Newlywed Dead (19 page)

“Yikes!”

“I know,” I said. “He says it's insured. I bumped up my insurance as well. I had to put it in my home safe overnight until I could get it to the bank and put it in my safe-deposit box. I plan on pulling it out just before their surprise engagement. That way the chances of losing it are small.”

“Pepper, a ring like that might mean little to these people, but losing it could bankrupt you.”

“It's okay, Mom. Brad and Jen's engagement is tomorrow.
I'm using Samantha Lyn's engagement as a cover for the real engagement of Brad and Jen.”

“Well, that's confusing,” Mom said with a frown. “So is Samantha Lyn getting engaged or not?”

“Yes, Clark is proposing,” I said. “After Brad and Jen. It will make it appear more spontaneous. Anyway, I have told Jen that I need her to come and help it feel like another society event. Jen knows Mrs. Fulcrum. Mrs. Fulcrum sponsored Jen getting into her sorority at college . . . Wait!” I snapped my fingers. “That's where I know that fraternity name from. Mrs. Fulcrum is an active alumnus.”

“What fraternity?” Mom asked.

“There's this mysterious cloth banner that Ashley's mom found in her things at school after the shooting. It has the Greek letters Xi Omicron Mu on it. I did some checking. Xi Omicron Mu is a coed fraternity. Mrs. Klein told me that she put it in the scrapbook of things that sometimes triggered memories for Ashley. I bet Mrs. Fulcrum knew Ashley through that fraternity.”

“Did Ashley belong to the fraternity?”

“No,” I said, “but I'm telling you there is something suspicious about those moms.”

“You can't prove anything on suspicion,” Mom said.

“Now you sound like Detective Murphy,” I said, and frowned. “There's a connection between Ashley's memory of her shooting and her death. I'm going to find it.”

“But first you have a double engagement party to get through,” Mom pointed out, and sipped her drink. “How are you getting them all to the same event again?”

“I sold it as a fund-raising event,” I said.

“Fund-raising? For what?”

“We're supposed to be raising money for autism awareness.”

“Oh, that's a good cause,” Mom said.

“Yes, I've got flyers up and everything to make it appear as real as possible. It starts at eight
P.M.
with drinks and an ice buffet, then at nine
P.M.
there will be a fireworks show through the glass ceiling. I've got a big screen that will come down. I plan on positioning Brad behind it with the ring. Then we'll play music and light up the screen so all you see is his shadow as he gets down on one knee. He'll wear a microphone and his voice will play over the speakers as he asks Jen to marry him. Then I plan on lifting the screen enough for Brad to step out to hear Jen's answer. Meanwhile, behind them will be a display of pictures of their courtship and their childhoods.”

“Wait, so no engagement dinner this time?”

“No,” I said with a shake of my head. “The family and friends have been invited as part of the party crowd.”

“And what about the kids? Won't their moms expect Clark to propose?”

“Yeah,” I said. “I plan on fireworks to go off twenty minutes after Brad proposes and then Clark will get up on the ice stage and propose to Samantha Lyn. It won't be as dramatic as Brad and Jen, but it will be youthful and fun for the kids.”

“So you'll get a two-for-one,” Mom said.

“Yes, but this time Samantha and Clark's families and
friends will be there along with Jen and Brad's. They are all invited to the fund-raiser, and so I have an engagement reception planned for them following the proposal.”

“That sounds like a lot of work,” Mom said, and sipped her coffee.

“I'm up for it,” I said.

“I know you are, dear, I know you are. Isn't it great that everyone involved runs in the same circles? I mean, they all belong to the country club. They all attend the same fund-raisers and they all know each other. It makes it helpful when planning two proposals in one night.”

“Yes,” I said. “Funny how small the world gets when you're at a certain income level.”

“Well, we will make sure Felicity's world doesn't get too involved in all the rich people drama, won't we?”

I laughed. “Yes, I'll be happy to keep my baby sister's feet on the ground.”

“Speaking of Felicity, your dad and I are planning a very small welcome-back dinner party at our house next Sunday night. It will be just you and Felicity and Warren and Gage. Can you come? We'd like to make a Sunday night tradition out of it.”

