Wed, Read & Dead

by V. M. Burns

I stole a glance at Nana Jo, who raised an eyebrow and then lifted her hand. “Waiter.”

  When the waiter arrived, Nana Jo ordered a Wild Turkey for herself. She turned to Margaret. “What would you like?”

  Margaret smiled. “I’m not much of a drinker . . . I’ll have what she’s having.” She pointed to Nana Jo.

  I opened my mouth to warn her bourbon might not be the drink for someone who wasn’t accustomed to it, but a look from Nana Jo stopped me.

  “I’ll have a Pellegrino.” I decided I might need to keep my wits about me for whatever Nana Jo was cooking up.

  The waiter took our drink orders and quickly returned.

  Nana Jo raised her glass. “To Grace and Harold. May you both have a long, happy life together.”

  We all lifted our glasses. “To Grace and Harold.”

  Nana Jo tossed back her bourbon like someone doing shots.

  Margaret stared at her and took a sip of her drink. From the scowl that followed, it was clear bourbon wasn’t her favorite.

  “It’s best to just close your eyes and knock it back in one fell swoop.” Nana Jo smiled at her.

  I stared across the table at Jenna, who merely shrugged and sipped her sangria.

  Margaret looked at Nana Jo and then put her head back and swallowed her bourbon. “Ugh. That burns.”

  “Isn’t it wonderful.” Nana Jo waved to the waiter. “Two more.”

  “Oh, no, not for me.” Margaret shook her head.

  “Perhaps something a little milder,” Nana Jo offered. “A cosmopolitan.”

  “What’s in it?” Margaret asked.

  “It’s just cranberry juice, lime, Cointreau or triple sec, and vodka.” Nana Jo rattled off the ingredients like a bartender. “I think you’ll like it.”

  Margaret nodded and the waiter was off in a flash.

  We made small talk about the weather for several minutes until the waiter returned.

  Again, Nana Jo tossed back her drink quickly. “Skoal.”

  This time Margaret was more cautious and sipped her Cosmo. “That’s delicious.” She sipped again.

  “Drink up.” Nana Jo encouraged Margaret and then motioned for the waiter to provide two more drinks for her and Margaret.

  By the time the waiter brought Margaret’s third drink, her eyes were bright and shining and what I thought was a permanent frown had been smoothed. Her lips hadn’t yet made the upward turn into a smile, but the edges were smooth and friendlier.

  “That’s really nice of you,” Margaret said as the waiter replaced her empty glass with a full one. “You say it’s called a Cosmopolitan?” She sipped. “Was it named after the magazine?”

  Nana Jo shrugged. “No idea.”

  Margaret giggled. “It’s very pretty.”

  “Yes. It’s lovely.” Nana Jo smiled.

  By the time we ordered dinner, the Ice Princess, Margaret Robertson, had melted. She wasn’t as stiff and snobbish as the last time we’d dined together. In fact, by the time her dinner of grilled Scottish salmon with fingerling potato salad, Dijon dressing, Spanish olives, red onion, and frisée arrived, she was downright pleasant.

  “Now, tell me exactly when you met Lydia Lighthouse,” Nana Jo said.

  Margaret furrowed her brow as though trying to remember something. Eventually, she laughed. “You know, I can’t really remember.” She leaned close to Nana Jo as though relaying a dire secret. “She really wasn’t very nice.”

  “You don’t say?” Nana Jo asked while signaling to the waiter to bring two more drinks.

  I’d lost count of how many they’d had. I think it was five, but it might have been six. I had no doubt Nana Jo could handle her alcohol, but Margaret was an unknown. She didn’t strike me as a big drinker. Add to the fact she hadn’t eaten food yet and she’d mixed her drinks, with the Wild Turkey, numerous Cosmos, and the wine Harold ordered to accompany the meal, Margaret was well on her way to a hangover of massive proportions.

  Margaret shook her head. “No. She was rude. I’m not surprised someone stabbed her in the back and strangled her.” Margaret ate her salmon. “Why, this is really rather good.” She leaned down the table and yelled to Mom, “Grace, did you try this salmon? It’s delicious. I think you should have this at the wedding.”

