Murder By the Glass

by Michele Scott

  However, the band started to play The Isley Brothers “For The Love Of You,” and Derek grabbed her hand. “Wanna dance?”

  Nikki turned back to glance at Isabel and the bride. She appeared to have it under control. Derek squeezed her hand. “Sure.”

  “Foot hurt too badly?”

  “Uh, uh.” She kicked her sandals off under the table, not caring who saw. Derek escorted her onto the large section of patio serving as a dance floor. He held her tight and close. He smelled like sweet woods. She closed her eyes. Were his eyes closed? She leaned her head on his chest. His really strong chest. God, he felt good. The song wound down. Did the dance have to end? Her entire body tingled while he twirled the loosened tendrils of wispy hair that had fallen from her chignon on the back of her neck. But the dance did end, with neither one of them quickly pulling away from the other. Until the band started playing the ever-so-popular wedding song—“Love Shack” by the B-52’s.

  “Thanks,” he whispered, grazing her ear with his lips. He held her hand walking back to the table when she remembered Isabel and the spectacle Susan had made prior to the dance.

  She didn’t even have to tell Derek what she was thinking because he said to her, “Do you want to go and see about Isabel?”

  She nodded and told him she’d be right back, because she definitely wanted another dance. She was so elated she even forgot to put her sandals back on and she nearly forgot how much her ankle hurt.

  She found Isabel hustling around in the kitchen. “Hey, you okay?”

  Isabel handed her a glass of wine. “No. No, I am not. I had to send poor Louis home. I will probably wind up paying for therapy for him. Can you believe that woman?”

  Nikki shook her head.

  “Do you know what she did now? She came here into the kitchen again, making complaints about my phyllo wraps.”

  “They were delicious.”

  “Yes, but not according to her. Can you take that up the stairs to her?” Isabel pointed with her hot mitt at the glass of wine she’d handed to Nikki. “She is in her dressing room making a change of clothes into her next gown, for her and her groom to make a formal entrance.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me? I’d say she’s already made an entrance and then some.”

  “Do I look like I am making it up? She wants another glass of wine, and she wants it now. I poured her one minutes ago when she came in to make complaints. She is buzzing the intercom down here for another one, and all of my people are working fast to take care of all the other details.”

  “No problem. Only a few more hours and this nightmare will be over.” Nikki ascended the stairs, feeling terrible that Isabel was having such a hard time.

  She tapped on the bridal room door. No answer. Nikki opened the door, not caring if Susan Jennings screamed at her for entering unannounced. But Susan didn’t scream at her. Instead, the woman was sprawled out on the floor. Her wineglass half emptied on the vanity.

  “That’s what you get for drinking too much too soon at your own wedding and being so awful to my friend.”

  Nikki walked over to her and slipped her arms under Susan’s shoulders to try and lift her. “You’ve got to get up, Queenie, and make your entrance.” A wicked thought crossed Nikki’s mind. Maybe she should leave the drunken wench to sleep off her self-induced high. She could go out and tell everyone that Susan was passed out and wouldn’t be joining the party. That would be pretty rotten. “Listen here, Mrs. Thang, you’ve got a gazillion guests out there waiting to see you partying some more in all your glory, so get your butt up and get going.” Nikki lightly slapped Susan’s face. She couldn’t have drunk that much booze in such a short amount of time.

  Something was wrong. Susan wasn’t moving at all. Nikki laid her back down on the floor and watched her chest for a few seconds, watching for it to rise and fall. No movement. Then she bent over to hear for her breathing. Nothing. Finally she took the bride’s pulse, her own pulse quickening and adrenaline pumping through her. Nikki dropped Susan’s limp hand as a scream caught in the back of her throat, realizing in horror that Susan Jennings Waltman wouldn’t be making a formal entrance to her wedding reception. In fact, Susan Jennings Waltman wouldn’t be making any type of entrance anywhere ever again. The bride was dead.

  Chapter 4

  Confused guests, distraught friends, and a tormented bride-groom watched as the coroner’s van pulled out of the Waltman Estate.

  Nikki stood next to Derek, whose arm hung protectively around her. “I can’t believe it. I really can’t believe it.” She looked at the people around her, whose faces all reflected that same general feeling of disbelief.

  “I know. Poor Kristof. What do you think it was that killed her?” Derek replied.

  “I don’t know, I mean maybe she was doing some type of drug and along with the alcohol she had a heart attack. But she didn’t seem all that bombed when we saw her earlier before she headed into the house.”

  “No, she didn’t. Other than that she was pretty obnoxious with that poor kid passing around the appetizers. I suppose the police will be questioning him,” Nikki said.

  “I’m sure they’ll be questioning all of us.”

  “Ms. Sands? Are you Nikki Sands?” asked a man’s voice from behind her.

  She turned around to face what she knew to be one of the detectives who’d arrived on the scene shortly after the uniformed Sheriff ’s deputies.

  “Yes.”

  He stretched out his hand. “I’m Detective McCall, and I was wondering if you’d come inside the house with me so I can ask you a few questions. You are the one who found the body and phoned in the emergency call. Isn’t that correct?”

