Till Death Do Us Tart

by Ellie Alexander

  As much as I knew I should decline, I let my heart lead. Carlos wrapped one hand over mine and pulled me onto the dance floor. He was a good dancer. He moved to the music, his body swaying to the beat as he swirled me around. I’d forgotten how good it felt to be in his arms.

  The dance floor was packed with familiar faces. Sterling cradled the back of Steph’s neck as they moved to the middle of the wooden floor. Bethany danced with someone I didn’t recognize, and Andy chatted with the band.

  We danced past Mom and the Professor who grinned. “We should have taken lessons from them, Doug.” Mom nudged the Professor.

  “It is necessary in Spain,” Carlos said, leaning me into a dip. “Dance is like food. It is the language of love. You are doing beautifully.”

  Mom chuckled, but got pulled into a conversation with another guest.

  The music slowed. Carlos pressed his cheek to mine. He smelled of sautéed onions, garlic, and musky aftershave. We weren’t exactly dancing any longer. More like falling into each other. I couldn’t let myself get lost in the moment.

  When the song ended, I untangled myself from his arms. “I have to go find Lance,” I lied, leaving him standing in the middle of the dance floor.

  I could feel the flush on my face, as I left the barn and headed for the grapevines. It was true that I did want to find Lance, eventually. But first I needed some space. Having Carlos here was dangerous. I was falling for him again—hard. I couldn’t let that happen. Getting over him had been one of the most challenging things I had ever done. I wasn’t sure I would survive it a second time.

  I was angry at myself for letting him back in. I had worked so hard at building an exterior and keeping my heart in check, but every day I was with him I found myself spinning in a dizzy swirl of emotions.

  “Pull it together, Jules,” I told myself as I plucked a leaf from a grapevine.

  “I thought I might find you here.” Lance’s voice made me jump.

  “Lance, what are you doing?”

  He ripped a leaf from the vine. “Same as you, darling. Escaping.”

  “Why do we always end up like this?”

  “Because we’re made from the same cloth. Hopeless romantics, creatives, closet introverts, just to name a few.”

  I wrapped the leaf around my pinkie. “What do you think happened to Megan?” I wasn’t ready to process Carlos yet, even with Lance.

  “Why do you think I’ve been meandering through these grapevines for the past half hour?” Lance asked.

  “Did you hear what she said?”

  He shook his head.

  “She told me that there was something in her drink. She thinks it was poisoned.”

  Lance clutched the leaf to his chest. “Seriously?”

  “Yeah, and she said that the wine was meant for me.” I sighed and breathed in the scent of the grapes.

  “My God.” Lance dabbed his brow. “Why? Who would want to poison Ashland’s pastry queen?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. She was in bad shape. Maybe I misunderstood her.”

  Lance glared at me. “Hardly. When have you ever misunderstood any situation?”

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence, but I promise I’ve had plenty of mishaps.” The stars flickered above us. I rubbed my arms to keep warm.

  “I find that hard to believe.”

  “Let’s assume that I heard her correctly. Why would someone want to poison her drink, or mine?”

  “Your guess is as good as mine. She told me that she had some new information for me, but you know what it’s like for me when I’m mingling with the public. I haven’t had a single minute to myself since we arrived. Hence my traipsing through dusty vines and risking ruining my Italian leather shoes.” Lance tugged up his pantaloons to prove his point.

  “It has to be connected to your father’s case, don’t you think?” I asked.

  Lance nodded. “It must be, but what’s the connection to you? Who poured the drinks?”

  “I did.”

  He cackled. “Now that would be quite Shakespearean. The daughter knocks herself off at her mother’s wedding. Classic move. Absolutely classic.”

  “Lance, this is no time to joke around.”

  “Coping strategy.” He yanked another leaf from a grapevine.

  “Okay, fine. I poured the wine in the kitchen and brought it outside.”

  “Did anyone touch it before you poured it?”

  I thought back through my steps. “No. I poured it myself and placed the glasses on a tray. I brought it outside for Clarissa, but then you were there talking to her with Megan. In fact, I handed the tray to you first.”

