by Gayle Trent
I blushed and smiled. I enjoyed his other relaxation techniques too.
“Well, I need to get to the office,” Violet said. “Why don’t you two come for dinner tonight?”
I glanced at Ben, and he gave me an almost imperceptible nod. “Sounds great. I’ll bring dessert.”
“Don’t worry about dessert.” She jerked her head toward the kitchen. “It looks like you’ve got your hands full with whatever that is you’re working on in there.”
“It’s a dog. And I think I can still manage to bring a little something for the kids. If I don’t, they’ll be disappointed.”
She laughed. “Yeah, and so will Jason. See you guys about six then.”
As I was seeing her to the door, a young man in a brown pickup truck pulled into the driveway. Fortunately, he blocked Neil rather than Violet.
Still, she turned to me, putting her hand on my wrist. “Should I stay?”
“No. Ben and Neil are here. It’ll be fine.”
“Okay.” She watched the man closely as he got out of the truck.
“How’re you?” he asked her.
“Fine. You?”
“Finer than frog hair.” He grinned.
Violet didn’t smile back. She still looked concerned as she got into her car. I waved goodbye.
“Hi, I’m Daphne. What can I do for you?”
“I work with McElroy Haynes, and he sent me by here to make sure your oven’s still working all right.”
“It’s doing great. Thanks.”
“Are you using the oven at this time?” he asked.
“Not right this minute. But, believe me, it has been working great.”
“Could I please come in and check the element with my meter? Mr. Haynes told me to, and I don’t want to get on his bad side.”
“All right.” I opened the door. “Come on in.”
“I’m Jeff, by the way.” He brushed past me into the kitchen. “Would you please turn off the power to the oven through the breaker box?”
“Sure.” I went down the hall to the breaker box and flipped the switch.
When I returned to the kitchen, Jeff was on his knees in front of my oven removing the heating element. “Mr. Haynes didn’t tell me you have a dog.”
“That’s Sally.”
I started to reiterate that the oven had been working perfectly fine, but I didn’t bother. I supposed he knew what he was doing or that there was a reason that Mr. Haynes was afraid that the one he’d put in my oven was defective. I simply called Sally, and we went into the living room so the man could work.
Neil was leaving through the front door as I entered the room.
“The repairman will have to move his truck before you can leave, Neil. He has you blocked in.” I returned to the kitchen and asked Jeff if he could move his truck.
Jeff—on his knees in front of my oven—fished into his pocket and dug out his keys. He pitched them to me. “You can move it.”
“Thanks.” I wasn’t comfortable moving the man’s truck, but I didn’t want to hold Neil up. I went out and got into the truck. I started the engine and backed out of the driveway. Neil came out, waved, and got into his car.
As I waited for him to move, I glanced around the cab of the truck. Overall, it was neat. There were a few CDs stacked in the console tray, a now-warm half bottle of soda in one of the cup holders, and various business cards in another compartment of the console. One appeared to be for a landscaper, another for a construction company, and I could only see the tip of another that had a tree on the left side. I wondered if these were all people Jeff had come into contact with while working for McElroy Haynes or if maybe he was building a house.
Finally, Neil was on his way, and I was able to pull the truck back into the driveway. I went back inside and gave Jeff his keys.
I then went to the living room and sat on the sofa beside Ben. “Why did Neil come by?”
“He said he just came by to reassure me that he had things at the office handled.” Ben jerked his head in the direction of the kitchen. “Trouble with the oven again?”
“No. He said Mr. Haynes sent him back to make sure the element was working properly.”
“That seems odd.”
I shrugged.
When Jeff got finished checking the heating element, he stuck his head into the living room. “Looking good, folks. Let us know if you have any more trouble.”
“I will, Jeff. Thank you.”
“Y’all have a nice one.” He touched the brim of his cap and left.
“Now that Jeff is out of the kitchen, I’d better get back to the puppy dog.”
“I’ll go out and grab us some lunch,” Ben said. “What would you like?”
“A deli sandwich would be super.”
“Ham and Swiss on rye?”
I smiled. “You know me so well.”
He gave me a kiss and strict instructions to keep the door locked until he returned. I put on my telephone headset and began mixing up a batch of rice cereal treats to use to form the dog’s head. As I worked, I called Mom.
She must’ve seen it was me calling because she put on her long-suffering, self-pitying tone. “Hello.”
Seriously, how she could convey so much melancholy with one word was beyond me. She should’ve been on the big screen.
“Hi, Mom. I’m calling to tell you that the venue for the wedding has been changed.”
“Daphne?”
“Yes.” Who else would it be?
“So I suppose Myra is responsible for this change?” she asked.
“If anyone is responsible, it would be me. I’m the one who hired the bogus wedding planner who failed to secure the church on the proper date. She did, however, acquire the new venue.”
“And where’s the ceremony taking place now?”
“In Belinda Fremont’s garden.”
“Belinda Fremont.” Mom either paused for effect or because she really had to stop and remember where she’d heard the name. “Is that the eccentric, rich woman with the guinea pigs?”
“Yes, Mom.”
