Wedding Soufflé and a Dead Valet

by A. Gardner

  "I certainly do enjoy them," Tamsin says. The tone of her voice has changed. She's no longer snide and cheery. Her expression turns cold.

  "Tamsin," Catherine mutters. "I heard what happened last night. You must have been terrified."

  "I'm sure the police will catch whoever did it." Tamsin leans against the kitchen counter. "I don't suppose you were there last night, Catherine?"

  "I was at home." Catherine raises her eyebrows. "I get up early, remember?"

  "Perhaps one day you'll be able to afford the extra help." Tamsin pushes her plate across the counter and heads outside into the back garden. Catherine bites her lip as she excuses herself to use the powder room.

  "Okay, now I'm seeing things," Marta comments. "That was… I can't even describe what that was."

  "Marta, dearie." Sandra finally emerges from her extensive garden tour. "Come on out here so that we can open presents."

  "Mum, we don't have to do that now." Marta waves a hand. Her cheeks turn rosy.

  "Oh, but we do," Sandra insists. "Dearie, we're all waiting for you. Come on."

  Marta uses the reflection from the microwave to fix her hair one last time. She touches the bags underneath her eyes and gulps down a glass of water. She takes one last, calming breath and steps outside. I follow her, not at all surprised that there's hardly any sunshine. But the afternoon breeze is refreshing, and Sandra's garden really does look like it's in a world of its own.

  I sit next to Ophelia, Marta's rather unusual cousin, and admire the scenery around me. My eyes dart from flower to flower until they're finally too distracted by the 3-D bumblebees on Ophelia's hat to look at anything else. Catherine quietly rejoins the party, rolling her eyes when Lavinia Stevenson attempts to dictate the order in which Marta opens her gifts.

  "I really do love this part," Lavinia says as she directs Marta to the correct seat. Marta is sitting in front of everyone, squinting from the natural lighting. She should be wearing sunglasses. "Mine first."

  Lavinia is overdressed for a simple bridal shower. She adjusts her glasses, her dark hair neatly pulled back. She smooths her long-sleeved top and high-waisted skirt and straightens her pearl necklace. She has matching pearl earrings that stand out just as much as her shiny, white necklace.

  "Oh, how lovely." Sandra takes a moment to admire the silver and pearl wrapping paper.

  "Thank you, Lavinia." Marta accepts her gift, doing her best not to make eye contact with anybody. I'm sure the sound of Lavinia's voice is like biting into a soggy peach pie—annoying and not worth the effort of chewing. But mostly just annoying.

  Marta softly pulls the silver bow on top. Lavinia's gift looks as if it was wrapped by a professional. Marta tears the paper and forces a smile when she sees a cardboard box that is taped shut. She does her best to rip it open without abandoning her ladylike manners.

  "John did a number on that box," Lavinia jokes. Sandra and a few of her relatives, including Marta's Aunt Daphne, laugh.

  "Oh my," Marta exclaims as she pulls out Lavinia's present for everyone to see. She holds up a porcelain teapot with the scene of a country garden painted on it. "It's very nice, Lavinia. Thank you."

  "It's for making your new husband his morning tea," Lavinia clarifies. "That's your responsibility now, Marta." Lavinia smiles, clearly satisfied with herself.

  I glance at Tamsin as she rolls her eyes.

  "Me next." Marta's Aunt Daphne carries the family resemblance. She has reddish hair, and she's very thin. Her voice is so soft that it could whip away in a strong breeze. She waltzes toward her gift like a feather floating through the wind. "Here you go, Marta." Daphne hands her a light peach gift box.

  "Thank you, Auntie." Marta forces another smile. She eyes the stack of presents she has yet to get through. I can't imagine sitting outside opening gifts at a proper bridal shower after the night she had at the castle. Marta's head must be ready to explode.

  "It's from Ophelia and me," Daphne says.

  Marta opens the gift box and pulls out a set of lace doilies. They look like ones that Catherine uses in her tearoom at the Woodbury bakery. Daphne watches Marta's expression and nods when Marta appears to be delighted with her gift. Daphne places a hand on her delicate chest and looks to her stepdaughter, Ophelia.

  "We made them ourselves," Daphne says. "A little family heirloom to get you started."

  "Thank you," Marta replies.