  “That’s right.” Lance dropped the leaf and clapped his hands together. “Now we may be on to something. Let’s think this through. Why so many glasses? Weren’t there exactly four glasses on the tray?”

  Were there? I retraced every move. “You’re right. I poured four glasses. Not for any specific reason. There just happened to be four glasses on the counter. I figured if I was bringing Clarissa a glass I could offer the three remaining glasses to other guests.”

  “This is good. This is really good. Then what?”

  “Then I came outside. The three of you were talking. You took the tray.”

  Lance rubbed his temple. “I did. Then what did I do?”

  “You were joking about being tipsy.”

  “Ha-ha! As if. I’m as sober as a rock right now.” He twisted the ruff collar around his neck. “I’ve got to take this thing off. It’s itching. I have newfound respect for my actors who have to wear these things.” He scratched his neck. “But seriously. No drop of liquor has touched these lips tonight. I have to be on my A game with Leo.”

  “Did you hand the tray to Clarissa?”

  “Yes.” He snapped twice. “That’s it. When I gave it to her it had three glasses.”

  “Wait. Did you take a glass for yourself first?”

  “Definitely. I wanted a prop. I do much better talking to my public with something in my hands.”

  I rolled my eyes. “So, Clarissa took a glass, then she gave the tray to Megan. I remember Megan offering me a drink, and I know for sure there was only one glass of wine left on the tray.”

  “Where did the fourth glass go?”

  “No idea. Megan took the last glass when I declined.”

  Lance’s lips formed a tight seal. “You realize what this means, don’t you?”

  “What?”

  “Either someone tried to kill Megan. Or someone tried to kill you.”

  “But who? And why? We were right there. I know Clarissa doesn’t like me. I have no idea why, but I can’t imagine the president of Ashland’s art council trying to kill me. How could she have done it? She was holding a tray of three glasses.”

  “That’s it. Maybe that’s why one is missing. It could have fallen when she dropped the poison in.”

  “We would have seen her. Or heard her, don’t you think?”

  “True.” Lance nodded. “And that would have been taking a risk. How could she guarantee which one of you would take the drink?”

  My stomach churned at the thought.

  “The more likely scenario is that Megan tampered with the drink.”

  “What? She’s in the hospital, Lance.”

  “I know. Think about it. It’s brilliant. No one would suspect her. Maybe it was a warning.”

  “For what?”

  “How should I know.”

  “You hired her. Do you think she’s the type to tuck a vial of poison into her evening bag?”

  “No, but she is a PI. She’s probably got quick fingers.”

  “Fine, but again, why would she want to warn me?”

  Lance frowned. “I haven’t put that piece together yet. However, I have been worried that she’s a double agent.”

  “A double agent?”

  “I’ve been subtly dropping details about my family estate to see if they get back to Leo. I think she might be working for him too.”
<
br />   “Really?” I breathed in the earthy scent of the grapevines.

  “Really.”

  We were quiet for a moment. The lively sounds of the band and happy guests dancing under a canopy of shimmering little lights seemed a world away.

  “There is another possibility, you know,” Lance finally said.

  “What’s that?”

  “Someone else could have poisoned the drink. There are hundreds of people here. What if someone snuck past us? We were talking for a while. It’s dark. Perhaps our culprit splashed in a couple drops of the poison and scurried away.”

  “That’s a stretch.”

  “But not out of the realm of possibility.” Lance paused and craned his neck toward the reception. “It looks like the happy couple is about to make their grand exit. What do you say we see them off and then take a detour to the hospital? I do believe that a tête-à-tête with Megan is in order.”

  We linked arms and weaved through the grapevines. This was it. Time to say bon voyage to Mom. I was happy for her, but wished that I didn’t have to worry that someone may have just tried to kill me.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Tears flowed as I stood with Carlos, Ramiro, and Lance and waved good-bye to Mom and the Professor. The crew from Torte gathered round. Mom stopped to kiss each of them on the cheek. Sparklers lit up the night sky. The scent of smoke hit my nose. Mom and the Professor ran through a sea of tiny white flames into a waiting vintage carriage. Andy, Bethany, Sterling, and Steph waved sparklers in both hands, creating a wave of color in the air. Lance squeezed my right hand. Carlos held my left hand. Ramiro twirled a gold sparkler, making the shape of a heart appear. This was my family. I had to remind myself of that fact. I had created a family in Ashland. My heart felt full.

