by A. Gardner
Marta and I have a hard time bringing our minds back to the present as we pull up to the Woodbury chapel. Just as I had suspected, the door at the bottom of the narrow staircase led to the front lawn. All I can think about is Ethan Taylor being pushed and then dragged outside sometime during dinner. Because Marta and I were in the kitchen most of the time, it could have been anyone at the table. I hadn't paid attention to who got up during which course, but I know not everyone was planted firmly in their seats the entire night.
"We've got to ask my mum," Marta mutters. "She'll know if Lord Chutney left the dinner table that night. She was sitting right next to him." Our car ride consisted of us discussing theory after theory.
"I guess it won't hurt to ask." I'm so busy thinking about Chutney Manor that it takes me a minute to look up and admire the patches of wildflowers and overgrown bushes that almost disguise the front of the church. A steeple peeks out through the trees, and the amount of green surrounding me is borderline overwhelming. I like it.
"Okay, I'll ask her after the ceremony." Marta takes a deep breath as she spots Lewis's car out front.
"It's just a rehearsal," I remind her. "You're not getting hitched quite yet."
"I know. That's not what I'm worried about." Marta's eyes wander to another car. One that is much more expensive. Lord Chutney must already be inside. "I didn't know he was going to be here."
"He's your mum's boyfriend," I say. "He's going to be everywhere, unless Sandra dumps him."
"That would be the greatest wedding gift of all time." Marta smooths her hair and readjusts her sweater. Another car pulls up behind us, and Marta finally sports a genuine smile.
"Dad." Marta walks toward her dad with open arms. "I'm so glad you made it."
"I wouldn't miss it for the world, darling," he responds. Rupert tilts his head in my direction. "I trust the two of you are having a good time? Tonight is your last night of freedom or whatever it is young people say nowadays."
"I'm glad you're here, Dad." Marta clings to him like she's ten years old.
Rupert's gaze falls on Lord Chutney's car. The same disconcerting look that had crossed Marta's face also crosses his. He lifts his chin and slows his pace toward the front entrance of the chapel.
"I see your mum is already here with Lord Chutney," Rupert says. "I suppose we can't get rid of him?"
"Dad." Marta shakes her head. "I don't want him here either, but…"
"I don't know what's gotten into your mother," Rupert continues. "One minute we were fine, and the next it's Lord Chutney this and Lord Chutney that. I don't know if I can bear the sight of him much longer."
"Imagine him in women's underwear," I suggest. "Hey, it works for some people."
"Is this an American technique?" Rupert cracks a smile.
"No, but it takes the edge off, doesn't it? I tried it once with a college professor I had."
"And it worked?" Rupert asks.
"It worked a little too well," I confess. "Pretty soon I couldn't turn it off. Do you know how hard it is not to laugh when a grown man in a teddy and kitten heels is giving a lecture on the basic principles of pathophysiology?"
"If I ever experience that, you will be the first to know." Rupert chuckles. I don't think my suggestion helped, but at least it put him in a good mood.
The three of us approach the front door where the local vicar is waiting. He greets us each with a smile and a welcoming handshake. Marta stays behind as I stand in my designated place at the front of the chapel. Lewis and his groomsman are already present, and his parents, Barry and Barbara, are sitting in the front pew. Sandra and Lord Chutney are in the front pew on the bride's side of the chapel.
The vicar takes his spot up front and periodically glances at the time. Only one person is missing. Marta glances at Lewis and shrugs. I stare down at my feet, trying not to look in Lord Chutney's direction. Time passes slowly, and eventually the sound of the vicar tapping his foot against the stone floor is all that I hear.
"I have pressing appointments after lunch that I cannot cancel," the vicar says.
"I'm very sorry," Marta apologizes. "I don't know where my other bridesmaid is. I've left her messages."
"Perhaps we can begin and hope that she shows up," the vicar suggests. Marta nods in agreement. The vicar begins talking us through the ceremony, starting with Marta being led down the aisle with her father. The rest of the ceremony speeds by, but mostly because all I have to do is stand there.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see the arrogant smirk on Lord Chutney's face. I don't see a British lord when I look at him anymore. Now all I see is the sorry state of Chutney Manor. I can't help but wonder if a day will come when the entire house looks like it was taken over by trolls. I can't believe how well he's hidden it all these years. I also can't believe Lord Chutney can live with himself, assuming the conspiracy theories are true, after scamming half the village out of their hard-earned savings. I wouldn't have the guts to show my face in Woodbury, let alone still act like royalty.