  “Yes.”

  Detective McCall pulled a sheet of paper from his pocket and read something from it. “Are you Derek Malveaux?” he asked.

  “I am.”

  “Guest list.” McCall waved the piece of paper at him. “Good. We’ll also need a statement from you. Why don’t you both come with me, and I’ll have you speak with another one of the detectives.”

  They both followed the razor-thin man, who was also basketball-player tall with feet to match, into the mansion. His comically high-water pants were offset by his pretty green eyes that said there wasn’t anything but brains behind them. He had thick brown hair that fell slightly over his eyes and when he smiled Nikki knew the man had one pride and joy in his life. He’d definitely been to Brite Smile or had worn those bleaching trays or something, because Detective McCall had the whitest teeth Nikki had ever seen, and that was saying something after living in Hollywood for several years. They were also perfectly lined up.

  Derek stuck by Nikki as they entered the castle and she could sense his desire to protect her. She couldn’t help being a bit old-fashioned at that moment in appreciating his gallantry. Chaos reigned throughout the Waltman Castle grounds shortly after the 911 call she’d made, as news spread quickly about what had happened. Uniformed deputies were the first to show on the scene, followed by the fire department, the plainclothes detectives, and the coroner’s office. The sheriff had sectioned people off into groups until the detectives from Santa Rosa, which was the closest city with a detective branch, finished investigating the scene in the changing room and the body was removed. No one was calling this a murder investigation, yet. But the thought hung in the air like the thick fog rolling into the valley. The guests had been there for a couple of hours already, and some were becoming pretty antsy.

  As Nikki and Derek entered the castle, they saw Kristof sitting on the bottom step of the spiral staircase, holding his face in the palms of his hands. Marty Waltman held Pamela Leiland in a tight embrace while the maid of honor sobbed.

  Tiny, ancient Sara wobbled in from the kitchen with the use of her cane. “I’ve asked the caterer to brew some tea, sweet boy,” she said to Kristof, who looked up at his aunt with a tear-stained face and reddened eyes.

  A handful of cops stood in the foyer, comparing notes and defining how the
questioning of the guests would proceed.

  Marty let go of Pamela long enough to offer a handshake to McCall, who seemed to be in charge of the investigation.

  “Mr. Waltman,” he replied. “I’m sorry for your tragedy this evening.”

  Isabel came in with a tray of teacups. Her eyes locked with Kristof ’s. Nikki noticed that as she set the tray down on a table and poured Kristof a cup her hands shook. Nikki wanted to go to her and comfort her. Regardless of how Isabel felt toward Susan or even Kristof, she was a good-hearted woman and what had occurred with Susan’s death was bound to eat away at her, as it was everyone else. Nikki smiled at her and declined a cup of tea.

  “We’d like to ask you and your family a few questions.” McCall turned back to face Nikki. “If you could hang on for a second, please.”

  She nodded.

  “Are Miss Jennings, I mean Mrs. Waltman’s parents, available?” McCall proceeded.

  Kristof looked up at the detective. “Susan was an orphan. Her parents died when she was a teenager. Her only relative is her sister, Jennifer. She’s upstairs in the bathroom.”

  “Okay. We’ll need to speak with her. In fact, we’ll need to talk with everyone here today. Once we’re through with that, people can go ahead and leave. I have a good group with me, so it shouldn’t take as long as it might sound.”

  “Is that really necessary right now?” Marty cut in. “Our family has suffered greatly this evening on a day that was supposed to be a celebration. I’m certain our guests want to leave. It’s been a horrid ordeal for everyone. I understand the need for questions. We have them ourselves. However, we’d appreciate some time to absorb what happened. Tomorrow might be a better time for us.”

  “That’s understandable, Mr. Waltman. But the fact that Mrs. Waltman died the way she did leads us to believe that it’s a bit suspicious.”

  “Are you saying that my wife could’ve been murdered?” Kristof set the cup of tea he’d been sipping on the table next to him and stood up. “That’s ludicrous. Everyone loved Susan. She is the sweetest woman I know.” He hung his head in realization that speaking about Susan in the present was no longer an option.

  Nikki hated the idea of thinking badly about the dead, but Susan sweet?

  “Do you know if she was using any drugs?” McCall pressed on.

  “Gentlemen, that’s crazy. Susan was not that type of woman. I knew her very well. She married my son, for heaven’s sakes,” Marty said.

  At that moment a voice from the top of the stairs rang out, “Well, she did like to take a toot of cocaine once in awhile.”

  All eyes turned upward to see Jennifer standing there, a glass of champagne in hand and her Italian gigolo at her side.

  “And who might you be?” McCall asked.

  Jennifer descended the stairs and introduced herself. “I’m not saying that she was some kind of party girl, but she knew how to have some fun if the occasion permitted. It wouldn’t shock me if she had considered her wedding day one of those special occasions.”

  “That’s ridiculous, Jennifer,” Kristof said.

  “Then you didn’t know her as well as you think you did. Right, Pamela?”

  Pamela glared at Jennifer. “Why do you want to be so ugly, Jennifer? Your sister loved you. She’s gone and you’re dragging her name through the mud.”

