Miz Scarlet and the Bewildered Bridegroom

by Barton, Sara M.

  I smiled, thinking of the summers I drove to Misquamicut with my friends for all-day body surfing and picnics. Sometimes we’d have ten or twelve in the group and three or four cars in our caravan; we’d play musical cars, switching riders at red lights the moment someone yelled, “Chinese fire drill!” When we got to the beach, we’d stake out our section of sand with a patchwork quilt of blankets that seemed to go on forever. I always found myself lingering as the last of the afternoon sun began to slip away, reluctant to leave. Those were good times, halcyon days.

  “Me too,” I replied. “If you’re hungry, you can grab something from the fridge.”

  “No, we stopped at a clam shack on the way home.” Jenny washed off the ice packs, dried them, and put them back into the freezer. “Hammerhead said it was the perfect way to end the day.”

  I looked at this bubbly young woman in the tank top and shorts standing next to me. She might not be in love with the boy just yet, but she sure was enjoying his company.

  Kenny was still on duty, keeping an eye on the Four Acorns Inn from a distance. Thanks to some remote technology, he was holed up on the second floor of the carriage house, watching the action on a couple of monitors. Just after eight thirty, he called me.

  “Hey, what are the chances I can get some grub when I get there?”

  “I’d say pretty good, handsome. When might that be?”

  “I parked my car a couple of streets over, so I’ll have to retrieve it. I can be there in about ten minutes. Expect me to make a big show of arriving back at the inn.”

  “Thanks for the warning. I’ll take the dogs out now and put the porch light on for you. Ring the bell and I’ll let you in.”

  “Just don’t let on that I’m anything but a paying guest. No smooching at the door.”

  “You mean I can’t take a running leap and throw myself at you?” I inquired mischievously. “Damn! I was so looking forward to locking lips with you!”

  “Well, not at the door anyway,” he chuckled. “Once I’m inside, that’s a different story.”

  “Is it?”

  “Oh, yeah. Count on it.”

  “I’ll hold you to that,” I told him, giggling.

  “That’s fine, as long as you hold me.”

  I did better than that when he stepped through the door a short time later. By the time we came up for air, I was light-headed and almost giddy.

  Once Kenny was in for the night, he armed the security system and then he met with Ruth for a few minutes in the library, to go over the day’s activity log. When their briefing was done, I plated his dinner, poured him a glass of wine, and sat with him while he ate.

  “It looks like whoever was targeting the inn has backed off. Maybe it was the law enforcement response to the harassment that did the trick. The cops have canvassed the neighborhood, asking questions, talking to the residents. I think we’re okay now, Scarlet.”

  “I hope so.”

  “To be on the safe side, I’m leaving Ruth in place for another day or two. She’ll hang around here, on the off-chance someone decides to try again.”

  “Okay,” I replied, still a little apprehensive. I wanted to believe the trouble was over, but there was a part of me that couldn’t shake my doubt. Maybe it was because I still didn’t understand why it all had happened. Someone went to a lot of trouble to terrorize us. Why would that person just suddenly stop?

  But apparently he or she did, at least for a few days. Thursday passed quietly. My mother and Thaddeus took a drive down to the Connecticut shore, exploring the pokey little towns here and there. Lacey took Edna to the senior center and introduced her to the regular lunch bunch. Ruth hung out at the inn, helping herself to our collection of books on local history. Her nephew showed up just after one and took her to lunch at Dennison’s Restaurant, a favorite local eatery in old paper mill. Jenny and I took advantage of the lull and got busy with the upcoming wedding. We got the menu in order, decided on decorations, and made the final arrangements for the guest accommodations.

  “We’ve got the justice of the peace for the ceremony. I’ll firm up the details with Mark Pritchard tomorrow. With that settled, we’ve got bigger fish to fry. We need to make decisions about food, cake, flowers, and the garden. Where should we start?” I pulled up the folders on my digital file for the wedding.

  “Let’s start with the flowers,” Jenny suggested.

  “I thought we’d do something very simple, with roses as the signature flower. I’ll need to pick up some florist’s tape and satin ribbon.”

