by Kathy Reichs
A chill ran down my spine. I glanced left. Caught Mrs. Taylor staring at me.
I took a step back, startled.
For the briefest moment, I’d spotted a flash of . . . hatred.
Which made zero sense. Why would Jason’s mom hate me? We barely knew each other, had only met on the few occasions I’d been to Jason’s house, or when she would substitute teach at Bolton Prep.
I steeled my nerve. Looked again.
Nothing. Agnes Taylor was now glaring at Ben, her face a picture of affronted dignity.
But I knew what I saw. What I felt.
“We need to see inside the bag,” I said forcefully.
“Tory!” Jason dropped Madison’s hand, wrapped an arm around his mother’s shoulders as he gaped at me across the dance floor. “Surely you’re not suggesting—”
“No, no! Of course not.” Absolutely I am. “It’s simply the quickest way to dismiss an obvious mistake and move on.”
Then I mind-shouted, Open the purse, Ben!
With pleasure. He unsnapped the clasp with his thumb.
Jason lurched forward, but not before Ben reached inside and removed a brown medicinal bottle. “Ipecac syrup,” he read aloud, turning it over in his fingers. “It’s also labeled ‘Bolton Prep Nurses Office.’” Ben smiled coldly at Mrs. Taylor. “This expired in 2009, FYI.”
Dead silence.
Jason had frozen mid-stride, paralyzed by the sight of the bottle.
All eyes swung to Agnes Taylor.
“What?” she blurted testily, fussing with her dress. Her eyes darted to Biggs for a millisecond, then jerked away as if burned. “I found that in the school pharmacy, and was going to dispose of it. I must’ve forgotten.”
Jason was staring at the bottle in Ben’s hand. Then, slowly, he turned to face his mother. “But school’s out for the summer, Mom. You haven’t been to Bolton in months.”
Mrs. Taylor shot Jason a warning look before composing her features once more. “I’m sorry. You’re right, Jason. I was mistaken.” She lifted her chin. “That bottle clearly isn’t mine. Someone must’ve put it in my bag without my knowledge.”
False, Coop rumbled.
Lying. Shelton and Hi. Jinx.
Definitely lying. Ben tossed the bottle lightly to the floor. It bounced end over end, rolling to a stop between Mrs. Taylor’s feet.
She glanced down. A bead of sweat slipped from her forehead.
I glanced at Biggs. He was breathing hard, staring at the floor and muttering, his former cool long gone. An officer behind him brandished his handcuffs.
Kit looked flabbergasted. Whitney’s cheeks began twitching, like she’d been tased. Neither had any idea how to react, or what to do next.
Aunt Tempe leaned forward and caught my eye. She sensed it, too.
Mrs. Taylor was totally full of crap.
Hi spoke suddenly, strong enough for everyone to hear. “Funny story. You’ve always been my favorite substitute teacher, Mrs. T. Doesn’t matter what subject. Chemistry. Biology. Physics. Health. I’ve learned more about science from you than anybody.”
Shuffled feet. Embarrassed coughs. No one would meet Agnes Taylor’s eye.
Except her son.
Jason was staring at his mother with an expression I can’t describe. Then his head swung over to Biggs. “You. What’s your real name?”
Biggs flinched, but didn’t answer.
“You’ve got a tattoo on your left arm, don’t you?” Jason asked. “A red anchor?”
Biggs blanched. His whole body tensed.
“Don’t make me ask twice!” Corcoran warned, ignoring that Jason had actually posed the question. The captain had been watching the confrontation with his mouth hanging open, just like the rest of us.
Biggs seemed about to resist, but the officer behind him rattled his cuffs. The big man’s shoulders drooped. With a sigh, he rolled up a sleeve. The nautical tattoo was plain for all to see.
Madison looked at Jason, covering her mouth with both hands. “How . . . how?”
“Okay, what’s going on?” Corcoran abandoned a suddenly relieved-looking Iglehart and stomped over to confront the Taylors. “How’d you know about that body ink, boy?”
Jason pressed both palms to his temples, was staring at his mother with a nauseated look. “That guy over there is my idiot second cousin, Jimmy. I’ve heard my mom complain about him plenty, but we’ve never actually met.” His tone grew angry. “No ex-cons under your roof, eh, Mom?”
