concrete things in the middle of the lot and he—or she—took off again. I haven’t seen either dog since then, but I caught up with Chad a few blocks away and he said they were back together again, and heading in this direction. He thought he knew a shortcut to the water and took off.”
“But you haven’t seen them yet?”
“Nope. And I’m thinking of giving up and going home to bed. But the most important thing is, have you found out who killed the woman?”
“No, but I know who she is,” Susan replied. “David’s mother.”
“And David is?”
“The best man, Jed!”
“The young man who is drunk all the time? It’s his mother who was killed?”
“Yes. But the bad news is that she’s lost again.”
“You’re kidding. Who lost her?”
“Well, actually, I think Stephen may have. I’m a little confused by all this,” Susan admitted reluctantly.
“He did? Well, that’s sort of two strikes against him, isn’t it?”
“Two strikes? What do you mean?”
“Well, he also lied today about Chrissy never being late. That had to mean something, didn’t it?”
It was going to be a long night.
TWENTY-FIVE
“At the rehearsal,” Susan said slowly. “I’d forgotten. I thought it was a little strange, too—but doesn’t that just mean he doesn’t know Chrissy very well?” she added, searching for a logical explanation.
“Susan, how long have Chrissy and Stephen known each other?”
“They met around Thanksgiving their freshman year of college,” Susan said, remembering the first time she’d heard about the young man.
“And how long has it been since they started to date seriously?”
“Since the spring of Chrissy’s junior year.”
“And how long have they been engaged?”
“Since St. Patrick’s Da—Jed, you know all this. Why are you asking me these questions?”
“Just answer one more question for me. How long do you think Stephen had known Chrissy before she was late the first time?”
“And how many times has she been late since then? I get the idea, Jed.”
“So he was lying. And why would he lie about that if not to protect himself from something?”
“I have no idea. Absolutely none.” And she certainly wished it wasn’t so.
“So where do we go from here?”
“Huh?”
“You’ve got all the experience when it comes to looking for the murderer,” Jed reminded his wife. “I figured you might have some idea what we should do next.”
Susan frowned. “I was thinking of going over to the church.”
“Because the alarm went off earlier tonight?”
“That, too.”
“What else?”
“I don’t know, Jed. I just have a feeling that there’s something going on there.” She hated to admit to her husband how often she followed her hunches—and how often
they were wrong. But right now she was thinking about Erika’s worries.
“So we go over to the church.”
“Maybe …” she started hesitantly. “Maybe we should split up.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“I don’t know. The dogs need to be found, and I was thinking that maybe someone should go to the Inn and see how David and Stephen are doing, and then there’s the …”
“Why don’t I help Chad round up the dogs and then head over to the Inn? Although everyone there will probably be asleep by then.”
Susan didn’t argue. It had looked to her as though the party was going to continue all night. On the other hand, those people were her age. They were bound to wear out sooner or later. She was certainly beginning to feel a desperate need for sleep. “You should get some sleep yourself tonight,” she reminded him.
“I will. And you?”
“I will, too.” She paused. “I guess I’d better get going.” Suddenly she felt sad. This wasn’t the way she had planned to be spending the night before her only daughter’s wedding. She had things to say to Chrissy. Important things. The fact that she couldn’t remember a single one of them at this moment only meant she was tired and not that Chrissy wouldn’t have benefited from her wisdom.
“Susan? I’d better get going if I’m going to catch up with Chad and those dogs,” her husband suggested.
“Okay. Let’s get going. Take care of yourself, Jed.”
“You, too.”
And they parted. Susan scrounged around in her purse for the keys to her car, surprised to find them almost immediately. Maybe her luck was changing. Maybe she’d find the murderer. It would be a stranger who had just happened to wander through town—someone with no relationship to anyone involved in the wedding. The wedding dress would be found. The wedding would go off without a hitch.… She stopped and shook her head. Sure, and she’d lose ten pounds before tomorrow morning and grow naturally curly blond hair. She unlocked her car and climbed in. Time to stop fantasizing. She still had some things to do before going home.
The drive to the church was short and, within minutes, Susan was pulling into the church parking lot. Her Jeep stood alone. She smiled. Nothing here …
If only she hadn’t noticed the light. Then she could have gone home, gotten some sleep, and tackled this problem in the morning.
But someone was walking around inside the church with a high-powered flashlight. Walking around in the decorated church where Chrissy would be getting married in a little more than twelve hours. Doing heaven knew what …
Susan ran toward the door.
She was in such a hurry that she didn’t register any surprise in finding it unlocked until she was through it and running down the long, dark hallway toward the narthex. Doors on either side led to unlit rooms used by the choirs and for Sunday school. Two of the rooms had been reserved for use by Chrissy and her wedding party before the service. Susan noticed wreaths of creamy dogwood blossoms hanging on them as she passed.
Large swinging doors stood at the end of the hallway and she pushed against them, almost falling into the narthex. Here the carpeting was replaced by polished marble and she slowed down as she heard the squeak of her shoes on the hard surface. She wanted to surprise whoever was there.
Or did she? She stopped and considered for a moment, her hand on the door to the sanctuary. What she actually wanted, she decided, was that she not be the person to be surprised. With that in mind, she opened the door slightly and peeked through the crack.
Into darkness. Whoever had been waving around the flashlight had either turned it off or had left the church. Squinting into the gloom, she edged through the door.
