Newlywed Dead (4 page)

“She wasn't breathing,” I said as I counted out pulses.

“She's still not,” he said, and sat back on his heels. He tore open the kit and pulled out a face mask with a rubber bag attached. “I'm going to try to push air into her lungs in between your counts.”

I nodded. He put the mask over her nose and mouth and squeezed two breaths. Then I continued with compressions.

After what seemed like an hour the EMTs showed up. “You can stop now,” a blond EMT said as he maneuvered in beside me. I raised my hands in the air and then scooted out of the way as they took her vital signs.

“No response,” I heard the blond guy say.

There were two other guys in full gear. A guy with brown hair and blue eyes took over from George while a guy with black hair broke out a defibrillator.

I was startled by a hand on my shoulder. “Come on,
you've done what you could.” It was Whitney. Her face was pale and her eyes large. I let her help me up and away from the men working.

“Here,” George said as he put his coat around my shoulders. “You're shivering.”

Whitney and Kelli helped me over to a chair out of sight of the men at work. The lights were all up full blast in the hall and the remaining people gathered in little clumps talking in hushed tones.

“I was just talking to her,” I said. Tears flowed down my cheeks and I wiped them away. “She seemed like a nice person. You know?”

“Here.” Kelli brought me a handful of tissues. “It's okay.”

“The police are here,” George said. “Thank goodness Warren and Felicity are long gone. What a bummer to learn someone died at your reception.”

“She died?” I looked up at George.

His mouth tightened and he looked away.

“I just heard the EMTs say they couldn't revive her,” Kelli said. She looked tired under the bright lights. I imagine we all looked a little worse for wear. “You did the best you could, Pepper. The best anyone could do.”

“The police want to talk to everyone before we can leave,” Carlton said. His expression appeared tired, his mouth a tight line. “You girls might as well take your coats off. We could be here awhile.”

Whitney and Kelli took off their coats and put them on the backs of chairs. George went in search of bottled water. I wiped my eyes but couldn't stop the tears. “I feel terrible.
She seemed so nice,” I said to Whitney. Then I remembered her headaches. “You know, she did say she was having headaches. I wonder if she had an aneurysm or something.”

“If that's the case there's nothing you could have done,” Whitney said, and patted my shoulder.

A nearby group of people talked in low tones about how horrible it was. I noticed that Clark and an older woman were the first ones to the police when the cops turned to the crowd. “It's too bad about that girl,” I heard the woman say. “But you can't keep us here.” She had her hands on Clark's shoulders. “My husband Douglas is outside in the car waiting. We didn't see anything.”

“Who is that woman?” I asked Whitney. “I think I've met her. Is she one of your invitees?” I drew my eyebrows together.

“Oh, that's Mrs. Fulcrum. She and her husband Douglas have been benefactors to my mother's pet nonprofit project for years. They are huge in the country club set.”

“That's her son, Clark?”

“Yes,” Whitney said, with a shake of her head. “That boy is trouble. He's one of those who just slides by because his parents have money and he thinks he doesn't have to do anything.” Whitney sighed. “The worst part is that his mother lets him. You know? I mean, we have money but my parents made sure that we knew how to be responsible adults.”

“He tried to get Ashley to serve him a martini and she refused.”

“Good for her,” Whitney said. “My mom likes the Fulcrums, but frankly I think they're a little too high and
mighty. And I completely disagree with any parent who lets their kids coast through life. A parent should never spend more time covering for their child than parenting them.”

I nodded my agreement. “My parents believed in consequences. It wasn't always fun but it helped me understand the world better.”

I noticed how Clark had a smirk on his face, as if seeing Ashley dead was just another game. He had his hands in his pockets and craned his neck to see around the first responders. Mrs. Fulcrum wore her fur coat and kept her hands on her son's shoulders. I could no longer hear what she was saying, but it was pretty clear she was giving the police the business about being held up from leaving.

With a calm expression on his face, one officer took notes and then let Mrs. Fulcrum and Clark leave. The next ones in line were Samantha Lyn and her parents, Mr. and Mrs. Thomson. They also seemed to be in a big hurry to leave. Mrs. Thomson looked impatient, as if she wanted to leave with the Fulcrums and the short delay to ask questions was putting her and her family out.

“That girl, I think her name is Samantha Lyn,” I said and nodded toward them. “She's dating Clark, right?”