Agnes Taylor bowed her head. Then her eyes snapped open, raking the assemblage with undisguised contempt. “Fine! I did it.” Snorting harshly, she thrust her wrists at Corcoran. “Arrest me, Captain! Throw me in the slammer for a silly little prank!”
Detective Taylor leapt forward, shamefaced as he edged around his wife. “Now let’s hold on a minute! No one’s talking about jail, Agnes.” He regarded Corcoran anxiously. “Carmine is a reasonable man, and no crime has been committed here.”
Corcoran regarded Jason’s father frankly. “All due respect, sir, but I think one has been. Messing with food is, like . . . serious business. A misdemeanor, at least. I’m fairly sure.”
Tempe cleared her throat. “I’m not a police officer, but remember—this wasn’t a harmless prank. An overdose of ipecac syrup can kill. These two nearly poisoned everyone in the room.”
Mrs. Taylor rolled her eyes disdainfully. “Don’t be so dramatic. The stuff just makes you toss your cookies. I gave it to my son once; I know.”
If her words were meant to reassure everyone, they failed miserably. Noses crinkled. Protests erupted. Turns out, people don’t like it when you tamper with their diet.
Tempe gave Agnes a withering look. “Putting aside how childish this stunt is—how pathetic it makes a woman of your age look—what you did was dangerous. Ignorance isn’t an excuse, and that goes double for a science teacher.”
“Don’t forget my centerpieces!” Whitney blurted, wide-eyed and trembling. “And my altar, which nearly collapsed with the wedding party on top!”
Mrs. Taylor allowed herself a satisfied smirk. “The Mag League has strict standards for its publications. It’s not my fault no one double-checked this event for quality.”
“But why, Mom?” Jason demanded. “What on earth were you thinking?”
“You really have to ask?” Agnes barked an ugly laugh, thrusting her chin higher into the air. “Whitney DuBois has been stalking me for years. A silly, naïve girl from the wrong branch of the DuBois tree, and now she thinks she can run the League? I think not!” She thrust an accusatory finger at my stepmother. “I know you’re trying to steal my position! Teaching you a lesson was my pleasure.”
Silence filled the room like a living thing. Whitney’s head dropped. Kit stared at Agnes, slowly shaking his head. “So you decided to spoil her wedding day?” he said softly. “One of the most important days of her life?”
“Don’t act blameless here!” Agnes cried. “She’s been hounding me for years, trying to poach what I built. You encouraged her. You two thought I’d just lie down and accept it? Ha!”
Corcoran blinked. “What in the world are y’all talking about?”
“An election.” Kit shook his head in disgust. “Whitney’s considering a run for Mag League president next month, and Agnes must’ve gotten wind of it.” My father wheeled on Mrs. Taylor. “Which shouldn’t matter in the slightest, since Agnes can’t run again, according to the bylaws. Someone has to take her place. Whitney has every right to put herself forward.”
“Don’t talk to me about things I know better!” Mrs. Taylor scolded. “Rules change. You two have attempted to undermine me for months, not that I’d let that happen. Your entire family is a nest of vipers. Everything about this wedding is offensive. Mucking it up was a public service.”
Jason’s eyes glinted with frus
tration. “Just stop talking! I’ve never been more embarrassed! We’re guests here, Mother. At one of my best friend’s invitation.”
“More’s the pity for us!” To my complete shock, Mrs. Taylor turned and scowled at me. “That little harlot is no friend of yours. After what she did to you?”
I blinked. “Huh?”
Jason was no less baffled. “What? Tory?”
“Excuse me, did you just call my daughter a harlot?” Kit’s voice was dangerously flat. My father rarely loses his temper, but I could feel the tethers slipping.
Mrs. Taylor shot forward and tried to take Jason’s arm. He shrugged her off, staring at his mother as if he’d never seen her before. “Explain yourself. Now. All of it.”
“Tory led you on like a puppy dog, sweetie.” Agnes was concentrating on her son to the exclusion of all else. “For almost two years, she had you eating out of her hand, and then what? She starts dating a dock boy.”
“A what?” I gave Mrs. Taylor a level stare.
“Oh lord.” Detective Taylor covered his eyes.
