BLUE WEDDING (Melody The Librarian Mysteries Book 3)

by Leslie Leigh

  During a lull, the basement lights flicked off and on, and Mr. Van Dyke – I’m sorry, Zak –walked halfway down the stairs. “I’ve got a pot of tea steeping. Anybody game?” he called out.

  Gary and I nodded at each other. “Tea sounds great!” I responded.

  “Well, while it’s working its magic, I’ve got something else for you, Melody.” Zak was only visible from the knees down, and as he descended, I saw that he was carrying something. When he turned the corner, he held a gorgeous, green button accordion.

  “Melody, I hope that you won’t mind, but I took the liberty of assuming that you might find this little gem as delightful as I do. It’s a chromatic – perfect for the musette you and I both love, as well as just about anything else you’d care to play. It’s my gift to you for all your hard work on the Accordion Extravaganza project.”

  I was floored! Accordion players are like guitarists in that, even though their chosen instrument is extremely versatile, different instruments offer different characteristics, unique qualities that inspire us with a fresh perspective. That’s why, when they can afford it, some musicians have entire rooms dedicated to their collection of instruments. It’s addictive. And those who can’t afford to stockpile an arsenal of instruments dream of being able to do so.

  He handed me the accordion and helped slip the strap around my neck. “Gary drove all the way to Chicago for this beauty. It’s forty-two years old and, like you, is unique. I wish you many years of enjoyment, Melody.”

  “Thank you so much, Zak,” I said, tearing up. “It’s beautiful. I’ll always treasure this. And thank you, Gary, for your contribution.” I squeezed the bellows and then expanded it, and was surprised that it played the same note in either direction. Both of my accordions played a different pitch when the bellows was pushed or pulled.

  “Yes, it’s unisonic,” Zak observed. “It’ll take time to get used to that, not to mention the button layout, but it’ll be fun learning, right?”

  “Oh, sure,” I laughed. It would be challenging, but he was right – the fun would outweigh the initial difficulty.

  “Well, that tea should be ready,” Zak said. The look on his face was priceless. He knew that he’d scored the perfect gift for me, and I hoped that he saw a glimmer of the appreciation that I felt. It was beyond words. If I was mistaken about Gary’s feelings toward me, I wondered if maybe the Van Dykes could just adopt me. These sessions in their basement made me feel more at home than just about anywhere else.

  ***

  On a side note, when I brought the Chromatic home and showed Mom how generous Zak had been, she was nearly speechless, which of itself was priceless. She couldn’t help but admire the gleaming beauty of the instrument, but once she’d recovered, she made an attempt to save face.

  “So what do you think that cost?” she asked. “I mean, it’s not a new instrument, is it?”

  “No, Mom, it’s a vintage instrument. It’s nearly one-of-a-kind! And I’m not going to even bother trying to find out. It’s a gift!”

  “I understand,” she said. “It was very thoughtful of Zak. I was just curious, is all. So how have your rehearsals been going with Gary?”

  “Very well. In fact, he called off a third practice. I guess that means we’re as ready as we’ll ever be.”

  “I’m sure you’ll sound just terrific. I wish I’d gotten an invitation just so I could hear you. I haven’t been to a wedding in years! Just funerals, these days. I used to love attending weddings and receptions. It’s as if a little bit of the romance and magic rubs off on everyone there. I hope you’re not going to be so caught up in your performance that you end up missing that element.”

  “I guess we’ll have to wait and see,” I said. “I have a feeling that there’s not going to be a lot of romance and magic in the air at this one. It’s pretty much a mercenary enterprise.”

  Mom looked shocked. “Oh, that’s horrible! Is it her first time?”

  “Yes, it is. She struck me as being very…pragmatic.”

  “Hmmm. Well, there’s something to be said for security,” Mom said, changing tack while still finding a way to lecture me while doing so. “There are practical aspects to marriage as well as romantic ones.”

  “I think I’ll retire now. It’s been a long day.”