“Yes,” Whitney said with a shake of her head. “They are so young. I sometimes see them hanging out at the club with their moms. Not that
I
hang around with their moms, but we attend a lot of the same functions. You know, fund-raisers, luncheons, golf and tennis tournaments, that sort of thing.”

“Sure,” I said, completely out of my element but willing to trust Whitney on the subject.

“Samantha Lyn is such a nice girl. Clark, on the other hand, is a piece of work. He's been known to treat the staff poorly. I've seen him spill things on purpose just to make a staff member get down and clean it up. Talk about a bad kid. One time he even hit on me. As if I would ever think about doing anything with a kid ten years younger than me. None of us knows what she's doing with Clark.”

“Except her mom, Mrs. Thomson, is an obvious social climber and doesn't care who knows it. That woman is over the moon that a Fulcrum is dating her daughter,” Kelli said. “It's crazy in this day and age to be proud that your daughter is dating someone from a certain family. I mean, shouldn't she be proud her daughter is majoring in economics? Poor Samantha Lyn, her entire identity's wrapped up in who she's dating.”

“Like I said, she's young. Everything your parents say or do is so important at that age. Some kids want to do nothing but please their folks, while others rebel and do everything to upset them,” Whitney said. “Samantha Lyn seems smart. I'm sure she'll figure it out.”

Next up for questioning were Brad and Jen. It was clear that Jen was too tipsy to know what was really going on. Brad sort of held her upright with an apologetic look on his face. The police officers in charge let them through without a second glance. The hall cleared out steadily as there were only about twenty or so people left at the end of the reception.

“I'm so sorry.” Donna, the wedding planner, rushed over to me and Whitney. “I told them not to keep the guests any
longer than necessary. Please, go next. The waitstaff will be questioned last. I will see to the cleanup and such. I promise. It's part of my duties.”

“As an event planner, I know there was nothing you did to cause this,” I said, and patted her hand.

“I certainly hope this doesn't affect your review of my services,” she said, and chewed on her bottom lip.

“We'll ensure you're reviewed on your work, not this incident,” Whitney said, and patted the poor woman's shoulder.

I stood when it was our turn and gave George back his coat.

“You were the one giving the victim CPR,” the policeman said as we approached the area where they were doing the interviews.

“Yes,” I said. “I'm Pepper Pomeroy. This was my sister's wedding reception.”

The cop looked around. “Are you part of the family who hired her?”

“No,” I said, and shook my head. “My family and the Evanses hired a wedding planner.” I pointed to where Donna stood talking to the country club's catering manager. “Donna took care of all the details.”

“So you didn't know the deceased,” he said as he looked up from his notes.

“I just met her tonight,” I said with a sigh. “She seemed like a nice person.”

“You spoke to her?”

“Yes,” I said, and drew my eyebrows together. “I did spend some time with her after my sister left.”

“Don't you think it's odd for the maid of honor to spend time with a bartender at a wedding?”

I shrugged and gave a small smile. “I'm a proposal planner and she was making these interesting cocktails.”

“So you were talking shop.”

“Yes,” I said, and nodded. Carlton came over and handed me my coat. “Thanks,” I said as I took the coat and folded it over my arm.

“Is everything okay?” he asked me. Carlton had his arm protectively around Whitney's waist.

“This will only take another minute,” the police officer said to Carlton. Carlton and Whitney took a step back. “Now, you were telling me that you talked about cocktails with the bartender.”

“Yes,” I said, and blew out a long breath. At least the tears had stopped flowing. I could imagine how red and splotchy my face was. There were makeup and mascara stains on the tissue in my hand.

“How did she seem?” he asked.

“She seemed fine. I was asking her about different cocktail ideas I thought I might be able to use for one of my events.”

“So she didn't seem drunk or disorderly?”

“No,” I said, and shook my head. I remembered her sharing some of my drinks and weaving. “Wait, she did take some sips of alcohol,” I said, “but not enough to make her
pass out or quit breathing. We just spoke for a while and then she was having coffee.”

“Did she say anything to you that might cause you to suspect she would end up dead?”

“That's a strange question,” I said. “What do you mean?”

“Did she seem at all suicidal? Or scared someone here would hurt her?”

“What? No,” I said with an emphatic shake of my head. “I would have done something if she seemed suicidal. I wouldn't let something like that slip.” I paused. “Although she did say she had a terrible headache all night. She seemed to think it had something to do with an old injury to her head.”

