A table covered with one of my gingham cloths had been set up for the entrees. The waitstaff plated a choice of Pepper-Crusted Filet Mignon, Asparagus Tips with Hol landaise, and Duchess Potatoes, or Pan-Seared Salmon with Wild Mushroom Risotto and Parmesan Spinach. Guests stood in line and if police hadn’t been swarming through the yard, it might almost have seemed like a normal wedding buffet.
Mom intercepted me in the sunroom. “What should we do about Jen? We can’t keep her cooped up.” Together we walked up the stairs to my bedroom. I opened the door carefully and peeked inside.
“Mochie has been a perfect kitty,” Jen announced from the bed. She still wore her fancy dress and the tiara. “Hermione was scared at first, but I think she’s okay now.”
Nina looked up from a magazine. “Jen has taken excellent care of them so they wouldn’t be underfoot in the kitchen.”
Mom sat down next to Jen and told her what happened. Turning to me, she said, “Do you think you’d be okay if we packed Jen up and drove home?”
“No!” cried Jen. “Aunt Hannah will need me when they arrest Uncle Craig.”
TWENTY-SEVEN
From
“Ask Natasha”
:
Dear Natasha,
My mother is appalled at the thought of my Papillon at my wedding. He’s my baby, and I can’t marry without him. How can I convince her?
—Pixie’s Mom in Pawley’s Island
Dear Pixie’s Mom,
I understand your mother’s concerns. If you must include your dog, be sure he receives a full spa pampering on the day before the wedding—bath, trim, and painted claws. Sew a special outfit for him that matches your dress. If you’re not an accomplished seamstress, Pixie can be custom-fitted for his wedding attire. Don’t forget the bling. Swarovski crystal jewelry, hairpins, and tiaras dress up any dog. Visit
http:// www.barronshouseoftreasures.com
.
—Natasha
I gulped. Poor Jen had probably overheard far too much of our anti-Craig chatter.
“Why would you think that, honey?” asked Nina.
“Uncle Craig and Stan had a big argument. They were really mad, worse than my mom and dad ever are.”
Mom frowned at her, evidently unaware of problems in my brother’s marriage.
Her little face earnest, Jen continued. “Uncle Craig said he just wanted to live in peace. But Uncle Stan said he should have thought about that a long time ago and it was too late.”
“Where were you when you heard this?” I asked.
“Gramma sent me to the basement for extra paper towels and when I opened the door, I could hear them yelling, so I didn’t go down.”
“Are you sure it was them?”
“I waited in the kitchen and saw them come up. I couldn’t hear everything, but Uncle Stan said something about icing. I didn’t say anything before because it was just an argument, but . . . isn’t that another word for killing?”
Mom clutched Jen and stroked her silky hair, giving me a can-you-believe-this look. “No more TV unless I approve it. We’ll go home as soon as we can, baby.”
“Did you hear them, too?” I asked Mom.
“No,” said Jen. “She was busy telling Humphrey that you still think he’s sexy.”
“What?” I studied Jen doubtfully. Mom had strange ideas sometimes, but she surely wouldn’t say such a thing to Humphrey. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Nina lean forward, a huge grin on her face.
“It’s no big deal, Sophie,” Jen explained with the sophisticated aplomb of a fourth-grader. “Humphrey thinks you love Mars and it’s hopeless for him, so he thought he should get Hannah on the rebound and he kissed her in the shed. But then Craig came back and Hannah dumped Humphrey, but he knew you’d seen him kissing Hannah and thought you wouldn’t like him anymore.”
“That does it. We’re going home. Maybe they can pack a dinner for us downstairs.” Holding Jen close, Mom whispered, “I had no idea she heard all that.”
“I don’t want to go home,” whined Jen. “You promised we would stay the whole weekend. I want to stay with Aunt Sophie.”
“Things are different now. The wedding is over.” Mom flicked dog fur off Jen’s dress and stood. “Pack your bag.”
Jen folded her arms over her chest and averted her eyes.
