COZY MYSTERY: Wedding Bells & Murder?: A Margie Lauderdale Cozy Mystery (Book 2)

by Liz Turner

  She nodded, her eyes locked on her fingers. The waitress brought them coffees, winking at the two of them. This was Greta, another waitress that Margie knew well from her many nights out with Camelia. Although she missed those evenings, she needed to move forward. She would make this catering thing work for her no matter what.

  “No, I get it. I’m just wondering where that leaves me.”

  Margie blinked. She hadn’t thought about that. “You could come work for me.”

  “And leave Bristol? I doubt it.”

  There was something in Camelia’s eyes, something that made her suspicious. “What would be keeping you here, Camelia?” Margie’s eyes narrowed, her gaze locked on her friend. She smelled a rat.

  Camelia nearly choked on her coffee. “Bristol is my home, Margie!”

  “It’s mine too, but there’s something else, isn’t there?” Her mind flashed back to the stupid, happy expression Camelia had on her face when she first knocked on Margie’s bedroom door this evening. That stupid happy expression that looked so familiar. Because she had seen it on someone else’s face too.

  She's seen it after she’d fallen asleep in Ray’s car and he helped her up to bed. After Ray and Camelia were alone together in the apartment after she fell asleep in her room.

  A wicked grin spread across Margie’s face, and Camelia’s skin turned ghost white. “Perhaps my leaving is a good thing.”

  “Whatever you’re thinking, you’re wrong,” Camelia stuttered, her voice shaking.

  “So what happened after Ray helped me up to the apartment, Camelia? You’ve both been acting like teenagers in love since then.”

  A rush of color spread out across Camelia’s cheeks, her whole face lighting up with her blush like a Christmas tree. “No-nothing.”

  “Nothing at all?”

  Her blush got worse. Margie already could tell her suspicions were correct. Something had happened between them. Ray and Camelia? It made sense the more she thought about it. The only thing that had kept them apart had been Ray’s feelings for Margie, feelings that had dissipated when she’d left to go to school.

  Camelia’s breath left her all at once, and she hid her face behind her hair. She’d been growing it out since Margie had seen her last, and her normally short, blonde hair was nearly to her shoulders. The waitress delivered their waffles and Margie smiled and thanked her, waiting to continue asking Camelia questions until the waitress had moved out of earshot.

  “Wouldn’t that be...” Camelia hesitated, as if not sure of the words, “wrong of me?”

  “How so?” Margie took a big bite of her waffle. It was so good she nearly groaned at the taste. How had she forgotten how good these waffles were?

  Camelia took up her fork and stabbed at her waffles without cutting into them. “I mean, we’re supposed to be like Mary Tyler Moore; we’re supposed to be independent.”

  “That’s a terrible example because Mary Tyler Moore is still looking for love, even if she never finds it. Neither of us has ever been actively looking.” Margie pointed at her with her fork. “Eat your waffles.”

  “I just thought I gave up on the idea of being serious with somebody a long time ago.”

  “People change their minds sometimes when met with the right person.”

  Camelia looked up at her, the green of her eyes burning with something Margie couldn’t describe. “Would you change your mind?”

  “Sure, I could meet a handsome man that doesn’t want kids to travel the country with me someday. Maybe. Oooh, I hope he’s blonde and has brown eyes,” Margie said, sighing dramatically and fanning herself.

  Camelia laughed, all of the tension melting out of her. “You think I can still be me?”

  “What, if you end up getting married to Ray? Of course, you’ll still be you, darling. I think you and Ray could make each other much happier,” Margie said through a mouthful of waffle. “What’s it matter if you are both happy?”

  Camelia’s eyes softened, and she sighed again, the blush returning to her cheeks. “I suppose you’re right.”

  “Of course, I am; now, eat your waffles!”

  Chapter 10

  “Hello?” Margie put her thumb inside of her book, trying to hold the page while picking up the receiver off of the cradle.

  “Oh, good, Margie. I need your help.” Ray’s voice sounded distracted, and sort of like he had a pencil in his mouth. “I found out where Julia is staying.”

  “The cousin? Took you long enough.”

  “She’s not staying in a hotel under her own name, so it took me a bit longer to track her down. She seems to be staying with Kitty’s bridesmaid in her hotel room. They were sharing the cost.”

  Margie’s thumb started to go numb from being closed inside of her textbook, and it was really starting to bother her. She juggled everything awkwardly in her hands before just setting the book face down on the floor. “Interesting. Shall we go for a visit? Today is my day off.”

  “I was really hoping you’d say that. Be right there.” Margie hung up, then picked her book up off of the floor, frowning at it.

  Margie took a deep breath. She’d never get this assigned reading done. Learning by reading wasn’t exactly her forte; she needed to get her hands into things before she could really grasp them. All of the words were starting to blur together. Butterfly, brown, deglazes, fricassee, scallop.... She knew what most of those things were, she just never realized they all had names. They all had a habit of getting jumbled; she knew the right things to do. Until now, that had been enough. But it wouldn’t be when Leroy or Marlin asked her to talk about what she was doing.

