Holly looked around the room for William and waved him over. The man looked nervously at the sergeant but came over willingly enough.
“I’m so sorry about Derek,” he said to Sheila, licking his lips and not meeting her eyes.
“Do you have the car keys for your vehicle?” Crystal asked. “If you don’t mind, we’d like to borrow it again.”
Holly expected that they’d have to cajole the poor boy a bit to get them off him, but he shook his head in confusion. “You two never gave them back to me,” he said, looking from Wendy to Crystal with alarm. “Don’t you have the keys?”
Chapter Eleven
The two women searched, turning out their pockets, but the keys weren’t to be found. Braving the storm, Wendy went out to the car to check that she hadn’t left them in the ignition. No luck.
Without the means to get the car going, it took their trip off the table. Sheila sobbed as the paramedic pulled out of the entranceway, braving the journey to Christchurch without her.
Back in the reception hall, the guests were milling about. Everywhere that Holly looked, she saw shell-shocked faces. The grim turn of events had even the strongest wavering on the brink of an emotional outburst.
Holly wanted to run away to a room by herself and cry. As she walked back to the table, she could see that desire written on others’ faces too.
Minister Woodfield hurried over to sit with her. “How on earth do you think this happened?” he asked.
Earlier, when sealing off the areas where poor Arnold had fallen, Holly had the sneaking suspicion the minister was enjoying himself. That belief had now vanished. His face looked drawn and gray, absent of any good-humor. Instead, worry crowded his brow and twisted his mouth into a crooked line.
“I don’t know,” was the only answer Holly could give. It wasn’t adequate, but she felt as flummoxed as the minister appeared.
“You should tell everybody what the ingredients are in your cupcakes,” Esmerelda declared. Holly turned to her, looking at the woman through numb eyes. She hadn’t even realized that the older woman was still sitting at the table.
“How dare you?”
The furious query came out of Crystal who stood behind Holly, shaking with rage.
Esmerelda’s mouth dropped into an O of surprise. “I was just thinking about everybody’s safety.”
“You were thinking of yourself!” Crystal snapped. “At a time like this, with everybody worried half to death.” She swept her arm around the room where people gathered in concerned knots. “You expect us to give you the recipe that our father spent half his life working on. That’s all Derek’s collapse is to you? An opportunity to steal something you have no right to?”
Holly looked at her sister with alarm. She opened her mouth to say that Crystal must have misinterpreted the request, no one could be that cold, then she glanced over at Esmerelda. The set of her face and the icy glare coming from her eyes told Holly that Crystal was right on the money. Suddenly, her own anger rose in proportion to Crystal’s.
“If you’re going to be that awful then I think you should find another table,” Holly said. “We don’t have time to ward off your evil intentions, as well as worry about the ill health of our friend. Get out.”
Holly turned her back on the woman, hearing the shuffle as Esmerelda pushed back from the table and stood up from her chair.
“Fine. I’ll go and check on Joan and see how she’s doing. Since everybody’s determined to think ill of me here.”
Crystal dropped into a chair beside Holly as the woman left. Every part of her was shaking. “I can’t believe that woman. Why on earth can’t she just leave us alone?”
“Why does she want Dad’s recipes so much to begin with?” Holly asked.
Crystal opened her mouth to answer when there was a kerfuffle from across the room.
“Leave me alone. I’m the one whose brand-new husband has just been carted off to hospital. I know that nobody here seems to care in the slightest, but my entire wedding was ruined already and now this. If I want to help myself to another glass of wine, I will.”
Sheila stormed across the room, sucking directly from the mouth of a champagne bottle. Although Holly agreed with the sentiment—she wouldn’t mind another glass herself—the sight of Sheila gulping at it like a hobo put her off.
Wendy trailed along behind her daughter, wringing her hands. Holly thought of how she’d first met her. In all the weeks that had passed, it seemed that Wendy’s chief expression was one of deep-seated worry.
The poor woman.
Holly stood up to go and comfort her, but as she drew near, Sheila turned, her face contorted into a mask of rage.
“You!” She pointed with an unsteady finger. “It’s not enough that you tried to kill my husband. Now you’re coming after me.”
“Stop saying such things, Sheila!” Wendy cried out. “You know very well that Holly and Crystal have been nothing but supportive through the last few weeks.”
“Only so they could get close enough to do this.” Sheila swung her hand around to encompass the ruin of her reception. Unfortunately, she used the arm holding the half-empty wine bottle. Bubbles rushed up and out of the lip, spraying in a semi-circle.
“Now look what you’ve made me do.”
Sheila pulled a chair close to her, the legs squealing in protest over the hard-wood floor. She slumped down, sucking at the lip of the bottle for another helping of wine. “You ruined my wedding, and now you’ve ruined my marriage.”
As Wendy dissolved into hysterical tears, Holly pulled her into a hug. The woman’s sobs were so intense that her entire body shook with them. Holly cast a desperate glance behind her, hoping to catch Crystal’s eye. She caught Emma’s instead.
The woman came over, not hurrying but not dragging her feet, either. Emma placed a hand on Wendy’s shoulder, giving her a quick pat of reassurance.
