by Cate Martin
Then the butler appeared in the doorway and spoke with the voice of a Shakespearean actor, filling the room without the need for shouting. "Mr. and Mrs. McTavet are about to make an announcement. Ladies and gentlemen, if you'll just step this way."
No one seemed surprised by this. They just gathered in pairs, linked arms and strolled out of the ballroom and out onto the parquet floor of the main hall.
"Do you want to run away?" Otto asked me.
"A little," I admitted.
"I have my car just across the street," he said, and I could see he was serious.
"Running away isn't going to change anything, though, is it?"
"No, but a tragedy is still a tragedy with or without witnesses."
"We're Edward's friends," I said. "We should be here for him, especially as he has no family to stand with him. We can't leave. And stop calling it a tragedy."
"As you wish," he said, then held out his arm to me. "Shall we?"
I hesitated. I still really, really wanted to run away. I wasn't even sure that Edward would want me there. He hadn't invited me, probably didn't even know that Coco had. Would it be awkward? Would my presence ruin his happy day?
No, I told myself and slipped my arm through Otto's. I wasn't going to ruin anything. If it looked like my being there was weird, I would simply disappear. But if Edward was about to be engaged to another, I wanted to be there, to show that I was all right.
Not that I thought he thought I wouldn't be. Ugh, feelings are so confusing.
"Shall we?" Otto asked.
"Yes," I said, and the two of us together made our way into the hallway, prepared to feign happiness to whatever degree was required.
For Edward.
Chapter 5
At first glance, the hall looked far too crowded for us to get into. Everyone's heads were tilted back, looking towards the top of the stairs. I guessed that was where the chiming sound was coming from. But I couldn't see what everyone was looking at, and all of the men in their top hats weren't helping.
But I quickly found that crowds tended to part to let Otto through. He didn't say anything, and no one seemed to be looking his way, but there was always a gap in front of him that he could slip through. We made it through the mass of people milling about in the ballroom doorway to a spot against the wall, but at least from here; I could see all of the way up the staircase.
A man I took to be Ivy's father was standing on the third-floor balcony, beaming down at the crowd below as he once more rang the triangle he was holding aloft. His cheeks had a rosy glow that seemed to speak more of a laughing nature than an excess of alcohol, as his eyes were bright but not addled. The woman at his right elbow was more than a head shorter than he and much rounder in the face. She lingered back, the smile on her face a shy one. They exchanged a glance of affectionate warmth, and I was certain she was Ivy's mother.
And the woman to his left must be Ivy herself. Her face was flush with excitement and happiness, and she couldn't stop smiling. She would catch one person’s and then another's eye in the crowd and give a little wave and mouth a few words I couldn't decipher, or a wink and a laugh. Her long blonde hair was in an updo, the bangs a perfect arrangement of finger waves, and her ivory dress was nearly as flirty in its flapper style as Sophie's.
There was a young man standing just behind Ivy, looking off to his left towards the upstairs corridor and not down to the crowd below.
It wasn't Edward.
"Squeeze in tight, everyone!" Ivy's father said. He had a booming voice like Santa Claus despite the lack of a single silver hair on his head.
"There you are!" Sophie cried as she and Brianna emerged from the crowd ahead of us as if forced out by all the people surging forward. Brianna pressed up close against my side then moved a bit past me to stand with her back to the wall. She looked a bit pale, and she was hugging herself tightly, hands over her elbows as if worried she might poke them into someone inadvertently. Sophie tripped over someone's foot, although with her usual grace she was already recovering before Otto lunged forward to catch her. "Hello, Otto," she said as he pulled her to her feet and tucked her close beside him.
"Miss Sophie," he said, touching the brim of his hat.
Then someone else emerged from the press of human bodies: Mary. She reached out towards Brianna, who caught her hands and helped her get closer to the wall.
"Amanda, this is Mary Taylor, Charlotte's sister," Brianna said as Mary was thrust against me by the crowd.
