by Vickie Fee
The party rental company truck arrived, and the crew began setting up the game tables. Two roulette tables were placed in the rear parlor and four felt-lined poker tables were set up in the dining room. The entrance to the butler’s pantry between the rear parlor and the kitchen was blocked off with a whiskey barrel, across which Holly had stenciled the word SALOON in a vintage script. This point would serve as the walk-up bar, while servers would circulate through the rooms with trays of drinks.
The library was outfitted with two blackjack tables, and the large guest bedroom had been set up for bingo.
Finally, Mr. Dodd’s office was transformed into a whiskey and cigar lounge. The office was already furnished with a leather sofa and two leather club chairs. Four additional leather wingback chairs were moved into his office from the library. An antique sextant and sea captain’s hat adorned the desk, and a large steamship model was placed in the center of the handsome bookcase behind the desk.
Loveseats, sofas, and rented upholstered folding chairs were arranged along one or two walls of each game room to accommodate guests who preferred just to watch the action.
Holly and I placed a few decorations on the mantles and in one corner of each room to continue the theme without intruding into the space so guests could freely move about. A framed poster of the Delta Queen replaced a family portrait over the mantle in the library, and wooden crates and fishnets in the corner of the dining room and a steamer trunk overflowing with circa 1900 clothing and travel souvenirs in the family room were among the decorative props.
Holly and I furnished the bingo bedroom with rockers and wicker chairs from the screened porch. We placed a dressmaker’s form in the corner. Holly outfitted the form with a vintage nautical-inspired dress, while I arranged Victorian-era gloves and parasols on the mantel. The bingo room was set up with the more senior guests in mind, with comfortable seating and an adjoining bathroom.
A little after one o’clock, Holly and I took a break to eat turkey wraps and potato chips. I had picked up box lunches for the whole Liv 4 Fun crew.
Holly and I walked outside and sat down on the front porch steps to eat our sandwiches, watching as Harold tested the tree lights. They looked gorgeous.
“Liv, I can’t stop thinking about the recent tragedy,” Holly said, turning toward me. “I was at school with Morgan’s father. My heart just breaks for him and her poor mother. I read a newspaper article listing the PWAD members at the retreat, and I didn’t know Jasmine or the lady who owns the hotel. But of the members I know, the only one I could possibly imagine committing violence is Nell Tucker. I’m not saying she’s a murderer, mind you. I’m just saying she’s well known to be a bit of a hothead.”
“That’s what my mama said,” I noted. “She once saw Nell lob a hot curling iron at another hairdresser. I know Nell often speaks, and acts, without thinking. But I don’t really see Nell as a killer myself. I can tell you that Nell and Sindhu insist Jasmine is innocent. They think Lucinda Grable killed Morgan.”
“I was acquainted with Lucinda’s parents, but I was married and had moved away by the time Lucinda came along,” Holly said. “It was tragic the way she lost her parents at such a young age. And with her being in the backseat when they had the car accident that killed them . . . who knows what that kind of trauma can do to a child.”
“I knew her parents died in a car crash, but I’d never heard that Lucinda was in the car, too.”
“Yes,” Holly said, shaking her head. “She was barely more than a baby, so I don’t know how much of it she remembers.”
Satisfied with the way the tree looked, Kenny and Harold took a break for lunch before they set about hanging red, white, and blue bunting from the upper gallery railing.
About three-thirty, the catering staff from the country club arrived, except for Chef Felix. It took three guys to carefully carry the cake up the porch steps and place it on the table in the entry hall. The large cake, masterfully sculpted in the shape of a riverboat, certainly deserved its prominent display space. A smaller table in the entry would hold other desserts, including the iced “poker chip” cookies.