Holly jerked her head at Sheila and then experienced a flutter of doubt. Should she really expect Emma to put aside her resentment long enough to help? It would be a tough call for anybody in the room to step forward, but for Emma, it must be far worse.
Too late. Emma sat down next to Sheila and pulled gently at the bottle. “Why don’t you at least let me fetch you a glass?”
Sheila jerked her arm back, spilling another slop of wine out of the bottle. “I don’t need a glass. Knowing you, you’d just put something horrible in there. Don’t think I don’t know that you were out back spitting in my food.”
The accusation was ridiculous. Not only since it was the antithesis of Emma’s personality, but also because she’d been sitting in plain view of Sheila while the dinner was served.
But common sense appeared to have deserted the bride. A position that Holly would sympathize with—given the circumstances—if only it hadn’t been directed toward a friend.
“I know you! You’re the one who could barely wait for me to finish with William before you got your claws into him.” Sheila staggered to her feet, leaning forward in an aggressive stance as Emma sat glued to her chair. “My poor Willy should have ended up with someone nice and beautiful and deserving of his affection. Instead, he ended up with you.”
Wendy disengaged from her hug with Holly. She cast an apologetic glance toward Emma before advancing upon her daughter again.
“Come on, love. You’ve had a shock. Everybody knows it. Let’s just go upstairs and rest until we hear some news.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” Sheila twisted toward her mother, nearly falling as her weight shifted too far to one side. She recovered herself with the luck of the drunk, staying upright.
“If you pull me into a room alone, then who knows which one of these savages will come for me.” Sheila pointed the bottle toward random guests, all staring on with either open horror or fascinated delight.
“If I’m in the bridal suite, I’ll never see one of these sneaky people coming. They’ll be in and stabbing or shooting me before I know it. Or making me eat one o
f their toxic cakes.”
Minister Woodfield stepped forward, gently moving Wendy aside. “Sheila, you’re making a fool of yourself. Nobody can blame you for having a bad reaction to what’s happened today, but you need to rein it in now. None of this is your mother’s fault, and I think it’s a good suggestion that you rest for a while.”
When Sheila didn’t respond, the minister continued, “It can’t be easy having to deal with all this excitement on what should have been a lovely day of celebration. Go off upstairs to your suite and have a nice nap. We’ll take care of business down here and rest assured—no one will be sneaking around anywhere attacking anyone. You have my word on it!”
“Your word,” Sheila scoffed. She swung around once more, losing her footing and falling to one knee. “Everybody here hates me and hates my mother. They only turned up at this wedding to stare and gloat.”
“That’s not true,” Holly said, squatting down beside Sheila. “Surely, you know that everybody here wished nothing but the best for you?”
“No, they didn’t.” Sheila sat and stared at the floor, her energy draining away until her limbs were soft and limp. “I don’t think there’s anybody in this room who genuinely cares for me.”
Wendy knelt down and pulled her daughter into a hug. “Don’t be silly,” she whispered. “You know I love you. Everybody here was just as excited to celebrate your wedding as you were.”
“Mommy?” Sheila hid her face, pressing the side of her head against Wendy’s chest. “Nobody here ever gave a tuppence about either of us.”
Wendy cast a pleading glance over her shoulder. Holly, Crystal, Emma, and the minister formed a line, shielding her and Sheila against prying eyes.
“You know that’s not true. Who wouldn’t love my bright, beautiful girl?” Wendy rocked her daughter back and forth, stroking her hair until she seemed to calm down.
“Why don’t we head upstairs?” she suggested again. “Now that the power’s on again, I can run you a nice bath and you can get out of that damp dress. By the time you’re back out, I’m sure the hospital will have some news for us about Derek. Good news.”
Sheila seemed to acquiesce. She let her mother pull her to her feet, leaving the bottle standing on the floor. The ruin of her face was so devastating to look at that Holly turned to one side, giving a small, helpless smile when she met Aidan’s eye.
“Come on, love. Only a few more minutes and you can be in a nice, hot bath.”
Wendy led her daughter toward the door as the human shield followed along, keeping pace.
They’d reached the double doors leading out to the entrance hall when Sheila suddenly started, pushed back, and broke away.
Tottering on her own again, she stood back, staring around her with wild eyes. When they fixed on Emma, she pointed an accusing finger once again.
“You,” she whispered, an expression of dawning horror sweeping up her face. “It was you.”
Sheila slapped herself on the forehead, once, twice, thrice. The smack of skin against skin was loud as a hushed silence spread across the room.
“I saw you. This morning,” Sheila whispered. She threw her head back, staring up at the ceiling as though the answers to life would be glowing back down on her. “I’ve been so stupid. It was you all along!”
Chapter Twelve
Emma’s eyes turned to slits, and she took a purposeful step forward. Holly was next to her in line and snaked an arm around her waist to pull her back. As the last recipient of Sheila’s false accusation frenzy, Holly could understand what Emma would be feeling. Best she wasn’t left to demonstrate that emotion.
Not with witnesses.
“That’s silly,” Holly said. She tipped her chin up as she stared at Sheila. The effect of the wine made itself more fully known—Sheila’s gaze was now weaving all over the room.