“I see.” The police officer gave me his card. “Listen, if you think of anything else, give me a call.”

“Okay,” I said, and let Kelli and Whitney pull me toward the door where George waited. I glanced over to see the police talking with the paramedics. I had the terrible feeling that there was something they weren't telling us.

“I've called you a cab,” George said, and helped me into my coat. “We're going to head home.”

“Yeah,” Whitney said. “I think we've all had enough excitement for one day. Let's just hope that Warren and Felicity don't hear about this until they come back from their honeymoon.”

I felt my eyes widen. “Oh, I certainly hope so. I'd hate for them to not go on their trip.”

“Don't worry,” George said. “Their flight leaves pretty early tomorrow morning. As long as they don't listen to the news, they'll be fine.”

“I doubt there is anything much to report,” Carlton said. “Besides that a woman collapsed and died at the country club.”

“Gosh, I hope they don't say it like that,” I said. “I'd hate for Felicity to worry.”

“I'm sure Warren and Felicity will be too busy to listen to the news,” Whitney said. “I know I'd be.” She looked at Carlton, who smiled at her knowingly.

We stepped out into the cold clear air and George opened the door to the taxi. “Text Whitney when you get home safe, okay?”

“Okay,” I said as I got into the cab. George closed the door and I waved as the cab pulled out toward my home. I pulled out my phone and thought about texting Gage but it was really late and I didn't want to wake him. Besides, I figured you shouldn't talk about something as horrible as death in something as playful as texts. I put my phone away. It would keep until I saw him the next day.

“Mom, how many people did you invite to brunch?” I asked as I squeezed my way through family, friends, and some people I didn't even know. Mom and Dad had folding chairs set up everywhere. In the corner of the living room was what appeared to be a coffee and tea bar. The dining room table was laden with platters of bacon and ham, heated serving vessels full of scrambled eggs, poached eggs with sauce for eggs Benedict, and Mom's famous egg scramble casserole. There was even a plate of mini skirt steaks. The buffet was covered with platters of donuts, muffins, Danish, English muffins, and pancakes. There was a side table set up with bowls of fresh fruit salad and plates of oranges and grapes and strawberries. Then there
was a table set up with expensive paper plates, silverware, coffee cups, and juice cups.

“Hi, dear,” Mom said as she lifted a pan full of breakfast sausages over the heads of the crowd that flowed into the kitchen. “Can you put this on the dining room table?”

I carefully took the dish from Mom. Luckily I was four inches taller than she was and able to lift the dish above the crowd more easily and squeeze into the room to put the platter on the end of the already overflowing table. The noise was loud. A glance through the dining room windows told me that the crowd had flowed out to the backyard. Music played through the windows that were open an inch. Even though it was cold enough to need coats outside, there were so many people inside my parents' small home that they needed the windows open to keep the air moving.

“Hi, Pepper,” Aunt Sarah said as she wormed her way toward the table with a plate in each hand. “How are you this morning?”

“I'm good. Where's Uncle Bill?”

“He's outside with the kids,” Aunt Sarah said. “He's not too big on crowds.”

“Isn't it cold out there?” I asked.

“Oh no,” my mom's friend Doris said from the other side of me as she spooned eggs on her plate. “Your parents have set up a big tent with tables and chairs and they have those really cool, tall outdoor heaters like you see in Las Vegas. It's quite comfortable.”

“Huh,” I said. “You've been to Las Vegas?”

“Oh, yes. Last year for a wild girls' weekend.” She winked at me and moved into the crowd. Doris was five feet tall and sixty years old. She had a middle-aged figure with a bit of heft around her waist. Today she wore jeans and a sweatshirt embroidered with cardinals across the bodice. I stood for a moment trying to imagine Doris or my mom in Vegas for a girls' weekend. Then I was bumped and pushed toward the dining room, so I went with the flow of the crowd.

I had to hand it to Mom. I didn't think the brunch would be that big of a deal. Right now it looked like there were more people at brunch than at the wedding reception. I grabbed a plate for myself and snagged a couple of donuts and a cup of coffee and wound my way back through the kitchen. Mom was nowhere to be seen, so I assumed she was outside.

I assumed right. The tent was practically the size of the backyard. Dad had set up speakers and was playing his favorite records on the old turntable he kept in the basement. At one point my father had thought he'd be a disc jockey and bought a complete set with two turntables, a microphone, and four giant speakers.