From the corner of my eye, I noticed Tom Blue coughing into a fist. It took me a moment to realize he was laughing.
“Mom!” Jason yelped in a strangled voice. “What is wrong with you!? You will apologize this second!” He spun to face Ben, his expression scandalized. “Ben, man. I’m so—”
Ben waved off the apology. “No need. Forget it.” Was he smiling, too?
But Mrs. Taylor had more to say. “She should’ve been grateful for your attention, Jaybird.” Tilting her head, trying to catch her son’s eye. “You’re a smart, handsome, successful boy. From one of the best families in Charleston! But no. And now look what’s happened. Heartbroken, you’ve fallen into the clutches of this . . . this . . .” She waved a dismissive hand at Madison.
Madison paled. Her legs began to shake as the focus shifted to her.
For a few beats, Jason merely gawked at his mother, reeling from one blow too many. “MOTHER!” he finally spat. “Don’t you dare talk about my girlfriend like that! Maddy is the kindest, sweetest—”
“Please!” Mrs. Taylor spat, well past caring about appearances. “Madison Dunkle has been a nasty, selfish bully her whole pampered life. I should know, I taught her more times than I can count. People like that don’t change. And now she’s inside my kitchen, eating from my own table!”
Madison stumbled back a step, sniffing loudly, seconds from fleeing in tears.
My temper boiled over.
“That’s enough!” I strode briskly to Madison’s side and took her hand. She was trembling like a leaf. Ella was a step behind me, snatching up Madison’s other hand and fixing Mrs. Taylor with a death stare.
“Mrs. Taylor,” I said, clear and cold, “Madison is a dear friend, and here at my invitation. In addition to trying to poison everyone, you’re being rude.” A glance at Kit, who nodded vigorously. “I’m afraid I have to ask you to leave.”
Eyes tight with fury, Mrs. Taylor opened her mouth, but Jason’s father jumped in before she could do any more damage. “Yes, yes! Very fair. I think that’s best for all involved.” He turned to Kit, his embarrassment plain. “I’ll pay for the damaged cake, of course. But for now, my wife and I will get out of—”
“I’m not sure I can allow that, Detective.” Corcoran frowned, mustache drooping. “A crime has likely taken place. And I definitely want to talk more with Cousin Jimmy over there. All due respect, but . . . I mean, this is . . . serious consequences . . .”
He trailed off, scratching his head.
Detective Taylor gave his colleague a blistering glare. Though technically lower on the official totem pole, Mr. Taylor ran the city’s entire violent crimes division. I wasn’t sure who could pull rank. Evidently, they weren’t either.
Whitney stepped into the breach. “That won’t be necessary tonight, Captain,” she said with icy dignity. “I, for one, don’t plan on pressing charges on my wedding day, and I imagine my guests all feel the same. If the city has to arrest Agnes, it can easily do so at a later date. She’s not a flight risk.”
Mrs. Taylor bristled. “Run from you? An up-jumped hussy after my position? Hardly!”
To everyone’s astonishment, Whitney laughed. Then she spoke in a stage whisper loud enough to echo. “Honestly, Agnes. You’re embarrassing yourself. It’d be best for you if you just left quietly. Who needs the scandal?”
Murmurs of agreement filled the air, though scandal was inevitable. Gossip this juicy couldn’t possibly be contained. The Howard Wedding Debacle would be on every lip by dawn the following day.
Agnes gave Whitney a haughty look. “You’ve always been soft, DuBois.”
Whitney met her rival’s disdain coolly. “Of course, you’ll need to resign from the Magnolia League immediately. Crime or not, we can’t have such uncivilized behavior associated with our honored civic institutions.”
Dagger.
Eyes widening, Mrs. Taylor spluttered, “How dare you! Of all the—”
But Detective Taylor had had enough. “That sounds fine, Whitney,” he shouted over his wife’s impressive string of expletives. “Very generous of you. We’ll be out of your way in two shakes.” Hissing furiously, he hurried Mrs. Taylor past Corcoran and toward the exit. At the last second he turned.
“Jason?” Hesitant. “You coming?”
“Not a chance.” He turned his back.
“Okay, then.” Mr. Taylor bustled his wife out the door.