In fact, I’d created a birthday cake for Belinda’s prize-winning cavy Guinevere, and I’d catered the Fremont’s New Year’s Eve party too.
“The one who has an entire suite of her home dedicated to those…rodents?”
“That’s right,” I said. “I just hope Guinevere and her beau Lancelot don’t decide to take Leslie’s and Lucas’s spots in the wedding.”
“Please tell me you’re joking.”
“Of course, I’m joking. I think it’s very generous for Belinda to offer her garden.”
“Yes. That or she simply wants an excuse to show off that mansion of hers.”
“Mom, Belinda doesn’t need an excuse to show off her house. Besides, if I had a home like hers, I’d probably want to show it off too.”
“Well, whatever.” She sniffed. “I just wish you’d done a better job of investigating that wedding planner, and we wouldn’t be having all these difficulties now.”
“Oh, yeah. We certainly are having difficulties, aren’t we? For your information, I called every reference Hunter Hampton—or Monty Harlow—gave me, and they seemed to check out.”
“Naturally, they seemed to check out. They were in on the con.”
I was gripping my cereal-mixing spoon so tightly that I had to make a conscious effort to loosen my grip. “Speaking of cons, why on earth would you give Todd my address and not only encourage him to visit me but to see Violet’s family as well?”
“I thought it would be good for Todd. He sounded so bereft when we spoke,” she said. “I’ve always felt that deep down he was a good man and that he loved you.”
“That’s because you’re gullible. I have a good man who really does love me, and you nearly destroy it by sending my ex-husband to my door! Why didn’t you at least warn me that he was coming?”
“I knew you’d refuse to hear him out unless he showed up unannounced and caught you off guard. You never want to listen to
anyone else. You have your opinion, and you won’t consider anyone else’s.”
“And you never think ahead. Why don’t you consider consequences once in a while?”
“I will not be spoken to like this, Daphne. I’m finished talking with you.”
I took a deep breath. “I hope to see you and Dad next Saturday.”
“We’ll see.” With that, she hung up.
I dropped my spoon into my mixing bowl and went into the living room. I sat down on the sofa, and Sally came and put her head on my lap. I stroked her ears.
“Sally, I tried. I just wanted to call and tell her about the change of venue and try to smooth her ruffled feathers over allowing Myra to handle the wedding plans.”
She raised her head and licked my nose.
“Thanks. I appreciate the gesture of support. But now I’ve got to face Violet this evening and let her know that I made things worse instead of better.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Jason greeted us at the door. He shook Ben’s hand and hugged me. “How’re you holding up?”
I looked around for the children.
“Don’t worry,” Jason said. “They’re in the den playing video games.”
“I’m okay, all things considered.”
“Good.” He turned to Ben. “I’ve reserved the party room at Dakota’s for seven o’clock Friday evening for your bachelor party.”
Dakota’s was Brea Ridge’s only steakhouse.
“Do you think we should still be having a bachelor party given everything that’s happened?” Ben asked.
“Of course!” I said.
“Definitely!” Jason said simultaneously.
He and I smiled at each other. Neither of us wanted Todd’s sudden appearance—and even more sudden death—to cast a pall over the wedding for Ben.
“You guys go ahead and talk bachelor party,” I said. “I’ll go find Violet.”
“Kitchen,” Jason said.
I took the box of cupcakes Ben had been holding and went to the kitchen. Violet was at the counter preparing a salad.
“Anything I can do to help?” I sat the box down.
“Nope. Just talk with me while I chop these carrots.”
“I called Mom to tell her the location of the ceremony had been changed.”
Violet stopped mid-chop. “I’m glad.”
“Don’t be. It didn’t go well. I mean, I’d intended to make Mom feel included and wanted, but it blew up in my face. She asked about the wedding planner, and then I asked why she’d encouraged Todd to come here. It got ugly.”
“I’ll call her later tonight and try to smooth things over.” Violet went back to chopping the carrots.
“No, that’s okay. I think the more we discuss it, the worse it’ll be. Just leave it alone for now.”
She put the carrots into the salad and started on the cucumbers. “Are you sure?”
“Positive. Did you and Mom talk about the conversations she had with Todd?”
“We talked about them some.”
“What did Todd say to Mom to make her believe he was so bereft?” I asked.
“He told her it was really hard for him on the outside. He said he’d lost his job, his friends, his standing in the community—and then he dropped the big heartwrencher—his wife.”
“And whose fault was that?”
“I know, Daphne. I’m on your side, remember?”
I refrained from pointing out that it hadn’t seemed like she was on my side last night.
“Mom offered Todd money and a place to stay if he’d go to Roanoke and start his life over there,” Violet continued.
My jaw dropped. “She what?”
“I shouldn’t have mentioned that. She was just concerned about him.”
“This man shot at—and could’ve killed—me, and my own mother treats him like her son? She gave no thought whatsoever to me and my feelings.”
Violet shushed her. “Please. I don’t want Leslie and Lucas to hear. Todd simply played on her sympathies. He always could do that.”
“I never understood why she liked him so much. She liked him better than she does me!”
