Irregardless of Murder (Miss Prentice Cozy Mysteries) (29 page)

The doorbell rang. “Marie!” I said. “It’s fixed! You’re turning Chez Prentice into a showplace!”

Marie smiled modestly and scribbled something else on her clipboard.

Lily answered the door, stepping back in surprise at the sight of Dennis O’Brien.

“Miss Prentice, can I speak with you? Privately?”

“Of course, Dennis.” While Lily and Marie gaped, I led him into Dad’s old study, now converted into Marie’s office, and directed him to take a seat. “How about some coffee? We now have one of those single-cup coffeemakers.”

He smiled. “No thanks, Miss Prentice. I can’t stay but a minute. What I want to tell you will probably be in the news before tonight, but after everything, I thought you deserved to hear it from me.” He ran an embarrassed hand through his thick hair and continued, “They’ve found the rowboat. The Fields’ rowboat, although I guess you might call it your rowboat now.”

I leaned forward. “And Sally?”

He shook his head. “Still no sign. They found the boat capsized over on the Vermont side. It must have drifted all this time. Surprisingly, it’s in pretty good shape. Want me to see that you get it back?”

“No, thank you, Dennis,” I said quickly, then paused. “No, I take that back. I told Gil I’d take a swimming course at the Y. We might have a use for it yet.”

Dennis smiled at me. “Hey, way to go, Miss Prentice. Put the bad stuff behind you.”

“Still, I can’t help thinking about Sally.” That was an understatement. I’d had half-a-dozen disturbing nightmares since the whole thing happened. “Do you think she’s just hiding?”

He shrugged. “We’re still looking into it, but I don’t think so. That water was pretty cold, and even if Mrs. Jennings was as good a swimmer as you say, she still couldn’t have lasted long if the boat turned over. What’s puzzling is how that might have happened. The lake was calm that night.”

“So you’re saying we’ll never know what happened.”

“No,” he said, “I’m not saying that for publication, anyway, but that’s probably the way it’s going to turn out.”

“And Barry won’t be prosecuted.”

“There’s no proof he had anything to do with his wife’s crime, but he has closed up the business and left town, you know.”

I nodded. “Yes. He’s at a rehab clinic out in California.”

Dennis chuckled as he stood. “Now how did you know that?”

“I have a reliable informant—and her initials are Lily Burns.” I turned to another serious subject. “Dennis, what’s going to happen to Derek Standish?”

Dennis paused, his hand on the doorknob. “Well, since Mrs. Dee won’t press charges, that pretty much takes him off the hook from our end. As far as physical rehab goes, I don’t know much about it. Last I heard, he was learning how to talk again.”

We sighed together.

“I don’t suppose you found my purse in that boat?”

He shrugged and shook his head.

“Oh, well, I already replaced the credit cards and things. I just hated to lose that purse. It was my mother’s.” I escorted him out. “Please tell Dorothy how much I appreciated the fish slice,” I told him at the front door.

“The what?”

“It’s a piece of silverware. Your wedding gift. I told her once that it’s what all the characters in PG Wodehouse gave as wedding presents, and she remembered.”

“She’ll be glad you liked it. She hunted for it all over the Internet. I just didn’t know what you called the thing. This wedding is big news in our house, you know. Meaghan’s pretty excited about tomorrow.”

“She’ll be a perfect flower girl. She proved it at the rehearsal yesterday.”

“She did that,” he admitted. “And tell Gil that having that rehearsal dinner at Danny’s Diner was a terrific idea. Great fun. Well, see you tomorrow.”

He galloped down the steps just as Father Frontenac was mounting them. They exchanged greetings and I let the priest inside.

“It’s time, huh?” I said.

He nodded. “Now or never. Where’s Marie?” he asked, looking around nervously.

“Out in the kitchen, I think,” I told him. “Where’s Etienne?”

He jerked his head in the direction of a dark car, parked out front. “I’ve got to talk to Marie first, though.”

“Marie!” I called. “Could you come into the office a minute?”

The hour that followed was difficult for me as I tried to ignore the closed door of the study and what was happening behind it. I tried to keep busy. I helped Valerie stow the wedding cake in the new restaurant-size refrigerator. I dried while Lily washed the cake-making utensils. I re-polished Mother’s silver candlesticks and counted the already-counted crystal goblets that stood in waiting formation on the buffet table in the dining room.

At last, Father Frontenac emerged, his eyes bright. “Tell him to come in,” he said tersely and disappeared back into the study.

