Death at an English Wedding (Murder on Location Book 7)

by Sara Rosett

  Grace rounded the corner and stopped. “Kate, you look absolutely smashing!”

  “Thanks.” Grace was as American as Alex, but she’d picked up many expressions from her British classmates. Yesterday she’d been “knackered” when she arrived from the bus ride. I still couldn’t get over how much taller and more grown-up she looked. In the last few months, she’d grown into a young woman instead of a gangly pre-teen. She’d changed out of her school uniform as soon as she arrived in the village, and now wore a pair of skinny jeans with a lime green long-sleeved T-shirt that complemented her dark hair and eyes.

  Melissa gave Slink a final pat on the head then pointed a finger at her. “No slobbering or shedding on the dress.” Slink opened her mouth and panted happily back at her. Melissa said to me, “I have to go and change. Paul’s picking me up for the not-a-rehearsal dinner at the pub.” She picked up her sewing kit and waved as she headed for the door.

  I’d learned that in the UK wedding rehearsals and rehearsal dinners were not usually part of wedding traditions. Malcolm had been scandalized when I’d asked what time we’d hold the rehearsal. “We don’t need a rehearsal,” he’d said. “Everything will go flawlessly. We often have three weddings a week,” he’d added when I’d been about to protest.

  I’d let the wedding rehearsal go—how hard could it be to walk down the aisle? But I felt a flutter of nerves. Steps, I reminded myself. It’s one foot in front of the other. No big deal. With lots of people watching you, my nerves whispered. I pushed away those worries and focused on tonight at the pub. I could worry about tripping tomorrow. Tonight, Alex’s dad was hosting an evening at the pub in place of a rehearsal dinner.

  “That’s why I’m here,” Grace said. “Alex wants to know if you’re ready to go.”

  I closed the front door behind Melissa and looked down at my dress. “Not quite. You can go on, and I’ll meet you there in a few minutes.”

  “Okay,” she said but made no move to leave.

  I paused with my hand on the stair’s bannister. “Do you want to wait for me?”

  “Ah—no. I wanted to show you this.” She pulled a small jeweler’s box out of the back pocket of her jeans and flicked it open. An opal necklace rested against the pale blue satin. “I thought you might like to wear this for your something blue?”

  “That’s gorgeous—and that’s so nice of you to think of me. You didn’t buy that, did you?” I knew she got an allowance from her dad, and while there weren’t many opportunities to purchase things while at school, I certainly didn’t want her spending her money on me.

  “It was my grandmother’s. It’s part of a set with earrings. Alex said I can only wear it on special occasions. I thought maybe you might like to wear the necklace, and I could, maybe, wear the earrings. Share the set—like sisters share things, you know.” She hurried on before I could answer and added, “I know it’s mostly white, but it does have some blue in it…it sort of sparkles blue.”

  “I’d love to wear it, Grace. It’s perfect.”

  After Grace left, I tucked the jewelry box with the necklace into my suitcase, touched that she wanted to share the set with me. I zipped the suitcase closed and set it aside. Tonight I would be at Parkview in the rose room. Most of the wedding party were staying in the stately home. My mom had been ensconced in the green room since she arrived, and Alex’s dad was staying there, too.

  I slipped out of my dress, glad that it had a side zipper, and hung it up with all the care that Melissa would have lavished on a period gown. I changed into a V-neck sweater, khaki pants, and high-heeled boots, then hurried back downstairs.

  I slipped on my jacket as I stepped out the front door and locked it. I turned and stopped dead on the top step of the little porch that fronted the cottage as I stared at the man with longish gray hair and glasses who stood hesitating at my front gate.

  “Dad,” I said after a moment and trotted down the steps. I opened the gate and stepped into his hug. I normally like my personal space, but I squeezed tight against his shoulder. “You came.” The familiar waft of his citrus aftershave combined with the faint but distinctive chemical smell of a dry-cleaned jacket took me back to my childhood. I was six years old and at the breakfast table as Dad gave me a quick hug before he left for work. I pulled away, almost expecting him to say, “Learn something interesting at school today, kiddo.”