  “You’re not going to sleep with your new accordion, are you?” Mom asked as I scuttled away. She had good reason to ask: as a child, I’d slept with Grandma Clementine’s. I guess I’d outgrown that level of attachment to my instruments, yet a part of me didn’t want to let go of my gorgeous, green gift.

  Chapter 8

  When Friday rolled around, the thrill of anticipating another gift had waned, but I wasn’t complaining. How do you top a gift like the chromatic accordion, after all? Besides, my energy was focused on the wedding reception. I always get nervous before a performance, and as the event approached, my palms felt sweaty just thinking about it…in a good way.

  There was still no word from Margaret or the media about Bob Christian’s legal fate. Maybe the prosecutor had postponed his decision. When I returned from lunch, Margaret had gone, but Chrissie was manning the front desk. I felt a little apprehensive when I saw her, wondering if Gary might have mentioned me in the context of their cooling relationship. I quickly got over it, though, when she appeared to be her usual upbeat self.

  “Hi, Melody. Are you excited about Tiffany’s wedding tomorrow? You and Gary are playing at the reception, right?”

  “Yes and yes,” I replied. “Were you invited?”

  “I was, and I’ll be attending. She’s a few years older than I am, but we took a few classes together at the community college and used to chat. Did you hear that the guy she’s marrying is older than her dad?” she asked, wide-eyed.

  I couldn’t help smiling at that. “Well, some younger women have a thing for older guys,” I said, wondering if she’d take the bait.

  “I suppose,” she said, wistfully. “I mean, she could love him, and I hope she does, but I don’t think it’s just a coincidence that he’s gotta lotta money.”

  “Touché,” I replied. Looking down at my desk, I saw a lavender envelope, the kind used to house greeting cards. “What’s this?”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. Let me get out of your chair,” Chrissie said, rising. “A man dropped it off while you were gone. He didn’t leave his name, but he asked what the library hours were and said he’d be back around closing time.” Chrissie must have noticed the blood draining from my face. “I didn’t mess up, did I? I mean, the hours are public information, right?”

  “Absolutely,” I responded, as I opened the envelope. The card displayed a cuddly – what else? – Teddy Bear (with a veneer of felt fur that was quite pleasing to the touch) with a sad and slightly stupid expression holding a heart. The caption read, ‘I Can’t BEAR to be without you!’ It was kind of sickening, in a way. Who would be sending me these mawkish gifts? Now I felt a sense of relief that it probably wasn’t Gary. Gary would earn extra points if he wasn’t behind all of this.

  “Did he say anything else?”

  “Yeah,” Chrissie grinned, as if she were saving the best for last. “He said he was your husband!”

  That was kind of weird. “But I’m not married,” I clarified.

  “No,” Chrissie said, her smile becoming wider. “He said he was your husband!” She looked directly into my eyes, as if gauging my level of discomfort due to this revelation. I managed a smile.

  “Well, that isn’t possible, either. I guess I’ll find out who this jokester is come closing time. Have you had a chance to check the drop box yet?”

  Once she left, I plopped down in my chair and allowed my body to go slack. This was outrageous, but then Gavin’s behavior always bordered on the outrageous, so it fit. It had been three years since our marriage had been annulled, with no contact since, which had suited me just fine. Why was he here in Lake Hare, sending me wildly inappropriate gifts and playing some cat-and-mouse game like a goofy, love
struck teen?

  Thankfully, Chrissie had to leave at 5:00; otherwise, I think she might have hung around to witness my reaction when Gavin showed up. If there weren’t a handful of patrons present, I might have considered closing early. At least, the thought crossed my mind, but if Gavin had found me at the library in Lake Hare, of all places, he could have probably located Mom’s house pretty easily.

  After locking up, I waited on the sidewalk at the front entrance. A black SUV pulled up and out stepped Gavin. His hair was shorter and he looked better groomed than was his wont during our time together. As he neared, he flashed that trademarked dazzling smile, but all I felt was a rekindled sense of loathing. The man didn’t have a sincere bone in his body.

  “Melody,” he crooned, holding his arms out to accept a hug, which wasn’t going to happen. I stood with my arms folded across my chest.