About five o’clock, Chef Felix arrived to oversee the final preparations. The photographer arrived about the same time. He would be strolling through the rooms during the party, taking candid shots. Mark and Rachel planned to have the photos on display at their wedding reception for the family to enjoy. At 5:45, five servers and three bartenders arrived dressed in the costumes Holly had dropped off at the country club that morning. I got on the phone to find out why the sixth server had not yet arrived. He said he was on his way. A few minutes later the dealers for the blackjack and roulette tables arrived, along with the bingo caller—all moonlighting professionals from one of the Tunica casinos.
The servers and bartenders—both male and female—were wearing black pants, red-and-white-striped shirts and straw boater hats with red bands. The dealers were outfitted in black pants and black shirts, sporting a red garter on their right sleeve.
Holly and I quickly changed into the black pants and white tuxedo shirts we often wear for parties.
At 6:20, Mrs. Dodd came downstairs, looking fabulous in her vintage evening dress.
“I’m not sure it’s proper for you to look as beautiful as the bride at her engagement party,” Mr. Dodd said adoringly as he watched his wife make her entrance.
We did a walk-through with Mrs. Dodd so she could take it all in.
“Oh, Liv, this is perfect—even better than I had envisioned from the plans you showed us,” she said. “Now if all the guests will just behave, especially Uncle Ira, we’ll be golden. I suppose if Mark still wants to marry Rachel after meeting the whole family, we’ll know he’s a keeper.”
“Don’t worry. We have several different game areas, so if a guest seems to be causing difficulties in one room, we’ll encourage him to try his luck with a different game,” I said.
Rachel was set to arrive with Mark. She wanted to see his expression when he got his first look at the riverboat gambler theme.
About ten minutes to seven, the first of the six stretch limos arrived with a carload of guests. Some guests would be driving their own vehicles, but the majority, most of whom had traveled from out of town for the party, were being transported to and from hotels in Dixie, Memphis, and Tunica.
Rachel and Mark emerged from one of the limousines, along with Mark’s parents, grandparents, brother, and uncle. Mrs. Dodd welcomed them while I went in search of Mr. Dodd to let him know the guests were beginning to arrive. I found him in his office, steeling his nerves with a shot glass of whiskey. I resisted the temptation to pour one for myself.
Mark, Rachel, and both sets of parents stationed themselves in the entry to welcome guests as they arrived. Holly and I invited guests into the other rooms to survey the various games available, and the bartenders started taking drink orders.
After the last of the limos had arrived, all the guests were invited to the entry and adjoining doorways. Glasses of champagne, and sparkling grape juice for the nondrinkers, were distributed as the father of the bride and the father of the groom each made a toast to the happy couple and extended kind words of welcome to the future in-laws.
After the toasts, Mr. Dodd, who was supposed to explain how the games and the chips would work, instead called me up to explain.
“Welcome, everyone,” I said. “I know you’re going to have a lot of fun getting to know each other—and gambling for a worthy cause.
“Each guest who would like to play will be issued one hundred dollars in chips, courtesy of the Dodd family. The seventy-five-hundred dollars represented by these chips will be donated to St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital, the charity chosen by Rachel and Mark.”
There was a round of approving applause.
“Additional chips may be procured in twenty-five-dollar stacks. All of that money will also be donated to St. Jude. So no one really loses tonight, you simply give more to charity. And winners claim bragg
ing rights.
“The chips will be used in the usual manner for placing bets at the poker, roulette, and blackjack tables. Those choosing to play bingo will be issued four cards. You may purchase additional bingo cards to play for twenty-five dollars per pair of cards.
“The biggest donor of the evening will be awarded a lovely gift basket from our newly engaged couple.
“Please help yourself to the buffet or check out the gambling options. Waiters will be coming around with trays of drinks and snacks, if you’d prefer to head straight to the tables. There’s extra seating in each area for those who would like to watch the gamblers in action and get a feel for the games, as well as chat.
“The dealer or caller for each game will issue chips and be able to answer any questions you may have.”
I turned to Mr. Dodd, who added, “Let the games begin!”
