by A. Gardner
"Banoffee pie." Marta nods. "Yes, of course. I remember now." She takes a deep breath and sips her tea. "This is actual tea, right? I mean, I'm not imaging it?"
"Yes." I glance in her cup for good measure. "That is tea. One hundred percent."
"Cheers." Marta raises her cup and drinks the rest to wake herself up. Sandra returns from her bedroom.
"Here's your lipstick, and we better get going," Sandra says, handing her daughter the one thing standing between Marta and the front door.
"Okay, I'm ready." Marta forces a smile, but her hands are shaky when she reaches for her shoes. Her gaze falls to the floor—the most likely place where Peppercorn would be sitting.
"She'll turn up," I whisper as I grab Marta's wedding dress. "They both will."
Marta stays quiet as the three of us load up her car and head for the chapel. Mr. Fletcher is out in his front garden as we pull out of the driveway. He stands very still, wearing his usual bathrobe as he watches us drive by. He doesn't even bother to give a friendly wave. Sandra rolls her eyes as she drives to the local chapel. I hardly have time to think before we're there.
We are actually on time.
It's a beautiful Sunday morning, and I'm surprised to see the sun shining, lighting up the trees and overgrowth surrounding the front of the chapel. It's like the sunshine was ordered especially for Marta's wedding, but Marta's mind is elsewhere. She grabs her things and marches straight inside to her dressing room.
"If she doesn't show up this time, it's official," Marta says quietly. She shuts the door, leaving Sandra in the hallway talking with the vicar. "Tamsin would never skip the actual wedding ceremony. Something's wrong, Poppy. I woke up this morning feeling queasy about the whole ordeal."
"She hasn't answered anyone's calls," I respond. "No one has seen her since yesterday. I don't know what else to say, but…I'm sorry. Maybe I shouldn't have confronted her the way I did at the pub?"
"This isn't your fault, Poppy. All this bad luck is mine." She unzips the bag covering her wedding dress and takes a minute to admire the silky, white fabric. "I feel all wrong getting married knowing that she might be out there somewhere in need of my help."
"What are you going to do?" I ask. "You can't cancel the wedding now. Lewis will be devastated."
"I know." Marta takes off her coat and quickly puts on her wedding dress. It looks even better today than it had when she tried it on in Mrs. Cunningham's shop.
Marta sits quietly in front of the mirror. This isn't how I imagine most women behave less than an hour before their wedding. It's obvious that Marta has a lot on her mind. My guess is that the silence in the room does not reflect what's going on in her head. My head is spinning with thoughts and memories from the past week. It also doesn't help that if Tamsin were here, she'd be the life of the room. It's funny how I'm starting to miss her now that she's gone.
The chatter in the hallway grows louder as guests fill the chapel. The sound of cars parking and doors slamming echoes through the cracked window in our little dressing room. The time is drawing closer, and Marta still hasn't said anything. Maybe she's waiting for a miracle?
"I have an idea," I finally say. "Why don't I put your mind at ease and stand outside and wait for her. There's still a chance Tamsin will come running in at the last minute, right?"
"Yes," Marta admits. "If she does, I'll kill her myself for disappearing all day yesterday."
"That's the spirit." I force a wide smile, hoping it will wear off on her. "I'll go spy on your guests." I check my dress in the mirror one last time before walking quietly to the back of the chapel.
Sandra is still talking with the vicar, but now she has Lord Chutney by her side. The pews are filling up fast. I see lots of faces that I recognize from Lord Chutney's dinner party, a few faces from Rose's pub, and Marta's dad, Rupert, is lingering by the front entrance. Rupert holds up a finger when he sees me.
"Ah, Poppy," Rupert says, approaching me. "Any chance I could have a word with Marta alone?" He glances at Sandra, who is completely blocked by her royal date.
"Yeah, she's by herself in that room over there," I respond, pointing him in the right direction.
"Splendid." Rupert grins and speeds past his ex-wife.
I wait patiently by the front doors hoping for a miracle that I know probably won't come. With every slam of a car door, I bite my lip, hoping to see Tamsin running through the car park. My heart drops a little more every time I see someone else. I don't want to be in Marta's shoes right now. I have no idea what I would do if the one getting married was me and one of my bridesmaids was missing and at the top of a killer's list.