  Sighing, Margie stuffed a random piece of paper down into the book, slamming it shut. Maybe she could talk Ray into stopping on the way home so she could get some flash cards. It seemed to be the only way she would remember any of this stuff by its proper name.

  Pulling on her coat, Margie tied her shoes and ran downstairs. The office manager smiled from his post at the front office. “Good afternoon, Margie! How was school?”

  “It’s been just wonderful, Mr. Mathers. I hope everything is well with you.” Margie plastered a smile on her face.

  “Good for you, girly,” Mr. Mather’s said, his kindly old face wrinkling with joy. His hair was the color of clouds, and his skin looked as though it were made from low-quality leather. “You go get ‘em!”

  “Thank you, sir!” Margie called, stepping out the revolving front door and into the icy cold. Ray’s car was right around the corner as she stepped out; she waved before pulling her mittens out of her jacket pockets. Boy, it had gotten cold fast this year!

  Ray pulled to the curb, and Margie hopped inside, hoping he had the heat on at least a little. Of course, he didn’t. He even had the nerve to not look cold. “Ready for this, Margie?”

  “I’m always ready for a mystery, Ray.”

  He snorted at her before pulling out away from the curb. “Julia is staying at the Blue Belle with Rachel Helmsly, one of the bridesmaids. Rachel’s mother is a good friend of Julia’s, and they’ve known each other for a long time. I’m not sure if Rachel knew Julia wasn’t invited to the wedding or not when she agreed to share her room.”

  Margie nodded, her nose crinkling. “What do we know about Julia?”

  “She’s in her late fifties, a smoker. She’s apparently been after Carlton since before they were married and claims Martha stole Carlton out from under her. Never been married. Has a cat. Lives in Hampton Beach out by the ocean, about three hours west.” Ray took a deep breath. “Apparently, she and Martha haven’t spoken civilly for 30 years.”

  “So this feud started even before Carlton. They married 24 years ago when Martha got pregnant with Kitty.”

  “Who told you that?”

  “Kitty did.” Margie wrinkled her nose, watching the streets fly by as Ray continued on towards the other end of Maple Street, where the Blue Belle Inn was located. “So what caused the feud then?”

  “Maybe we should ask Julia.”


  They pulled up to the Inn. Margie glanced up at the building; it was a very old plantation house. Most of it was original though modern amenities had been added to the existing structure. It was beautiful, with incredible detailing in the railways, spectacular trim, and even little round stained-glass windows that looked original. The effect was stunning. Sunlight glinting off of the somewhat fresh coat of baby blue paint that covered the siding. It was so pretty; Margie couldn’t wait to see the inside. There was always so much history inside of houses like these and Margie always wanted to peek in and see what memories the house hid.

  Ray went straight up to Marcus Perkins, who was running front counter. Both he and his wife, Melissa, owned and ran this place. She must have been cleaning up in the back or, from the smell of things, cooking something amazing for dinner for the guests. “Good afternoon, Mr. Perkins,” Ray said with a smile. “I hear there are two ladies staying here from the wedding; Rachel Helmsly and a Julia Justice?”

  “Yes, they are in the Garden Room. Shall I call them down for you, or...?” Marcus looked uncomfortable to have official police business at his doorstep. He was a mousy, nervous looking man in his forties.

  “We’ll go back and check if you don’t mind directing us?” Ray said, politely, motioning him to lead the way.

  Margie followed behind with a notepad and paper like she was just there to take notes. Marcus didn’t even seem to notice her as he nervously removed and cleaned his glasses over and over again. “Here we are.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Perkins.”

  “You aren’t going to kick the door down are you?”

  Ray blinked at him then shook his head. He raised his fist and knocked on the door and Marcus winced with every tap. “That’s all I need from you; thank you, Mr. Perkins.”

  “Oh!” He shuffled away hurriedly, his feet dragging across the pristine, original, and absolutely beautiful hardwood. The inside of the house was just as splendid as Margie had hoped. It looked as though Scarlett O’Hara could come out of one of these rooms, yelling “I declare!” This house belonged below the Mason-Dixon line, and Margie was very curious why this house was here.

  An older woman answered the door, a cigarette between her lips. She was pretty in a way, her yellow-white hair was curled and pinned around her pretty face like swirls, highlighting her thin, graceful neck and absolutely stunning sky-blue eyes. She might have been in her fifties, but there was a beauty in her that embraced her age. It was partly her carriage and partly the glimmer of mischief from her amazing eyes.

  “I figured you’d be by at some point, wanting to talk about Martha. Come inside, please.”

  The hotel room was scattered with clothing and makeup, the two full sized beds piled high with shopping boxes and bags. It was a miracle anyone could find anything in the mess. It looked like a department store had exploded inside of this room; there was even a dress hanging over the lamp like some kind of strange shade.