Before I know it, the ceremony ends, and we're free to go. Marta storms outside with her phone to her ear, and I have a hunch who she's calling. I follow her, hoping that Tamsin will magically appear in the parking lot with a list of excuses.
"Tamsin," Marta says impatiently. "This is the fifth message I've left on your answerphone. The rehearsal is over, and I would appreciate it if you would at least ring me back." She hangs up, frustrated.
"All she has to do is stand next to me," I say to Marta. "Don't worry. I'll show her the ropes tomorrow."
"I can't believe Tamsin would blow this off." Marta rubs her eyes, smearing a bit of her eye makeup in the process. "The dress fitting, maybe. My bridal shower, I would've understood that one. But my wedding rehearsal at the chapel?"
"I'm sure she has a good excuse," I respond.
"Either she's in her hotel room too pissed to answer the phone or something is horribly wrong."
"Let's hope it's the first one then," I answer.
"Hey, are you okay?" Lewis takes the first chance he gets to join us. "Don't worry. I'm sure Tamsin just forgot."
"That's very kind of you, Lewis, but I doubt she forgot." Marta takes a deep breath.
"I'll go around to Rose's and check on her," he replies.
"Marta, there you are." Lewis's dad, Barry, fixes his tie as he says hello. "There's my future daughter-in-law."
"Good morning, Mr. Berry," Marta greets him. She glances at Lewis's mother who is trailing behind her husband. She's wearing a wide Sunday hat that hides her face from the sun. "Mrs. Berry."
"Nonsense," Barry says, nudging Marta's shoulder. "You can call us Mum and Dad from now on if you like."
"Dad." Lewis sighs. "Why don't you head to Sandra's, and we'll meet you there."
"Ah yes, I hear there will be roast lamb." Barry happily taps his stomach.
"Barry," his wife scolds him.
"Bloody hell, Barbara. You might as well make a list of the things I'm not allowed to say because I can't remember them all." Barry shakes his head and heads for his car.
"And that'll be us one day," Lewis teases. He puts his arm around Marta and pulls her close.
"You bloody well hope not," Marta answers.
* * *
"Are you sure this is a good idea?" I ask. "Lewis said he would take care of it."
"I need to see what's going on for myself." Marta hops out of her car and briskly walks toward Rose's Inn. She's been tenser than usual since the rehearsal at the chapel. A Marta that is tenser than usual is much like the Marta I met my first day at Le Croissant, when she made it clear that she wasn't a fan of American interns. The emotions fade from her face and bottle up deep inside. This can't be good.
Marta parades through the pub on the main level and jogs up the stairs. The pub is empty, except for Rose, who is looking through books at the register. She wrinkles her nose when Marta speeds past her without any sort of greeting.
"Tamsin." Marta knocks on Tamsin's door. "Ta
msin, wake up." Marta continues knocking, and her banging grows louder and louder. The door next to Tamsin's opens, and a man pokes his head out of his hotel room. "Tamsin!"
"Okay, I think she gets the point." I place my hands on her shoulders and try to intervene.
"Marta, what's going on?" Rose is standing at the top of the stairs. Her dark locks flow across her face, and she tugs at her rose red sweater.
"I haven't heard from Tamsin today," Marta says. She sounds unusually calm. "Have you seen her?"
"Um…" Rose pauses and thinks for a moment. "Come to think of it, no, I haven't. But I'm sure she's fine."
"She missed my rehearsal at the chapel, and she hasn't responded to my messages." Marta takes a deep breath and glares at Tamsin's door. I fear that if Tamsin did answer, Marta might let her have it in front of everyone on the second floor.
"Her phone could be dead," I suggest.
"Tamsin." Marta knocks again. "Open up." She pulls out her cell phone and shakes her head, disappointed. Footsteps echo in the stairwell.
"Marta?" Lewis jogs even quicker to see what the commotion is about. "You should be at your mum's. I told you I'd check on Tamsin."