  “Gavin,” I acknowledged icily. “What brings you to these parts?”

  “Why, you, of course,” he smiled, reading my body language and stopping a comfortable distance before me. “And a wedding. Business and pleasure, I guess you could say.”

  “And what business do we have?” I asked.

  “No, you’re the pleasurable part, believe me. I hate weddings, actually, no offense, but I’m pursuing a client – wooing, you might say – so that’s the business part. Charlie Hayes, the groom. I’ve got him in my sights, and managed to finagle an invite to the blessed event. My connection was Ray Heller; do you know him? He’s a very close friend of Tiffany’s, whom I’ve yet to meet. A very close friend.”

  “Oh, that must be Raymond,” I replied, recalling Tiffany’s syrupy phone conversation. “No, I’ve just heard about him.”

  “Nice guy. Anyway, I made an investment in his-and-hers gold clubs for the couple, and I hope that will lead to an outing with Mr. Hayes, where I can make a pitch for my marketing services. It’s a bit of a gamble, but my idea is that on a more relaxed turf, so to speak, Mr. Hayes might be more receptive to my ideas.”

  “You always were a calculating bastard,” I smiled. “Speaking of Trojan horses, why the covert campaign of gifts to me? You know…the secret admirer ruse?”

  “Well, it’s no secret that I admire you, Melody, especially when I read the Detroit Free Press article about your amateur sleuthing adventures. Yeah, they ran the local rag’s feature, and I was very impressed. When I found out that Hayes’ wedding was going to be held here, it was like….”

  “Killing two birds with one stone?” I offered.

  “Like kismet,” he said, “or an omen.”

  “Gavin, believe me, I am not your good luck charm. There is nothing but bad karma between us. We were married for eight months, and you were gone on your job or with your girlfriends for four of those months. So please don’t try to spin our past together as some sort of magical fairy tale.”

  “Oooh,” Gavin exclaimed, as if he’d just been punched in his midsection, though the smile never left his face. “You don’t pull punches, Melody. What can I say? We were both younger and a little immature. I didn’t realize that you’d still felt so much emotion.”

  “I felt betrayed, Gavin. I haven’t thought about you at all in years, but now that you’ve shown up here, I resent that you think that I would forget that betrayal and let you charm your way back into my good graces. Not a chance. That would be like being bitten by a rattlesnake. If you don’t learn from the experience, it’ll happen again.”

  Finally, the smile disappeared. “Hey, I told you, I was in town and I thought I’d look you up. I didn’t know that you still held a grudge. I’d hoped that I could take you to dinner and we could talk about old times.”

  “No,” I said. “I’ve have a rehearsal. I’m playing at the reception tomorrow.” That was only half true, but with a guy like Gavin – a salesman through and through, who wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer – it was necessary to lie.

  “Oh, the accordion,” he grinned. “Man, that’s one thing I sure don’t miss about you, no offense. You still got that same cat, the one who didn’t like me?”

  “Mao? Yes. She’s an excellent judge of character, as it turned out. I’ve got to go.”

  “I understand,” Gavin said. “Well, if you change your mind – after the rehearsal – you can find me at the Hartford House, this boring old B and B. I should have waited till tomorrow to come up here.”

  “Sorry I couldn’t entertain you,” I sniffed, and started walking.

  “Hey, how’s your mother, Melody?” Gavin called out.

  I wheeled back around. “What do you care? You’ve never met my mother, and she doesn’t know a thing about you. Nobody does, and that’s the way I want to keep it. Don’t be telling anyone else that we were married. It was annulled, remember? It never existed.”

  “Easy, Melody, I was just being polite,” he chuckled. “Go on; don’t be late for your rehearsal. Hey, do you take requests? What if I ask you to play our song, Melody?”

  I stopped and looked back. “We didn’t have a song, Gavin. Just do me a favor and stay away from me, okay?”

  I didn’t want him following me, so I walked along Main Street until his car passed by, then I took the road to Mom’s. I was livid. He had some nerve! Did he think I was going to show him a good time during his layover? Maybe I should have referred him to Cat, our local escort provider. That was more Gavin’s speed.