  When I looked at his face, I was struck by the new lines that traced along his forehead. Grooves that I didn’t remember on either side of his mouth deepened as he smiled at me. “Look at you. So beautiful. So grown-up.”

  “What are you doing here?” He flinched slightly at my words, and I squeezed his arm. “Not that I’m not glad to see you. I’m thrilled you’re here. Thrilled! I’m a little—shocked, too, I guess. I was so sure you wouldn’t be here.” My vision had gone blurry. I blinked quickly, realizing that I hadn’t even admitted to myself how much I wanted my whole family to be at the wedding.

  “It’s your wedding. I couldn’t miss it.” He looked a little misty-eyed, too, and cleared his throat. “Although, I would have appreciated a State-side wedding. Plenty of nice places over there, you know. That way I wouldn’t have had a woman tell me about her fourteen grandchildren—with pictures—for eight hours.”

  “You flew?”

  “Had too,” he said. “I left it too late to do anything else.”

  “I’m—I actually don’t know what to say. Wait, yes, I do. Grace would say ‘gobsmacked’ and that’s it, exactly. I’m gobsmacked. Thank you for coming. I know how hard that must have been for you.”

  He looked away and focused on the gate. “I’ve messed up…well…many things. Too many to count, you know.” He transferred his gaze to me. “I didn’t want to add anything else to the list.”

  I smiled at him, understanding what he was trying to say about the past. “I’m glad you’re here. I’d love for you to come in, but we’re having a little get-together at the pub tonight.” I motioned to the lane and the village. “It starts in a few minutes. Will you come with me?”

  “I don’t want to be in the way.”

  “You won’t be. We have to catch up. You can meet Alex…and everyone else.”

  “All right, I can try a pint of the local brew.” He fell into step beside me. “Alex seems like a fine one.”

  I stopped. “You’ve already met him? When did you get here?”

  “I arrived yesterday. I’ve been at the inn, sleeping off the time change.”

  “But you can’t stay there. I have a room reserved for you at Parkview. I thought—I hoped—that you’d come. You can move up there tonight,” I said quickly in a matter-of-fact voice because he was blinking again.

  “Yes. Good idea.”

  “Now, have you met Alex?” I asked as we resumed walking.

  “Only on the phone. And I think he’s definitely right about a cruise—that’s how I’m going home.”

  The pub was not far. My dad was in the middle of telling me how ridiculous he found airport screening practices when we arrived at the pub, and a rusty mint-green Range Rover pulled up beside us. It belonged to Parkview and was used to ferry guests to and from the village. Alex’s dad, Randall, a distinguished man with dark hair and a touch of gray at his temples, dressed in an immaculate charcoal suit, climbed out. I’d met him yesterday and moved to say hello to him and begin the introductions, but he turned and helped my mom out of the car. I was surprised to see she was wearing a tailored black sheath. The plain lines of the dress seemed a little unlike her usual style, but then she reached in the car and picked up a fringed shawl in a bright red-and-gold pattern. She tossed it around her shoulders, hooked her umbrella over her arm, and reached for Randall’s arm. My mom was not one to overlook a handsome escort.

  Dad hadn’t noticed them. “…pulled every third person for inspection,” he was saying. “Like back in grade school when we had to number off. How they think a terrorist couldn’t figure out the pattern and move to a different place i
n line, I don’t know…” His gaze connected with my mother’s. The smile she’d tossed at Randall vanished.

  Randall, like the excellent diplomat he was, recognized a delicate situation and melted away after greeting us and saying that he would see everyone inside.

  My mother opened her mouth to say something, but I could tell from her expression that it wouldn’t get us off on the right foot, so I said quickly, “Isn’t it great that Dad could make it? I’m so glad my whole family is here.”

  She finally looked away from Dad to me. “Quite a surprise.” My face must have shown how tense I was because she lowered her tone from freezing to merely chilly as she turned back to Dad. “Oliver. It’s…good…to see you again.” She sounded anything but pleased.