"We met," I said. "I guess we're about to discover the big secret."
"Yes," Mary said, bending forward a bit as she fixed a minor disarray of her hair.
Then she looked up towards the top of the stairs, and the expression on her face froze. It was like I could see the blood draining out of it.
"Mary, are you all right?" I asked.
She didn't seem to have even heard me. Brianna was looking at her face as well. It was as if the shock in Mary's face dispelled Brianna's own anxieties, and her body stopped drawing in on itself. She put a hesitant arm on Mary's shoulder.
"Mary?" she asked.
"Oh," Mary said as if coming out of a spell. She looked at Brianna then at me. Her lips parted to speak, but the words died away as Ivy's father's voice once more boomed throughout the hallway.
"We are so pleased to see you all here with us this New Year's Eve!" he said, and Mary gave us a quick apologetic smile that didn’t reach her eyes then turned to fix her attention on him. "And not just to help us ring in the new year. No, we also have a special announcement to make!"
"Worst kept secret of the year!" someone in the crowd shouted, and many laughed, including Mr. McTavet himself.
"Yes, indeed!" he said. "Ivy has never been a great keeper of secrets, as many of you are all too well aware!"
Another wave of laughter washed over the hall. But I was distracted. The man behind Ivy had taken half a step towards the corridor and seemed to be trying to communicate something to someone out of sight. Who was this man?
And where was Edward?
I looked over Sophie's head at Otto, putting that question in my eyes. Otto glanced around then gave me a shrug, unconcerned. I gave him a little frown to chastise him. All thoughts of his friend clearly went out of his head the moment Sophie was in view.
"But perhaps this announcement may come as a bit of a surprise for many of you after all," Mr. McTavet said and turned to smile at his daughter. She stepped closer to the balcony, resting her hands on the railing. One hand clutched a little spray of hothouse flowers. The other was sporting a diamond so large we could all see it quite clearly from below.
There was no way Edward would ever have afforded that. Was it a family piece?
"It is with regret that I tell all of the fine young men here, many of whom I've gotten to know quite well over the last few years of visits and earnest conversations about their prospects, that my beautiful Ivy is no longer on the market, as it were."
Ivy flushed a pretty shade of rose. I'm not sure if it's possible to fake a blush, but there was something a touch contrived about her gesture. Not that she was lying, exactly. More like she was playing it up for the crowd.
Mr. McTavet whispered something to Ivy, and she turned to look back at the young man behind her. She waved at him, and he nodded then looked down the corridor again. Who was he talking to? Edward seemed the most logical person, but why was he lingering in the upstairs corridor and not standing at his betrothed's side?
Then the man shook his head, causing his dark brown locks to fall over his forehead. He brushed them back with his fingers then stepped forward to take Ivy's extended hand.
Beside me, Mary made a little choking sound. Brianna and I reached out for her, but she pushed us both away, turning to shove her way back through the crowd in the ballroom doorway. Brianna and I exchanged a glance then Brianna tucked her elbows back in her hands and pushed her way after Mary.
People were already applauding, whistling and hooting, and I ha
d no idea what was going on.
"Who is that man?" I asked Otto. Otto shrugged.
"It is with great pleasure. I announce that my lovely daughter Ivy shall this June become the bride of this very fine young gentleman, Thomas Weingarten!" Mr. McTavet said and started another round of applause.
I looked at Otto again to see if that name meant anything to him. He shrugged again, but concern was starting to edge into his eyes now.
I felt it too. Where was Edward?
"Where's Brianna?" Sophie asked.
"She went to see if Mary was all right," I said.
"What happened to Mary?" she asked.
"I don't know," I said. "I think she knows this Thomas Weingarten. She was quite upset when she realized he was the betrothed and not Edward."
"Where is Edward?" Sophie asked as if none of the rest of us had been thinking it.
"I'm going to look upstairs," I said. "Thomas was talking to someone before he stepped forward. Maybe it was Edward."
