by Jeff Shelby
“We just did the menu with Mikey,” I reminded him.
“I know. But I could call him and tell him I changed my mind.”
“To what? What exactly have you changed your mind to?”
Connor shrugged. “I don’t know.” He sighed, and it sounded like a frustrated one. “I just…I want my personal touch on this.”
“On the food?”
“On anything,” he said, exasperated. “This is my wedding, too, you know.”
I felt a pang of sympathy for him. He really was being left out of a lot of the planning, but it wasn’t as though it had been by design. The fact that the entire thing had to be moved up by almost a year, and that we were all scrambling to find people to fill the various roles to pull off the wedding Laura wanted, meant that a lot of sacrifices had to be made.
Connor had clearly wanted to spend time putting together a memorable reception meal, but that just hadn’t been in the cards. And I could tell when we first met with Jackson that he’d wanted more say in the music, but even that had been blown to bits by Luke’s arrival and his subsequent announcement that he and Midnight Robot would be providing the day’s entertainment.
So, no, I didn’t fault him for how he was feeling.
But I also knew we were less than three days out, and decisions that had already been made needed to stay made.
My phone buzzed from inside my purse and I reached down, encountering Connor’s leg as I fumbled to try and find my bag. He handed it to me and I dug out the phone.
It was Declan.
Crap. He was probably calling to make sure the mattresses were in okay condition.
“Hey,” I said. “I haven’t actually had a chance to get anything inflated yet.”
“What?”
“The mattresses. I told you I’d let you know when I got them set up. If they had any holes or leaks.”
“Oh, right.” He sounded distracted. “Say, I think I have something you should take a look at.”
I frowned. “You do?” I noted where we were on the road, less than a minute from entering Latney. “I should be home in about ten minutes.”
“Are you in town?”
“Almost,” I said. “I’m driving back from Winslow now.”
“Don’t go home,” he said. “Come to St. Simon’s.”
My frown deepened. “What’s going on?”
“Just come to the church. I’ll be here.”
He ended the call.
“What was that all about?” Connor asked.
I kept my phone in my hand and held the steering wheel with the other. “I don’t really know.”
“Who was it?”
“Declan. He wants us to stop by the church.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know,” I said slowly.
The woods lining the road gave way to acres of corn, and the beautifully restored steeple on St. Simon’s came into view.
“But we’re going to find out.”
EIGHTEEN
Declan was standing in the vestibule waiting for us.
He greeted us both with a smile, but I noticed the flicker of surprise when I walked through the door with Connor.
“Connor came with me to the Cow & Vine to make arrangements for the reception,” I told him.
Declan nodded, still smiling. “And how did that go?”
I waited for Connor to reply. When he didn’t offer anything immediately, I said. “It went really well. Mikey is going to be serving sliders and a whole bunch of appetizers. And local wines, too.”
“That sounds perfect,” Declan said.
I didn’t tell him about how the trip to the restaurant had ended, with Sheriff Lewis telling us Drew’s death had been ruled a homicide and that I was conveniently his prime suspect.
There was a moment of silence and I fingered the strap on my purse, wondering what was so important that Declan had needed me to come directly to the church.
And if having Connor there was now making it impossible to discuss.
Declan cleared his throat. “So I’m sure you’re wondering why I asked you to come here.”
I gave a slight nod.
“I was in the sanctuary with Ralph. He’s a parishioner who helps out with maintenance,” he provided helpfully.
I knew the man’s name but couldn’t quite picture him. I chalked that up to the fact that I barely came for services, which was when I assumed maintenance would be on hand, cleaning before and after each church event.
Declan continued. “Drew had left his drums in the sanctuary—with my permission, of course,” he added quickly. “I knew it would be difficult to assemble and then take them down over and over again, and since the wedding in scheduled for Saturday, I knew they’d be out of here in time for Sunday services.”
This sounded like something Declan would do. He wasn’t just helpful to me; he was like that with everyone, even people he’d just met.
“At any rate, after what happened…” His voice trailed off. “Well, Ralph and I weren’t quite sure what to do with the drums.”
I didn’t know where he was going with this, but he had definitely piqued my interest. Connor, on the other hand, looked decidedly uncomfortable. He stood close to the door, almost as if he wanted to make a run for it.
“So did you remove them?”
Declan’s expression clouded. “Not yet.”
“Why not?”
He started toward the closed doors that led to the sanctuary, motioning for us to follow. “Come and see for yourself.”
I followed him down the carpeted walkway that led to the altar. The drums were still set up, just as Declan had said, off to the right of the pulpit.
He climbed the wide trio of steps that led to the altar and positioned himself next to the drum kit. He stared down at it.
I couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary from where I was standing. It was a drum kit. Nothing special, at least by the looks of it, but it wasn’t as though I was an expert when it came to musical instruments.
“What?” I asked, stepping closer.
Declan pointed.