More villagers pass, and once in a while, I hear whispers surrounding Catherine's name. It is strange to think that Catherine was supposed to be here this morning. I stand up straight when I catch the eye of Jean Pierre Gautier. He looks comfortable in his suit, and even though he's not wearing a chef's jacket with his name on it, he still behaves like a man of importance. Destin and Dandre are not as well put together. They wave at me, and Dandre even stops to fix his shoelace.
"Bonjour, Poppy," Chef Gautier greets me. He continues into the chapel and chooses a pew. Dandre nods as he jogs to keep up with him, and Destin stops next to me, arms crossed.
"How's our lovely sous chef this morning?" Destin mutters. His diamond earrings sparkle in the sunlight, and his chin is scruffy as though he hasn't shaved since arriving in Woodbury.
"Stressed," I admit. "Not as relaxed as last night."
"Did you tell her how much pie she ate?" Destin raises his eyebrows.
"Maybe." I nod. "She wasn't happy."
"And still no sign of your friend Tamsin?" Destin glances up and down the chapel.
"No," I respond. "She's pretty torn up about it."
"At least the groom is here." Destin tilts his head toward Lewis, who is running through the front entrance in his tux. He slows down and catches his breath when he sees me.
"Good morning, Poppy," Lewis says. "Hello, Destin."
"Lovely day for a wedding," Destin comments.
"How is Marta?" Lewis lowers his voice. His concerned expression only means that he's as worried about Marta as I am.
"Okay," I quietly reply. "She's okay, considering what happened yesterday anyway. She still hasn't heard from Tamsin."
"Trust me, we are looking for her." Lewis scans the front foyer. "Catherine still insists that she doesn't know anything about it. At the moment, my colleagues think that Tamsin will turn up, but I have all my best men keeping an eye out."
"Eh…" Destin nudges my arm, interrupting our conversation. "Remember that talk we had last night, Poppy?"
"Yes," I answer, remembering the way Marta and I did what we could to pump Destin for information about his last night with Tamsin.
"I told you I would recognize that face again," Destin says, glancing into the chapel. "There." He points to the crowd. "That's the woman Tamsin met up with."
"Met up with?" Lewis stares at him, confused.
"Yes. Destin said that Tamsin left the pub Friday night after receiving a phone call." I search the crowd of people Destin is pointing to for a familiar face.
"Is this true?" Lewis asks. "You didn't see her return to her room that night?"
"I've told Marta and Poppy everything I know." Destin lets his hands hang lifeless at his side. "She left me to meet up with some lady. Her."
Lewis and I follow Destin's finger toward the front of the church. Two people in particular are making it a habit of standing up to greet every new visitor that walks through the door. I narrow my eyes as John Stevenson leads his wife back to her seat. Lavinia briefly adjusts her glasses and promptly sits back down.
"That woman with the glasses?" I ask.
"Oui." Destin nods. "She's the one."
"Lavinia Stevenson?" Lewis asks. "How sure are you?"
"I am sure." Destin frowns. "I know what I saw."
Lavinia Stevenson was at Lord Chutney's dinner party, and so was her hus
band. She also seemed very fond of Lord Chutney when I first met her. Why would Lavinia want to meet with Tamsin? I can't see the two of them wanting to meet up for a chat. Lavinia must have had some information for her, but what?
"Excuse me for a minute," I respond.
"Poppy, are you sure now is a good time?" Lewis taps his watch.
"Lewis, if we don't figure this out, there might not even be a wedding," I blurt out, thinking of the way Marta has sulked in her dressing room since we got here. I have to at least ask Lavinia where they went that night and if Tamsin returned to her hotel room.
Lewis wrinkles his nose and presses me with more questions, but I ignore him. I head straight for Lavinia Stevenson, and I have lots of burning questions on my mind. The ceremony might be starting soon, but I don't know what Marta might do if Tamsin is still a no-show.
I am going to at least try to figure out what happened to her.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Lavinia Stevenson smiles when she sees me. She stands up, fixing the collar of her suit dress and tucking her dark hair behind her ears. Footsteps thud behind me, and I know that it's Lewis. He doesn't want me to cause a fuss right before the ceremony, but a few questions won't hurt.