Before I’d moved three steps, I noticed one elderly lady at the desserts table stuffing cookies into her pockets. I wasn’t sure if she was just hungry or mistakenly thought the iced poker chip cookies could be used for placing bets. Either way, I decided we’d better keep an eye on her and discreetly pointed her out to Holly. I also scoped out Uncle Ira, just in case. He was drinking pretty freely. Luckily, the only misbehavior I witnessed all night was when Ira pinched some woman’s bottom. If she minded, she didn’t show it.
We had originally proposed having a roving barbershop quartet or banjo player at the party, or simply playing light jazz through the whole-house stereo speakers. Rachel had feared that music, plus all the noise from the game tables, might impede conversation. After much discussion, she and her mother had decided against having music playing during the evening. I think they made a wise choice. The echo of loud chatter and laughter filled the rooms almost immediately. We had some CDs Rachel had selected set up and ready to play if a pall of silence should fall at some point.
Mark and Rachel strolled from room to room and played a couple of rounds at some of the tables, as well as chatted with the onlookers. When they got trapped by some overly chatty soul, Holly or I would intervene and say someone was asking for them in another room.
I sat in the bingo room for a couple of rounds to help a lady with failing eyesight play her card. The only room I didn’t venture into all night was the cigar lounge. I did step out onto the side porch to see if I could hear any altercations emanating from Mr. Dodd’s office, but all was quiet on the Western Front.
The catering staff and dealers were all pros, so things went pretty smoothly. Chef Felix was called out of the kitchen by Mrs. Dodd to accept accolades for the delicious buffet, which he created, as well as for the stunning cake, which he did not—but he didn’t let that stop him from accepting the credit. He departed shortly thereafter and left his competent crew to handle refills and cleanup.
About ten, things began to quiet down, so Holly popped in a CD with a mix of Dixieland, light jazz, and big band music. Mark swept Rachel into his arms and danced from the roulette room through the entry and into the blackjack room. A few other couples followed suit, dancing into the entry hall. It was one of those beautiful, spontaneous moments you try to set the stage for and always hope will happen at your parties, but can’t be orchestrated. Fortunately, it looked as if the photographer captured a few shots for posterity.
Around eleven-fifteen, I noticed Rachel and Mark were looking a little tired, with pasted-on smiles and drooped shoulders. They deserved a break. As soon as I was able, I whispered that they should sneak up to the second-floor sitting room via the back stairs and I would bring them some refreshments.
I delivered some sweets and champagne on a tray and found them plopped on a settee, Rachel’s head resting on Mark’s shoulder. I sat the tray down on a table beside them, pulled back the curtains, and opened one of the French doors. This gave them a bit of fresh air and a clear view of the oak tree, its strings of lights twinkling against a velvet sky. Then I quietly slipped away to let them enjoy a bit of alone time before they were discovered missing.
A little before midnight, the first of the guests began to depart. Soon most of the other guests started piling into limousines. A couple of guests had to be prodded into leaving by their carpool buddies. Mark and Rachel departed in her dad’s car, rather than riding back to Tunica with his family. Mr. and Mrs. Dodd thanked me and the catering crew and said their good nights.
I checked with the kitchen and found that all the plates and glasses had been washed and either packed or returned to the owners’ cupboards. Mrs. Dodd had opted to use her own china to serve the cake.
The party wasn’t over for my team and me just yet. Sunday morning, Holly would return to pack up decorations and oversee pickup by the party rental crew. In the afternoon, I’d return to supervise the movers as they put all the furniture and accessories back in their original spaces.
But for now, we were both ready to go home and fall into our respective beds.
Chapter 13
I’d been up less than half an hour Sunday when Nell phoned and asked if I would drop by the beauty salon later that morning. She said she had something to give me, but she wouldn’t say what.
Larry Joe had taken off for the golf course before I woke up. I dressed, poured some coffee into a travel mug, and drove to the salon.
When I walked through the front door, Nell was the only stylist in the shop, tending to a lone customer. She motioned for me to come through to the back office/supply room.
“I didn’t know you were even open on Sundays,” I said.