I opened my mouth to say I wasn't so sure when she raised her palm to stop me.

“Before you say no, please think about it. We might live nearby, but you girls are building your own lives now. We really want to be a part of it, but we feel if we leave it to chance we'll never see you. Or you'll feel like we're invading your space because we randomly drop by. So we
decided that a regular Sunday dinner was a great way to keep in touch and watch as your lives grow. Especially with Felicity married. We want our grandkids to visit once a week so that they grow up with us in their lives. We feel if we start the tradition now, it will more likely take root. Okay?”

I thought about Detective Murphy and how he wanted so much for his daughter to be a part of his life. I never thought I'd need to schedule visits to my parents, but with Felicity becoming part of high society, perhaps a Sunday night dinner tradition wouldn't be such a bad thing. “Okay,” I said. “I'll be there.”

“What about Gage?”

“I'll call and see if he can make it,” I said. “Since I don't know where we stand on our dating yet . . .”

“This is the perfect time to have that conversation,” Mom said, and looked pretty happy with herself. “Now, let's split a dessert. After all, you have a lot of party planning ahead and you're going to need your energy.”

Putting the fake fund-raiser posters up was easy. I sent out e-mails to everyone from the country club who was invited to my sister's wedding. That way the Fulcrums and Thomsons and Brad and Jen would see it as a society event.

My cell phone rang. I picked up. It was Mrs. Fulcrum.

“Hello, dear,” Mrs. Fulcrum said. “I got the e-mail about the ice party fund-raiser. What a great idea.”

“I agree that it's a good cover for a surprise proposal,” I said. “I'm receiving RSVPs as we speak. People seem to be all for it even though it's last minute.”

“It's because I made some phone calls,” Mrs. Fulcrum said. “I want a full party when Clark proposes to Samantha Lyn. Now, you said there will be fireworks?”

“Sparklers inside,” I said. “The roof is glass over the dance floor, so I've got a company to shoot off a short fifteen-minute color show. I'm so glad the Ice Pit is near the river.”

“It's too cold to start any fires,” Mrs. Fulcrum said. “I'm sure it will be fine. You mentioned costumes?”

“Yes, in the ad I mentioned costumes. I wanted people to know that costumes would be mandatory. They can wear their own, if they prefer. I thought it would be a good time to dust off some of the older furs the ladies have stored. But don't worry, Trinity Prop House will bring in racks of jazz-age costumes. They will be available for use for anyone who doesn't have their own. No one will be allowed entry without an appropriate costume.”

“It sounds delightful,” Mrs. Fulcrum said.

“I also promised the autism society a nice stipend for the use of their name and logo,” I warned her. “That will be added to the bill.”

“It's not a problem dear. In fact, Mr. Fulcrum will be happy to be able to write off any part of this event as a gift to charity.”

“Perfect,” I said. “Wait, one last thing.”

“Make it quick, please.”

“Yes, um, you mentioned that you are a contributing alumnus of Xi Omicron Mu.”

“Yes, and?”

“And the bartender, Ashley, she had a banner with that fraternity's name on it from when she went to Morduray College.”

“So?”

“So, I was wondering if you knew her before she was a bartender?”

“Was she a member of Xi Omicron Mu?” Mrs. Fulcrum asked.

“No—”

“Then no, I wouldn't have any reason to know her other than that she worked the bar at your sister's wedding—which, by the way, was lovely.”

“Thank you,” I said.

“Except for that creature ruining it by overdosing on the premises,” Mrs. Fulcrum added. “Doing drugs and drinking while on duty. If she hadn't died, I would ensure she was fired and banned from bartending at any more events. My children and I should not be subjected to those kinds of people ever. What good is money if it can't keep you from the riffraff?”

“Right.”

“If I were you, I'd ensure all the servers at tomorrow's party are drug tested tomorrow morning. I don't want anyone ruining Clark's proposal. Have I made myself clear?”

“Crystal clear,” I said.

“Good, see you tomorrow,” Mrs. Fulcrum said, and hung up.

