“You don’t say,” Aunt Peg remarked.
“The autopsy did turn up something unusual, however,” Olivia added.
She had our full attention.
“Victor had a very high level of THC in his blood when he died.”
“THC?” I frowned. The letters didn’t mean anything to me.
Aunt Peg was quicker on the uptake. “As in marijuana?”
Olivia nodded. “Bonnie and I were as surprised as you are. The detectives questioned us both about it. They wanted to know if Victor was a habitual user.”
“Was he?” I asked, still reeling from this latest revelation.
“No. In fact, I can’t imagine anything less likely. Victor was a man who wanted to control any situation he was in. To do that, he needed a clear head. He didn’t drink to excess and he certainly wouldn’t have used drugs.”
“What did the police say to that?” Aunt Peg asked.
“It’s possible he could have been given the drug without his knowledge. Perhaps someone convinced him to ingest something that contained it. The dose was quite large. That much THC would have made Victor drowsy and confused. He also might have felt weak or dizzy.”
Now that was interesting.
“Those things would have made it easy for someone to overpower him,” I pointed out.
“The police concluded the same thing,” Olivia told us. “The crime could have been committed by almost anyone, as long as he or she had sufficient motivation to get the job done.”
“Quite so,” Aunt Peg agreed. “Do they have any suspects?”
“Other than you?” Olivia asked mildly. “I do know there’s a list. The detectives are not inclined to tell me who’s on it. All I know is that Bonnie is anxious for them to finish their investigation so she can lay her son to peace.”
“Amen to that,” Aunt Peg said quietly.
* * *
“What do you make of that?” I asked Aunt Peg on the way home.
Her gaze slid across the front of the minivan to focus on me. Considering the rate of speed at which we were traveling, I’d have preferred if she’d kept her eyes on the road. “Which part?”
“All of it, I guess.”
Olivia had given us a lot to think about.
“The discovery of the THC in Victor’s blood is puzzling to me,” Aunt Peg said. “I quite agree with Olivia that Victor was all about being in charge. I don’t doubt for a minute that he would shun the use of recreational drugs.”
“So someone slipped him something.”
“It appears so. I’m guessing it was someone he knew. I doubt Victor would have accepted the food or drink otherwise.”
“The drug could have been put in his drink when he wasn’t looking,” I pointed out. “Westminster was very crowded. Maybe Victor was socializing in one of the bars. Someone steps over and jostles him . . . and voila.”
“It would have taken planning to pull that together.” Aunt Peg was thinking out loud. “And probably someone who was familiar with Victor and his habits. Let’s not forget that having drugged him, the killer would then have needed to maneuver Victor away from the crowds to a secluded area. Even if he was feeling fuzzy—perhaps especially if he wasn’t quite right—Victor wouldn’t have gone with someone he didn’t trust.”
“Speaking of trust,” I said, “I feel sorry for Olivia. She tried to help Victor. Then he used her money to create something he knew she would be morally and ethically opposed to. That must have come as a real blow.”
Aunt Peg slanted me another look. “Are you trying to make a case for adding her to your list of suspects?”
“No.” I frowned. “Not really. You?”
She shook her head. “Aside from the fact that Olivia doesn’t have the physical strength to accomplish what was done, I have known her for years. Olivia doesn’t have a devious bone in her body.”
“You say that now,” I retorted. “I nearly fell off my chair when you accused her of knowing who had given your name to the police.”
“I just wanted to shake things up a little, that’s all.”
“Well, you succeeded in that.”
Aunt Peg looked inordinately pleased with herself. “I’d say this was quite a successful outing. Tomorrow we’ll regroup and try again.”
“Tomorrow?” I said, surprised. I had plans for the next day. Plans I had no intention of changing. “What are you talking about?”
“Crawford and Terry’s wedding, of course. I’m sure the event will draw quite a crowd. Who knows who might turn up?”
“You’re not going to interrogate the guests,” I told her.
“Why not?”
“Because it’s a wedding. A celebration of Crawford and Terry’s long relationship and their devotion to one another. It would be horribly rude if talk of Victor’s death were to intrude on their happiness.”
Seriously, did I even have to point that out?
“Oh pish,” Aunt Peg said. “Crawford and Terry will never know. They’ll be busy doing wedding things. Toasting, and dancing, and whatnot. They won’t have the slightest idea what you and I are up to.”
“What you are up to,” I corrected. “I plan to be a proper guest. I’ll be toasting and dancing, and enjoying myself, along with everyone else.”
“So you say now.” Aunt Peg smiled. “We’ll see how long that lasts.”
* * *
“I’ve never been to a wedding before,” Kevin said that night as I was putting him to bed. “What will I do there?”
Kev was bathed and his teeth were brushed. He had his pajamas on and he was in bed. Bud was under the covers beside him. The two of them had listened to three stories. I had put down the last book and was about to turn off the light.
So of course Kev had chosen that moment to ask his question.
“You don’t have to do anything,” I told him. “You’re a guest. First we’ll watch Crawford and Terry get married. Then there will be a reception afterward. You’ll probably have something to eat.”
“Davey says the getting married part is boring.”
