Marriage and Mayhem

by Jeanne Glidewell

  “If Raven’s responsible, where would she have acquired sulfur powder?” Wendy asked.

  “You can buy it at a lot of places,” Rip said. “I know sulfur is found in a lot of fertilizers.”

  “You can buy it over the counter at any pharmacy,” Randy added. “I sprinkle it in my socks when I plan to work outside on the lawn. Sulfur powder makes a great chigger repellent.”

  “As a rancher, I can tell you it’s also found in cattle feed,” Andy said. “I’m sure Raven knew all about Bubba’s allergies. She probably hoped that, between the two poisonous flowers and the sulfur powder, it’d be enough to take him out.”

  “Or maybe,” I said, “just enough to teach him a lesson. The fact that she tried so valiantly to save him after he stopped breathing makes me think she never actually meant to kill him. After all, Raven worked up a sweat performing CPR. If not for her heroic efforts, I think Bubba would have died on the spot.”

  “That’s true,” Andy replied. In a weak attempt to bring a little levity into the conversation, he added, “Then again, she’d probably have done just about anything to get her lips on his one more time.”

  We all discussed the quickly unraveling mystery behind Bubba’s sudden and tragic collapse at the wedding. I felt some measure of relief knowing the police department was now involved in the case. But, knowing they’d be starting their own investigation did not mean that Sheila and I were to going to just sit around polishing our nails and eating bonbons, hoping they soon discovered who was behind the vicious assault on Bubba Slippknott. If not for the two of us, the police would not even realize an investigation was warranted, and I still had one more thing I wanted to check out.

  It seemed as if Sheila and I had been grounded for the day. I wanted to use the time to peruse the six or seven video clips I’d taken with my phone on the day of the wedding. I had a feeling there might be something in one of those clips that might incriminate Raven and help lead us to the truth behind Bubba’s mid-nuptials collapse. I could not have been more spot on.

  Thirty-Eight

  Once the parlor had cleared of everyone except the two of us, I motioned Sheila toward a small table that guests of the inn used to play cards, Yahtzee, and other games. Currently, part of the table was occupied by a thousand-piece, half-finished jigsaw puzzle depicting a lighthouse on a rocky coastline. Over the course of several weeks, at least a dozen different guests had spent time at the table working on it.

  After we were both seated, I said, “I know it seems as if Raven is the obvious suspect in Bubba’s illness, but for some reason I don’t think we’ve properly eliminated every possibility. For example, I keep thinking back to the gleeful expression on Lariat’s face after Bubba had been hauled away in the ambulance. I also recall him warning Wendy at the floral shop that fresh flower arrangements would keel over faster than someone suffering from heat stroke if left outside during the reception. Odd coincidence, don’t you think? Although it most likely was just an ironic analogy, given what happened at the ceremony.”

  “Yes, but it could have also been the seed that planted an evil plot in Lariat’s mind. If so, maybe he’d intended for Detective Johnston to get the tampered-with boutonniere.”

  “Perhaps. Lariat was open with me about having had run-ins with the detective, and that Wyatt wasn’t one of his favorite people. However, I don’t think Wyatt has a sulfur allergy. And it’s the collective opinion of everyone we’ve spoken with that neither man would’ve been overtaken by the toxic flowers unless they were ingested.”

  “True. You don’t think Lariat’s jubilant expression could’ve just been a result of over-indulging in my infamous spiked punch?” Sheila asked. “It’s legendary for knocking unsuspecting folks on their behinds. I swear I saw him refill his cup three or four times before the ceremony even began.”

  “I’m not surprised. I saw you do the same,” I joked. “And I did consider that possibility. In fact, I thought at the time the punch might be why he stuck around for the actual ceremony. I’d expected him to make sure everything was in order and then head on out.”

