by J. C. Eaton
I don’t remember what I said, but I immediately hustled over to Julien’s truck, not expecting Julien to be the one driving it.
“Good morning, Miss Kimball. Rochelle and I are looking forward to delighting your guests. Antoine should be along shortly. He insisted on driving his own car, leaving me no choice but to get behind the wheel of our patisserie preparation van.”
I thanked him, pointed to the tent, which really didn’t need any pointing out, and then started to head back to the Cactus Wren to get ready for the wedding. Sylena had gotten me really unnerved with her comment about the baby scorpions, so I was looking down at my feet as I tried to walk. Suddenly, I remembered something. Cecilia and Myrna were tasked by my aunt Ina to “help the caterers.”
I immediately rushed back to tell Sebastian and Julien. Neither of them was pleased. I almost considered thrusting Cecilia and Myrna on the Feltons, but I honestly couldn’t do that to the Feltons. That being said, I left things as they were and went back to the B and B.
Chapter 28
Kirk was sitting on the patio in front of his and Judy’s room. A small porch light, surrounded by bugs, lit up the immediate area. If I hadn’t known better, I would have sworn he had spent the entire night there.
“What a hellish nightmare, Phee. Suppose that jerk doesn’t show up? At least you and I figured out a contingency plan so we don’t have to sit back and watch my mother have a breakdown. Crap, the wedding’s an hour away.”
I wanted to tell him that at least there’d be great food, a rather interesting dessert, and some lovely music for the guests, but somehow I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Instead, I did something worse. Really worse. I gave him false hope.
“I heard from my boss late last night. You don’t have to worry. Louis will be here. Look, I’ve got to change and get ready for the ceremony. I’ll take my mom over there to meet up with Lucinda. They’re helping the florist.”
Kirk leaned back, looking more relieved than he did a few minutes ago. “That other lady . . . the one who made the hat . . . she’s here to work on my mother’s hairdo. I almost forgot to mention it.”
“See? It’s all working out. No worries. All you and Judy have to do is bring your mother to the footpath. Shirley, the hat lady, can drive herself. I’ll look for you at the ceremony.”
No worries? My God! I’ve become a pathological liar.
Lucinda was already in my mother’s room when I knocked on the door to announce I was ready to drive them over to the Petroglyph Plaza. The florist’s van would be in the parking lot. Plenty of time to strew flowers all over the path.
“What do you think, Harriet? Should we count the flowers first?” Lucinda asked.
“What on earth for? It’s not a head count.”
“So we can divide them up equally for both sides of the path.”
“Don’t be silly. We’ll guestimate. No one’s going to care.”
“Ina might. You know how she gets.”
“Then she can count them as she walks down the aisle.”
“So, we’ll start scattering them and hope for the best?”
I stood there, listening to their debate over flower strewing until I couldn’t bear another second of it. “Hope for the best,” I blurted out. “That’s all any of us can do. Hope for the best.”
“Are you all right, Phee?” my mother asked. “You seem so . . . so . . . agitated.”
“I’m fine. I’m fine. Hurry up. My car’s right out front.” Thank you, Lyndy, or we’d be flipping coins to see who got to use the van.
My mother and Lucinda continued their discussion about the flowers, pausing every few seconds for my mother to tell me I seemed tense.
I wanted to slam on the brakes and demonstrate exactly what tense and agitated looked like, but instead, I took a deep breath. “Everything’s fine.” It was becoming my new mantra.
Everything is fine. Everything is fine. Two killers are still out there. Everything is fine. Everything is fine. The groom is missing. Everything is fine.
I dropped my mother and Lucinda off at the florist van and walked toward the trail. The flutist, a small white-haired woman, was already seated in a chair, looking uncomfortable and out of place.
Great start. At least we don’t have to smell Leon.
I introduced myself and told her to start playing the minute guests arrived. It was considerably darker outside since the Felton brothers had removed the temporary lighting and had moved their vehicles off to a far corner in the lot by the trailhead. Still, there was enough light on the horizon to take in the entire setup.