I peered at the drums. “What am I looking at?”
Declan put his finger on the head of what I was pretty sure was the snare drum. And then he pushed down.
The head dipped, revealing a long, thin slice in the plastic.
I gaped at the hole and then looked at Declan. “What happened?”
He shrugged. “No idea. It was like this when we found it.”
“Could that have been from normal wear and tear?” I reached out my own finger and tested the surface.
“Maybe.” Declan sounded doubtful. “And that might explain one ripped drum. But then there’s this…”
And he proceeded to show me how each and every drum head had been sliced by…something.
“This looks like someone did it on purpose,” I said, frowning.
“I thought the same thing,” Declan said. He sighed. “Do you think this might be related to Drew’s death?”
“What do you mean?” I asked cautiously.
He pressed his lips together. “Melvin told me he was…murdered.”
I nodded. So Declan knew this already.
I studied the drums, thinking. “It’s certainly possible. I mean, people don’t just go around randomly slashing drums, do they?”
“I wouldn’t think so,” Declan responded. He rubbed at the corners of his eyes. “And I doubt a member of this congregation would do something like that. It seems…highly unlikely.”
I glanced around the sanctuary. Connor was a few feet away, a look of concern on his face. He hadn’t mounted the steps, opting to stand in front of the first row of pews instead.
I turned my attention back to the damaged drum set. I hadn’t spoken with much conviction when Declan asked me if I thought the vandalism was related to Drew’s death, but honestly? I couldn’t see how it wouldn’t be.
It was clear that someone had been upset with Drew…upset enough to destroy
his musical equipment.
But did that mean that same someone was angry enough to kill him?
I rolled my eyes.
Of course it did.
He’d been found with an electrical cord wrapped around his neck. At least according to the sheriff’s version of events.
The sheriff.
I flinched.
Declan would have to share this bit of news with Sheriff Lewis. It could be evidence—not that he would have a clue as to what to do with it.
“Rainy?”
I looked at Declan.
He was watching me, his hands now on his hips, looking as though he was waiting for direction.
I knew what I needed to tell him.
To call the sheriff and let him know what he’d found.
But my mind was elsewhere. I was already circling back to the startling thought I’d had at Mikey’s, after the sheriff had left and I started really thinking about the ramification of his visit and what he intended to do.
I’d immediately gone to the fact that everyone currently under my roof was a suspect, at least in Sheriff Lewis’s eyes.
And the one person who was probably the biggest suspect had gotten into several loud verbal arguments with Drew. Arguments that had occurred right where I was standing.
I swallowed hard.
Luke didn’t have a horrible temper, but he could explode when pushed too close to the edge. And Drew had definitely done that during Tuesday night’s practice. Connor and I both had been witnesses to that; at least auditory witnesses.
I folded my arms, already feeling defensive as I tried to rationalize whether my son could really be involved in any of this. Memories flashed back in my mind, to the time that Luke had been a prime suspect when drugs were found on Gunnar’s property. Despite the fact that I knew my son, knew that he wouldn’t be involved in such a thing, I’d still harbored doubts.
It was the same thing I was doing now.
Part of me was convinced that Luke had nothing to do with Drew’s death. It was absurd to even think about.
But what if he did?
Try as I might, I couldn’t discount the facts.
And right now, the facts suggested that Luke was suspect number one.
NINETEEN
Connor and I were silent on the ride home from St. Simon’s. Declan had reluctantly agreed to let the sheriff know about the drums, but hadn’t mentioned when he’d give him a head’s up. I’d told him I would keep him posted if I found out anything new.
My stomach had turned itself into knots, wondering if the information I might share at a future date would involve the news that my son had somehow been responsible.
In fact, the worry and fear over Luke’s potential involvement consumed me the entire ride home. And judging from Connor’s silence, he wasn’t in any mood to talk, either.
We parked the car and headed into the house, where Laura was waiting for us.
A very upset, slightly deranged Laura.
I immediately panicked. What did she know? Had she found some other connection that linked Luke to Drew’s death?
“You’re never going to believe what has happened,” she wailed.
Connor was by her side immediately. “What’s wrong?”
She threw herself onto the couch. “Kate had her baby!”
I set my purse down on the coffee table and perched on the cushion next to her. Connor was sitting on the armrest, his own arm wrapped around her shoulder.
“What?” I was a little bewildered.
“Kate,” she repeated. Her eyes were bright with tears. “My bridesmaid!”
Of course. The Kate she worked with at school, the Kate who had filmed Connor’s proposal at the school assembly just a few months back.
“Well, that’s exciting news,” I offered. “Did she have a boy or girl?”
“A girl.” Laura’s eyes shot daggers at me. “But don’t you see?”
I did not.
“She was supposed to be my maid of honor!” she practically screeched. “And now she’s gone and had her baby and I don’t have a single bridesmaid to stand up with me. Because we were only going to have one, and now I have none!” She threw her head back. “I can’t believe she went and had her baby three days before my wedding!”