  “Yes, but I thought the same thing about Raven and Chena. Chena hung around after delivering the cake, as well, presumably to help serve it. Annie was present to shoot the wedding ceremony, of course. But Lily left after the flowers were delivered. Why wouldn’t Raven, Chena, and Lariat have done the same thing?” Sheila seemed to be thinking out loud as she considered the possibility of one of those three service providers having been involved in Bubba’s collapse. “I just can’t wrap my head around what motive Lariat might have had, or what he’d stand to gain by harming Bubba, or Wyatt, or really doing anything that might make the wedding ceremony be anything but a smooth operation and a testament to his good work.”

  “Good point.” I had to agree. Screwing up the ceremony would’ve reflected badly on the wedding planner. “Maybe we’re not giving Lariat credit where credit is due. Perhaps that’s exactly why he did hang around—to make sure everything ran smoothly so he’d give us no reason to post anything but rave reviews about his services. For all I know, that’s what every wedding planner does. Being present throughout the entire wedding festivities may be considered part of their services.”

  “Could be. I honestly don’t believe Lariat was behind the assault on Bubba. I know if I had purposely carried out the sulfur-dusting plot, I’d vamoose as soon as possible. I wouldn’t want to be present if, and when, my scheme worked and my victim keeled over.”

  “An out of sight, out of mind, kind of mindset?” I asked. At Sheila’s nod, I added, “I have to agree. I’d think the perpetrator would feel as though they’d draw less suspicion if they weren’t present when Bubba collapsed. Perhaps we should concentrate on people with at least some degree of motive who left before the ceremony commenced―for instance, Lily and Annie.”

  “Lily truly doesn’t appear to have a motive to harm Bubba. I feel as if we can safely eliminate her as a suspect. Don’t you?” At my nod, Sheila continued. “And Annie Frieze? What motive could she have?”

  I explained how Annie had lost out on a twenty-five-thousand-dollar first-place prize due to Wendy’s tie-breaking vote in the photography contest. “She won a turkey instead.”

  “A turkey?” Sheila replied with a laugh. “Hell, I’d be pissed too.”

  “And she’s a vegan.” I could hardly get it out without cracking up, and soon Sheila and I were both laughing so hard our eyes began to water.

  “Oh, hey!” Sheila exclaimed so excitedly, I thought she’d been struck by a sudden epiphany that would solve the mystery.

  “What?” I asked, as keyed up now as she appeared to be. “What just came to you?”

  “Came to me?” Sheila looked confused. “Nothing ‘came’ to me. I just found one of the last two pieces that would complete the lantern room on the lighthouse.”

  “Seriously?” I asked. I hoped I didn’t sound as irritated as I felt. My friend could have headed home five minutes after the thwarted wedding ceremony. Instead, she and Randy had hung around to help us out. I deeply appreciated their friendship and support, so I knew I had to curb my impatience. “Good eye. Now I need you to focus on the problem at hand.”

  “Oh, sorry.” Sheila flashed me a whimsical grin. I wasn’t surprised that with almost no effort whatsoever, she’d picked the correct puzzle piece out of a large group of randomly-shaped pieces. Sheila had always had a keen mind when it came to intricate brainteasers. She was an absolute wizard with Sudoku puzzles, which is something I could struggle with for a week of Sundays and never solve. That’s why I knew instinctively she’d be a good partner when it came to solving the mystery of Bubba’s collapse. As she absentmindedly sifted through the remaining puzzle pieces, Sheila said, “I guess you do have a point. We really shouldn’t disregard the fact Annie might want a little payback. And what better way to repay someone who’d cost you a prestigious award and a hefty twenty-five-thousand-dollar prize, than to screw up the biggest day of their life?�
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  Thirty-Nine

  After listening to the detailed description of my first encounter with Annie, Sheila still seemed unconvinced. “Honestly, Lexie, I’ve yet to find anyone in our suspect pool with a strong enough motive to harm―or kill―Bubba.”

  Before she spoke again, Sheila carefully inserted the last piece of the lantern room into the jigsaw puzzle on the parlor table. Once again, she had miraculously reached into a pile of about three hundred similar looking pieces and withdrew the correct piece. “What about the Custovio sisters? Who invited them? Didn’t you tell me that like Lariat, Yvonne also had a grievance against Wyatt? Could he have been the actual target, rather than Bubba?”