“It’s only boring if you don’t care about the people who are doing it, “I told him.
“I care about Terry,” Kevin said. “He’s my friend.”
“Terry cares about you too. That’s why he invited you. You want Terry to be happy, don’t you?”
Kevin nodded gravely.
“Marrying Crawford is going to make him very happy. The two of them have been together since before you were born. It’s wonderful that they are finally able to make their relationship official.”
Kevin counted back and frowned. “That’s more than five years. What took them so long?”
“They had to wait for a law to change.”
“A marrying law?”
“Yes, a marrying law.” I reached for the light switch once more.
“But you and Dad got married a long time ago.” He was supposed to be nodding off. Instead, Kev’s busy brain was keeping him up.
“Our situation was different,” I told him.
“That’s silly,” said Kev.
“I agree.”
He didn’t speak for a minute. I thought we were finally finished. I turned off the light. The room settled into darkness.
“A girl in my preschool has two dads,” he said. “Will Crawford and Terry have children too?”
“I don’t know. We’ll have to see.”
“I’ll ask Terry tomorrow,” Kevin decided sleepily.
That would certainly liven up the proceedings, I thought. Between Kevin and Aunt Peg, tomorrow’s wedding could turn out to be a memorable event. Even without dancing dogs and armed cupids.
Chapter 22
“I can’t think of a better way to spend Valentine’s Day,” I said happily the next afternoon.
The whole family was in Sam’s SUV. We were on our way to Bedford. Both the wedding, and the reception that followed, were going to be held at Crawford and Terry’s home.
“I can,” Davey grumbl
ed from the backseat.
“Oh?” Sam glanced at him in the rearview mirror. “Did you have a hot date planned for tonight?”
“Nooo!” Davey’s cheeks reddened. He was friends with plenty of girls but he had yet to go on his first real date. “But this will just be a bunch of people standing around talking. There’s nothing interesting about that.”
“Most of them will be dog people,” I pointed out. “It will be like going to a dog show.”
Davey wasn’t impressed by that logic. “Except without the dogs,” he said. “And they’re the best part.”
“You can hang out with me.” Kev reached over and patted his brother’s arm. “We’ll have fun together.”
“Oh yeah? What are you going to be doing?”
“I’m not sure,” Kevin considered. “I think mostly eating cake.”
Crawford’s Bedford Kennels was located on a quiet country lane that was bordered on both sides by mature trees and crumbling stone walls. Though the most recent snowfall had been plowed away, low drifts on either side of the road narrowed the approach to the driveway. Fortunately, traffic was only heading in one direction.
Crawford and Terry’s house was a classic two-story colonial set in the middle of a spacious piece of land. Since Terry had been cutting my hair for years, I visited often. Behind the house was a matching kennel building, also painted white with black trim. Usually when I arrived, the dog runs were filled with happy canines. Tonight they were empty and quiet. The main event was about to take place, and the dogs had already been put to bed.
When Sam turned in the driveway, we joined a line of cars that were slowly inching toward the turnaround in front of the house. A team of valets was waiting there to whisk the vehicles away. It was already dusk, but the home before us glowed. Its eaves and windows were lit with hundreds of twinkling fairy lights. Even Davey, who was determined not to be impressed, stared wide-eyed from the backseat.
The brick walkway that led to the house had been shoveled and sanded. Massive arrangements of yellow and white roses flanked both sides of the front door. As soon as I stepped out of the car, their heady aroma gratified my winter-starved senses. The flowers wouldn’t last long in this cold, but in the meantime they would delight everyone who walked by.
Once inside, our coats were quickly dealt with. Then we were directed across the front hall to the living room. Other guests were already gathering there. Furniture had been removed from the room. In its place, rows of white, cushioned chairs had been set up on either side of a wide center aisle. At the head of the aisle, a raised dais was decorated with more glorious blooms.
Lighting in the room was subdued. Rows of candles flickered atop the mantelpiece and on each of the windowsills. Graceful floral boughs, fashioned of greenery and white roses, were draped from the intricate crown molding. In a back corner, a string quartet was quietly tuning their instruments.
I didn’t see a single big red heart anywhere. Instead, I was awed by the elegant ambience of the room. Terry and Crawford had waited a long time for this. Now that their chance had finally come, I was overwhelmed by the quiet beauty of the setting Terry had created to celebrate their union. The ceremony hadn’t even started yet and already I could feel tears pricking at the corners of my eyes.
A single violin began to play. People began to find their seats. Sam led the way to some empty chairs in the third row.
The four of us had just sat down when Bertie slipped into the seat beside me. She looked lovely in a gray velvet wrap dress that set off her long auburn hair beautifully. My brother, Frank, took the chair on the aisle next to her.
“Just in time,” Bertie said. She sketched a quick wave at the kids and Sam. “You try getting out of the house quickly when two kids don’t want you to leave.” Then she looked at me and frowned. “Wait. Are you crying?”
“Not yet,” I replied. A loud sniffle escaped.
“You are crying,” she marveled.
“I always get emotional at weddings.”
“No, you don’t.”
She was right about that. So I changed the subject. “You could have brought Maggie and Josh with you.” I’d already taken a look around the room. I was happy to see that Davey and Kevin weren’t the only children in attendance.