  “What about the cake?”

  “They requested chocolate cake. I thought I’d make Grandma Wilson’s version, but instead of the usual chocolate fudge frosting, I’ll use chocolate mousse between the layers.”

  “Sweet.”

  “It will be. The Googins girls and Edna found a pair of little white lovebirds for the top. The real trick will be to transform a chocolate cake into a wedding cake. If I do chocolate frosting, it’s delicious, but dark. And a regular white buttercream or cream cheese frosting will spoil the fudgy goodness.”

  “Could you cover it in coconut?” The thought of burying a chocolate masterpiece in a shredded white shroud seemed wrong. Did I use fudge frosting or chocolate ganache as the glue for the coconut? And what if it spoiled the taste of that fudge cake? I shook my head.

  “That seems too tropical. It has to be a flavor that works with the cake, but dresses it up for a wedding.”

  “Can you use seven-minute frosting? My grandmother used to make that. It was awesome.”

  “That might be too marshmallow-y, but you’re getting closer, Jen.”

  “White fondant?”

  “Or white chocolate,” I replied. I quickly did a search and found a promising recipe from a professional baker. Jotting down the ingredients on my shopping list, I glanced over at my assistant. She had a faraway look on her face.

  “Any thoughts?” I asked.

  “Can I ask you something, Miz Scarlet?”

  “Sure.” I waited while she found the words. I had no idea where she was going with this.

  “You know how those blueberry bushes were mangled in the garden?”

  “More like butchered,” I corrected her. “What about them?”

  “Wasn’t that the spot where we stood and talked about the upcoming wedding?” Jenny’s eyes reflected her worried spirit. I thought back to that conversation. She was right. “And now we can’t hold it there because the bushes were all chopped to bits.”

  “Ah....” I tried to recall the rest of the details. My mother had joined us in the garden. “That’s also where Laurel mentioned she wanted to take over Wallace’s house and do weddings.”

  “But wouldn’t that mean someone was spying on you?”

  “Possibly,” I conceded reluctantly. As I sat there, I realized the evidence seemed to support her theory, so I corrected myself. “Probably.”

  “Scary.”

  “Jen, do you know when the ladies started planning their takeover of Wallace’s mansion?”

  “Oh, let’s see. I think Lacey mentioned it right after that guy hit the neighbor’s mailbox. That was at the end of April, wasn’t it?”

  “It was. Did the ladies talk to anyone else about this wedding business?”

  “Well, they were on the phone with Edna a couple of times.”

  “But Edna was back in Georgia. I don’t think anyone in Cheswick would have heard about that. I’m trying to figure out if the news went out on the neighborhood gossip line.”

  “Lacey mentioned to your mother that she ran into Sylvia Pritchard at the grocery store a few weeks ago.”

  “Could she be the wife of our justice of the peace? Crap on a cracker! I wonder if he’s been marrying people up at Wallace’s house.”

  “You mean for Karin?”

  “I do,” I sighed. That would explain a lot. How vengeful would the party planner be if she learned from the local grapevine that the Googins girls were plotting to take back the fa
mily manse and put her out of business? Did that explain the Wilkies’ very bad behavior, or what happened in the aftermath of their apprehension by police? Maybe Kradic and company didn’t just break in to terrorize us. Maybe they had another purpose, to recover or destroy evidence in the Wilkies’ rented accommodation. Suddenly, the latest intrusion and the vandalism in the White Oak Room made sense, especially if Karin was killing two birds with one stone. I pulled out my cell phone and dialed Kenny. The call was immediately rerouted to voice mail.

  “Shoot. I have to leave him a message.” The impatient part of me wanted answers now, not in an hour or two. I hated to wait. What could I do in the meantime? “Perhaps I should call Mark Pritchard, just to confirm the date for the Pinault-Magnusdotter wedding and to see if he needs anything from us.”

  “That’s just a polite way of saying you’re going to snoop, isn’t it?” Jenny asked me.

  “Am I that obvious?”

