Weddings Are Murder

by Valerie Wolzien

  “And that doesn’t make sense, right?”

  “And the only way it makes sense is if his behavior was an aberration, not the norm. Wendy claimed that was true. And I decided to believe her. But then, I began to wonder whether David was drinking because he knew his mother was around and he was afraid she might be planning on making an appearance at the wedding.”

  “And that made sense.”

  “No, not at all. I saw him right after he discovered his mother was dead. He was shocked—and said at the time that he’d had no idea she was around. It was a genuine moment. He was too distressed to be thinking of providing himself with an alibi.” She paused and pursed her lips. “Poor kid. He was so upset. So, anyway, I was pretty sure he hadn’t killed his mother. And I was pretty sure that the drinking wasn’t normal in his life. So the next question was, why was he drinking?”

  “Good question.”

  “No, wrong question. There is no way the young man I saw early this morning was drunk for hours and hours last night. Even youth has its limitations. So I realized that we only thought David was drinking.”

  “If he was acting, he was pretty convincing,” Jed said.

  “Acting drunk is the easiest thing in the world. In the first place, we all know how drunks act, and in the second place, we’ve all been partying pretty heavily since yesterday afternoon. I’m not sure if any of us was capable of picking up on the finer nuances of anyone’s behavior.”

  “Why would he pretend to be drunk?”

  “Well, I wondered about that. And it brought me back to something that’s been bothering me since yesterday afternoon. Something Stephen did.”

  “Stephen? What does he have to do with this whole thing? Chrissy’s not going to be marrying a man who might be a murderer, is she?”

  “No, no. You don’t have to worry about that. In fact, she’s getting a young man who’s a terrible liar.… What did you say?” Susan stared at her husband. It had sounded very much like Jed had insisted that Stephen would become a better liar once he was married.

  “Sorry, just making a stupid sexist joke—not even a funny one. Somehow weddings seem to bring out the worst in men.”

  “I’ve noticed,” Susan said. And she was not amused.

  “So what was Stephen lying about?”

  “Chrissy’s lateness.”

  “And why was he lying about something so … so trivial?”

  “It wasn’t trivial to him. At that time, Stephen thought Chrissy might be involved in the murder of David’s mother.”

  THIRTY-THREE

  “Why? What reason would Chrissy have to kill anyone? Especially David’s mother! She didn’t even know David’s mother, for heaven’s sake!”

  “Jed, don’t get so upset. He was trying to protect Chrissy, remember.” Susan glanced at the driver, who was rather ostentatiously concentrating on the road ahead of him. “And he was trying to protect his parents, too.”

  “His parents? Where do they come in here?”

  “That’s where the wedding gown comes into the story. You see, David picked up the wedding gown at Kennedy Airport and brought it to Hancock. Not knowing the area, he got lost looking for our house. When he passed the Yacht Club, he dropped it off there and called me.”

  “I remember you told me that. What does it have to do with Stephen’s parents?”

  “Well, Blues saw the box and realized what was inside, opened it, and took the dress out.”

  “Blues? Blues Canfield took Chrissy’s wedding gown? Why, in heaven’s name?”

  “I have no idea. Maybe she wanted to sew something on it like the Archangel did. So when David told Stephen what he had seen—”

  “Which was what?”

  “Rhythm and Blues going into the Yacht Club right after he had walked out, leaving the dress in its box near the front door.”

  “But—”

  “And Chrissy being dropped off at the curb by a friend and calling out to his parents.”

  “As though they had planned to meet,” Jed said, nodding.

  “They did plan to meet, in fact. Rhythm was taking Chrissy to visit a friend of his who just happens to own an art gallery in Philadelphia. Oh, Jed, did she tell you she might be getting a job at a gallery?”

  “Susan, don’t get off the subject. I’m getting confused again. If Rhythm and Blues didn’t have anything to do with the murder—and they didn’t, did they?”

  “No.”