I stepped out on the front porch and waved to the car parked at the curb. The man who responded to my beckoning gesture was not the self-assured Steve Trechere, prosperous real estate mogul and Millionaire from Montreal. No longer did he bear the slightest resemblance to the jaunty Louis Jourdan. Even before he was halfway up the sidewalk, he had his hat in his hand. In the other hand, he carried a nosegay of pink baby roses. The desperate, anxious look in his eyes caused answering tears to spring into my own, and I blew my nose as the study door closed behind him.

“What on earth is going on here?” Lily demanded behind me. She held two stemmed glasses in her hand and thrust one at me. “Here. It’s ginger ale. I helped myself from the six cases you have out on the back porch. Marie says she got a good deal on it. Wasn’t that your millionaire friend?” she asked, her eyes bright. She glanced in the hall mirror. “Oh, look at that! All my lipstick’s worn off. Where’s my purse?”

“Yes, that was Steve Trechere, but I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to explain why he’s here,” I said stiffly.

“Well, excuse me all to the hot place!” Gazing in the mirror, Lily applied lipstick liberally and mashed her lips together. “There, that’s better. Boy, I’m bushed. Come on, let’s take a break.”

She headed for the parlor and I followed, tossing uneasy glances over my shoulder down the hallway lest anyone should emerge from the office.

Lily pulled off her apron and wiped her face on it. “Whew! That Valerie is a real slave driver. I’m glad I won’t have to work here. And don’t even get me started about Marie.” She pulled a tiny box of toothpicks from her purse, extracted one with a delicate gesture and began chewing. “Want one? Mint flavored. Best part is no calories. I gained three pounds with those stupid jellybeans. And those carrot sticks were a nuisance. Somebody actually tried to light one for me in a dark restaurant the other night.” She sighed. “Worst part is I’d still give anything for one of those nasty, stinking, coffin nails.” She thrust the toothpick box forward. “Here, take one.”

“No thanks,” I said, remembering my mother’s strong aversion to the things.

Still, Lily had managed to remain almost completely smokeless for two and a half months. Whatever works.

I took another sip of my ginger ale. “Lily, why are you here? You know Marie’s got everything under control. You should be at home, resting up and getting your hair done for tomorrow.”

“Don’t worry, Amelia, I’m quite aware of my duties as matron of honor. My beauty will approach, but not exceed, that of the bride; I will patiently hold your bouquet during the ceremony; I will keep the groom’s ring warmly and safely stashed in my ample—”

“No, what I mean is, why aren’t you at home? You can’t be having any fun here.”

Lily leaned forward and looked in the direction of the study door. She batted her eyelashes.

“Don’t be too sure. No, really, Amelia, I’m just hanging out here to get away from my one-man fan club.”

“But I thought you liked Alec.”

She lay back and massaged her eyes with thumb and forefinger. Her toothpick bobbed rapidly in the corner of her mouth.

“
Like
is such a strong word. Tolerated, perhaps. Endured, certainly. But it’s all become so tiresome.”

I was reminded of Marlene Dietrich, languidly singing about how men cluster round her like moths around a flame.

“You didn’t seem to think it tiresome when he took you to see the road company of
Wicked.
Or night-clubbing in Montreal. Or—”

“Okay, we had a good time there for a while.” She sat up. “But irregardless, all that whistling is starting to get to me. And besides, he overstepped the bounds of good taste.”

I was so astonished, I forgot to correct Lily’s wording. Sweet, gentlemanly Alec, overcome with passion to the point of boorishness? I just couldn’t picture it.

“Lily!” I said breathlessly. “What did he do?”

She pulled her toothpick from the corner of her mouth and snapped it in half. “He proposed! Ring in the little velvet box, bended knee, the whole nine yards.”

“And that offended you?”

“Not that, exactly, but I just don’t find him . . . that is, he just doesn’t make me . . . he doesn’t ring my chimes, okay?” She frowned. “Stop looking at me that way. It’s not like you think. The guy has been such a perfect gentleman he never even kissed me goodnight. All we’ve ever done is hold hands.”

I sighed. “Poor Alec.”

“I don’t know why you keep sticking up for him all the time. If I didn’t know better, I’d think Gil ought to be jealous.”

I smiled, but didn’t answer. Lily was partly right. Alec and I had become closer friends ever since I had confided in him about my strange experience in the lake.