  The rest of the reception was a blur. Clarissa and Roger must have left, because I never saw them after the wine incident. Nor did I see Leo, Jarvis, or Sarah.

  Hiring Chef Garrison and his crew from Ashland Springs was the best decision we had made. I didn’t have to worry about cleanup or storing whatever leftovers remained. If Megan hadn’t choked on her wine, I might have stayed late into the evening and danced with Carlos, but the Universe had other plans for me.

  Carlos and Ramiro had started helping the crew tear down some of the peripheral tables that weren’t in use. Most guests had begun to trickle away, but there were still a handful of lingering couples taking a turn around the dance floor or savoring a plate of desserts.

  Lance tapped my shoulder as I carried a tray of used dishes toward the kitchen. “Don’t you have people for that?”

  I adjusted the stack of plates. “For dishes? Yes.”

  “Good. Then put those down and let’s jet.”

  “Jet?”

  He took the pile from my hands, and waved over a waiter whose tower of dishes looked as if it were about to crash and shatter into a thousand pieces. Then he proceeded to load the poor guy up with my stack of dishes. “We have work to do. Let’s go.”

  I shot the waiter an apologetic smile as Lance yanked me away from the deck. “Where are we going?”

  “To the hospital, of course. Megan was my ride so I need you to drive.”

  I dug my heels into the grass. “Hold on. You want to go to the hospital? Now?”

  “When else?” Lance sounded exasperated. “The clock is ticking. We’re wasting precious time.”

  “But I have work to do. I can’t just leave.” I motioned to the crew of waitstaff circulating around us.

  “That’s why you hired people. You must learn how to delegate, Juliet. Take my advice. You’re going to burn out and end up spread too thin. As in too thin like butter.” He snapped and waved his finger in a zigzag in front of me.

  While his words held truth, I didn’t see how they were relevant to snooping around Megan’s hospital room. “What about Carlos? And Ramiro? I can’t just leave them,” I protested.

  “Details. Details. You can come back for them. This won’t take long. We’ll scoot over to the hospital and have you back in less than an hour. No one will be the wiser.”

  I hesitated. Lance grinned. He knew that he had won.

  “Fine. But we should make it quick. I need to help with cleanup.”

  “Deal.” Lance shook my hand, and linked his fingers through mine. No one seemed to take notice as we headed down the hill to my car.

  “I would say the wedding was a success.” Lance bowed to a couple getting into the car next to us. The woman’s dress got caught in the door. Lance tapped on the window and pointed to the packed gravel road. “Your dress, honey,” he mouthed. The woman opened the door and Lance helped her tuck her dress around her feet.

  “Do you think everyone had fun?” I asked once he had rescued the damsel in distress and returned to the car.

  “You mean minus an attempted murder.”

  “Minus that.” I sighed. “Did you talk to Leo again?”

  “Jarvis wouldn’t let me near him,” Lance said, twisting his collar. “The suit is like my brother’s shadow. Anytime I tried to talk to Leo, Jarvis was right next to him. I don’t trust the guy. I’m telling you, he’s like a henchman with surprisingly decent taste in menswear. Did you see his feather bow tie? It’s a custom design. Probably cost him upward of two hundred and fifty dollars. The question is, what kind of cash is my brother paying him if he can afford a tie like that?”

  Leave it to Lance to critique Jarvis’s style.

  “He’s a lawyer, isn’t he?” I kept my eyes focused on the bumpy road. There were no streetlights in the country.

  “Yes, but how many Medford lawyers do you know who wear designer bow ties?” He paused. “What am I saying? How many Medford lawyers do you know who wear bow ties at all?”

  “What about Sarah? Did you talk to her?”