  “Good, I don’t want to think of our daughter marrying into a family of murderers—although it would give you something to do in your declining years, other than mourn your empty nest.” He grinned.

  “They are not. And I am not. I have plans, in fact … but we won’t go into that now.” She knew Jed wasn’t going to agree to an expensive and extended vacation until all the bills for the wedding were paid. “Now, all that matters is that the only reason Blues wanted the dress was to sew in these little amulets she claims will bring Chrissy and Stephen good luck. It was a little devious of her and more than a little odd. But she is that way, and I think the best we can hope for there is that the Canfields stay on the West Coast and the kids stay here in the East.”

  She took Jed’s nod as enthusiastic agreement with her statement, and she continued.

  “So Stephen, who knew something was up, was trying to protect our daughter when he claimed she was always on time. He didn’t want anyone to think some of Chrissy’s time might be unaccounted for.”

  “Well, that’s good of him.” Jed peered out the window. “We’re almost there, hon.”

  “I’ve really told you the entire story, Jed. It was greed, pure and simple greed. That’s why David’s mother was killed. If she hadn’t been hidden in the box the gown arrived in—”

  “Why was she?”

  “I think anyone would realize that the more time that passes before the body is found, the more likely one is to get away with … well, with murder. But I’d bet that whoever killed her—whether it was Havana Rose or Red Man or both of them acting together—thought hiding the body there would at least confuse the issue.”

  “Which it certainly did,” Jed agreed.

  “Especially because the gown itself kept moving from one person to the other.”

  “Why was that? Why didn’t Blues just return it to Chrissy after she was done with it? It was in our house and out again like some sort of strange jack-in-the box.”

  “Because great—or mediocre—minds seem to run in the same direction.”

  “You mean—”

  “Blues wasn’t the only commune member who decided that Chrissy should have more than something old, something new, something borrowed, and something blue on her when she walks down that aisle. Three other people sewed in tiny amulets as well,” Susan said, nodding.

  “Heavens, could the dress support everything?”

  “Not very well. I mean, it was dragging a little around the hemline. Luckily, these hippie types spent a lot of time doing hand sewing in the Sixties—all those embroidered jeans—and they didn’t do any damage. And then Mom took over.”

  “Your mother?”

  “Yup. You see, she brought a little momento of her own that she felt Chrissy should wear today.”

  “What?”

  “The blue garter that I wore when we got married.”

  “You wore a garter? I don’t remember tossing it to the single men or anything like that.”

  “That’s because you didn’t. I thought it was a tacky, sexist tradition. But I didn’t want to argue with my mother at the last moment so I wore the damn thing.”

  “And you saved it?”

  “No way. I must have left it in the hotel room when I changed for our honeymoon, and my mother picked it up. She’s been saving it all these years.”

  “But I don’t understand what that has to do with all the … the amulets … or good luck charms, or whatever we’re calling them.”

  “My mother very carefully cut them all off the gown and stitched each one
around the garter. If you notice anything lumpy on Chrissy’s thigh as you two walk down the aisle, just ignore it. Young couples these days can use all the luck they can get.”

  “Well, I won’t argue with that. So everything is all set for the service? No one is going to be pulled out of the congregation in handcuffs?”

  “No. Brett and his men have already picked up Red Man and Havana Rose. Last I heard, he even expected to be back here in time for the service. At least, I hope he makes it,” she added, remembering her plans for him and Erika.

  “Wendy decided that she didn’t want to be a bridesmaid under the circumstances,” Susan continued, looking sad.

  “And David?”

  “He’s going to be best man. I think he felt he owed it to Stephen. Chad, on the other hand, volunteered to give up his position as usher and even out the numbers.”

  “Susan, you didn’t let him—”

  “Not at all. One of the other ushers is not going to be walking up the aisle. It’s all been worked out.” The car had come to a halt and she peered through the window at the green lawn cheerfully sprinkled with bright yellow dandelions, the fluffy white clouds in the deep blue sky, the arch of flowers hanging over the glossy double doors, and then sat back in her seat with a sigh.