“Oh, Jen,” sighed Mom. “She didn’t get this stubbornness from our side of the family,” Mom insisted before turning back to Jen. “We’ll go downstairs to have some dinner, but I want you to stay away from the garden shed and the police.”
Jen’s face shone again. “I’ll be very good, but I have to tell Wolf about Craig, okay? Maybe he won’t get into trouble if he killed Stan in self-defense.”
Mom inhaled a deep breath. “What do you know about self-defense? Honestly, I can’t imagine what your parents are thinking when they let you watch adult television programs.”
We left Mochie and Hermione in my bedroom so they wouldn’t be underfoot, and Jen led the way downstairs. Mom pulled me aside for a second and whispered, “She’s a huge fan of Nancy Drew and liable to be inclined to do some sleuthing, so help me keep her out of it.”
“We’ll tell her it’s her job to watch Daisy.” But I never implemented that idea because Hannah reappeared in a pale yellow sheath and grabbed my arm with a strength that made me nervous. What had I done now? She’d taken off the tiara but left her hair in the becoming chignon. All traces of the feted bride had vanished. Even the wedding ring. Belying the tension I could feel in her fingers, she chirped cheerily, “Sophie, I need to borrow you.”
I followed her outside and around to the front of my house. She intertwined her fingers so tightly that her knuckles shone white. “I know I’ve been a pill and that I have no right to ask anything of you after the way I’ve acted. But, oh . . . I can’t believe I’m saying this. When I was getting ready, I looked out the window to check the progress in the backyard and I saw Craig come out of the shed.”
Goose bumps rose on my arms. I stood before my sister, totally confused. Did she want reassurances that Craig must be innocent? Did she want me to tell her what she already knew—that she had to tell Wolf? I took the easiest route and hugged her.
Her head on my shoulder, Hannah half-whispered, half-sobbed, “Did I marry a killer, Sophie?”
My poor sister’s body trembled, and even though we were in open view of anyone passing by, I let her cry on my shoulder to get it out of her system. She lifted her head, and although I suspected that she had indeed married a murderer, the thing that surprised me was how well her makeup had stayed in place. She didn’t even have raccoon eyes. Making a mental note to ask the makeup artist what brand of mascara she’d used on Hannah, I said comfort ingly, “Is there any other reason you’re worried?”
She sniffed, but neither of us had a tissue. Waving her fingers in front of her face like a beauty pageant winner, she said, “Before the wedding, it didn’t mean anything. I didn’t know Stan was in the shed. He was afraid of Stan. I could see it in his eyes. And now he wants to run away. Not even attend the funeral. Like he needs to get out of town.”
How she was able to see anything in that poker face of Craig’s was beyond me.
“You have to help me, Sophie. I can’t face going anywhere with him until I know the truth.”
That was easy enough to accomplish. “We’ll just say that Wolf insists you stay in town until they’ve solved the case.”
Tears welled in her eyes, and she choked out words. “I don’t want to be one of those women who disappears on her honeymoon.”
“Calm down, Hannah.” I admit to the fleeting thought that we could have avoided this mess if she’d only put off the wedding in the first place. But I quickly banished it and said instead, “You’ll stay here with us. We’ll make a little slumber party of it. You and Jen and I can sleep in the family room tonight. We’ll,” I searched for something to say, “make popcorn and watch a funny movie.”
“It’s my wedding night,” she wailed. “How could I possibly explain that to Craig?”
“We’ll think of something.” I said it with false confidence, since I hadn’t the foggiest notion what kind of excuse we could concoct. “But first, you have to inform Wolf.” We dodged around the side of the house and spied Humphrey scuttling ahead of us. I had a hunch he’d been watching. Too bad he hadn’t kept as close an eye on Craig.
Hannah stuck by me like a frightened child as we made our way into the backyard. Mars and Dad watched the police from a safe distance. Near the potting shed, Craig spoke animatedly with the dreadful Detective Kenner, but Wolf came toward Hannah and me as soon as I beckoned to him.