"I know, but…" Marta rolls her eyes. "Look, can't you just unlock the door?"
"Oh, I don't know—"
"Rose, please." Marta insists.
"Try ringing her one more time," Lewis suggests.
Marta pulls out her cell phone and hits redial. She puts it on speakerphone, and the entire hallway waits and listens as Tamsin's phone rings and goes straight to voicemail.
"You see," Marta responds.
"Alright, but just this once," Rose says quietly. She retrieves her keys and slowly knocks as she opens the door to Tamsin's room. "Tamsin, it's Rose. I'm coming in, love." Rose peeks inside first before stepping aside. "I don't think she's in."
I follow Marta and Lewis into Tamsin's room. Marta flips on the light switch, revealing an unmade bed and an open suitcase. I take a deep breath as I watch Marta look around with a look of concern on her face. Tamsin is gone, but her things are still strewn across the room like she could have been in her room just moments ago.
"There." Marta grabs a coat from the armchair. "Her jacket is still here. She always wears this one when she goes out."
"Relax," Lewis replies. "Maybe she went out for a quick coffee. Maybe she's at your mum's waiting to apologize as we speak."
"No." Marta shakes her head. Her gaze falls on me, and instantly I know what she's thinking.
Tamsin is in trouble.
She has to be.
"Is there something you two need to tell me?" Lewis asks. He looks from me to Marta.
"We did agree to tell him, Marta." I shrug.
"No. No. No." Marta glances up at the ceiling. "Why does this have to happen today of all days?"
"How about we take this conversation somewhere more private," Lewis mutters.
I look at the entrance to Tamsin's room, and I'm greeted by a sea of onlookers. It seems that everyone on the second floor, including Rose, is also curious as to where Tamsin is and why she no-showed Marta's wedding rehearsal.
"Is everything okay, Marta?" Rose inquires.
"You're sure you haven't seen Tamsin this morning?" Marta asks again.
"Well, no." Rose pauses and rethinks her answer. "But I've been in the kitchen all morning, so it's possible she could've left without me knowing."
"She didn't order anything for breakfast?" Lewis continues. "Nothing at all?"
"She usually stops at the counter for a coffee, but no. Not this morning."
"Thanks. I'm sure she'll turn up," Lewis kindly responds. He leads Marta and me back downstairs and heads for Marta's car.
"Do you think something happened to her?" Marta whispers. "Oh, I don't know whether I should be worried or positively mad."
"It appears we have a lot to catch up on." Lewis leans against Marta's car with his hands in his pockets. I glance nervously at Marta. I hope her suspicions are not correct. But with what Tamsin has been hiding, Ethan's murder, and the hotel break-in, it only seems logical that Tamsin is at the top of the culprit's list.
"Yes, we do," I chime in first. "But I would rather confess to Lewis, Marta's kind and understanding fiancé, than Detective Berry."
"Detective Berry has the weekend off," Lewis responds. "He's getting married tomorrow."
I stand close to Marta as I retell my conversation with Tamsin last night. Marta chimes in and tells Lewis what we found at Chutney Manor this morning. Lewis nods as if he's heard it all before. Maybe he has, or maybe he's just a really good listener.
"So that's why I have this nasty feeling in my tum," Marta concludes. "Because Tamsin has stumbled upon something big, and now she's missing."
"Well, we don't know that for sure." Lewis puts his arm around her. "There's still a chance she could be at your mum's."
"And if she's not?" I add.
"Then I'm afraid we'll just have to wait for the time being." Lewis looks up and down the street. "Listen, let's go and have some lunch, and if Tamsin still hasn't turned up, we'll ride through the village and look for her."
"Okay." Marta nods in agreement. "Okay, I am okay with that. Poppy?"
"Sure," I say.
"The one time I wish Tamsin was around, and she's gone." Marta hangs her head. "We're in for one awfully awkward luncheon."
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Marta's prediction isn't wrong.
Barry sips his tea in the lounge and listens to Lord Chutney talk about his latest encounter with the mayor of London. For once, Barry's nosiness is playing to our favor because Lord Chutney has yet to step into the kitchen, where Marta's dad is sizing up Sandra's cooking. Sandra is in the dining room preparing the table, and Marta and I are in the kitchen putting finishing touches on each dish. Lewis is serving as a buffer between his future father-in-law and Lord Chutney. So far it is working.