  “You too, Ava.” He reached out to shake her hand. “You look lovely.”

  My dad might have dropped everything and fled from our life in California, but he did have his moments.

  I could see his words thawed her a bit more. “Thank you.” She shook his hand.

  I breathed a sigh of relief. “Let’s go in.” I was eager to get them into the pub and separated. I saw several friends once we were inside. Melissa and Paul were huddled together at one of the tall tables, and Louise whipped by, tray in hand. I was surprised to see Malcolm at the bar. I’d invited everyone in Parkview’s estate office, but hadn’t expected Malcolm to come. I passed Carl, who was circulating through the pub, looking dapper as usual. Today he sported a blue ascot with his open-collared shirt and jacket. “Good to see you’re feeling better,” I said since I’d missed him every time I was in the estate office at Parkview lately. I was glad to see his color was good, and he looked as healthy as he always did.

  He patted his chest. “Back to normal now.” He leaned closer and said, “But don’t tell Louise. She’s still plying me with food and drink, and I like it.”

  I had a feeling it was more than sympathy that had Louise attending to Carl. He might have salt-and-pepper hair, but he was one of the few bachelors in Nether Woodsmoor under sixty. He lifted his drink. “Cheers.”

  “There’s Alex and his dad,” I said to my parents as they followed me through the crowd. Full introductions were performed, and Randall offered to get my dad a drink. My mom said she wanted to check her lipstick, so I pointed her in the direction of the loo, which left Alex and me alone for a few moments. I pulled him a few paces away from the crowd to a table in the corner. “You called my dad.”

  “Guilty.”

  He looked worried, so I said, “I’m so glad you did. How did you convince him to come?”

  “I told him you wanted him here.”

  I frowned. “But I told him that.”

  “Yes, but sometimes when it comes from someone else the argument is more effective.”

  “Well, I’m glad he’s here. At least, I think I’m glad. It was touch-and-go outside when he and my mom met face-to-face. It’s not outright war between them, thank goodness, like it was years ago. They’ve declared a cease-fire—for now.”

  “Hmm. Well, we don’t have to worry about my parents fighting. They never speak to each other.” He reached for my hand. “Brent just got here. I want you to meet him. No stressful undercurrents there.”

  We made our way through the crowd to Alex’s best man. Brent was a short man in his late twenties with thick golden hair cut short around his ears and combed to the side in a retro Mad Men look. He and Alex did a quick guy hug with sharp smacks on the back, then Alex introduced me. Alex and Brent had been at several of the same diplomatic postings during the years they were growing up.

  Brent twitched his tie straight and transferred his glass to his left hand. “Wonderful to meet you, Kate. You’re more beautiful than Alex said.”

  “Thank you.” I sent Alex a quick glance. “That’s a lovely thing to say, but I’m sure you and Alex have better things to talk about besides what I look like.”

  “Busted,” said Alex to Brent. “I told you she would see right through that fake embassy chit-chat.”

  Brent swirled the stir stick in his drink as he laughed. “Occupational hazard.” Brent was in the foreign service and currently worked in the same embassy as Alex’s dad.

  “You do it very well, though.” I hoped I hadn’t gotten off on the wrong foot with Alex’s best friend. “Small talk is not my thing—as you can tell.”

  Brent was the closest thing Alex had to a childhood friend, but looking at them side by side, I wouldn’t have thought they had anything in common. Alex was in what he considered dressy clothes, a blue oxford shirt with an open collar and a pair of dark jeans, while Brent wore a dark suit and tie. Alex dressed down as a rule. He’d agreed to make an exception for the wedding and wear a tux. Alex was tall and lanky and had a relaxed, casual air about him while a sense of hyped up energy emanated from Brent. He was constantly moving, stepping forward or backward, smoothing down his tie, or swirling the stir stick in his drink.

  “Then you and I must talk later.” He leaned toward me as if he were about to confide in me. “I have plenty of stories to tell you about Alex.”

  “Save them for the reception,” Alex said.