  As I marched along, a woman walking her dog across the street stopped and stared at me. I realized that I had begun speaking aloud as I grumbled about Gavin’s audacity. Well, to heck with her! Why is she eavesdropping on my conversation with myself anyway?

  I entered through the kitchen and saw that the kitchen was clean and empty.

  “Melody? Is that you?” Mom called from the living room. “I had a late lunch today, so I didn’t cook anything. Would you like me to whip something up for you?”

  “No, thanks, Mom,” I replied. Great. Not that I had any regrets about declining Gavin’s dinner invitation. I opened a cupboard and grabbed a bag of potato chips. That would do the trick. I opened the freezer and saw the half gallon of peanut butter fudge ice cream. Yes! The gods were smiling down on me. I grabbed Mao and entered my room, kicking the door shut.

  If I’d had a Do Not Disturb sign, I would have hung it over the doorknob, or better yet, Enter at Your Own Risk! I had some serious snacking to do! Some junk food and some cat affection, and I’d be right with the world.

  Chapter 9

  Finally, the Big Day came to pass. After my half-day at the library, I would be off to change and then meet up with Gary and then off to the wedding. I should have been focused on my job and the wedding reception, but instead I was plagued by the events of the past few days, chiefly the appearance of Gavin, but also my vaguely defined relationship with Gary.

  My marriage to Gavin came about shortly after my father died and during a period when my mother and I weren’t speaking. That went on for nearly 18 months. I can’t even remember what particular issue served as the final straw, but after the blow-up neither side would give an inch. In my defense, I can claim that I inherited my stubbornness from Mom.

  Anyway, when I was introduced to Gavin by my closest friend, Shelly, I was socially adrift, rudderless, and easily swept off my feet. I fell under the spell of his charm, the vitality he generated and, I suppose, the opportunity he represented to rebel against years of maternal repression. One night, we got the crazy idea of getting married, so we did.

  The most enjoyable part of the relationship turned out to be keeping it a secret from Mom, although once my dream guy morphed into a nightmare, there were many times I wanted to confide in her. But I held my ground and dealt with Gavin’s infidelities the best I could, finally arranging to annul the marriage. When it was over, it became my most closely guarded secret. I didn’t even take my brother, Michael, into my confidence, and that was a deep source of regret.

  I realized that all the slings and arrows whizzing around in my brain revolved around th
at elusive concept we call love, in all its myriad forms: bad love, one-sided love, non-committal love, delusional love, you name it. Between Gavin and Gary, love was getting a bad rep. And then, throw in the likes of Cat Spencer, who dispenses love at an hourly rate, and Tiffany Ashcroft, who loves money more than the man she’s marrying, it reminded of the song Annie Ross sang in the movie ‘Short Cuts’: ‘To Hell with Love.’

  Speaking of Cat, I’d seen neither hide nor hair of her daughter Molly since the school year had ended. I’d expected to see more of Molly, not less. Maybe it had something to do with the last time Cat and I had spoken. She’d been worried about her pending questioning by the police, and our conversation ended on a sour note. She’d been drinking and felt that my recommendation to tell the authorities everything she knew was naïve and ill-advised. Cat had some skeletons in her closet, and perhaps she felt that keeping Molly away from me would ensure that they stayed there.

  Fortunately, I was rescued from my pessimistic musings by a call from Michael. There’s nothing like family to pick you up when you’re feeling low.

  “I just got word from my boss that the prosecutor isn’t filing any charges against Bob Christian in the death of Amanda Holt. He’s ruled it an accidental death. Not even involuntary manslaughter, can you believe it?”

  This wasn’t quite the emotional lift I’d been anticipating, but Michael sounded like he could use a little encouragement. I could tell he was irritated; he spoke in a higher register than usual. “Accidental death?” I repeated. “He dragged her body into the bushes! He planted the fatal arrow in Max Colopy’s car! He didn’t come forward and, in fact, impeded the investigation. Not to mention that Amanda was shot from a distance of – what? – thirty feet, while standing in a clearing by her cabin…in daylight!”