“That’s not true. She—”
“Aunt Daphne!” Leslie rushed into the kitchen and threw her arms around me. “I’m so glad you’re here! Are you nervous about the wedding? You’re going to look so beautiful.”
“Aw, thanks, kiddo. You’re the one who’s going to look beautiful. And your mom is too.”
“They’ll look all right, but it’s the bride’s day to shine,” said Lucas. “What’s in the box?”
“Cupcakes.”
He headed for his box, but his mother’s voice stopped him in his tracks.
“Lucas Armstrong, don’t even think about those cupcakes until after dinner.”
“Well, that’ll be hard to do because it’s all I can think about now.”
I laughed. “Who won the game?”
“We both did,” said Leslie.
“It’s a two-player game,” Lucas explained. “You play as a team.”
“Oh, that’s good.” I gave Violet a look of admiration.
“I’ve done this parenting thing for a while now. I’ve learned a few things.”
* * *
When Ben and I returned to my house, we found a business card stuck in the door. It was in the side door, rather than the front door, so we figured it was someone we knew.
I took the card out of the door and turned it to the front. “Hunter Hampton, Wedding Planner.”
“Let me see that.” Ben examined the card, careful to hold it by the top and bottom so that he didn’t further contaminate the card with his fingerprints.
“Do you think whoever killed Monty Harlow left that card here?”
“It’s possible.” He walked to the end of the carport and looked up the street. “Myra’s home, and it looks as if Mark is with her. Let’s head over there and call the police.”
Myra and Mark were cuddled up on the sofa watching a movie when we arrived. They turned the movie off, and Myra got Ben a baggie to drop the business card in while I called the police station.
As we all sat around the living room waiting for the police, Bruno went from one of us to the other. He appeared to be excited to have so much company at once.
“Who do you think left the card?” Myra asked.
No one seemed inclined to answer, although the truth of the matter was right there in front of us all.
“It had to have been the person who killed Todd and Monty Harlow,” I said. “Who else would have one of Hunter Hampton’s business cards?”
She shuddered. “Well, I don’t blame you a bit for not going inside. The killer might’ve been in there waiting for you.”
“True,” said Ben. “But I also didn’t want to contaminate the door with more fingerprints. Hopefully, the police can get a print off the card or the door so that we can catch this guy and finally be done with this mess.”
“I so want it behind us before the wedding.”
Mark got up and looked out the window. “I had a friend hack into Todd’s phone records. He was speaking with someone here in Brea Ridge on a regular basis for the past three weeks.”
“It must’ve been Monty,” I said. “That was about the time that Monty—or Hunter Hampton—became my wedding planner.”
“Well, we know Monty didn’t leave that card stuck in your door,” said Mark. “The killer is sending you a message. He wants you to stay out of his way. You need to be extra careful, Daphne, until this guy is caught.”
The deputy dispatched by the Brea Ridge Police Department was Officer Hayden. I’d met him not long after moving back home. He was a baby-faced man who looked like he’d just got out of high school and called me “ma’am.” I knew he was actually much older than his appearance suggested and that he had a wife and child, but he didn’t look intimidating in the least. I’d have preferred Officer McAfee. But, of course, beggars can’t be choosers.
Officer Hayden ca
me into the living room, got out a notebook, and took Ben’s and my statement. It was the same statement. I felt that one of us should’ve been able to fill him in on what had occurred while we were on our way back to my house so that he could check and make sure no one was lurking in our home. After all, our pets were in there.
However, the officer wouldn’t even let us accompany him until Ben mentioned that Sally was there and that she might bite him if he went in alone. Then he said he’d only let Ben go over with him, but Mark convinced him that he should go as well. I was told to stay with Myra.
As you might imagine, that didn’t go over well with either of us.
“It’s not as if you and I haven’t thwarted our fair share of criminals.” Myra gathered Bruno into her arms for a hug. “It’s sexism; that’s what it is. They think that because we’re sexy, we can’t defend ourselves. Well, I’ll have them know, those detecting, fighting angels did a decent job of it. And so can we. I say we march our butts right on over there. Bill Hayden ain’t the boss of us.”
While I heartily agreed that Bill Hayden was not the boss of us, I wasn’t about to let Myra put her life in danger. “I know, but I still think we should stay here. For the time being.”
“Why?” She put Bruno onto the floor. “You need to be right there to see whatever it is they’re finding. And so do I.”
That was my angle. “True, but if I’m there and Hayden finds something unusual, he might say I planted it. The police are already suspicious of me in the deaths of Todd and Monty Harlow.”
“That’s nonsense.”
“I know that, and you know that, but they’re just trying to put somebody behind bars and wrap this case up.”
“You’ve got a point.” Myra opened the door and stepped out onto the porch. “Come on. We can at least peer over there and try to figure out what’s going on.”
I joined her on the porch. We sat on the steps and watched my house. We couldn’t see much—only the lights coming on room by room.
“If Bill has to fire his sidearm, we might be able to see the flash,” Myra said. “It probably depends on whether or not he fires it in the dark. If we see a flash like a gunshot in the darkness, we’ll head over there.”
“Okay.” I prayed we would not see a gunshot flash.