  Julia walked through the mess like it wasn’t there, stepping back out of the sliding doors in the back . She ushered them through to a little garden table and chairs to sit and enjoy the outside. Margie ran her fingers over the icy cold painted metal of her chair as she sat down; it felt old and beautiful in this place.

  Julia, like Ray, didn’t seem to be bothered by the cold. Margie though, shivered as she waited, rubbing her mittened hands together. “So, what can I do for you?”

  “Where is your roommate?” Ray asked, shifting in his chair.

  “Rachel is out checking on Kitty. They were going to go get coffee somewhere.” Julia blew a puff of smoke into the air, her eyes tracing the edge of the tiny garden. She flicked her ashes on a plate on the table.

  Margie pulled out a little notebook and a pen, begrudgingly taking one of her gloves off. Julia stared at her as she waited.

  Ray cleared his throat, pulling Julia’s attention back to him. “So, you and Martha didn’t get along.”

  She laughed, a rich, merry sound. “No, Martha and I never ‘got along.’ That’s an awfully mild way of putting it, son. We fought constantly, and I nearly always lost to her.” Julia frowned into the plate, her voice deeply angry. “Other than Kitty, nothing good even came from that woman.”

  “Do you see Kitty often?”

  Julia shook her head. “About once a year, she’ll come by the house while she’s on her way to Thanksgiving with Carlton’s family. It’s an hour or two out of her way, but she does it anyway. It means the world to me. I understood why she sort of invited Martha to the wedding and not me, but it still hurt. I was there for her more often than Martha. I should have been her mother.” Julia’s hands shook rather violently with the strength of her emotions. Margie stared at her, wondering what it would be like to live inside of her weird obsession with Martha and Carlton. “But it all doesn’t matter now. Martha is gone and can’t ruin me any more than she already has.”

  Ray leaned forward, his eyes locked with hers. “Did you kill her, Julia?”

  She nearly choked on her cigarette smoked, coughing until tears came to her eyes. She dropped the butt of it on the ground, and it hissed out in a small puddle of leftover rainwater. “No!” she nearly shouted, her voice strained from decades of smoke and disappointment. “No, son, I didn’t kill her. Here I thought the old bitch did it to herself. So someone offed her?”

  “Do you know who she was having an affair with?” Margie asked, no longer able to keep silent.

  “Who is this?” Julia pointed at her, her hands still shaking.

  Ray frowned. “Just answer the question, please, Ms. Justice.”

  “Fine, no, I don’t. Martha would sometimes call me up when she got really drunk. Nights she would black out, tell me things. She told me he was different than the rest. Told me she was going to leave Carlton to me because I only deserved him secondhand.” Julia stared off into the distance, her pretty blue eyes filled with tears. “She said this new guy had money. She claimed she was in love with him enough to give up the booze. Martha had the nerve to ask me for help to get cleaned up. Like I owed her a favor for wanting her to get a divorce from Carlton after making him suffer all these years. So I hung up on her.”

  “How did she want you to help her?”

  Julia rolled her eyes and lit another cigarette. “She wanted to borrow some money for some kind of rehab treatment. I told her I would rather light that money on fire than give it to her.”

  Ray glanced at Margie, his eyebrows raised. He was asking if she had any other questions for Julia. Margie thought for a second, the pieces of this puzzle swirling around in her head. “She did end up getting clean, Ms. Justice. Do you happen to know where she ended up getting the money for treatment from? Or do you think she did it on her own?”

  “I doubt Martha could have gotten off the booze by herself, but I’ve been wrong before. She was as stubborn as a mule. I also thought that Martha would never consider a divorce from Carlton, just to spite me for life.”

  “What started you two fighting?”

  Julia stared at Margie, her eyes narrowing. “We’ve always fought, about everything. Then we started stealing things from one another. First, it was toys, then friends, then boyfriends. Right up until the moment she ruined my life. Carlton and I were dating, you know when Martha got to him. Biggest regrets of both of our lives involved that woman. And now here she is, haunting us after her death. I’m sure that would make her happy.”

  Ray stood, holding out his hand to shake. “Thank you for your time, Julia.”

  She shook it weakly. “Have a good day, Officer...”

  “Ray Brighton, ma’am.”

  “Of course. Now leave me in peace, would you?”

  Chapter 11

  Margie and Ray were silent on the way back and Ray pulled up to the Big Easy. “I need coffee,” he said, by way of explanation. So Margie had little choice but to join him. It was getting close to supper time, and Margie’s stomach growled, but she only got coffee. Her student budget didn’t incl
ude eating out.

  Ray pondered his coffee, his eyes haunted. “We need to find out who she was seeing.”

  Margie nodded. “We should go back through her things, see if we can find something that will link her to another man. He’s the key. If he’s not the killer, he’ll lead us to whoever is.”

  “I certainly agree. But the only things we know about him are that he has money. That could be anyone.”

  “But who is it that is close to the family? Or at least, close enough to get inside the community center without Martha being suspicious?”