“Officially, we’re not. I have some customers who prefer their privacy. So one Sunday a month I schedule a couple of appointments.”
She pushed the door shut and pressed a sheet of notepaper into my hand.
“What’s this?”
“That’s the one piece of evidence Sindhu and I were able to turn up in Lucinda’s room before her assistant walked in on us.”
Curious, I took a look at the crumpled paper. A pencil had been brushed across the sheet to reveal indentations. It read, “P.D.—1:30 p.m. Sun. @ Red’s.”
My face must have signaled my confusion.
“That heifer Mitzi had the nerve to make us empty our pockets after she discovered us. Fortunately, I had tucked this into my bra.”
I eyed the paper, not sure how I felt about handling something that had been nestled in Nell’s cleavage.
“What does it mean?” I asked.
“It means Lucinda is meeting somebody at one-thirty today at Red’s Steakhouse in Hartville.”
“Who’s P.D.?”
“It could stand for private detective,” Nell offered. “Or it could be someone’s initials. I don’t know. I promised to stay clear of Lucinda. I’ve got a one o’clock appointment, so I can’t get away anyhow. Ravi will hardly let Sindhu out of his sight, and the sheriff apparently isn’t interested in looking for another suspect since he locked up Jasmine—despite what you said about Astrid after confronting her at her shop. Liv, I really hope you’ll check this out and at least see who Lucinda is meeting. But I’ve passed the information on to you, so my conscience is clear. That’s all I can do at this point.”
She didn’t ask for promises and I didn’t make any. A timer dinged in the front of the salon, and Lucinda hurried off to check on her client’s perm.
I walked from the salon to my office down the street and put on a fresh pot of coffee, checked my messages, and stared for a really long time at the piece of paper Nell had given me.
I called Holly to see if she could stick around for a while this afternoon to supervise the movers. I told her if she didn’t feel up to it I’d call Kenny to see if he could come out and keep an eye on things. She said she didn’t have plans and would be glad to stay.
Then I called Di to see if she wanted to ride over to Hartville with me for a stakeout at the steak house.
To my surprise, instead of trying to dissuade me Di seemed almost enthusiastic about the idea of tailing Lucinda.
Since I was at t
he office I decided to catch up on some paperwork.
At 12:35 PM, I picked up Di. We hit the Wendy’s drive-through and picked up a couple of burgers to sustain us during our lunch hour surveillance job.
“Di, I kinda figured you’d try to talk me out of spying on Lucinda, tell me to keep my nose out of it. You surprise me.”
“I surprise myself,” she said. “I guess I’m beginning to have my own doubts about Jasmine’s guilt. It all seems a little too pat, you know.”
Red’s Steakhouse is located on a busy commercial strip of highway going into Hartville. We parked in a retail shopping center directly across the street from Red’s, with a clear view of the restaurant’s parking lot and front entrance.
The small shopping center was busy, with cars coming and going all the time. Lucinda wasn’t likely to notice us, especially since I hadn’t been following her and she had never ridden in my SUV, or even seen it as far as I knew.
It was easy enough to spot Lucinda, still driving the Bentley. She parked along the side of the building. In a couple of minutes, a Mercedes convertible pulled in next to her.
Pierce Davenport emerged from the car, and he and Lucinda slipped into the restaurant through a side door, avoiding the main entrance.
I’ve arranged enough parties at Red’s to know that the restaurant has a main dining room, divided into two areas, and three private dining rooms—one large, one an average size, and one intimate dining room designed for parties of four to eight.
Knowing that Lucinda, and Red’s staff, would recognize me, Di volunteered to go in and check things out. I was supposed to text her if our quarry exited the building.
Di waited about five minutes, giving Lucinda and Pierce time to get settled, before getting out of the car and crossing the highway to the restaurant to take a look around. In a bit Di rejoined me in the car. She recounted that she had asked for a menu and information about private parties while surveying the main room to see if by chance Pierce and Lucinda were seated out front. As expected, they weren’t.