“You’re kidding, right? It’s Valentine’s Day. And Frank and I haven’t had a night out in weeks. This wedding was the perfect excuse to ditch the kids and go somewhere where we could act like adults.”
“Hi, Frank.” I leaned around Bertie and greeted my brother.
Frank was four years younger than me. He and I shared the same light brown hair, hazel eyes, and determined chins, but other than the physical similarities we’d never had much in common. For much of my early life he’d been the bane of my existence.
Marriage to Bertie had matured my brother, however. Or maybe I was the one who’d grown up. Either way, our relationship now was better than it had ever been.
“Nice to see you, Mel.” Frank stood up, leaned around his wife, and planted a kiss on my nose. “Now quit sniffling. You’ll embarrass the rest of us.” He waggled his fingers at Sam and the boys, then sat back down just as the string quartet began to play.
While we’d been talking, a pastor had taken his place on the dais. A door in the side wall opened. Gabe Summers, Crawford’s adult son, came in and stepped to one side of the low platform. He was Crawford’s best man.
We’d all met Gabe the previous summer. At the time, his relationship with Crawford had been a secret. Now it looked as though that cat was out of the bag.
Still there was no sign of Crawford. Or Terry, for that matter.
There was a quiet rustling sound as people began to shift in their seats to face the back of the room. The double doors that led to the hallway had been closed. Now they opened, and a tiny girl in a white dress walked down the aisle. Her blond curls bobbed around her head as she enthusiastically scattered rose petals from a beribboned basket held over her arm. When she reached the dais, her mother took her hand and led her to one side.
The music paused briefly. Then the quartet broke into a new song. This music was rousing, and joyous, and unlike any bridal march I’d ever heard. Beside me, Kev began to dance in his seat. The song was familiar but I couldn’t quite place it.
Then abruptly I forgot about that because now Crawford and Terry both stood framed in the open doorway. Both were wearing immaculate dinner jackets with satin lapels and black bow ties. Their white shirts were crisply pleated, their patent leather shoes were polished to a high shine. Terry’s hair was back to its natural shade of dark blond. But best of all were the smiles on both men’s faces.
Briefly Crawford appeared to be listening to the music too. He waited until it built to a high note, then he offered his arm to Terry. Arms linked, the two men walked down the aisle together.
As they passed us on their way to the dais, I suddenly realized the name of their processional. When I did, I almost laughed. The song was by Stevie Wonder. It was called “Signed, Sealed, Delivered I’m Yours.”
Well done, Terry.
The ceremony that followed wasn’t long, but it was filled with emotion. Crawford and Terry had each written their own vows. When Crawford paused to look into Terry’s eyes before promising to cherish him, I started to grow misty eyed again. Then Terry promised to love, honor, and cook for Crawford for the rest of his life, and I ended up laughing along with the other guests instead.
When the pastor pronounced them married, the couple was treated to a sustained round of applause. Crawford looked faintly embarrassed by the enthusiastic response. Terry grinned and took a small bow. Then he waved to Kevin, who was bouncing up and down in place.
Terry had chosen a more refined piece of music for their triumphant stroll from the room. The stirring sounds of Beethoven’s “Ode to Joy” followed them back down the aisle.
“That was wonderful,” Bertie said as we gathered up our things. I could have sworn she was sniffling herself.
“Crawford looked happy,” I said. “They both did. What a great day.”
Terry and Crawford had had their pictures taken before the ceremony. And Terry flatly refused to take part in a receiving line. So when the two men simply walked across the hall to the dining room, where a buffet dinner was set out on the table, the rest of the guests stood up and followed.
A set of French doors on the side of the room opened up to a paneled library with a bar. There was plenty of room for everyone to move around. Crawford and Terry were immediately mobbed with well-wishers, so Sam and I decided to wait a few minutes before paying our respects. In the meantime, Davey offered to fix plates of food for Kevin and himself. Sam went to get a drink.
I looked around for Aunt Peg. I’d seen her earlier, shortly after we arrived, but she was standing in the middle of a group of people. Later she’d ended up seated on the other side of the living room. If I could locate her, I had something interesting to say.
I started to take a glass of champagne from a tray held by a passing waiter. Then I saw Aunt Peg gazing out the bay window in the library and took two instead. I crossed the room and offered one to her.
“This is a lovely house,” she said, accepting the champagne flute from my hand. “Look here. Crawford has built a reading nook beneath this bay window. It must be a wonderful place to sit and read on a cold winter’s day. Especially if you have a Poodle in your lap.”
“You should tell Crawford you approve.”
“Crawford certainly doesn’t need my approval,” Aunt Peg replied. “After today, I suspect he has just about everything he’s ever wanted out of life.”
“He’s a lucky man,” I agreed. “He and Terry both are.”
She took a sip of her champagne. “I meant to work the room, you know. I’m sure there must be people here who have useful things to tell us. But the ceremony was so beautiful that I find myself reluctant to break the mood. I’m quite content to simply enjoy the moment.”
“Good for you.” I paused to sample my champagne too. “Let me know when you’re ready to start feeling useful again.”
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