I drummed my fingers on my desk. There had to be a link between those moms and Ashley's death. I was missing it. I sighed and thought about ordering drug tests for all the servers. That wasn't going to go over well. Maybe I was trying too hard. Two events in one would work for Jen, but would it work for Samantha Lyn? I cringed at the idea of that poor girl getting engaged to someone she clearly was
not sure of . . . Maybe Jen and Brad's proposal would help Samantha Lyn see that she needed more time. It would put a kink in my perfect record of “Only a Yes!” but I would give that tagline up for Samantha Lyn's happiness.

I thought again about Ashley and what might have happened that fateful night that Kiera was killed and Ashley was left for dead. It happened near the college campus. I went over my notes. Morduray had a small private campus. It was coed with two dorms for men and two dorms for women. There was a sorority row where all the sororities had their homes. Two streets away was a fraternity row where all the frat houses were. The shooting took place in a part of campus that backed up to the sororities. Ashley and Kiera had participated in the homecoming parade and were at the bonfire after. According to Ashley's mother, the police interviewed witnesses who saw both girls leave the parade and head with the crowd toward the bonfire area. But then shortly after the bonfire party started the girls disappeared. They were found in the park near the sorority houses. It was assumed that they were ambushed in the park.

No one saw anything. I would have loved to see pictures of the crime scene but Detective Murphy wouldn't let me. All I had were pictures of the girls at the bonfire and that crowded picture Ashley's mom had shown me.

I wondered if there was some kind of feud between Ashley and Kiera and the fraternity. I decided to send an e-mail off to Ashley's mom to see if she knew why Ashley and Kiera weren't members. Then asked if she remembered any bad blood between the girls and that fraternity. Finally I
ordered a yearbook from that year from a used-bookseller and of course was waiting for the pictures I ordered. Maybe there would be clues in there somewhere. I frowned. It felt like I was stretching.

So I let it go for now. Instead I called the pyrotechnician to make sure the fireworks show was ready and timed correctly. Then I packed up. A trip to the venue was in order. I needed to go over where Gage would set up his tents and his racks of clothes. The Ice Pit was installing a giant screen that would be backlit so that all you saw was Brad's shadow as he got down on one knee.

I arrived at the Ice Pit just as the sun was setting. I hated these long dark days of winter, but the good news was by the time Christmas came the days would start to grow long again. There was something so hopeful about the month of January when the light returned and there was the possibility of sporadic warms spells near the end of the month.

I met the event manager, Stephanie Howell, at the door. She opened it to me and handed me a thick, fake fur coat, hat, and gloves.

“It's kept at twenty degrees inside or the bar and the tables and chairs would melt,” Stephanie explained as I bundled up.

The entire place was coated in ice. It dripped from the ceilings, making long icicles. The chairs were made of thick ice and the tall bar-height tables also were carved from ice. The glasses were ice carved in the shape of highball glasses, wineglasses, and shot glasses. It was the wineglasses that caught my attention. The bowl was perfect and
the stem thin and tapering down to a balanced flat foot. “How do you make these?” I asked.

“They were made by Philip George. They do all the glasses. I think they create a mold and inject it with water—sometimes they add colors to the water like red or blue to accent the stems. Then they freeze them in a super cold freezer and ship them to us on dry ice.”

“Wow,” I said, “just wow.” There were several tables scattered around the room. I did a quick count and realized they were more than adequate to meet the number of guests I was certain would show up.

“Let me show you the dance floor.”

Stephanie led the way through the bar and table area to a glass-roofed area. “We have ice coolers under the floor here. That way if the sun gets too warm, it won't melt the floor. Really the glass top is so that people feel as if they are outside under the stars.”

“That was a big selling point for me. My girl wants to have all the sparkle of the outdoors with all the glamour of the indoors.”

“The band plays in the front on a small stage made out of twenty three-foot blocks of ice. Then the dance floor is eight inches of ice over the top of LED lights that change color in time with the music.”

“Does anyone ever slip and fall?” I took a running step and slid to see how slick the dance floor was.

“No, generally everyone is happy with the ice and is very careful. We ask the girls to put mini chains on the toes of their stilettos to keep from falling.”