  “It’s only because I know you pretty well now,” the teenager grinned. “What are you going to say?”

  “I’m going to tell him someone wants to know if he does a lot of weddings in Cheswick.”

  “Someone?” She started to laugh. “Don’t you mean you?”

  “No need to tell him that.” I waved her off. “I need to know if he works for Karin and if he knows what the Googins girls are planning.”

  “Why don’t you just ask Lacey?”

  “Because, dear girl, if there’s one thing I’ve learned over the years, it’s that when it comes to gossip, it’s less about what someone actually said and more about what the gossiper thinks she heard.” I jotted down my questions on my digital notepad before I took out my phone and started dialing.

  “Ooh, clever!”

  Brrr-ing...brrr-ing...brrr-ing. Three long rings trilled in my ear before the call was answered. I turned on the speaker phone button and put a finger to my lips to warn my assistant.

  “Yes?” said the male voice on the other end.

  “Mr. Pritchard, this is Scarlet Wilson at the Four Acorns Inn. I was just confirming the wedding for Saturday, the seventh of June.”

  “Yes, yes. It’s on my calendar; I believe it’s scheduled for two o’clock.”

  “That’s right. Since I’ve never done a wedding at the inn before, I wonder if you could just go over the procedure we’ll be following.”

  I peppered him with questions and somewhere in the middle of the conversation I slipped in a little surprise.

  “We were planning to have you do the vows in the garden, but we had an unfortunate incident. Some vandals destroyed the bushes. So we’ve decided to hold the ceremony down by the pond, with the bride and groom on the dock,” I told him. Jenny’s eyes grew wide as she listened to me; she mouthed the words, “We have?”

  “I’m sure that will be fine,” the man assured me.

  “Have you done a lot of outdoor ceremonies?”

  “Quite a few. The biggest issue is always the weather.”

  “Oh, of course it is. I expect we should be prepared to move the ceremony indoors if the clouds roll in.”

  “Most definitely. It’s always good to have a backup plan.”

  “I’ll get on that. Before I forget, the bride and groom wanted to know if you do a lot of weddings. They’re a little nervous that something might go wrong. I know there’s a lot of paperwork involved and they’re from Massachusetts. How do we handle all that if they’re from out of state?”

  Mark Pritchard launched into a long explanation of his services for the wedding couple, including his offer to accompany them to pick up the license on Friday. As expected, he filled us in on his experience with Karin Frenlind. “I’m usually up at her mansion three or four times a month.”

  Her mansion? He made it sound like she owned the place.

  “Really? I knew Karin did a lot of events, but I never would have guessed she does that many weddings.”

  “Good heavens! There are only so many cocktail parties and business gatherings you can do. Wedding consultancy is the real money-maker. It’s usually more involved than putting on a single event. You might also handle the rehearsal dinner, the bridal shower, or even an after-wedding brunch.”

  “I didn’t realize that. Of course, I’m not in her league. The Four Acorns Inn is a bed-and-breakfast, so this wedding will be very simple.”

  “Does this mean you plan to offer this service to other guests in the future?” he wanted to know. “Are you getting into the wedding business?”

  Chapter Seventeen --

  Jenny and I both looked at each other as Mark Pritchard uttered those words. His sudden curiosity captured our attention. I stuck with a non-committal response, hoping to distract him.

  “Good heavens! I haven’t even done one wedding yet, Mark. We’ll have to see if I survive this experience,” I chuckled heartily. He wasn’t buying it.

  “Once you get your first one under your belt, it’s just a matter of booking the next. Is that what you plan to do, Scarlet?”

  Why did he seem to care so much? I felt my suspicions growing. I tried again to deflect his questions.

  “I’m an innkeeper. I make beds, scrub toilets, and feed people. I’m not sure I have time for anything else.”

  “Maybe you’re interested in getting out of that business,” he replied jovially. Interested in getting out of that business....How was I supposed to take that?

  “Oh, I don’t think so. I’m really quite good at it, Mark.”

  “Then again, it could be more trouble than it’s worth.”