"Still nothing," Marta mutters. She puts her cell phone back in her pocket.
"Mushy peas?" Rupert comments. "Your mum made mushy peas?"
"As I recall, you used to adore mushy peas," Marta responds. "Perhaps she made them for you?"
"Is that why she made those tomato tarts as well?" Rupert asks, eyeing the miniature goat cheese and tomato tarts on the counter. "To butter me up so that I behave myself around her new boyfriend?"
"Maybe she's just being friendly?" Marta shrugs and carries on arranging the roasted vegetables on a serving platter.
"She knows tomato tart is my favorite." Rupert clears his throat, letting out a subtle, low growl.
"Is it?" Marta raises her eyebrows. "I just thought she'd picked too many tomatoes from the garden this morning."
I grin, having heard Marta request tomato tarts and mushy peas last night. Her attempt to get her parents back together isn't working as well as she had hoped. Though if Lord Chutney turns out to be a killer, at least Sandra will be single again. My chest pounds as I hope that murder isn't the reason for Sandra's breakup. That can't be an easy thing to get over.
"Pishposh," Rupert mutters. "I don't know what your mum is playing at, but it's not going to work."
"Honestly, Dad, I haven't the faintest idea what you're talking about." Marta hands him a serving bowl full of potatoes. "Now go and put this on the table." Marta smiles as she watches her father enter the dining room where Sandra is still setting out place settings. Alone.
"You know, they're going to figure out what you're trying to do eventually," I say quietly.
"Yeah, but by the time they do, it'll be too late." Marta carves the roast lamb, preparing it to be the centerpiece of today's meal. "They're still in love, Poppy. I know they are." Marta tilts her head toward the dining room, and I can't help but take a peek.
Lord Chutney is still going on about the mayor of London, and Barry seems amused. Meanwhile, Lewis's mother, Barbara, is sitting in the corner sipping a glass of wine. Across the hall, I sneak a glance of Sandra and Rupert. The two of them are talkin
g about the weather. Rupert still hasn't set down the potatoes, and Sandra doesn't look as if she can't stand the sight of him. Maybe Marta is right. Sandra and Rupert are interrupted by a knock on the door. My eyes go wide, and Marta dashes into the hall from the kitchen.
"I will get that." Sandra rushes to the front of the house and casually grabs the doorknob. I cross my fingers that it's Tamsin, but the face staring back at her is none other than a very disturbed neighbor.
"Sandra, are you aware that your guests are parked in front of my house? There's a tire on my lawn. I want it removed immediately." Mr. Fletcher flails his arms in the air. His matted hair looks like he ran a comb through it. Yesterday.
"Sorry about that, Mr. Fletcher," Sandra says, her voice very monotonous.
"Yes, well, I should think so." He does his best to glance into the front room.
"Is that all?" Sandra pushes the door forward.
"And keep up with your post, will you?" Mr. Fletcher hands her an envelope. "This was sitting on your doorstep. Pretty soon there will be rubbish flying up and down the street."
"Lovely to see you. Good-bye." Sandra takes the letter and quickly shuts the door.
"Mr. Fletcher again?" Rupert comes out into the hall with his arms crossed.
"Of course," Sandra answers. "That much hasn't changed, Rupert."
"You know why he's upset, don't you?" Rupert chuckles. "He's cross that he wasn't invited."
"Yes, well"—Sandra actually cracks a smile—"you better move your car before he calls Scotland Yard."
Marta and Lewis finish bringing the rest of the food to the table, and Marta watches her parents closely. She hesitates to announce that lunch is ready, but Barry practically does it for her. Lewis's father eyes the main dish and immediately gathers everyone. Sandra sits at the head of the table with Lord Chutney at her side. Rupert sits in the seat that is as far from Lord Chutney as possible.
Marta checks her cell phone again before she sits down at the table. She shakes her head and looks up at me. My mind runs through all the possible places that Tamsin could be. She could be anywhere in town. She could be at her parents' house, though Marta highly doubted that. Tamsin could also be snooping around Chutney Manor. Now would be an opportune moment. I push aside the thought in my head that's telling me something much more serious.