"Or Edward skipped the party," Sophie said. "Goodness knows I would."
"Let's look upstairs," Otto said.
"Everyone, move through to the ballroom," Mr. McTavet said in his sonorous voice. "Join us in a dance and a slice of rum cake. And of course, endless glasses of champagne!"
The crowd roared its approval of that plan and stampeded towards the ballroom doors. Otto, Sophie still held tight in his arms, tugged my elbow to pull me out of the rush of bodies, back against the wall. I still got my toes trod on, three times by the heavy flatness of male shoes, but once more painfully from the heel of a woman's shoe that felt far too spiky for 1927.
"If he knew this was happening, wouldn't he have told you?" I asked, my mouth close to Otto's ear to be heard over the boisterousness around us.
"If Coco had known before this very afternoon, it wouldn't still be a secret," Sophie said. "I think this was a last-minute changeup."
It felt that way to me too. But what a horrid idea, to throw someone over for another on the very day you were going to announce your engagement. Maybe not quite as bad as abandoning someone at the altar, although with so many witnesses in attendance, really, not much better.
I had my head down, Otto still inching me and Sophie further away from the door to avoid the unrelenting crowd, but a flutter of motion caught my attention, and I looked up.
Too late to see anything. And if there was a thump, I never heard it.
But then a woman screamed, quickly joined by others, and the crowd started to stampede for real. Otto put his other arm around me and pulled me close, but the press of people trying to get out of the middle of the hall was still crushing. I couldn't breathe. I felt trapped, like there was no air.
I closed my eyes and forced myself to focus on calmness as a concept until my heart stopped pounding so hard and I could draw breath again.
Then I opened my eyes and looked towards the middle of the hall. The parquet floor was a mess of lost top hats and dropped beaded bags, sticky puddles of champagne and a smashed glass or two.
At first, I couldn't make sense of the pool of ivory fabric lumped at the bottom of the stairs. Had a table turned over, the pristine cloth now stained with red wine?
But I hadn't seen a single waiter serving red wine. Only champagne.
Then a sparkle caught my eye. Not broken glass. A diamond. A diamond ring on one finger of an outstretched hand, the hand attached to an arm that was bent at a funny angle.
Then a shriek split the air, a woman's voice screaming Ivy's name in a long, sustained wail that ended in hysterical sobs.
Ivy. I wasn't looking at a broken table crushed by the panicking crowd. I was looking at what remained of Ivy McTavet, lying like a broken and discarded doll across the honey gold wood of the parquet floor.
Chapter 6
Mrs. McTavet's sobs were the only sound echoing through the hallway for what felt like an agonizing eternity. I couldn't take my eyes off that outstretched hand.
It wasn't like she was reaching towards me for help. It was like, even broken and bloody; she wanted me to admire her rock.
Sometimes I hate the thoughts that run through my own head.
Then I heard a stomping noise and looked up to see Mr. McTavet racing down the stairs at what seemed an unwise speed, reeling and stumbling and barely catching himself on the banister.
"John!" he cried. "John, help me!"
I looked around to see who John was. The butler, perhaps? But the butler was leaning against the doorway that led to the foyer, a shaking hand pressed over his eyes, not reacting to Mr. McTavet's cries.
"Let me through," someone said from within the ballroom, and the crowd parted to let one of the tuxedoed men past. He pulled off his top hat and handed it to the younger man following close on his heels before kneeling down beside Ivy's outstretched hand.
"Did she fall?" the man named John asked as Mr. McTavet huffed and puffed down the last flight of stairs.
"I don't know," he said, out of breath. But his voice also had a wavery quality to it, like he'd gladly sink down into hysterical sobs as his wife was still doing up at the top of the stairs.
"You were right beside her," John said.
"Not just then," he said. "I had turned to speak to my wife. Ivy was behind me. I didn't see."
I looked up the stairs. Thomas Weingarten was standing there as if he didn't know what to do or where to go. His face was ashen, and I suspected whatever was going through his head was more primal than actual thoughts.