  “Please. Love me? Okay. Whatever. Look, I’m only telling the truth, and you know I am. We’ve all partied together at one time or another.” Jennifer winked at Pamela.

  Kristof looked back and forth from Pamela to Jennifer. “Is this true, Pamela?”

  McCall held up his hand. “Alright, people, this has been a terrible tragedy, and I again apologize for the loss. However, for now we do have questions and the sooner we get to them, the faster we can proceed.” He turned and instructed the other detectives to prevent the groups gathered for questioning from speaking to each other until after their statements had been given. Once finished with directions, the officers spread out like army ants reckoning with the leftovers before them.

  McCall escorted Nikki into the family room where he questioned her. Nikki looked back over her shoulder and saw Derek walking away with one of the other detectives.

  “When you found her, there was no sign of breathing or a pulse?” McCall asked.

  Nikki was seated across from him on a cream sofa. He stood and jotted down notes. She wished he’d sit down. He was pretty intimidating standing there hovering over her in all his skeletal height. “Nothing. I shook her and tried to even pick her up at first thinking that maybe she’d already had too much to drink, but when I realized she wasn’t breathing I called the emergency number.”

  “How was Mrs. Waltman this evening? What was her demeanor like?”

  “She seemed a bit stressed out.”

  “Why would you say that? What exactly was she doing that made her appear stressed out?”

  “I don’t know. She snapped at some of the servers, and I overheard her have a bit of a run-in with her sister.”

  This remark raised an eyebrow. McCall pushed Nikki on this, and she told him what she’d seen just before the wedding. He continued to ask her questions about how well she knew Susan and what her link to her was. He asked her if she knew of anyone who might want to harm her or of anyone who had a grudge against her. She simply shrugged. Isabel’s face flashed across her mind, but so did several others, so all she told him was that Susan wasn’t the nicest or most popular woman in town. At the end of the interview, Nikki asked her own question of the detective. “Do you think that Susan could have been murdered?”

  “Right now we have to look at this as a crime scene, until we can conclude it is something else. We won’t really know exactly what we’re dealing with until we get the autopsy report back on Mrs. Waltman.”

  “You’re going to cut my wife up?” exclaimed Kristof, walking into the room.

  “Mr. Waltman, I asked you to remain where you were until I had a chance to speak with you.”

  “My wife died here tonight, and you want me to sit still until you can get to me? I can’t sit still. I can’t wait. I want you to find out now what happened to her!” he wailed.

  “That’s what we’re trying to do, Mr. Waltman. Now, please, I’ll be with you in a moment.”

  “You’re not going to cut my wife open!” Kristof cried. “You can’t do that! I won’t let you do that!”

  Overhearing his son’s raised voice, Marty entered the room, Pamela following behind him. He walked over to Kristof and put a hand on his shoulder. “Son.”

  “Dad? They can’t do that to her. No!” He shook his head emphatically, tears welling in his eyes again.

  “I’m sorry, but under the circumstances we have to find the cause of death,” McCall said.

  There was an edge to the detective’s voice that never let up. Nikki couldn’t help wondering if he ever got a chance to enjoy life.

  “They’re right, Kristof,” Pamela interrupted. “Don’t you want to know anyway? I’m sure it will help put your mind at rest. We need to know. I don’t think she was doing drugs, and I’m sure there wasn’t foul play involved. It was probably some fluke thing. She might have had some heart problem, something like what John Ritter died of. Something that no one ever knew about. But we really do need to know.”

  “I can’t deal with this right now.” Kristof stormed off.

  McCall sighed and Nikki heard him say under his breath, “It’s going to be one long-ass night.” He looked at her and handed her his card. “Thanks for your help. If anything else comes to mind, stop by or give me a call. I may need to speak with you further.”

  She fished her business card from her small evening bag, making it easier for him in case he did need to contact her.

  “I’m going to see about Isabel for a moment,” Nikki said, after locating Derek, who had also completed giving his statement.

  He nodded. “I’ll go to the bathroom and meet you at the car. I was told that once we’ve given our st
atements we can go.”

  “Good.”

  Nikki went in search of Isabel in the kitchen. The somber mood had carried over to the catering staff, who were now quietly washing and stacking dishes along with wrapping up all of the leftover food, and placing trays back onto trucks. Andrés appeared to have taken charge of the situation. He glanced at Nikki and nodded in the direction of a sitting area just off the kitchen.

  She went to Isabel. “Are you okay?” She sat down in a chair opposite her friend.

  Isabel nodded. “I . . . No. I do not know. I hurt so bad”—she lowered her voice—“for the things I said the other night. About the way I felt toward Susan and Kristof.”

  “What you told me was only natural. Any woman would’ve felt and said the same things. My goodness, Isabel, you were or are in love with Kristof. He was carrying on with you behind his fiancée’s back and you weren’t even aware that he had a fiancée. He used you, and you’re allowed to feel the way you did and do. Susan was awful to you. It’s terrible that she died, but she didn’t die because of the way you felt about her. You can’t put any of that on yourself.”