Julien and Rochelle were busying themselves in the rear of the pavilion as they set up an elaborate structure to house the pastry aviary. I assumed Antoine was in their truck waiting for the precise moment to start moving the desserts into the tent.
The staff from Saveur de Evangeline had arranged a large buffet table in the center of the room and had already placed the linens and napkins on the round tablecloths. Two ladies, whom I did not recognize, were placing centerpieces on each of the tables.
Eternal bliss is only minutes away.
Stepping out of the pavilion, I heard notes from the flute wafting by. Graceful, airy, and oh so familiar. She was playing “Greensleeves,” a lovely medieval melody that beguiled me into thinking maybe the wedding was going to be fine after all.
Aunt Ina was standing in the middle of the footpath, clasping her bouquet and making her way toward the canopy. The guests had already arrived and were seated in the Petroglyph Plaza area, facing the ancient ruins. The sky began to change hues as the sun started its ascent. I was somewhere in the back, keeping an eye on the tent in case Julien and Sebastian got into a brawl.
A tall, sandy-blond-haired man, with long wavy curls that reached to his shoulders, greeted everyone. Judging from his attire, I was certain this was the Indian guru spiritualist my aunt and future uncle had hired.
Kirk, who was seated in front of me, turned and blurted, “Holy crap-oly! It’s Roger Daltrey. Did she hire the rest of the Who as well?”
“Shh. Your voice is echoing in the canyon.”
Too late. Everyone heard him. Everyone except my aunt. She kept inching closer and closer to the canopy. It was hard to tell if anyone was inside the structure. The Feltons had placed a gauzelike material all around it. This time they got it right—monochromatic white.
I prayed Louis was inside, but I was having my doubts. Nate was nowhere in sight and I wasn’t sure what to expect. Without warning, a man and woman came rushing downhill from another path. I couldn’t see their faces, because the sunrise was so bright. Then came a scream. A primal scream. One that made Ethel Mae Evenston drop “Greensleeves” like a hot potato.
It was my aunt Ina’s bloodcurdling shriek. She dropped her bouquet and charged toward the couple, like something out of a bad Hollywood film. “God in heaven! You’re married! You’re still married!”
The scream tore through the Petroglyph Plaza and everyone gasped. Louis Melinsky had his arm around a voluptuous platinum blond. As Louis made his way toward the Roger Daltrey guru, my mother was making her way toward me.
“I knew it! I knew it, Phee! What did I tell you? I knew it! He’s still married.”
The flute music continued. Only it was a funeral dirge. I was certain of it. Ethel Mae Evenston had selected a melody more in keeping with the circumstances. And the musicians who were hired to play chamber music added their own version of the funeral melody. Thankfully my mother was louder.
Kirk had started to shout as well. “Now, Phee! Now! The contingency plan.”
I froze. My mind flashed back to the divorce agreements in Louis’s fire safe box. No wonder there wasn’t a third one. Scanning the area, I tried desperately to find Nate. By now, my aunt was at the breaking point and my cousin kept yelling, “Now, Phee!” as he tried to wrestle my aunt out of there.
Aunt Ina refused to budge. She pointed a finger straight at Louis. “When were you going to tell me? When they
arrested you on our honeymoon for bigamy? This is Arizona, for crying out loud, not Utah!”
I wanted to tell her polygamy was outlawed in Utah but, under the circumstances, it was the least of my concerns. I was genuinely afraid Aunt Ina would do something drastic like throw herself over the railing into the same ditch where Roland LeDoux had met his demise.
An explosion of curses bellowed from my aunt. Most in English, but I was sure I recognized some French, Spanish, and Yiddish. She was now inches from the platinum blonde. Kirk sidestepped his mother and positioned himself directly in front of the blonde before my aunt had a chance to do something she and the rest of us would regret. I was dumbstruck. Struggling to say something. Whatever voice I had, it choked up inside me, and I could only utter small, squeaky sounds. Even if I could have spoken, it wouldn’t have mattered. What I heard next was so loud I swore it would cause some of the canyon rocks to loosen and fall. It was a voice that changed everything.
The Jean Harlow look-alike had started to talk and it seemed nothing was going to stop her. “I’M NOT HIS WIFE, I’M HIS ALIBI.”