“Mini chains?”

“Yes.” She bent her right leg at the knee and showed me the bottom of her shoe. There was an elegant silver toe covering with what looked like tiny teeth. “It helps grip the ice.”

“Nice.”

“We also offer ice skate rentals,” she said. “We don't allow skates on the dance floor but we have an outdoor rink for those who like to skate.” She pointed at a door that led to a well-lit ice rink. A young woman in a red skater dress flew across the ice demonstrating flips and turns like those you see in the Olympics.

“Wow, she's good,” I said as I watched the girl dance elegantly across the ice.

“Gayle is our resident skating expert. She offers lessons and tips to members who want to come in and skate but have never had a lesson.”

“Great. Will she be working tomorrow night?”

“She most certainly will,” the manager said. “Now, if you look up, you'll see the area where the fireworks will be. We can't fire off fireworks to demonstrate, so you'll have to trust me that it's going to be spectacular. We light the roof up with fairy lights before and after the fireworks.” She flipped a switch and I could make out the undulation of the fairy lights in the roof.

“Good, now where are you hanging the big screen?”

“The big screen is right here in front of the band. A simple touch of a button and it will come down. Then the band will play the requested song and you can use our app
on your phone to write something cool across the screen before your man gets down on one knee and proposes.”

“Perfect,” I said. “I've got a simple design with the words ‘Jennifer, will you marry me?'” I showed her the script on my phone. It was bordered with scrolls and a diamond ring.

“That looks great,” Stephanie said. “You can try it now, if you want.” She waved and one of the guys hit a switch that lowered the screen. I put the script into the app and hit “Send.” Within a second the words popped up on the screen, big and bold.

“Nice!”

“She'll be surprised, I'm certain of it.”

“That's what I hope for.”

She made a roll-it-up motion with her hands and the operator turned the projector off and the screen went back up into the ceiling. “Since you're raising money for autism, are you going to open the party to the general public?”

“I think so,” I said. “I've got the go-ahead from Mrs. Fulcrum to do whatever I thought would make the night special.”

“Just don't bring in a flash mob,” Stephanie said. “Too many people all at once can overwhelm the cooling system and we might be dancing in a mud puddle.”

“Got it,” I said. “We'll cap it at two hundred attendees. Do you have room for that many?”

“It's a lot,” she said, and tapped her chin with her long elegant nails. “One fifty would be best.”

“I can up the price and make it feel very exclusive,” I said.

“That might work,” she agreed. “People like to know that they can give a substantial amount to the charity.”

“Tickets will be purchased at the box office,” I said. “That way they can turn anyone away over one fifty. I don't want to cause a scene.”

“I think that's a good idea.”

“It looks like everything is perfect,” I said. “Do you have the tasting menu?”

“Sure, I'll bring it right out,” Stephanie said, and walked away, leaving me to look closely at the venue to ensure it was the perfect fit for a romantic double proposal. Within five minutes, she and a waiter brought out giant trays of tasting foods. She gestured to the waiter to set the tray down on the table to my right. He did, then gave me a nod and walked back to the kitchen.

“These are all icy hors d'oeuvres,” she said. “First, there is seafood on ice. Then there are vegetarian menu items and even gluten-free items. We want to be inclusive of everyone. Food and drink are so important. Go ahead, taste it.”

The little bites were fantastic. All of them were chilled, but with bits of wasabi or chili or jalapeño to give it some heat. “Good.”

“We'll serve them with ice-cold martinis—vodka and gin martinis.”

“There will be kids here under twenty-one,” I said.

“Yes, we have hot chocolate for them as well as virgin chocolate martinis if they want to feel like a grown up.”

“Oh, good,” I said, and my thoughts turned to Samantha
Lyn and Clark. Kids too young to drink alcohol should not be getting married. I sighed.

“Is something the matter?” she asked. “Is there something not to your liking?”

“Oh, no, everything here is perfect, especially on such short notice,” I said. “It's the people at the party that I'm sighing over. One of my proposal couples is too young to drink alcohol. I think they are way too young to get married, but their mothers insist.”