  “No, I don’t think so, Sheila. Yvonne doesn’t have an evil bone in her body. She can definitely be too salacious at times, but she’s a good person at heart. Besides, Wendy told me she felt obligated to invite Yvonne and added her sister, Deb, as her plus-one. Any date Yvonne might show up with would likely cause a stir, if you know what I mean.”

  “From what you’ve told me about your hairdresser, I understand Wendy’s concern.”

  “Your idea that perhaps Bubba wasn’t the intended victim does bear thinking about, Sheila. At this juncture, we can’t be positive it was Raven behind the sulfur scheme.”

  “If it turns out Raven isn’t our perpetrator, who else could it possibly be? And if Bubba wasn’t the intended victim, who was?”

  “I don’t know the answer to either of those questions, but that’s what we’re trying to figure out. I’m hoping one of the video clips I took at the wedding might give us undeniable evidence of the perpetrator’s guilt. I’d forgotten about taking the videos until this morning when I tried to drag my bone-weary keister out of bed.”

  “I know the feeling well,” Sheila said with a heavy sigh. “My headache is only just now easing up. How’s yours?”

  “Completely gone. I think the ibuprofen I took did the trick.”

  We went through the video clips one by one, paying close attention to everyone’s movements. The first two were of the entire wedding party being arranged into groups by the photographer. All business, Annie ordered members of the wedding party around like a drill sergeant. Nothing appeared to be amiss in either video clip, and Bubba looked the epitome of good health.

  The third clip showed Chena carrying the lopsided wedding cake over to the cake table and setting it down. She almost looked as if she were trying to hide behind it. Then again, I wouldn’t have wanted anyone to know I’d baked it either, especially for the amount she’d charged.

  After arranging the cake with the least pathetic side facing the crowd, Chena spoke to someone barely visible through the scope of the video’s lens. The person, who seemed to be shorter than Chena and wore a black shirt or jacket, clearly made a remark that set the cake decorator off. Chena responded back angrily and literally spat in the person’s face. I couldn’t help but wonder if any of the spittle landed on the cake, which had enough strikes against it already.

  “Oh, yuck!” I exclaimed. Sheila and I looked at each other in dismay before returning our attention to the video. Chena waved away the guest in black before removing a cake cutter, a large box of plastic forks, a stack of small cake plates, and a plastic cake topper depicting a bride and groom from a large reusable shopping bag.

  “I’m glad she chose not to use that tacky cake topper,” Sheila said.

  “Believe it or not, she did. I removed it before Wendy had a chance to observe the cake. As it was, she was horrified by the cake’s appearance, anyway. A plastic couple who look like Ken and Barbie on top of it would’ve put her over the edge.”

  We both chuckled before returning our attention back to the video clip. We watched as Chena placed things in order and then walked away, out of the field of vision. Like the previous two videos, there seemed to be nothing out of the ordinary—other than the spitting episode―so we moved on to the next one.

  Video four showed a throng of guests surrounding the refreshment table. We watched Orpha White, Hazel Hallberg, and a half-dozen other people exchange small talk while replenishing their appetizer plates. Henry Clay, a member of our church, piled at least half the shrimp rollups on his plate. Obviously, the rollups hadn’t been tainted in any way or Henry’s obituary would’ve been printed in that morning’s Rockdale Gazette. The only death mentioned in the paper was that of a Billy goat named Pepe. Sadly, Rockdale High School, otherwise known as the home of the fighting rams, had lost their school mascot to old age.

  Video five showed Lily and Raven placing a large floral spray on the serving table located on the back patio where the after-wedding reception had been slated to take place. All the individual tables were adorned with smaller silk arrangements Lariat had provided. Toward the middle of the clip, Lily handed the box of bouquets and boutonnieres to Raven, and then turned to walk toward the parking lot. At the end of the clip, Raven carried the box to the far end of the refreshment table and set it down in order to free her hands to complete another task.

  We replayed the clip several times, but didn’t detect anything abnormal. Neither Lily nor Raven’s actions appeared at all unusual. We were becoming disenchanted, having hoped for something solid enough to base a murder charge on—or at least attempted murder. I skipped the fifteen-second sixth video clip and moved on to the seventh, which was the lengthiest and final one. I had been filming it when Bubba collapsed.