  Mom looked at Margaret and forced herself to smile.

  Margaret dug into the salmon and ate with a hearty appetite. “This has to be the best salmon I’ve ever had.”

  “Great.” Nana Jo tried to steer the conversation away from the salmon and back to Lydia Lighthouse. “You must have known Lydia for a long time, for her to come all the way from Virginia to Michigan for the wedding.”

  Margaret continued on eating. “Well, I’ve known her for years, but we were never what you might call close.” She ate. “Didn’t think I was good enough for her.” She laughed. “Can you believe that?”

  “Absolutely not,” Nana Jo lied. “Why, you’re a descendent of... who was it?”

  Margaret nodded. “Exactly, and Lydia claimed she was a descendant of Stonewall Jackson, but you know what?” Margaret leaned close to Nana Jo.

  “No, what?”

  “I was having lunch at the club with Mimi Orwell.” She leaned closer to Nana Jo and nearly fell. She put her elbow on the table and rested her chin in her hand to help steady herself. “Mimi is part of the UDC and she told me Lydia tried to join but had been rejected.” She grinned at Nana Jo.

  “Really? Rejected.” Nana Jo tsked. “Scandalous.”

  Margaret went back to her salmon, and I mouthed, What is the UDC?

  Nana Jo shrugged.

  “What’s the UDC?” I asked.

  “United Daughters of the Confederacy,” Margaret said. “It’s a wonderful organization.”

  I stared at Margaret. “Like the Daughters of the Revolution?”

  She nodded.

  “So, all of the members are women who can trace their lineage to soldiers who fought for the Confederacy?”

  Margaret must not have noticed the frost in my voice, which I didn’t bother to hide.

  She merely nodded. “Not just fought, but they had to have fought honorably.” She ate her potato salad. “So many men took the oath of allegiance but broke their vow and either abandoned their post or defected to the Northern cause.”

  I put down my silverware. “That’s disgusting.”

  Margaret mistook my meaning. “Isn’t it? When you’ve sworn an oath, it’s binding for life. It’s sacred, like marriage.” Something must have finally gotten through to Margaret that perhaps she should temper her comments because she suddenly stopped talking and stared into space.

  “Are you okay?” Nana Jo asked when Margaret didn’t move.

  She turned to stare at Nana Jo and there were large tears in her eyes. “Oh God.”

  Despite my frustration with Margaret, I was concerned by the sudden change in emotions. “What’s wrong?”

  “Marriage vows are sacred.”

  “Yes, of course they are,” Nana Jo agreed. “Now, why was Lydia rejected?”

  Margaret didn’t seem to be in any mood to talk about Lydia Lighthouse, the United Daughters of the Confederacy, or anything else. She burst into tears in the middle of dinner.

  “Good grief.” Nana Jo put down her fork. “I was so close,” she muttered. “Sam, help me get Margaret up to their room.”

  Nana Jo and I helped Margaret to her feet, but she was no longer crying silently. By now, she was sobbing.

  “Perhaps I should . . . um . . . well, you know?” Oscar said as we dragged his wife past his chair.

  “Just give Sam your key.” Nana Jo grabbed Margaret around the waist so she had her full weight.

  I reached for the key Oscar held out and then helped to take my share of Margaret’s weight.

  Margaret’s sobbing became more and more intense with each step. We’d just made it to the elevator when she let out a wail.

  Nana Jo merely rolled her eyes and muttered, “Darned sissy. She only had six Cosmos
.”

  The elevator door closed and we rode up to the third floor with a woman who was crying hysterically.

  I glared at Nana Jo and would have given her a reprimand, but I needed all of my strength to drag Margaret down the hallway to her room. When we got to the door, we propped her against the wall. I slid the card key into the lock and tried to hold the door open with my foot, but Margaret had slid down the wall and was now sitting on the floor.

  “Crap,” Nana Jo said as we tried to pick her up.

  However, Margaret was now dead weight. We made several unsuccessful attempts to lift her off the floor and were both winded and tired.

  “Good grief, she must weigh a lot more than she looks,” Nana Jo replied as we stopped for a rest.