He was quite close to the balcony railing, though. It was higher than his waist, and Ivy had been quite a bit shorter than he. I doubted very much she could have fallen over that railing by mistake.
The crowd around me had been intense and frightening for the brief time when everyone had been moving at once, but there had only been a few people up on that balcony with her. Her parents, Thomas, and whoever Thomas had been attempting to speak to.
"We should get up there," I said to Otto. Otto nodded, and we tried to slip along the wall, circling around the men standing around Ivy's body, but the third unnamed man noticed us just as we reached the bottom of the stairs and rushed to block our way.
"Stop right there," he said, putting a hand on Otto's chest. Otto narrowed his eyes.
"What's that, Stuart?” John asked, still examining the floor around the body.
"We need to take control of the crime scene, chief," Stuart said, not taking his eyes off the three of us. John, apparently the chief of police, looked up.
"Quite right," he said. He looked towards the ballroom at some of the young men lingering in the doorway. "McConnell, Ricci, get the rest of the boys. We need men on every door. No one comes or goes until we know what happened here."
"It wasn't an accident, sir?" one of the young men asked.
"That's to be determined," the chief said, but his frown said he knew the answer would be no. "McTavet, how many doors are there?"
He had to ask twice before Mr. McTavet heard him. When he answered his voice sounded odd, like someone speaking while in a hypnotic trance. "Four. Front door, two back doors that open out onto the patio, and the kitchen door."
"Two men on each door, and two more at each end of the upstairs corridor," the chief said to the men in the doorway. "And keep everyone else in the ballroom for now."
"That includes you three," Stuart said to us.
"Our friend is still upstairs," I said, although I didn't know if that was true.
"If that's so, we'll have some questions for your friend," Stuart said. "What's her name?"
“His name is Edward Scott," Otto said.
"Edward?" Mr. McTavet said, as if the name awoke him from his trance. Then his face went through a series of transformations as if a dozen emotions were warring for prominence.
"Is Edward upstairs, Jim?" the chief asked. The blustery command voice he had used on the men in the doorway was now the soft tone of a man speaking to a grieving friend.
"He was," Mr. McTavet sa
id. "Not just now, no. But earlier. Ivy… had to… have words… to explain…" But the words were lost in racking sobs.
"Yes, of course," the chief said. He rested a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Jim, you should see to your wife. She needs you."
"My Ivy," Mr. McTavet sobbed. His hands fluttered around her as if he longed to gather her up in his arms but was also afraid to touch her.
"I'll see to Ivy, Jim," the chief said. He looked around until his eyes found the butler. As if he felt that gaze on him, the butler lowered his hand and pulled himself back into a formal posture. "Tompkins, isn't it? Tompkins, bring Mr. McTavet to the library and get him something to drink. And send someone to see to Mrs. McTavet.”
"Of course," Tompkins said. He discreetly wiped at his eyes as he brushed past us to reach Mr. McTavet's side and help him to his feet.
"You three. Where were you when she fell?" the chief asked us.
"Just there, against the wall," Otto said, pointing out the spot.
"Can anyone confirm that?"
"Yes," I said. "We were with Brianna Collins and Mary Taylor."
"Mary," the chief said, the bluster falling out of his voice again as he looked down at Ivy's body. He seemed to be a close friend of her father's. He had probably known her since she was a baby. I couldn't imagine what he was feeling now, still trying to do his job.
But when he looked back to us, his face was all sternly professional once more. "Is someone with Mary now?"
"Brianna," I said. Not that the name would mean anything to the chief. But he nodded.
"It's going to be a while before you can go upstairs or see your friend. For now, I'll ask you to join the others in the ballroom and be as much comfort to Mary as you can."
"Of course," I said. Sophie was also nodding. Otto said nothing at all, although he appeared to be having some sort of staring contest with the policeman named Stuart. Sophie had to drag him away, back to the ballroom.