  I heard something and looked at Alex. “Was that a shout?” The pub was crowded and the noise level was high, but I’d heard a sharp exclamation. It had sounded far away. “Maybe outside?”

  “I didn’t hear anything—” A screeching sound filled the air briefly, then cut off.

  A murmur rippled through the crowd inside the pub, and several people moved to the door. Someone near the window pointed outside. “Look, a fight.”

  I scanned the room and didn’t see either my mom or dad. Alex was taller than me. “Are they in the back? My parents? Can you see them? Maybe behind the bar?”

  “No. I don’t see either of them.”

  I turned and pushed through the crowd to the door with Alex right behind me.

  The cool night air washed over me as I threaded my way through the clump of people standing outside the pub’s door. I emerged from the crush and saw my dad on his back on the ground, and my mom standing over him with her fists clenched.

  CHAPTER 4

  T he pub didn’t have much of an entry area, only a strip of flagstones that formed the sidewalk. I hurried across the area to my dad.

  “Mom, how could you?” I squatted down beside my dad. He was already sitting up. Alex went to his other side. I was relieved to see that Mom didn’t have the umbrella with her. She must have left it in the pub. I didn’t want anyone brandishing umbrellas with lethal points right now.

  Mom ignored me and spoke to Dad. “Of all the stupid things to do.” Her trembling voice carried through the air, drowning out the sound of a jogger’s footfalls as he trotted down the street, his long hair flopping as he ran. “But typical of you. Blundering in where you have no clue and making a mess of things.” My words must have finally registered with her because she looked at me suddenly. “How is this my fault?”

  “You didn’t hit him?” I nodded at the tight ball of her fist as Alex and I reached to help my dad up.

  He waved us off. “I’m fine.” He got to his feet on his own.

  “No, I did not,” Mom said. “The very idea. I’m surprised at you, Katherine.”

  I drew in a deep breath. We were at the full name stage, never a good place to be with a parent.

  Dad brushed the tails of his jacket. “No harm done. I just—” He looked at my mom, and some sort of unspoken communication flashed between them. For a second I thought I saw an almost pleading look on Mom’s face. Dad adjusted his cuffs. “I tripped. Must be the jet lag. I stepped out for a breath of fresh air, but I’m fine now. Let’s all go back inside.”

  The crowd at the door flowed back inside as Dad moved toward them. Alex and I followed with Mom behind us. Alex and Dad went inside the pub. I stepped back to let my mom go first, but she was looking over her shoulder.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked.

  She whipped her head to me. “Wrong? Not a
thing.”

  “Then what happened? I don’t believe for a minute that Dad tripped.”

  “That’s what he said.”

  “When you trip you fall forward, not backward.”

  “Did he say tripped? I’m sure he said slipped. Really, you do get worked up over such small things. You always were like that, even as a little girl.” She waved for me to go inside first, but I didn’t miss the quick glance she gave over her shoulder before she followed me.

  Ella poked her head in the door of the little room where I was waiting along with my dad, Melissa, and Grace for the musical cue that would signal the beginning of the wedding ceremony. “Tiny little glitch,” she said. “The organist is running a few minutes late, but it’s okay. We’re covered. We have Malcolm.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “He plays something like five instruments, including the organ. In an emergency, he can fill in. I’m going to watch for Sylvia—she’s the organist. She swears she’ll be here in less than five minutes. I’ll hustle her into place the moment she arrives.”

  Melissa smoothed down a kink in my veil, which I was wearing off my face. It floated in a cloud of tulle behind my head. “Okay,” she said, “since we have a few minutes…you have your something old?”

  “My gown.”

  “Something new?”

  I lifted the folds of skirt and angled my foot. “Snazzy heels.”

  “Something borrowed?”

  “The veil.” It was an antique from Parkview’s stash of vintage clothing. Beatrice had stopped by during one of the many planning meetings and mentioned that I was welcome to wear it.

  “Something blue?”

  “My necklace.” I touched the chain and smiled at Grace. She grinned back at me.