  Tamsin clears her throat, trying not to laugh. Marta frowns in her direction.

  "Who's next?" Lavinia grabs a tiny gift bag and searches for a tag. It's the present I brought downstairs before the shower started. I didn't know what to get Marta, so I had settled on something decorative for her kitchen. What do you get a pastry chef who practically has everything? Marta has a fully equipped kitchen, a nice Parisian flat—not too far from her dream job alongside Chef Gautier—and now she can add faithful husband to her list.

  "That's from me," I say. "I didn't have time to write a card or anything."

  A look of disappointment crosses Lavinia's face.

  "This is from Poppy," Lavinia repeats, handing the gift bag to Marta.

  I had chosen a bag with a wedding cake on the front. Marta grins and pulls out the tissue paper. I hold my breath as she eyes a set of decorative spoons and measuring cups engraved with various French icons. I know how much Marta loves France, especially the French countryside where she used to travel as a kid with her grandfather. I'll never forget the night we spent on her bedroom balcony with a plate of pasta sharing childhood memories.

  "How adorable." Marta chuckles as she studies each spoon. Her expressions seem genuine, and it makes me relieved that I didn't go for the racy underwear with the word bride stamped on the rear. That sort of gift would have caused quite a scene with this crowd. "I always look at these types of things in shops, but I never buy them. Thank you, Poppy."

  "You're welcome." I nod.

  Lavinia changes her look of disapproval and actually smiles in my direction.

  "Okay, I can't stand this anymore," Tamsin chimes in. "Me next." Tamsin gets up and grabs her present, which stands out from the rest because it is wrapped all in black.

  I gulp.

  Marta's eyes go wide as she examines the package. She hesitates to open it too quickly, removing each sheet of tissue paper one at a time. Tamsin taps her foot. She has a giant smile on her face. Marta finally reaches the bottom of the bag and raises her eyebrows.

  "Wow," Marta responds. "Thank you, Tamsin."

  "Go on," Tamsin urges her. "Show it to the group."

  "Oh, that's okay." Marta sets the gift aside, but Lavinia crosses her arms.

  "Go on, Marta." Lavinia eagerly waits to sneak a peek into the black gift bag.

  "It's just something for me…and Lewis…for the wedding night, you know." Marta's cheeks turn red.

  "I see," Sandra responds, nodding. "I expected nothing less from you, Tamsin." Sandra smiles. "Show us, Marta. We're all women here. We know what happens on one's honeymoon."

  The crowd laughs quietly as Marta shrugs.

  "Okay," she agrees, glaring at Tamsin.

  Tamsin covers her mouth, and my stomach churns as I try to guess what sort of lingerie, or lack thereof, Tamsin chose for her childhood friend.

  Marta reaches into the bag and holds up a black ensemble that makes the entire garden party gasp. Lavinia can't help but let out a yelp, her eyes as wide as miniature cupcakes. I do my best not to laugh at the furry bra attached to see-through, mesh bottoms. It's the sort of lingerie you buy at a sex shop, rather than a fancy women's boutique. But the distinction between this particular outfit and other slinky black things is that this lingerie makes the wearer look like a cat…complete with matching cat ears.

  "Ophelia, darling," Daphne mutters. "Cover your eyes."

  "Marta," Sandra gasps.

  "Yes, Mum, I'm putting it away." Marta shoves Tamsin's gift back into the bag.

  Tamsin laughs, unaware that half of Marta's guests are looking righ
t at her and fuming. I shrug, wondering if Marta will actually end up wearing it someday. It's a possibility. I glance around the garden, noticing that Lavinia Stevenson doesn't seem as disgusted as the others.

  "Well, if that's what her husband is into," Lavinia says without shame. "Anything to keep him. At least, that's what I always say."

  CHAPTER TEN

  "Wait, she gave you what?" Lewis tilts his head. He can't hide his mischievous smile after Marta mentioned the gift Tamsin gave her at her bridal shower.

  "Do you really want me to say it again?" Marta asks.

  "If that's what you want." Lewis leaves the door open for Marta to keep talking about it. Marta grins as she takes a sip of her lemon water and herbs—a special concoction from Rose to get rid of her hangover headache.

  "You'll just have to wait until I show it to you," Marta teases.

  "So you are going to wear it?" I chime in. "The cat ears too?"