  “I have no idea, but there’s no way we’re going to get her up by ourselves. We’re going to have to get Tony and Harold to help us.” I tried to get my breath. “Do you have your phone?”

  Nana Jo shook her head. “I left my purse downstairs.” She looked at me. “You?”

  I shook my head. “I guess one of us is going to have to go downstairs and get help.”

  “Oh, no you don’t. We’re not giving up that easy.”

  I stared at my grandmother. “What are you talking about?”

  “We’re going to search her room once we get her inside.”

  “Oh, no we aren’t.”

  “Don’t be such a prude.”

  Margaret let out a loud belch and then started to laugh.

  We stared at her.

  “Well, what do you suggest?” Nana Jo put a hand on her hip.

  I thought for a moment and then opened the door to the room and went inside. I opened the closet and found a blanket. I grabbed it and went back into the hall. I put the blanket on the floor next to Margaret, who was no longer crying, laughing, or belching. She was snoring. Margaret Robertson was sitting on the floor in the hallway outside of her hotel room, sound asleep.

  Nana Jo and I laid her down onto the blanket. Then I unlocked the door and slipped a slipper I’d found under it to hold it open. Then we grabbed the edges of the blanket and dragged Margaret into the room.

  Once we had her inside, I pulled the slipper from under the door and it swung shut.

  Nana Jo flopped down onto one of the two queen-sized beds in the room. “That was a lot of work.” She fanned herself.

  “You shouldn’t have gotten her drunk.”

  “How else was I supposed to get her to open up and tell us about Lydia Lighthouse.”

  I sighed. “It didn’t get us much.” I stretched.

  “I don’t know. I think we got quite a bit.”

  “Well, you can tell me about it later.” I looked at Margaret wrapped in a blanket, lying on the floor. “How do we get her off the floor and up onto the bed?”

  “Why do we have to move her? Can’t we just leave her?” Nana Jo asked.

  I tilted my head and stared at her. “You have got to be joking. We can’t just leave her on the floor.”

  “Why not?”

  I stared at Margaret. “Because it’s not the right thing to do.”

  Nana Jo huffed, but she got up and then spread her legs wide and crouched down onto one knee. Then she took several deep breaths. “All right, help me get her arms.”

  I helped to lift Margaret into a sitting position with her weight resting against my legs.

  “Now what?”

  “I’m going to count to three and then I’ll stand up and pull her over my back onto the bed.

  “Are you sure you can handle that? She’s pretty heavy and you’re o—”

  “Call me old and you’ll be the next person who gets tossed in this room.”

  My grandmother wasn’t young, but she was also not frail. She had a brown belt in aikido and I’d seen her take down grown men on several occasions.

  I nodded. “Okay.”

  “One. Two.” Nana Jo grabbed hold of Margaret’s arms. She took a deep breath. “Three.” She gave a loud cry and then rose from her knee. She pulled Margaret while I used my knees and body to help push her up. As Nana Jo rose, she lifted Margaret off the ground and flipped her over her back onto the bed.

  Margaret never woke but lay sprawled across one of the beds.

  “Are you okay?” I gasped for breath and stared at my grandmother.

  She nodded. “Yep. I’ve never tried that one before, but it wasn’t so bad once I got my leverage.”

  We looked at Margaret.

  “Now, are you going to help me search this room or what?” Nana Jo turned and began rifling through the drawers.

  “What exactly do you expect to find in their hotel room? An extra pair of scarves?”

  Nana Jo continued to search. “Anything that helps us know why Margaret hired someone she obviously didn’t like very much to come and plan her brother-in-law’s wedding.”

  I hated the idea of searching through someone else’s belongings, but maybe Nana Jo was right. Margaret and Oscar were the only ones who knew Lydia Lighthouse. Maybe there was some reason why she did it. We searched through clothes and toiletries, but there was nothing out of the ordinary.

  I was just about to give up when the telephone rang.

  Nana Jo and I stood up and stared at each other. Then I reached over and picked up the receiver. “Hello.”

  It was Jenna. “Oscar and Harold are on their way up to the room, so if you two are doing anything you shouldn’t, stop it!” She hung up.

  “They’re coming.”