My eyes were glued to the scene unfolding in front of me, and I didn’t notice that Nate was now standing directly behind me until he tapped me on my shoulder and I literally jumped.
“Hey, kiddo, told you to hang tight, didn’t I?”
“Nate. Oh my God, you’re here. You could have been more specific. I’ve been going out of my mind. What’s happening?”
“Long story. Complicated story. Shh . . . I think we’re about to find out.”
The blonde with the voice like a longshoreman continued to speak. “I was Louis’s third wife. Up until recently. You’re a lucky woman, Ina Stangler, because I really didn’t want to divorce him. Then again, I didn’t want to stay married to him either. On the night that Theodore Sizemore was killed on the golf course, Louis was with me.”
My mother let out a gasp that could be heard in Montana.
“Louis came over with the divorce agreement and spent the entire night convincing me he had fallen in love with Ina and that I needed to sign the papers and grant him a divorce. He left around ten in the morning. Hours after the murder took place.”
I nudged Nate. “You knew about this?”
“Sort of.”
The platinum blonde went on. “I told Louis I needed time to think about it. On the night right before Roland LeDoux was lured to this very place and met with his death, Louis came back to my house, insisting I’d had enough time and needed to sign those papers. I told him to come back later. He did. Before dawn. I still didn’t sign. Yeah, I was being a witch. What can I say? Instead of signing the papers, I took an early flight to LA and boarded the Emerald Oasis for its cruise to Cabo and the California coast. I boarded it a day early, while it was still in dry dock. I was scheduled to get on the next day for a gig. I’ve been a lounge singer for Emerald Cruise Lines since the nineties. That’s how Louis and I met. But it didn’t work out for us.”
Next thing I knew, Louis rushed over to Ina, his eyes all welled up. “My sweet, darling Ina. I’m so sorry to have put you through this. I never meant to deceive you. In the back of my mind, I figured I’d get that divorce from my third wife. Then, all of a sudden, things got out of control. When I learned what had happened, I called a cab, got to the airport, and found the first available flight to LA so I could get to the ship and get those divorce papers out of Delia’s hands. That’s the third wife—Delia Olansky-Melinsky. I used the ruse of being a suspect in those two deaths as an excuse for getting out of town. The joke was on me. I really was a suspect, and if it wasn’t for Phee’s boss, Nate Williams, tracking me down, I probably would have been arrested. You see, there was a caveat to a loan note. Julien Rossier borrowed money from Theodore Sizemore to finance another patisserie. If anything happened to Theodore, I would be holding that note, making me a prime suspect in Theodore’s death. Good thing Delia was a sport and agreed to come back to Arizona and testify if needed.”
I expected my aunt to throw herself into Louis’s arms and plant a giant kiss on his mouth. I was wrong. She stepped back and took a long breath. “So are you divorced? Did she sign the papers?”
“Yes. Yes! All signed.”
My aunt wasn’t moved yet. “Did you file them in court?”
Before Louis could answer, Nate took a few steps forward and spoke up. “I got them filed. Faxed and filed. It’s good to have friends in civil service.”
Louis placed his hands on Ina’s shoulders and looked directly at her. “Can you ever forgive me? All I ever wanted was your happiness.”
Ina turned to Nate. “So everything he said was true? It’s all on the up-and-up?”
“It is.”
“Then get that platinum hussy away from our love canopy and let’s start the ceremony.”
Chapter 29
The guru/spiritualist from Sedona rambled on about souls, life forces, and eternal love. Ina and Louis held each other’s hands and promised to merge their life forces into an infinite thread that would “weave throughout the universe.”
“Good grief,” Kirk said under his breath. “I don’t know if I’m watching a wedding or an episode of Star Trek.”
It was midway through the seven blessings when I first heard a ruckus in the parking lot. The voices were getting louder and were beginning to interfere with the ceremony. I recognized one of them instantly. It was Jake Felton. Jake Felton having words with another guy.
Why should this not surprise me?
I nudged Nate, who had taken a seat next to me. He nodded and mouthed the words, “We’d better do something.”