“You know, Alec,” I’d told him cautiously, after we ran through the salient facts, “I think my experience in the lake was a little, um, different from Lily’s.”

Alec had stopped taking notes, raised one shaggy eyebrow, and scratched his head with his pencil. “By that, I take it yours isn’t fiction?”

“What do you mean?”

“You know precisely what I mean.” He laughed. “Don’t look so surprised. She never fooled me with that ‘woo-eee’ business.”

“But why—I mean, it’s such a rotten trick—why do you—”

“Why do I pretend to believe her?” He turned to a blank page and began doodling in his notebook, sketching a cartoon. “Well, Miss Amelia, y’may have noticed that I have a bit of a soft spot for the lady.” I watched his pencil move. He sketched a long, dinosaur body with a curving tail. “And in the best tradition of unrequited love . . . ” He added a long neck and topped it with a small, simpering face. “I take my opportunities where I can . . . ” In the monster’s flippers he put a tiny bow and arrow. “And in this way, you might say, my monster becomes . . . ” He drew in a pair of ridiculously tiny wings and held the pad out to me. “ . . . my own personal Cupid.”

“Poor Alec,” I said again, remembering the wistfulness in his eyes. I blinked away the memory.

“Don’t ‘poor Alec’ me, Amelia,” Lily said. She located her coat on the parlor coat rack and pulled it on. “I’ve given that man some of the best weeks of my life. But don’t worry. I’ll let him down easy.” She heaved her purse strap over her shoulder and headed for the door. “Gotta go. I’m getting my hair done at Gladys’s.”

I looked at the china clock on the mantelpiece. “Oh, gosh, so am I! And I’m already ten minutes late. May I ride with you?”

By the time I got back from the hairdresser’s, everyone had left—Marie, Etienne, Valerie, Father Frontenac, the plumber. Everyone’s car was gone from the newly-paved parking lot behind the house. Standing there now was a huge Winnebago with Florida plates.

I walked around to the front. A handsome, hand-painted sign declared that Chez Prentice was a Victorian Bed and Breakfast. I ascended the front steps, which were now rock-solid. Workmen had repaired the porch swing and we had left it out for appearance’s sake, despite the fact that it would be too cold out to enjoy swinging for the next few months.

A woman was sitting on it.

“Hello, Barb,” I said, and joined her on the swing. “I saw your bus out back.”

“Hello, yourself, Mel,” said my sister, hugging me. “Frank’s upstairs asleep. The trip wiped him out. Kevin and Trudy went out for pizza. The twins send their love, but they have finals at Auburn and couldn’t make it. That lady who was working in the kitchen said you’d be back soon, so I thought I’d meet you.”

I took her hand and squeezed it. “I’m glad you did. It was nice to find you here.”

We sat in silence for a minute, swinging.

“You’re going to go through with it, then?”

I waited a few swings before answering. “Yes.”

“You love him and everything?”

“Yes.”

“Well. That’s good. You’ll be happy. Gil’s a nice guy.”

“Yes, he is. Mother always liked him.”

“She did, didn’t she? Wouldn’t she just love this?” Barbara smiled, then shivered. “Darn! I forgot how cold it gets up here. I’m going inside.”

“I’ll stay here a minute more,” I said, adding, “I’m glad you’re here.”

Barbara kissed my cheek. “So am I, baby sister.”

Inside, all was in readiness for the reception. Poinsettias were everywhere. In the parlor, the Christmas tree, decked entirely in antique pastel blown-glass ornaments, smelled wonderful.

I cast an anxious glance at the now-empty office. What had happened to Marie and Etienne? I glanced at the telephone, but decided to wait. If the outcome had been a bad one, I just didn’t want to know tonight. I moved on.

A protective sheet lay over the buffet table, and I knew that the new restaurant-size refrigerator was filled with trays of tiny canapés. Above the door to the parlor, someone had hung a plump ball of mistletoe.

“Well, Mother,” I whispered, “your prayer was answered. I’m not going to be alone any more. Boy, am I not going to be alone!”

The telephone rang.

“Hello, my darling,” I answered.

“How do you do that?” said Gil.

“That’s my secret.”

“We’re going to be married tomorrow. There should be no secrets between us. Come on, honey, give. Or is that what you say to everybody?”

“It’s so simple, I’m surprised you haven’t figured it out. Etienne bought one of those caller I.D. gadgets. It says your name right here.”

“Are we being recorded too?”

“No,” I said and laughed. “Where’s your best man?”