  “Not much. She kept running back and forth to the kitchen. I think she was obsessed with trying to get out the stain on her dress. Very Macbeth of her. I shouted, ‘Out, damned spot, out, I say!’ to her. She didn’t get it. Not a surprise, and her garish dress is definitely Medford. I wanted to tell her that the stain actually made it look better.”

  “Lance.” I punched his shoulder.

  “What? I’m simply saying what you know you’re thinking. Who wears cheap, pink satin with fake rhinestones to a wedding? My brother must not be paying her enough.”

  We came to the main road, complete with streetlight and cement. Lance was unusually quiet on the remainder of the drive to the hospital. “Are you thinking about your dad?” I asked as we drove past a horse sanctuary.

  He stared out the window. “Among other things, yes. Why am I so stubborn, Juliet?”

  “You’re not stubborn.”

  “Please.” Lance let out an exasperated sigh. “I could have reached out to my father years ago, but I didn’t. I chose to simmer in bitterness and hold my own pity party. I wasted so much time. Now he’s gone and the possibility that we’re going to be able to prove that someone killed him is looking pretty bleak. I’m going to have to live with that guilt for the rest of my life. I could have done something to stop it, and I didn’t.”

  “No. What could you have done?”

  He gnawed on his fingernail. “I could have camped out next to his bedside around the clock. I could have insisted on police protection.”

  “Lance, don’t beat yourself up. And don’t lose hope. Maybe that’s why Megan was poisoned. She might have proof that your father was murdered. We could be close to learning the truth.”

  This seemed to calm him down. “The important thing is that you did reach out to him. Like I said before, what a gift to be able to have that kind of closure. Not everyone gets that lucky,” I continued.

  He didn’t respond. We turned onto the main road leading back to town. “What about you? Carlos is as dashing as always and, judging from the way he was looking at you tonight, I would say he has set his sights on a permanent residence here in Ashland.”

  “Do you think?”

  La
nce scoffed. “Juliet, you are one of the wisest and densest women I have ever met.”

  “Thanks.”

  “No one could accuse you of having an ego, but seriously, darling, men drool at your feet and you take no notice. How is that possible?”

  “Carlos wasn’t drooling at my feet.”

  “I beg to differ.”

  Thankfully, we arrived at the hospital and he dropped the subject. I wasn’t sure if they would let us see Megan. Lance pranced his way to the nurses’ station, ripped off his starched collar, and buried his face in his hands. “You must let me speak to Megan, she was my paramour. The love of my life. What if she doesn’t recover? This could be my one and only chance to say good-bye.”

  Were those real tears he had squeezed out of his eyes?

  The nurse must have bought his act. “You’ll have to speak to the officer on patrol. I’m not sure if the police are letting visitors in,” she said. “Room 224. Down the hall on the right.”

  To my surprise, Thomas was standing guard outside Megan’s room. “Thomas, what are you doing here?” I asked.

  Thomas perked up when he saw us. He was still wearing the chocolate-brown suit that he’d worn to the wedding. A boutonniere with a single white rose and three sprigs of rosemary was pinned to his breast pocket. He looked like an older version of my homecoming date. His eyes still held the same spark of interest and inquisitiveness. “Uh, I was about to ask you guys the same question.”

  Lance scratched his exposed neck. The collar had left a red rash in a perfect three-inch circle. “Do tell. It appears that you’re guarding the door.”

  Thomas was well versed in Lance speak. He winked at me. “More like watching.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  “I had a chat with the Professor.” His boyish face shifted. “While golfing we had a long discussion about your dad’s case.”

  Lance folded his hands together and waited for Thomas to say more.

  “Look, you guys know that our hands are tied with Medford taking the lead, but the Professor has done some legwork and I’m going to follow up on his leads. He pulled me aside before he and your mom left and suggested I head over this way and check things out. I wanted to make sure that I was the one to come. You know how the Professor is. I could see him calling off the honeymoon or something.” Thomas tried to sound casual, but I noticed his posture was rigid and he hadn’t budged even an inch from Megan’s door. “Did they get off okay?”