  "Wait, it has cat ears?" Lewis tries to steer the conversation yet again. "You didn't mention the cat ears. Why didn't you tell me about the cat ears?"

  "How about we move on to something else," Marta suggests.

  The three of us needed a quick getaway, and the nearest and easiest place to get to was the pub at Rose's Inn. Marta drinks more of her herbal water and leans back against her fiancé. Lewis arrived at Sandra's house just in time to steal her away from Ophelia's fifth attempt to summon Peppercorn by using her new, and secret, power of animal telepathy—proven to work after her neighbor's dog stopped peeing in their lawn.

  "Like what?" Lewis asks. "You said you didn't want to talk about wedding stuff."

  "I changed my mind," Marta responds. "How about we start with the question of the day. Did you find a new caterer for Sunday?"

  "Yes." Lewis glances up every time the front door opens. At first, I wondered if he was expecting someone else. Now I know that it's just habit. Rose's pub is a busy place. The evening breeze seems to stream in every few minutes.

  "Who?" Marta's eyes go wide, though not as wide as they had when she opened Tamsin's present.

  "That, my dear, is a surprise." Lewis holds up his frothy beer glass and takes a sip.

  "I'm not a big fan of surprises right now," Marta points out.

  "I would have to agree with her on that one," I add.

  "You'll meet them tomorrow," Lewis assures her. "I promise you won't be disappointed."

  "Why would I be disappointed?" Marta scratches her cheek. Something she does frequently when she starts to get nervous.

  "I said you won't be disappointed," Lewis corrects her.

  "Maybe, if I get down on my knees and beg, Catherine will reconsider. I mean, we're not having the actual wedding ceremony at Chutney Manor. Just the reception." Marta begins muttering to herself as she chugs down more of Rose's homemade remedy. "Maybe if I find a way to deliver all of the food myself—"

  "Marta," Lewis interrupts. "Spare yourself the stress, and wait until tomorrow."

  "I need to wee." Marta abruptly stands up and heads for the bathroom.

  I take a deep breath. I too had ordered a water to show Marta my support. I take a small sip, thinking about all of the things I want to say to Detective Berry. My eyes dart to the staircase in the corner. Tamsin is in her room working, or so she said earlier when Marta told her we were at the pub.

  "A surprise?" I say. "It better be a good one."

  "It is," Lewis answers. "Marta seems to be doing okay."

  "She could be worse," I reply. "How's the investigation going?" I can't think of a way to casually bring it up, so I dive right in, hoping Lewis might share a few details.

  "Pretty standard." He takes another swig of his brew. "Nothing we can't handle though."

  "Any suspects yet?"

  "Now, Poppy, you know I can't tell you that."

  "But you can drop hints, right? Is anybody local on your list? Anyone at all?" I pause and anxiously wait for him to reply. Lewis narrows his eyes as he studies my face. His gaze wanders down to my hands. I glance at them and realize that I am tapping my finger on the table.

  "You know something, don't you?"

  "What makes you say that?" I ask.

  "Is this about the break-in last night?" Lewis asks.

  "Is this a formal interrogation?"

  "Because it was determined that the break-in last night and the incident at Chutney Manor aren't related," he confirms. "Do you know something else?"

  I think about what Bree said.

  I have to tell someone before this gets any worse.

  "Yes." I lower my voice as much as I can. "I…overheard something, but I'm not sure what it means."

  "By all means." Lewis sits back and gives me his full attention.

  "It's just…" My eyes fixate on the hallway leading to the bathrooms. "I don't want to disrupt the wedding or anything. I mean, it might be nothing." It's definitely not nothing.

  "Then tell me about it," Lewis urges me. "Any bit of information can help us. You know that."

  "Fine," I mutter. "It's about Tamsin." I think back to my trip to the bakery. "Yesterday morning I went out by myself to Catherine's bakery. Sandra and Marta wanted some scones, so I volunteered. Anyway, I got a little lost and ended up seeing Tamsin walking toward the alley right next to the Woodbury bakery."

  "Okay." Lewis nods, listening very carefully.

  "She met up with Catherine," I continue. "Catherine seemed upset, as if Tamsin had been bothering her a lot. Catherine told Tamsin to stop digging."

  "Stop digging for what?" Lewis asks.