The scent of spring flowers freshened the air as Susan crept slowly down the long banner of silk that lined the aisle. As far as she could see, nothing had been touched. If only she hadn’t left Jed’s large flashlight in the car … Wait, maybe she did have a flashlight. Claire had given her a tiny one for Christmas. If only she could find it in her purse …
If only she hadn’t dumped everything on the floor.
“Who’s there?”
“It’s me.” The response was automatic. “Susan Henshaw. Who are you?”
“You’re Chrissy’s mother, aren’t you? You’re the mother of the bride. In a way, the mother of us all.”
Susan didn’t have to pick up the pile of things that had fallen from her purse and find her flashlight to realize that the speaker was the woman everyone called the Archangel. “Uh, yes. I’m Chrissy’s mother.” Susan realized this conversation was becoming redundant, but what else could she say? “Hi, Archangel” was more than a little strange, too.
“I am so glad you’re here. We have a lot to say to each other, don’t we?”
“We do?”
“I think so. You’re here for help in easing the transition. I understand such things.”
“What transition?”
“We shouldn’t deny the pain. It will only go away if it is acknowledged and dealt with.”
“What pain?” Beside talking riddles in the middle of the night, Susan thought, but was much too polite to add.
“Common. Common. So common. Even those prurient talk-show hosts don’t bother with it anymore. Empty nest. What you are left with after the little birds have flown out into the world. A small, confining circle made of scratchy sticks. Your empty nest. What will happen to your life now that your daughter is plighting her troth to someone else?”
Susan took the time to wonder exactly what a “troth” was and how exactly one went about “plighting” it before she asked another question. The one she should have asked first of all—one more relevant and immediate than what she was or wasn’t going to do in the future. “What are you doing here in the middle of the night?”
“Worshipping.”
Well, in a church … She should have known.
“Not like you are thinking. Not with my hands folded in my lap, trying to point my thoughts to some supreme being hiding somewhere up in the corner over the organ pipes.”
Susan, remembering that, if all went as planned, this woman was going to be one of the ministers officiating at her daughter’s wedding tomorrow, smiled weakly—a gesture that was probably wasted in the darkness. “Everyone worships in their own way,” she muttered.
“You are acting strangely. You’re worried about the wedding.”
Susan wondered if this woman ever asked a question. “Yes, of course.” She also wondered why this woman made her feel so stupid. Who wasn’t worried the night before they gave an event to which every single one of their friends was invited? Under the circumstances, even Martha Stewart would feel a flutter of nervousness—wouldn’t she?
“You should worry. There is danger.”
Susan resisted a strong urge to look over her shoulder (or perhaps up at the spot in the corner where the organ pipes met the ceiling). “Here? In the church?”
“There is evil.”
“In the church?”
“There is also good.”
“Well, that’s nice to know, but—”
“We must bond. We must gain power from our bond. We will prevail.”
“Of course …” She didn’t want to be inhospitable, but this was getting to be a bit much.
“We will prevail against the forces of evil.”
“Could you be more specific about that? Exactly which forces of evil are we talking about?” The way the Archangel ranted on, Susan was beginning to wonder if she knew about the dead woman. Her next words seemed to confirm that impression.
“Death. There is death about.”
“Do you know who’s dead?” Well, she might as well try to get something concrete out of this weird conversation.
“Who said anything about a dead person?”
“I … you. I thought you said something about a dead person,” Susan floundered.
“I said there was death about. There is always death about,” the Archangel insisted, becoming ra
ther prosaic. “I said nothing about a dead person.”
“Well, I suppose … Does anyone call you anything besides Archangel? I mean, what do people call you when they’re not using your commune name?”
“Everyone calls me the Archangel. I’m not like the rest of the members of our little group. I did not give up my ideals when I returned to the real world. I have carried my principles along with me. I have never forgotten my ideals.”
“I … do you mind if I sit down next to you?”
“Of course not. We will bond. We must bond.”
Susan didn’t feel up to arguing. “Fine. What you said was interesting. You feel that everyone else in the group has given up their principles?”
“Compromise is the devil’s name. Of course, I’m speaking metaphorically. There is no devil. It’s an outdated concept. Invented to keep people in their places before mankind found grace. You understand.”
“Yes, definitely.” She didn’t at all, actually, and only hoped being struck down by God for lying in church was also an outdated concept. “So you don’t approve of what the rest of the commune members have done with their lives?” If at first they don’t answer, ask, ask again.
“I would not say that. These people once came to me for spiritual instruction. They wanted guidance and I, of course, offered it to the best of my abilities. But they became lost in the wilderness. They abandoned their values. They prostituted their gifts. To put it bluntly and in terms they once would have understood, they sold out.”
“Then …”
“Which is not to offer my approval or disapproval. That wouldn’t be appropriate. I no longer hold the same position with these people, you know.”
“Everyone was thrilled with your arrival.” Susan got the feeling that she was supposed to protest the Archangel’s claims of low self-worth.
“Yes, I suppose I do hold a place in the hearts of these people. At one time, of course, we thought we were a family, a very close family.”
“Even close families have their problems,” Susan suggested, hoping to hear about some of them in the commune. “And your group was made up of families within families, wasn’t it?”
“What exactly do you mean?” The Archangel’s voice became a bit cool, Susan thought.
Weddings Are Murder Page 19