"Hello," Lavinia says, looking at me and then Lewis.
"I'm Poppy," I remind her. "Good to see you, Mrs. Stevenson."
"I was just saying that it's a lovely day for a wedding, didn't I, dear?" Mr. Stevenson stands up and shakes my hand. "Good to see you lot."
"Um, Mrs. Stevenson, can I ask you something?" I make eye contact with Lewis, and he nervously clears his throat.
"Why, of course," Lavinia responds.
"In private?" I say.
A look of confusion crosses her face as she looks at her husband.
"I'm sure whatever you have to say to me you can say in front of my husband." Lavinia keeps a friendly smile on her face, but she clasps her fingers tightly.
"Marta's other bridesmaid, Tamsin, we haven't heard from her since Friday," I continue. "Have you seen her recently?"
"Oh." Lavinia lets out a light chuckle. "I suppose you've heard that I keep track of the comings and goings around Woodbury. Call it what you will, but I find it keeps our little town safe and cozy." She looks to Lewis for approval, and Lewis grins politely. Lavinia pauses for a moment. "But I'm sorry to say that I don't know what's going on with your friend Tamsin. I'm afraid I can't help you."
"Thank you—"
"You're sure about that?" I cut Lewis off and continue with my interrogation. "You were seen meeting her outside Rose's pub on Friday night."
"Friday night." Lavinia laughs again, but it seems forced. My stomach churns as the look in her eyes changes to a glare. "I was home on Friday evening, wasn't I, dear?"
"Yes, that's right," Mr. Stevenson answers.
"Of course you were," Lewis responds. "Come on, Poppy."
"Are you absolutely certain you didn't meet with Tamsin on Friday night?" I say again.
"Is it some sort of American custom to behave so rudely?" Lavinia clenches her hands into fists. The fact that she's acting so defensive makes me uneasy. If what she's saying is true, her answer should be plain and simple.
"Poppy, can I talk to you please?" Lewis mutters, glancing at his pocket. He shakes his head, pulling out his cell phone and holding up a finger. "Yes, this is Detective Berry." Lewis's eyes widen. He moves his phone away from his ear. "I'm sorry, I've got to take this. Police business."
"We do things differently here in England," Lavinia murmurs. "It's about time you learned that."
"So you're just going to deny everything?" I can't let it go. My stomach won't stop churning, and my mind won't stop racing with millions of thoughts about what Lavinia and Tamsin might have talked about.
"There is nothing to confess," Lavinia says quietly. Her eyes dart to more guests in the back who are trickling in. Lavinia puts on a friendly smile again. She makes smiling look effortless. "What reason do I have to talk to Tamsin? She left this village a long time ago, and I don't care for her vulgar taste in fashion."
"Go on, love," Mr. Stevenson encourages me. "They'll be ready to start soon."
I take a deep breath as I join Lewis at the back of the chapel. My gaze wanders down the hall to Marta's dressing room. I hope she's in a better mood than the last time I saw her.
"Yes, bring her here immediately," Lewis says. He hangs up the phone and catches his breath. A bead of sweat drips down his forehead. "Well, you'll be happy to know that they've found Tamsin."
"What?" I raise my eyebrows, and my heart starts racing at a million miles per minute.
"An officer found her wandering around the village," he continues. "He's bringing her here now."
"Is she okay? I mean, is she hurt?"
"I was told that she's fine," he responds. "Just groggy."
"Marta, will be so relieved," I blurt out. "Oh, someone will need to find her bridesmaid dress."
"I'll let you tell Marta the news." Lewis glances outside. "She won't be pleased if I see her in her dress before the wedding."
"Good idea." I practically run all the way to Marta's dressing room to tell her the news. I knock on the door and slowly open it. Rupert and Marta are still deep in conversation. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but I have some news."
"Yes," Rupert says, standing up and coming to the door. "I leave you to it. Good luck, my little ginger cake." He smiles at me as he leaves the room.
"What is it, Poppy?"
"It's Tamsin," I happily report. "She's on her way."
Marta jumps to her feet, her wedding dress swaying from side to side.