I had to laugh. I bet he'd waited longer than Felicity's twenty-four years to play for a crowd of family and friends. He was currently grooving to some seventies oldies. Mom was in the far corner of the tent flitting from person to person, asking if they were comfortable and thanking them for coming.

“Hey, Pepper.” Aunt Karen called me over to sit at a table with her and Sue.

“Hi, Aunt Karen,” I said, and pressed a kiss on her cheek. “Hi, Aunt Sue,” I said, and kissed Sue's cheek as well. Then I sat down at the round table next to them. The chairs were all folding chairs and the tables were covered in white plastic tablecloths. It was a classic neighborhood party. The only thing missing was the keg. Usually if a party happened anytime near noon there was a keg of beer tapped in a corner somewhere. “There are a lot of people here,” I said.

“I think your mom invited the entire neighborhood plus all her old students,” Aunt Karen said. Aunt Karen was a lovely redhead. Like me, she was tall and thin with a smattering of freckles and a wide smile. Unlike me, her red hair was cut short and the curls managed with gel. Her blue eyes sparkled. Aunt Sue was also tall, but she had wide shoulders, a broad face, short salt and pepper hair, and happy green eyes. Aunt Sue was quiet while Aunt Karen was vivacious and outgoing. “By the way, this is our friend, Laura.” Aunt Karen pointed at a lovely brunette beside Aunt Sue.

“Hi, Laura,” I said. Putting my donuts down on the table, I reached out and shook Laura's hand. “Welcome to the madness that is our family.”

Just as I said that, Aunt Sarah's two teenage boys came racing through the tables chasing each other. “Watch out!” someone called. One of the boys pushed the other into the side of the tent. My dad was fast. He grabbed both boys by the backs of their shirts and had them out into the cold before we could even understand what happened.

“Wow, that man is good,” Laura said.

“That's my dad,” I said proudly. “He didn't have any
sons, so he volunteers as a coach for the intramural lacrosse and hockey teams. He knows his way around rambunctious boys.”

“Yeah, your dad's one of the good guys,” Sue said with a soft smile.

“Thanks,” I said, and swigged my coffee. “It's too bad Felicity isn't here to see this,” I said.

“I was surprised the happy couple didn't make a showing,” Aunt Karen said.

“Felicity wanted to,” I said, “but their cruise starts at noon today and Mom and Dad said that the brunch was just going to be a small thing for the family members from out of town.” I glanced around. “That's sort of gotten out of hand.”

“You think?” Karen said with a twinkle in her eye. “I see even Warren's parents came.”

I followed her gaze to see the wealthy Evanses in the corner talking with my mother. They were dressed for a country club brunch. Mrs. Evans wore a deep purple sheath dress and Christian Louboutin pumps. She had a cream pashmina with purple violets embroidered on it wrapped around her shoulders. Mr. Evans was an older version of Warren. He had a full head of hair with gray at the temples, cut short on the sides and long on top in that preppy way. He wore a gray suit coat, black slacks, and a pale blue shirt with a blue and red striped tie. They looked perfectly comfortable outside under a tent, eating off of paper plates with plastic silverware. I shook my head. Warren's family never ceased to amaze me.

“Yeah, Warren's family is great—unlike some of their friends,” I said, and shook my head.

“So is it true?” Aunt Karen asked.

“Is what true?”

“Did a girl die last night at the reception?” Aunt Karen said in a stage whisper.

“Yes,” I said, and wrapped my hands around my coffee cup. “I tried CPR until the paramedics came but they couldn't revive her. It makes me really glad that Felicity and Warren are on their honeymoon. I hope they don't find out until they get back.”

“Oops, looks like they haven't left yet,” Aunt Sue said, and pointed toward the door to the tent.

I turned to see my sister and Warren making an appearance. They both glowed with happiness. “Don't tell them, okay?” I said, and stood to intercept them.

I hurried to her and gave her a hug and a kiss. “Hi, I thought you guys would be long gone.”

Felicity blushed. “Warren's going to helicopter us out to the ship.”

“We didn't want to miss the brunch,” Warren said. “Look at all the work your mom went to for the family. The least we could do is come.”

At that moment my father played a rock guitar version of “Here Comes the Bride” on his turntables. “Ladies and gentlemen, let me introduce Mr. and Mrs. Warren Evans,” my dad said into the microphone. The entire tent erupted into clapping and cheering. My mom rushed over and gave them both hugs and kisses.