  What did that mean? A cold, dark shadow passed through me and I shivered. When I glanced at Jenny, her eyes wore that worried look.

  “How so?”

  “I’m just saying that innkeeping is a tough business.” His voice was even, but his words almost sounded menacing to me.

  “And you know this because....” I left the question unanswered, hoping he would fill in the blanks. The short pause began to drag on as the conversation halted. He had no intention on clarifying his point. Instead, he begged off.

  “I have to go, Scarlet. I have another call coming in about a wedding I’m doing on Friday night. I’ll see you at two next Saturday.” Click. That was the end of our conversation.

  “Is it just me, Jen, or is that guy....” I was going to say pushy, but she filled in the blank herself.

  “Creepy? Yes, he is. Why was he so nosy?”

  “Maybe he wants to be hired if we start doing weddings,” I suggested. I wasn’t really sure how to take his interest in the Four Acorns Inn. Why did he care if we were thinking of offering wedding services to our guests?

  “Why did you pick him to do the ceremony?”

  “Good question.” How had I come to choose him as the wedding officiant? Mercy Dohan, a clerk at Cheswick Town Hall, answered my inquiry when Annalee and Gunnar wanted to know what they had to do to obtain a marriage license in Connecticut. Once Mercy had explained the requirements, I had asked if she knew someone who could perform the ceremony. Mercy had recommended a couple of people, whose names I wrote down.

  “One of the most popular wedding officiants in the area is Justice of the Peace Mark Pritchard,” she informed me. “He’ll do the service just about anywhere. Some of the others are reluctant to traipse up White Oak Hill at sunset or let family pets serve as attendants. Not Mark. He’s pretty laid back, Scarlet. And his prices are reasonable.”

  Mark was the first one I called and since he was available, I hired him. Now I was definitely having second thoughts.

  “Maybe I should consider alternatives,” I said aloud, trying on the idea for size. It seemed to fit. Jenny let out a deep breath, her relief apparent.

  “You should.” There was no mistaking her concern. “I would. I don’t trust him.”

  “Really?”

  It was obvious that she had taken an instant dislike to the man. Every word she spoke painted Mark Pritchard as a devil. Were we giving him horns and a pitchfork he didn’t deserve? Mayb
e we are just overreacting. Who knows what goes on in the wedding business? If there’s a lot of competition between wedding officiants, would that explain Mark’s behavior?

  “What if he’s involved in some kind of wedding scheme?” Jenny pressed on, unwilling to let it go.

  “Wedding scheme? Don’t you mean scam?” I teased, leaning back in my chair.

  “People scheme, Miz Scarlet. They plot and plan. They do bad things, like pop tires, cut up curtains, and threaten to throw people over the banister.” There was no denying the teen was bothered by the recent happenings. Was her emotional response a delayed reaction to the psychological trauma?

  “So they do. And you think that’s what’s happening here with Mark Pritchard?”

  “It could be,” she insisted. “He could be Karin Frenlind’s partner in crime.”

  If my assistant was convinced there was a conspiracy afoot, it wouldn’t be easy to dispel her fears on that front. Hard logic is the only real tonic for what ails us. Focus on the bottom line. Think like a cop. What would Larry say?

  I paused to imagine the homicide investigator at the table with us, listening to us jabber on about Mark Pritchard. How would she handle this? She’d shake her head in disgust. “You two are giving yourselves the creepy crawlies. Where are the facts here? How do you know he’s involved? You can’t go accusing some guy just because you’re scared!”

  The truth was we didn’t have an abundance of evidence to support the conspiracy theory, at least as far as the justice of the peace was concerned. The fear that seemed to pervade the Four Acorns Inn was getting out of hand. It was time for some perspective.

  “What would this alleged scheme entail exactly? We have a party planner who ropes unsuspecting people into getting married against their will, and a justice of the peace who cons naive couples into going down to town hall to apply for marriage licenses and then forces them to take vows?”

  “Well....”

  “Are there any little chubby cherubs involved in the wedding scheme, Jenny? Are they nailing folks in the fanny with their arrows, forcing them to fall in love?”