  “Everything looks beautiful, hon,” Jed assured her.

  “It does. Oh, look, there’s Chrissy.”

  Their daughter had just joined her bridesmaids on the sidewalk in front of the church. Her attendants wore simple floor-length sleeveless princess gowns in varying shades of delicate pastel silk. Their lush bouquets were tied with wide ribbons over two feet long, a mix of the many colors of their dresses. They all looked beautiful.

  But even in such illustrious company, Chrissy stood out. Her gown was worth every single one of the faxes, the phone calls, and the panic. Like her bridesmaids’ gowns, it was sleeveless, with a scoop neckline, fitted through the bodice, then flaring gently to the ground. It was the fabric that astounded. The dress had been fashioned from layers of the thinnest silk chiffon, each layer a slightly different shade of white, just barely washed with shimmering pastel tints. The total effect was incredible. As Chrissy moved, it was as though iridescent rainbows floated around her. Her bouquet was huge, tied with five-inch-wide watered silk ribbons of bronze, silver, and gold. Those same ribbons (antiques, discovered in a small shop in Florence by the young designer) had been sewn into a large bow that supported the white gossamer veil that hung down to within an inch of the floor.

  “Of course, every mother thinks her daughter is beautiful—” Susan began.

  “In this case, it’s true,” Jed said, and leaned over and kissed his wife. “Almost as beautiful as her mother.”

  “I love a man who can tell a good lie,” Susan said, and laughed.

  “I’m not going to respond to that,” he answered. “Shall we join the ladies? I see your parents. I see my mother. I think we’re almost ready to have a wedding.”

  Susan took a deep breath, offered a prayer, and joined her family in church.

  THIRTY-FOUR

  “Susan, I don’t know how you do it. It was a beautiful wedding. And you seemed to have done it all absolutely effortlessly.” Susan’s ebullient neighbor leaned closer and whispered in Susan’s ear, “And I’m so impressed with your hair—so casual and unpretentious. I wish I had the confidence to be as relaxed about my appearance.”

  Susan just smiled and passed the last guest in the receiving line on to her husband. “I,” she said to anyone listening, “could use a drink.”

  “Champagne, ma’am?” A tray covered with glasses of pale gold elixir appeared by her side.

  “Thank you!” Susan smiled at the young waiter. She took a crystal flute, started to drink, and then noticed that the young man had not yet moved on. “Are you waiting for something?”

  “Jamie Potter said … well, she said you might need more than one glass.”

  “What? Is something wrong?”

  The waiter started to laugh. “She said you’d say that, too, and to tell you that everything in the kitchen is right on schedule and for you to just have a good time and enjoy the party.”

  Susan drained the glass, returned it to the tray, and chose another. “I’m planning on doing that very thing,” she assured him.

  “Me, too.” Jed reached out and captured a glass for himself.

  The receiving line was dispersing. Stephen put his arms around Chrissy and led her away as Susan watched.

  “Feeling a little sad?” Jed asked quietly.

  “Nope. Just hoping our daughter made the right decision when she chose that young man. His family is so strange.”

  “But he’s not. He’s everything you would want in a son-in-law: intelligent, responsible, interesting, full of surprises … What do you think about their honeymoon plans?”

  “Two weeks in Bermuda? You think that’s interesting?”

  “Actually, it sounds good to me—just what you and I need. A lounge on a nice pink beach, an icy rum swizzle by my side, nothing to do but smear sunscreen on my nose …”

  “Maybe fun for old folks like us, but it doesn’t sound like Chrissy.”

  “Sure doesn’t. Which is why I was so impressed with Stephen’s plan.”

  “But I thought—”

  “They’re spending one night in Bermuda, then being picked up by a chartered yacht. They’re going to sail down to the Caribbean on an antique sailing sloop. Just the two of them and a crew of three for twelve days.”