“It’s not silly. This woman,” Sheila spat the word out as though it were an insult, “never bothers to crawl out of bed before noon most days. Even with work, she’s the last in first out the door.”
“Hardly a crime, even if that’s true.” Emma folded her arms across her chest and Holly breathed a sigh of relief. At least that would give a split second of pause before fists started to fly.
“So why were you up at the crack of dawn this morning, then?”
Sheila stamped her foot as punctuation, though Holly couldn’t work out the point of the observation.
“People are allowed to get up early, Sheila.” Holly tried her best to keep her voice even, but she could hear the lecturing tones of her father creep into every word. “Whether Emma got up on time or not hardly makes a difference to what’s happened here today.”
“But it does!” Sheila held her finger up as though ticking off a score. “Who here has ever seen Emma before eight in the morning?”
The raised voice drew some startled looks, but those who did stare just shook their heads. Either nothing to do with them or they had never seen Emma early. Holly didn’t really care which.
“As I’ve already said—”
“Number two. What business did Emma have arriving at Inglewood Manor bright and early this morning? She could have slept in and caught the bus here like everybody else, but no. What reason did she have to arrive here at the crack of dawn instead?” As Holly shook her head, Sheila grinned in triumph. “None, that’s what. Unless she was putting something horrible in poor Derek’s food.”
“A few minutes ago. you were accusing me of putting something in Derek’s food,” Holly said gently. Her patience was wearing thin but yelling at a woman already bearing so much trauma didn’t sit right with her. “Are you now saying that you don’t think I killed Arnold with a cupcake?”
Sheila flapped her hand as though the thought was the most stupid thing she’d ever heard.
“You didn’t need to,” she answered slowly. “Miss Whelps had already taken care of all of that.”
“No, ‘Miss Whelps’ hadn’t,” Emma said through gritted teeth. “Yes, I got out of bed early this morning, but that’s nothing to do with you or Derek.”
Holly looked down at Wendy’s footwear. The shoes that had been kindly donated to her by Emma when she’d soaked through her own pair. The same beautiful shade of periwinkle blue that she’d caught at Minister Woodfield’s private quarters early that morning.
Of course. When your partner was in love with another woman, where else did you turn? To your parents? No. To your friends? They were good for a night of drowning sorrows. If you wanted sage advice from someone who had literally heard everything there was to hear, you approached your minister.
It would be a cold day in hell before Sheila dragged that information out of Holly. Still, the connection gave her a more confident tone when she spoke again.
“Emma had nothing to do with these terrible incidents. You’ve had too much to drink and your mind is playing tricks on you. Go with your mom, have a warm bath, and go to sleep. When you wake up, I’m sure that there’ll be better news waiting for you.”
It was with a sigh of relief that Holly watched Wendy escort her daughter out of the room. Emma turned to her with an eyebrow raised, a mask of nonchalance hiding her obvious upset.
“Thanks for that. My mother would be off her head thinking that the first time I bothered to get out of bed with the alarm, I got taken to task for it.” Emma managed a small grin, this time the expression looked a bit more genuine. “I won’t be making that mistake again.”
Holly laughed and shook her head. “I’m sure once Sheila’s sobered up some, she’ll see sense.”
“I’m not.” Emma shook her head. “She’s always been slightly bonkers. Even when we were at school.”
“She was accusing people of murder when you were at school?” Holly mimed shock, raising her hand to cover her mouth.
Emma snorted. “That’d be a far more interesting bit of gossip.” She shook her head. “Nothing like today but always just a bit off-kilter. We wondered for a while if she was autistic or something
, but we gradually worked out there was just a giant chip on her shoulder.”
“About what?” Holly frowned as she thought of Sheila. The girl may have a screw loose and be impatient, but she was beautiful. From Holly’s admittedly distant memories of high school, the way you looked counted for a lot.
Emma looked uncomfortable at the question. “Have you known Wendy very long?”
“No. Apart from Crystal I haven’t known anyone in town very long. Or,” she added after a second, “if I have, there’s been a break of a few decades since I saw them last.”
“Well, Wendy’s family doesn’t have the cleanest reputation around town.”
Holly’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “You mean they’re criminals?”
“What? No!” Emma gave a laugh and pressed her hand flat against her chest. “Not that sort of bad reputation. More along the lines of loose morals and poverty. They all marry young and mostly because they need to, if you get my drift.”
“Wendy said her family all married young because they didn’t see the sense in waiting when they already knew it was the right thing to do.” Holly turned to see that she hadn’t returned. Gossiping behind the woman’s back was bad, being caught would be far worse.
“I did comment when I heard how young Derek and Sheila were, but she just said that when you knew, you knew, and marriage was wasted on the old. I actually got her point. I didn’t marry as young as Sheila or Wendy, but I didn’t hang around like people do now, either.”
“How’d that work out for you?”
Holly’s eyes widened, and she gave an indignant laugh that soon became genuine. “Pretty badly, I must admit. Perhaps if we’d had children, it would have been different.”
“Yeah, then you could have dragged them through a messy divorce, as well.”
Strawberries and Suffering Page 10