"Is she okay?" Marta asks.
"We will soon find out," I answer. "Um, do you happen to know where her bridesmaid dress ended up?"
"Oh, uh…" Marta scratches her forehead. "I gave it to her. Wait. No." She exhales loudly as she looks up at the ceiling. "Bollocks. It's at the house. I decided to bring it to the chapel for her in case she forgot it."
"No problem," I reply. "I'll go and get it. That is, if you think there's time?"
"Of course there's time." Marta shoos me out of the room. "I won't have Tamsin walking down the aisle in one of her usual outfits. My mother and half of the chapel will have a meltdown. Do you know how to get back to the house?"
"It's a small village," I say. Marta tosses me her car keys. "Left side of the road. Left side of the road."
"What?"
"I'm just preparing myself," I tell her. "I'll be quick, and hopefully Tamsin is here and coherent when I get back."
"Thank you, Poppy." A wave of relief washes over Marta, and she sits back and takes a deep breath.
"See," I continue. "I told you everything would be okay."
I leave the chapel in a hurry, hoping that I'm right.
Though I rarely am.
* * *
Mr. Fletcher is kneeling in his front garden when I drive by. He turns and scowls when I hop out of the car and wave the way I've seen Sandra do. Mr. Fletcher doesn't bother to say hello. He frowns and continues with his gardening as I head to the front door.
I rush upstairs and into Marta's bedroom, looking for Tamsin's bridesmaid dress. Marta's bed is neatly made, and she had left all of her makeup nicely arranged on her vanity. Her suitcase is sitting zipped in the corner, ready for her honeymoon trip tomorrow. Her room is the opposite of mine. I look through Marta's wardrobe, but I can't find Tamsin's dress.
Maybe it's in Sandra's room?
I push the door to Sandra's room open and tiptoe inside as if she's lingering in the corner. I take a deep breath and look around. Her bedding looks similar to the décor downstairs. Lots of floral patterns and lots of knitted knickknacks. A picture of Marta as a baby is on her nightstand. I chuckle out loud when I see it. Marta's hair was even redder back then.
A dress is hanging from the chair at the vanity. It's the same plum shade as mine. I quickly grab it, accidentally knocking a few items from Sandra's desk onto the floor. I scramble to pick th
em up and come across a plain envelope with Sandra's name on it. My mind jumps back to the letter that Mr. Fletcher waved about yesterday. He said it was sitting on Sandra's porch.
My thoughts race. I'm too curious. I glance up and down the hallway before opening the ripped envelop. Inside is a folded piece of paper with a couple of lines written on it. A strange sort of message to receive at your doorstep. I read it carefully.
Meet me in the library after pudding. I have a surprise for you. Yours, Harry.
I read the letter again, surprised that Lord Chutney would take the time to write something so informal and then place it on Sandra's doorstep. He could have just asked her in person. But then again, maybe it's his way of being romantic? Romantic and creepy.
I place the letter back where I found it and double check the dress to make sure it's the right one. Marta's wedding is due to start any minute. Tamsin will have to throw on her dress and immediately walk down the aisle with me no matter what state her hair and makeup is in.
Mr. Fletcher watches me leave the house in a hurry. I wave at him again, but he doesn't wave back. Instead, he shakes his head as he covers up another hole in his lawn. The first time I saw him come to Sandra's door to complain, he accused Peppercorn of digging those holes. I try to concentrate on driving on the opposite side of the road as I speed back to the chapel.
But Marta's luck might be changing.
Peppercorn might also be ready to come home.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
The organ is already playing when I arrive with Tamsin's dress. Lewis is standing at the front of the chapel, along with the vicar, and everyone has taken their seats. I rush to Marta's little dressing room and find the door open. Marta is combing through Tamsin's hair and attempting to make her look presentable. Tamsin is staring at her reflection in the mirror, looking a little dazed.
"Tamsin," Marta says. "Are you sure you don't want some water or something?"
"Oh." Tamsin waves in front of her face as if she's pushing away a cloud. "No. I'm alright."
"Here's your dress." I hand Tamsin her bridesmaid dress and close the door. Tamsin wastes no time putting it on. Just like mine, it fits like a glove.