  "I don't know, but Tamsin said if Catherine wouldn't help her then she would find someone else." I take a deep breath. "That's when Catherine brought up Ethan Taylor."

  "Did Tamsin say that she was working with Ethan?" Lewis leans forward.

  "Not directly," I answer. "Catherine told Tamsin to stop whatever she's doing before she ends up like 'poor Monty.'"

  "And who exactly is poor Monty?"

  "According to Marta, that was Catherine's husband's name," I clarify. "Then last night someone broke in and stole Tamsin's laptop. She had a bunch of papers she was working on too. I saw her put them in her desk drawer before we went out. Those papers were also stolen last night."

  "Wow." Lewis sits back again and processes the information.

  "Please tell me that Tamsin isn't some psychopath in disguise. She's part of your wedding."

  "Everything about Tamsin seems to check out," Lewis responds. "Well, except for one thing."

  "What?" I raise my eyebrows.

  "It's standard procedure that we run checks on everyone who was at Chutney Manor the night of the murder," Lewis explains. "It's not anything serious, but…" Lewis glances around the pub before he says anymore. "Tamsin was fired from her job last month."

  "What?" I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, a little confused. "But she blamed the break-in on a rival newspaper. She's been working on some story for work since she got here."

  "She must be freelancing." Lewis shrugs. "But don't worry, Poppy. I'll look into this. It could be something, and it could also be nothing."

  "What could be nothing?" The sound of Marta's voice startles us both.

  "Oh." I speak up first. "We were just talking about last night."

  "I still can't believe it," Marta says. "Of course, the one time this place gets vandalizes happens to be the week of my wedding. What else could go wrong?"

  "Positive thoughts," Lewis says quietly. He breathes in and out, waiting for Marta to copy him.

  "Right. You're right." Marta closes her eyes and tries to relax. It's difficult with the constant chatter around us, but Marta leans into her fiancé and smiles. "I'm really looking forward to Sunday."

  "So am I." Lewis grins as he looks into Marta's eyes.

  The two of them stare at each other, leaning in close enough for a kiss. I take a sip of my water and try to give them some privacy by looking away, but I still feel awkward. Marta whispers something that makes Lewis chuckle.
The two of them act as if they're in their own little world. It's refreshing to see that they really do love each other, but it reminds me that I'm the third wheel. Marta gives Lewis a modest kiss, and I take that as my cue to leave.

  "You know, I'm just going to step outside and get some fresh air," I say. I stand up and Marta and Lewis hardly notice.

  I push my way outside and let the cool breeze run across my face. The pub is aglow like it was last night. Lights shine through every window, making it the brightest building on the block. I glance up at the windows on the second story, remembering the window that belongs to Tamsin's bedroom. Tamsin's light is on, and I imagine her sitting at her desk, working. But I don't know what she could be working on now since her laptop and work papers are missing.

  A taxi stops down the street, and a woman steps out wearing a black trench coat. She blends into the night, but as soon as she approaches the inn, I'm surprised to see that it's Tamsin. I glance back up at her bedroom window. Tamsin walks past me and peers into the front windows of the pub. She takes a step back when she spots Marta at a table with her fiancé, Detective Berry. My pulse races.

  "Tamsin?" I blurt out.

  Tamsin whips around and immediately clutches her forearm. It's hidden underneath her midnight overcoat.

  "Poppy," she automatically replies. "Poppy, what are you doing out here?"

  "Fresh air," I say.

  "Marta said you were upstairs working," I add.

  "Oh." Tamsin doesn't seem like her usual self. For one, she's at a loss for words. "No. She must have got confused. I've been out. At the shops. I broke a heel earlier."

  "You left your light on." I glance up at her window, and Tamsin follows my gaze.

  "Silly me," Tamsin answers.

  "So did you find anything?"

  "Any what?" Tamsin looks at me suspiciously.

  "Did you find any heels to replace the ones you broke?" I ask.

  "Oh, right." Tamsin looks down at her shoes—a pair of flats. The outfit she is wearing tonight is the most conservative I've ever seen for her. She notices, like me, that she's empty-handed. "No. No, I didn't find anything."

  "That's too bad."

  The door to the pub opens as a group of villagers walk out into the night. Marta and Lewis are laughing at their table. Marta is still drinking her lemon water with herbs, and Lewis is almost finished with his beer. I catch Tamsin looking at them.