  We watched in dismay as the cleric, Bob Zimmerman, asked if anyone had any objection to the union between Wendy and Andy. A second later, Bubba Slippknott passed out and fell over backwards. Reverend Bob’s amused expression clearly showed his belief that the best man had been acting out a practical joke. His expression soon morphed into one of horror when he realized it hadn’t been a hoax, but that something terrifying had happened to the now unconscious young man.

  The video then showed what looked like pure chaos erupting. A few panicky guests began running around aimlessly, while others stood perfectly still as though they were frozen like popsicles on sticks. Next, we saw the bride ripping off her veil and rushing toward the fallen best man and, finally, a highly distraught-looking Raven running over to Bubba and dropping to her knees to begin administering CPR. Raven looked nothing like a woman with murder on her mind, but rather like someone who wanted nothing more than to save the man lying in front of her. Just then, the video stopped.

  Sheila and I could only stand to watch that clip once, but we were both convinced nothing in it revealed malice on anyone’s behalf―in particular, Raven Hobbs.

  “Dang it!” I said. “I really hoped we’d find something that would implicate a murder suspect in one of these videos.”

  “Me, too,” Sheila agreed. “If it was Raven who tried to kill Bubba, she deserves an Oscar for that performance in trying to save his life. Oh, wait. We forgot to look at the sixth video, not that I expect it will show anything of any significance.”

  “I guess it couldn’t hurt to check it out.”

  And we did. We were horrified, astonished and, yes, oddly delighted, to discover something in that final video clip that convinced us who was behind the tragedy that had befallen Bubba.

  We were alone in the inn. Cindy Travis and Evelyn Horan, both from California, would be checking into the inn later in the afternoon. They’d be attending a local dog show the following day. In our quest to be as accommodating as possible, we’d arranged for Ms. Travis’s two canine contestants to have clean, comfortable bedding and a feeding station in the inn’s garage.

  Everyone else was either at the hospital or, in the Ripples’ case, speaking with Lily at Lily’s-in-Bloom Floral Shop downtown.

  There was only one thing for Sheila and me to do. We quickly got ready and were on our way within ten minutes. With any luck at all, we’d return to the inn before anyone even realized we’d left the premises. We were determined to confront the would-be killer and nail down a confession from the individual, which we would then drive directly to the po
lice station. Or, at least, that was the plan.

  We were nearly, but not one-hundred percent, certain who the perpetrator was and how the crime had been committed. The question of why this individual would carry out such an evil deed, however, remained unanswered. Sheila and I vowed not to rest until it was.

  Forty

  “Can you explain this video to us?” I asked as I set my camera down on the counter in front of the surprised woman. She watched in horror as the video clearly depicted her pulling a small plastic bottle of ground yellow powder out of the front pocket of her black jumpsuit. She then opened the bottle and liberally coated one of the boutonnieres with the powder, shook it to let the powder settle deep into the cut flowers, and set the boutonniere she’d tampered with down amongst the other bouquets and boutonnieres. Each one had a white name tag attached to the main stem, but, without enhancement, the tag was unreadable in the video.

  “What do you think this is going to prove?” The woman tugged repeatedly on her left ear lobe as she spoke, a nervous habit I’d noticed the first time we’d met in her shop.

  “That you intentionally poisoned Bubba Slippknott, and now his life hangs in the balance. You may very well end up being guilty of first-degree murder.” I spoke matter-of-factly as I studied her intently, so as to judge her countenance when she faced the truth.

  Her emotions were difficult to evaluate. Her expression morphed from surprised, to horrified, and finally to confused, all in the space of ten seconds.

  With the proof staring her right in the face, she snatched my phone off the counter and ran toward the bathroom in the rear of her shop. With her long strides, even Sheila couldn’t have caught up with her in a foot race.

  “No sense in trying to delete the video,” I hollered out to her. “I’ve already sent copies of it to Detective Johnston and the chief of police.”