Surprisingly, Hannah kept her emotions in check while she told Wolf what she’d seen. When she finished, I relayed Jen’s story about the argument between Craig and Stan.
Wolf ran a hand over his face. “What is it about your potting shed? Everyone and his brother was in there today. Are you sure of the time, Hannah? Most people don’t seem to be able to remember if they saw someone in the morning or later in the day.”
“Someone must have seen the killer,” I insisted. “The people with the ice bar or—what about the string quartet?”
“None of them noticed anything unusual.”
Hannah swallowed hard. “It was after I went upstairs to get dressed.”
“Was it before or after you shouted down to Natasha and me?”
“After,” she murmured. “Here he comes.”
Craig slid his arm around Hannah, and she stiffened at his touch. “Hannah, darling, I feel like I’ve neglected you. We can’t let this mar the start of our lives together.” He pulled her closer. “The good news is that Detective Kenner has some ideas on the identity of the killer. I don’t think it will be long before they make an arrest. Maybe we can leave for our honeymoon after all.”
I thought Hannah might be sick. “Dad,” I called. “Isn’t it time for you and Hannah to have a bite to eat? Hannah’s looking a little peaked.”
She tensed, but I knew she’d be okay with Dad. Besides, I wanted a minute to speak to Wolf.
My little plan didn’t work. Instead of taking Hannah into the house, Dad and Mars joined us.
“Think whoever did this is the same person who killed Emily?” asked Mars.
If Wolf had any hunches, he didn’t let on, saying only, “It’s too early to tell.”
“It looks to me,” said Craig, “like whoever did it killed Stan in self-defense. After all, Stan had that gun in his hand.”
I couldn’t help wondering if that was what Craig had intended. Had he placed the gun by Stan’s hand after he was dead?
Wolf listened to Craig’s statement passively. “It’s getting dark out here, Sophie. Do you have any spotlights you could turn on?”
Since Dad hadn’t taken my cue, I rescued Hannah myself by asking her to help me turn on lights. She readily agreed and minutes later, the tiny lights on the sunroom ceiling twinkled, along with the festive lights the guys had strung across the backyard earlier in the day.
Hannah met me midyard when we were done. “It’s gorgeous,” she whispered. “Like a garden wonderland. The hotel never would have been so magical.”
“Next time,” I said.
Hannah laughed so hard that tears flowed again. I figured it was cleansing for her.
Mom found us laughing. “Girls! That’s hardly appropriate. Hannah, some of the guests are ready to leave, given the circumstances and all. Would you come cut the cake, please? After what we’ve been through, posing for lots of pictures would be morbid. At least the photographer can get a decent photo of you and Craig cutting the cake. Oh, but you’ve changed out of your dress.”
I could tell Hannah was panicking at the thought of being near Craig with a knife. “Play along,” I said softly. “Mom will be with you every second.”
Mom and Hannah crossed the yard to the cake with Craig, and I strolled over to Wolf. The cops had set up lights inside the shed, and they silhouetted his broad shoulders. I tapped his arm, and he instinctively moved away from the shed with me.
“Hannah’s scared. Craig wants to leave for the honeymoon, and she doesn’t want to go. Could you tell them not to leave?”
“I’m sorry, Sophie. I can ask, but I don’t have the authority to prevent anyone from leaving the area yet.”
“So fake it. If you don’t, I’ll pretend and tell Craig you said so.” Under the romantic lights, thoughts of Stan and Craig faded. Wolf stood close enough for me to smell the fresh scent of soap. I wanted to clarify what he’d seen between Mars and me. I longed for a sign. A hint that things weren’t over between us.
My fingers brushed his in the semidarkness, and I turned my face upward to him.
His expression had been benign when he observed Craig, but I could see a mixture of pain and resignation now. “I have work to do. And you need to figure out what you want.”
Natasha’s shrill trill cut through the dark. “Sophie, we need a hand. Stop flirting with Wolf.”
He winced, and I knew he’d take ribbing for that. I wished we
had
been flirting. “I should get back.”