  We tidied up. Nana Jo took a towel from the bathroom and wiped down the room.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Getting rid of fingerprints.” She quickly wiped every drawer, knob, and handle. “I saw it on Perry Mason.”

  I waited anxiously by the door. When she was done, she tossed the towel on a pile in the bathroom, where we’d seen other dirty towels. We opened the door just as Oscar was about to knock.

  “I was just about to knock.” He smiled.

  “No need.” I handed him his card key. “We just managed to get Margaret onto the bed.” I stepped aside and let Oscar and Harold enter. “Where’s Jenna?”

  “She and Tony are watching the purses downstairs with your mother,” Harold said.

  Oscar stood at the end of the bed and looked at his wife. “Sound asleep.” He turned to face us. “Not sure how you both managed, but thank you.”

  “No problem at all.” Nana Jo pushed me out of the room. “Well, we’ve got to be going. You take care,” she shouted as we hurried down the hallway.

  “What’s the big hurry now?” I asked once we were safely in the elevator.

  She pulled a small piece of paper, which was folded up, from behind her back.

  “Where did you get that?” I gasped.

  “Hidden in a box of feminine supplies in her toiletries in the bathroom.”

  “But, what is it and why did you take it?”

  “It appears to be a marriage license.” She read it. “Between Maggie Anne Tuttleford and Buford Jones.”

  “Who’s Maggie Anne Tuttleford?”

  “If I was a betting woman, which I am, I’d bet my life savings Maggie Anne Tuttleford and Margaret Robertson are one and the same.”

  I sighed. “So, what. Margaret was married before she married Oscar. Big deal.”

  The elevator descended.

  “It’s no big deal now, but it must have been a big deal to her if she went to all that trouble to hide it.”

  We walked out of the elevator and headed back to our table. “What made you look in her feminine supplies?”

  Nana Jo snorted. “Woman that old doesn’t need feminine supplies anymore.”

  “Fine, but how are you going to get it back in there? She’s bound to notice it missing.”

  “Tomorrow we’ll come over and pretend we made arrangements for lunch. Once we’re up in the room, I’ll ask to use the bathroom. People always think old ladies have weak bladders.” Nana Jo marched back to the table.


  I was glad she’d called herself old and not me.

  Harold had already taken care of the bill. When we arrived, Tony had taken all of our tickets to the valet and was arranging to have our cars brought around. So, Nana Jo, Jenna, and I sat with Mom and waited.

  “Did you find anything?” Jenna asked.

  “How did you know we were searching?” I asked.

  She gave me a look that said, Are you joking?

  Nana Jo handed over the marriage license she’d pilfered.

  “Margaret never mentioned anything about being married before, but I’ll ask Harold.” Jenna looked it over and then copied down the names before she handed it back. “I’ll have my investigator look into it and try to find out who Maggie Anne Tuttleford and Buford Jones are.”

  Harold returned and we headed to the front. All of our cars were lined up at the front.

  I hugged my mom before she got in the car.

  “Thank you, Sam.”

  “For what?”

  “For using your abilities to help Harold and for getting those wonderful girls to help with the wedding. They’re both so energetic. It’s nice to be around young people. It makes me feel young again.” She smiled.

  I hugged her again.

  Tony pulled up and Jenna got into her car. “What time is the meeting tomorrow?”

  “Noon at Frank’s restaurant, but I think we’re going to be meeting here instead.”

  She nodded. “Good. I’ll meet you here.”

  My face must have registered surprise because Jenna laughed. “Close your mouth. I have information to report.”

  Before I could ask, Tony pulled off and they were gone.

  The valet pulled my car up and Nana Jo and I got inside. As I pulled away, I looked at Nana Jo. “Tomorrow should be an interesting meeting.”

  Chapter 10

  When I got home, Dawson was asleep on the sofa with Angelo.

  “Where is everyone?” I asked.

  “Jillian, Emma, and Lexi are in my apartment.” He looked at Angelo stretched out on his chest. “This little guy wanted to stay with me.” He slid from underneath, leaving Angelo on the sofa.

  Nana Jo stood at the counter. There were several dollars and some coins.

  “That’s your change.” Dawson walked up behind her.

  “How many pizzas did you all eat?”