“You are missing your honeymoon,” she scolded, but it was clear she was pleased as punch that they had come anyway.

“We couldn't miss it,” Warren said. “The place looks fantastic.”

“Thanks,” Mom said, and blushed.

“I get my event planning genes from Mom,” I said. Dad came over and gave them both hugs as well and then I was pushed aside as a line formed. Everyone was here because of Warren and Felicity and wanted to celebrate them. I made my way back to my half-eaten donuts and cold coffee and sat down at the table. Aunt Karen and Sue had left to greet the happy couple, so I sat closer to Laura.

“So, Laura,” I said. “Tell me about yourself.”

“What do you want to know?”

“What do you do for a living?” I narrowed down my choices.

“I'm a pharmacist,” she said. “In other words, I count pills all day.”

“Sounds glamourous.”

“It is,” she said, and winked at me. “I hear you plan elaborate proposals.”

“And engagement parties,” I said. “I got my start with Warren and Felicity.”

“Good start,” she said, and sipped her coffee. “So, would you be interested in helping me plan to ask my partner to marry me?”

“Sure,” I said, all business. “What are you thinking about?”

“I want something low-key. The ability to get married is pretty new and I know that she's been thinking about it ever since they passed the same-sex marriage bill in Illinois. But I don't want anything huge and definitely not on YouTube.”

“I can understand that,” I said. “What do you like to do together? Is there anything special? A memory you want to evoke? A first date? The first time you knew you were in love with her?”

Laura sat back and chewed on her bottom lip. “Sure. There's a lot of things.”

“Tell me how you met.”

“I knocked on her door looking to borrow some sugar. I know, it sounds like a cliché, but it really happened. When Monica answered the door I was speechless . . . just speechless. She noticed the empty sugar bowl in my hands, smiled, and asked if I needed sugar. I nodded like a deaf mute and she invited me in for coffee.” She shrugged. “One thing led to another and we've been together ever since.”

“How long have you been dating?”

“Eight years next month.”

“Wow, that is fabulous. Here's my card,” I said, and dug it out of my clutch purse. Normally I put my purse on the kitchen counter at my mom's house, but with the number of people wandering in and out today, I had decided to keep it with me. “Call me on Monday and we'll go over my fees and get more details to figure out what you are looking for in your event. Okay?”

“Yes,” Laura said with a nod and a shy smile. “Thank you.”

“Hey, Pepper, there you are!”

I glanced up to see my new boyfriend Gage walking toward me. My spirits always lifted at the sight of him. He had short, dark brown hair, a chiseled jawline, and blue eyes with thick black lashes that any redhead would envy. Today he'd dressed for brunch in a pale blue dress shirt and dark brown slacks with brown shoes. He had his coat thrown over his arm, so he must have come straight from his car.

“Gage!” I rushed over and gave him a hug and a kiss. “I didn't expect you. How's your mother?”

“She's good. She's home and in her favorite chair with a blanket, a pitcher of water, and a stack of cozy mystery novels.” Gage hugged me hard. “She said I should come, and so here I am.”

“I'm so glad. This place is a madhouse.”

He laughed and looked around. “Yes, it is.”

“And yet, I missed you.” I brushed another kiss on his cheek. “Do you want something to eat?”

“Maybe in a bit,” he said. “First let me go congratulate Felicity and Warren.”

“Oh, yes, of course,” I said. We wormed our way through the thinning crowd around the happy couple.

“Gage!” Felicity said, and hugged my boyfriend. “I'm glad you came. How's your mom?”

“She's good. She told me to come, so don't think I ditched her or anything,” Gage said.

Felicity smiled. My sister was a gorgeous blonde, petite and curvy in all the right places. When she smiled the entire room lit up.

“Good to see you, Gage,” Warren said, and clasped Gage's hand. “Good to hear your mom is on the mend.”

“Thanks,” Gage said. “Congratulations, you two. I thought you were headed off to a cruise this morning.”

“Warren got us a helicopter to the ship so that we could come and say a proper good-bye to everyone,” Felicity said. She clearly had stars in her eyes.

“That's great,” Gage said. “It's good to see you. Sorry I missed yesterday.”

“Oh, a lot of people missed the good stuff,” Uncle Bill said, approaching us. “If they didn't stay to the end.” He nodded solemnly.

“Why, what happened?” Felicity asked. “Did Aunt Sarah get drunk?” She winked at my aunt.