Jason stole Madison’s hand from mine, whispering a quiet “Thanks.”
“No problem.” I gave him room. This wasn’t his fault, and I knew his conscience would be killing him for what his mother had done.
As Corcoran and his team escorted Biggs from the room, boisterous chatter sprang up on all sides. No one knew what to do next—social graces don’t typically cover this type of experience. So it was startling when Aunt Tempe burst out laughing.
Whitney gaped as Tempe elbowed her in the side, tears sparkling in my great-aunt’s eyes. “Good lord, Whit. This is one hell of a wedding story!”
Soft chuckles from the gallery. Whitney shivered, rubbing her arms. Then, incredibly, she began giggling herself. “My God! I mean, have you ever?”
A cloud seemed to lift. The chuckles became outright laughter. Seizing the moment, Kit spun and waved frantically at the band. Quickly taking their places, they launched into an upbeat number. Shouts of approval echoed in the chandeliers.
I sighed. What a night.
But when I turned, Ben was missing.
I rose to my tiptoes, craning my neck as I searched the suddenly energized crowd. I spotted Ben whispering urgently with Kit. Before I could call out, he bolted across the ballroom and disappeared through the kitchen doors. Huh?
Hi appeared at my elbow, stuffing a chunk of cake into his mouth. “Where’s he going?”
“Hiram!” I slapped the crumbs from his hands. “That’s poisoned, remember?”
“Not the lowest tier,” Hi countered. “Probably.” Wiping icing from his hair, he stuck two fingers into his mouth. Sighed with pleasure.
“Sometimes you just have to gamble, eh, Brennan?”
The reception was roaring again.
Guests were dancing, back to having fun. Whitney had somehow turned a corner, was now laughing nonstop about the whole affair, exchanging scandalized whispers with her friends. She was enjoying the downfall of her nemesis a bit more than was proper, but I wasn’t going to judge. Agnes Taylor tried to destroy her wedding. That’s dirty pool in any playbook.
Mike Iglehart was whining about his mistreatment to anyone who’d listen, but no one took him seriously. He hadn’t left the party, no doubt enjoying both Kit’s sincere apology and the righteous indignation of the wrongfully accused.
Whatever. We had screwed him over a little. Enjoy the open bar.
&n
bsp; Jason was following Madison around like a baby lamb, looking distressed. Maddy was acting upset, but I could tell she secretly loved the attention. The other Bolton Prep girls had formed a protective circle around her, taking turns giving her hugs and telling her how great she was. It was the most popular she’d been in ages. People are dumb.
Me? I was standing by an empty table, anxiously tapping a foot.
Ben was still AWOL. No one had seen him since he’d fled the ballroom twenty minutes earlier. I’d even sent Shelton and Hi to look for him, but so far they hadn’t returned.
Where had he gone, without a backward glance?
What had he whispered to Kit?
My mind cycled through awful possibilities. Had Mrs. Taylor struck a nerve?
Anger smoldered within me at the prospect. If that harridan screws up my relationship with Ben, so help me . . .
But he had to know how ridiculous she’d been. With her stupid, classist, snobbish prejudices. I couldn’t have cared less about what Ben’s father did for a living, or his family’s so-called “place” in society. No, that wasn’t true. I liked Tom Blue’s job. I adored his family.
Ben was the sweetest, strongest, most loyal person I knew.
I loved him.
There. I said it. Thought it, anyway.
My face flushed, but I didn’t back away from my feelings. Even if Ben was leaving in a few weeks. Even though I might lose him forever to some doe-eyed co-ed in Geology 101.
I love Ben Blue. I’m ready to tell him.
So where is the stupid jerk?
Dark silk flashed in my periphery. I turned. Chance was standing behind me, his sardonic smile in place. I jumped. Couldn’t help it. Dude came out of nowhere.
“Do you mind?” I stepped back and hugged my chest, repressing the shiver of excitement his proximity always gave me. “It’s impolite to sneak up on people.”
“I’ve been standing here for thirty seconds,” he replied airily, then waved a lazy hand. “While you’ve been staring at the door.” A sculpted eyebrow rose. “Talking to your furry friend again? That was a truly amazing performance by Coop earlier. Almost as if he knew exactly what to look for.”