  “Jed! How fabulous! Does Chrissy know? She’ll be thrilled.”

  “She does and she is. I gather Stephen was not going to divulge his plan until they arrived in Bermuda, but he had second thoughts and realized Chrissy might want to pack differently for sitting on a boat than for hanging out in Hamilton.”

  Susan smiled. “Wow.”

  “Maybe our daughter really has got the perfect husband,” Jed said, taking his wife’s hand and leading her toward their table.

  Susan wondered if maybe that wasn’t an oxymoron—at best. “I hope so.… What’s going on over there?” she asked, as her attention was drawn to a crowd on the porch.

  “The flower girl and ring bearer are tossing crumbs to a flock of seagulls,” Erika said, coming up to the Henshaws, a glass of champagne in one hand and a plate of shrimp in the other. She was smiling. “The food is wonderful, Susan. Everyone is talking about it. Fabulous Food is sure living up to its name.”

  “I’m glad to hear that. But the flowers … Erika, the flowers are incredible.” She stopped and looked more closely at her companion. “Erika? Is something wrong?”

  Erika’s expression had changed as Jed left Susan’s side to greet a business colleague standing near the long buffet table. “Susan, I just wanted to explain—”

  “About the flowers at the rehearsal last night?”

  “How did you know?”

  “I wouldn’t worry about it anymore. It was probably Tom Davidson.”

  “How in heaven’s name did you know?”

  “It made sense. He was up there. He’s the type of young man who would always have his Swiss Army knife close by. Have you talked to him about it?”

  “Yes.”

  “And did he explain anything?”

  “He said he was trying to get Chrissy’s attention. He seems to have had some sort of ridiculous notion about talking her into running away with him before the ceremony.”

  Susan just shook her head. “That was never going to happen. Chrissy is really in love with Stephen.”

  “I know. And while we were cleaning up this morning, I overheard Tom asking out one of the young college girls who’s working for me this summer, so I think he’s going to survive.”

  “So much for a broken heart,” Susan commented, and then looked more closely at Erika. “You certainly seem to be happy.”

  “Yes. Well, I should be. I’m engaged.”

  “Erika! How wonderful!”

  “I know it’s foolish
for a woman as old as I am to really be engaged. I mean, Brett and I won’t announce it in the newspaper or have an engagement party or anything—”

  “Why not? It’s wonderful. You should celebrate!” Susan found herself sipping champagne and wondering what her husband would think about their throwing a surprise party for the happy couple. “When did this happen?”

  “During the service, actually. The church was so beautiful—if I do say so myself—and Chrissy and Stephen looked so happy up there at the altar. And when that woman minister started talking about the place of marriage in the modern world, I sort of drifted off and began to remember how I had played at being a bride when I was a kid—in fact, the first flower arrangement I ever made was for a pretend wedding I had with the boy next door—and then Brett leaned over and whispered in my ear, and … and I said yes!”

  “And a good thing she did, too. Don’t you think?”

  The chief of police had joined them.

  “I think it’s a wonderful thing, Brett. Congratulations.”

  “And congratulations to you, too. A beautiful wedding, Susan. And I don’t think anyone here knows better than I do what you’ve been through in the past twenty-four hours.”

  “I’m just glad the service went okay.”

  “Went okay? Hon, it was better than okay,” Jed said, returning to his wife’s side. “The band is starting to play, Brett. Aren’t you and Erika going to dance?”

  “Just as soon as Chrissy and Stephen have begun, we’ll be on our way,” Brett said, offering his arm to his new fiancée and leading her to the dance floor.

  That happy couple was replaced by Rhythm and Blues. They also seemed happy, giggling and carrying on like teenagers. “Hey, the kids really are married!” Rhythm announced needlessly. “We’re related!” And he flung his arms around Susan and hugged her so hard it took her breath away. But she had oxygen enough to see that Blues was attempting the same movement with Jed—to his obvious discomfort.