Whoever was arguing with Jake, the guy had an equally offensive vocabulary consisting of one-syllable words that were modified into nouns, verbs, adjectives, and adverbs. I wasn’t sure how the spiritualist’s remaining Hebraic blessings were going to hold up against the foul language spewing from the parking lot.
Nate didn’t have to ask me again. I stood, trying not to brush against the guests, and skirted the edge of the Petroglyph Plaza until I was at the footpath. He was right behind me. When the trailhead widened, we both took longer strides to get to the source of the disturbance.
“I knew something like this would happen,” I kept saying over and over again. “I knew it. I knew it. I knew it.”
Nate responded by repeating, “Take it easy.” At least three or four times.
That was when I stopped grumbling and listened to him.
“Whatever’s going on has nothing to do with the wedding. Those guys probably don’t even know how loud they are.”
Jake Felton was standing directly in front of one of the small restrooms recently built by the state forest service to accommodate hikers and campers. He looked as if he was ready to strike the man standing next to him. Nate and I hurried over.
“Keep it down, will you?” Nate said, panting from running across the parking lot. “You’re interfering with the wedding back there.”
He might as well have been speaking ancient Greek. The two guys kept at it and we were too far away to stop them, but not so far away I couldn’t get a good look at the second man’s face. I recognized it. Only trouble was, I couldn’t remember when or where. One thing was pretty clear, Nate and I heard every word they were saying.
Jake was screaming his lungs out at the guy. “So where’s my money, jackass?”
The other guy yelled back, “I told you I needed more time. After this gig’s done, I’ll give it to you.”
“I’d like to give it to you right now! Like the way you did to Roland LeDoux.”
“I didn’t do that on purpose and you know it. I got pissed and threw his damn motorcycle keys into that Petroglyph ditch. Served him right for leaving them in the ignition. That guy treated me like a piece of dung. He got what he deserved.”
“Yeah, well, I need to get what I deserve, and that’s money. I did you a favor and now it’s your turn to pay up. Lucky for you, I was here to save your sorry ass. I was supposed to
meet that Kimball woman, but I got here too freakin’ early for my own good. I saw you and Roland getting into it. I covered your butt and hid that bike under the tarp in my truck. No one suspected I knew a thing about it. I drove around the mountain a bit and then came back after she arrived. What was your beef with that snot-nosed jerk anyway?”
“Like I said. He treated me like crap. Wouldn’t even give me a chance.”
By now Nate and I were only a few yards away. I figured Jake was arguing with one of his workers and I was partially right. It hit me like a sledgehammer and I could have kicked myself for not realizing it sooner. The guy was Tony. Tony from the 2006 photo of “the Crew” from Feltons’ Pavilions, Tents, and Awnings. I recognized his face. But what was he doing here and why did he throw Roland’s keys into a ditch that was notorious for snakes and scorpions?
“That guy who’s getting into it with Jake used to work for the Feltons’. His name is Tony,” I said to Nate. “But—”
Suddenly, we heard footsteps behind us. Rochelle. An angry, fuming Rochelle. She sideswiped us in a frenzy to get to Jake and Tony. Her voice was loud and shrill.
“Antoine! Julien’s been looking all over for you. The stupid pastry birds aren’t going to serve themselves. We need to get ready. I thought I heard your voice when I was moving stuff from the truck to the tent. Come on. Julien’s about to lose it! And for God’s sake, put on your proper clothing!”
Rochelle didn’t wait for a response. She turned and ran back up the trail as if it was the five-hundred-yard dash. At one point, she did acknowledge us with a quick “Sorry about that,” but kept going.
My mind was trying to process what was going on when Nate blurted out, “Guess Antoine is Tony, huh?”
“Oh my God, Nate! It’s all beginning to make sense. Listen to me.”
“Like I have a choice?”
“Tony had a series of low-paying jobs. Feltons’ was merely one of them. At one point he was working for Fred’s Burgers and Eggs but then applied to work at Saveur de Evangeline. He had the skills but not the training. Roland rebuffed him and treated him like garbage. According to Sebastian, the catering chef, Tony spit in their bouillabaisse after the brush-off he got from Roland.”