She dissolved into a fit of tears and Connor shot a worried glance in my direction.
I bit back what I wanted to say, because I knew me chastising Laura over her rather selfish reaction wouldn’t exactly go over well. She was too far gone at the moment.
“I can see how that might be upsetting,” I said, with what I hoped was a sympathetic smile. “But I can stand in as your maid of honor, honey. In fact, it would be an honor.”
Laura sniffled. “You can’t.”
“Why not?”
“You’re already the mother of the bride. You can’t have two roles.”
Connor gave Laura’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Why don’t we ask Rachel?”
“Who’s Rachel?” Laura and I asked simultaneously.
“Joshua’s wife,” he told us.
I was still confused. “And who is Joshua?”
“My best man.”
But Laura was already shaking her head. “No.”
“Why not?” Connor asked. “She’s coming to the wedding already.”
“Because she’s not my friend,” Laura told him.
“You don’t have many friends,” Connor said.
But then when Laura whirled on him, her face contorting with rage, he quickly added, “Because you work so much. You just don’t have much time to spend with friends or make new ones. You tell me that all the time. It’s not a reflection of you…”
Laura stood up, brushing his arm off her. “I…I just really need to be alone right now.” Her breath caught in her throat and she hurried to the stairs, taking them two at a time as she headed toward the room they were sharing.
Connor waited a beat before racing up the stairs after her.
I slumped against the couch.
With every fire we put out in regards to this wedding, it seemed as though two more ignited.
I felt bad for Laura. Having her maid of honor suddenly unable to attend was bound to be a huge disappointment for her. But, to be fair, Kate hadn’t known the wedding was going to be moved up, and she certainly didn’t have any control as to when her baby was going to be born.
That was just the way things happened sometimes.
No one’s fault.
Footsteps from the hallway caught my attention and I glanced in that direction, waiting to see who popped into the living room. With a houseful of guests, it could have been anyone.
Luke appeared, wearing sweats and a t-shirt and carrying a bag of chips.
“Is the coast clear?” he asked, grinning. “I heard Laura going on about something.”
I closed my eyes and nodded.
“No one else is in the house, thank God,” he said as he popped a chip in his mouth. “They’d probably all run away screaming if they’d heard that outburst.”
I ignored his comments. “Where are Billie and Sunny?”
He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Outside somewhere. They said they were going to go and explore the property.”
I had visions of Billie pushing her walker and getting snagged on a tree root, landing face-first in the dirt, or tumbling into the small pond at the back of the acreage. I said a silent prayer that they would stay safe, because the last thing I needed was having more dead bodies show up on my property.
“You okay?”
Luke was speaking to me, and I saw a shadow of concern in his eyes.
It was the opening I needed, even if I didn’t want to take it.
I took a deep breath. “I have some questions for you.”
His face lit up in amusement. “No, I will not be Laura’s bridesmaid.”
If it had been any other day—or under different circumstances—I would have laughed. It was a typical Luke thing to say.
&nb
sp; But this wasn’t a normal day.
And these definitely weren’t normal circumstances.
The front door opened then, and we both turned to see who was coming inside.
It was Jackson, who looked a little sheepish as his gaze traveled across the room. He obviously saw that he was interrupting. “Sorry,” he said, his cheeks coloring. “I thought about knocking but figured it would be just as easy to poke my head in here and call out for someone.”
“That’s okay,” I told him. “What’s up?”
“I was going to go ahead and mow the lawn, if that’s alright with you,” he said. “And I brought some spray to keep the mosquitos down. Figured I could leave it here and then spray Saturday morning.”
I smiled. He really was a thoughtful guy. “That would be great.”
He responded with an answering smile. “Great. Also, there’s a tree out back that has some low hanging branches. Want me to get those trimmed up? I brought along my chainsaw.”
“If you don’t mind, that would be terrific.”
Jackson shook his head. “Don’t mind at all. That’s why I was offering.” He tipped his head. “I’ll go ahead and get started. Sorry for interrupting.”
“Nothing to be sorry about,” I told him as he waved and stepped back onto the porch.
Luke grinned at me as soon as the door closed. “He’s like a Boy Friday or something.” When I gave him a confused look, he added, “You know, like a Girl Friday but a guy. Isn’t that what they used to call people who did all the small jobs? I swear I heard that in a movie.”
“You did,” I said. “But it usually refers to someone in an office, not someone doing yard work.”
Luke shrugged. “Same difference.”
He ate another chip and waited, giving me the opportunity to ask him my questions.
But I didn’t. At least not right away.
I hated that the tone of our conversation was going to change. But I had questions that needed answering, questions that would continue to eat at me unless I got them off my chest.
“Sit,” I ordered, in a far harsher voice than I’d intended.
“Yes, ma’am.” He flopped down on the couch next to me. “You said you have questions. Shoot.”