Dad, Mars, and Bernie crowded behind me. A chill ran through me in spite of the warm evening air. “I’ll call Wolf. Keep everyone out of here.”
But precisely as I said that, Robert ran to the doorway. “Stan!” He launched himself at his brother and started CPR.
It was the right thing to do, so I didn’t stop him. Darby kneeled on the other side of Stan to help. I brushed past Craig and ran up the lawn toward my house.
Breathless, I flew into the kitchen, pushed past the catering crew, grabbed the phone, and dialed 911. I spewed information at the woman who answered. Unless I missed my guess, Wolf would arrive in a matter of minutes. Still short of breath, I hung up the phone and took ten seconds to calm down in the foyer, out of the way of the noisy kitchen. As I took deep breaths, Tucker emerged from my powder room, wiping his trousers with a towel.
“Will you look at this? Some oaf spilled his mojito on me.” His brow furrowed. “Are you all right?”
“Uncle Stan’s dead.”
“What?”
“I have to get back.” I flew through the sunroom and out the door but slowed down and walked to the shed so I wouldn’t create a bigger scene than we already had. Guests milled about but spoke in hushed tones and stared at the shed as though something dramatic might happen. Stepping inside, I said to no one in particular, “The rescue squad should be here shortly.”
Humphrey squatted beside Stan’s lifeless body. “I’m afraid he’s past needing rescue.”
Robert hovered above his brother, looking even smaller and more wizened. Darby made a cross over her chest, and Craig wrapped a tentative arm around Robert.
“What do you suppose happened?” asked Dad.
Humphrey stood up. “From the looks of things, I’d say he was either stabbed or shot in the abdomen.”
“Anyone hear a gunshot?” asked Mars.
We shook our heads.
“Surely someone saw Stan enter the shed. He wasn’t in here earlier this afternoon.” I wished I knew exactly what time Natasha and I had left the shed.
My heart thudded a little harder when I heard Wolf’s voice. “Step back, please. Sophie, I’ll need a list of names of the people who entered the shed.” But despite my thudding heart, Wolf was all business. There was not so much as a shared glance or a brush of my arm.
Unfortunately, Detective Kenner accompanied him. We’d had an unpleasant encounter before, so I was none too happy to see him. Behind his back, locals called the sly-eyed cop Defective Kenner, and I had to agree with their assessment. He turned beet red at the sight of me.
Fortunately we didn’t have to put up with each other for long because Wolf and Kenner shooed us out of the shed and guests on the lawn stepped aside to open a path for the rescue squad jogging toward us. Standing next to me, Mordecai kissed the top of his little dog’s head and held her so tightly I thought he might squash her.
“For goodness’ sake, Mordecai,” said Natasha, “we’ll just hose her off and she’ll be fine.”
He acted as though she’d suggested roasting the dog on a spit.
“Did I say hose? I meant bathe. Maybe a day at the doggy spa?” Behind his back she made a face at me. “Come up to the house and we’ll bathe her sweet little feet.”
I watched her escort Mordecai past Hannah and my mother, who looked like they might need the rescue squad. Jen wasn’t anywhere to be seen. I hoped she wasn’t in the shed watching the cops.
“Where’s Jen?” I asked Mom.
“Nina took her up to the house. Jen protested, as you can imagine, but she’s too impressionable to be here right now.”
I nodded with relief and realized that a crimson stain smudged the hem of Hannah’s beautiful wedding dress. She must have been inside the shed.
Wanda drifted over and shook her head somberly. “Married in pink, your spirit will sink.”
“Oh, please, Wanda. This isn’t the time for your ridiculous superstitions.” The last few days had worn Mom’s nerves thin.
“Really, Inga, you of all people know that I had the most awful marriage. My husband walked out on us. I only want Hannah and Natasha to benefit from my misery. Natasha is the only good that ever came of my wedding.”
Hannah ran trembling fingers over the bodice of her dress, flattening out imaginary wrinkles. “This is my fault. I don’t know what I was thinking. I wanted so badly to be married to Craig that nothing would stand in my way. And now we’re married and it’s a nightmare. None of this would have happened if I hadn’t insisted on going ahead with the wedding. I just didn’t want to imagine that anyone I knew had killed Emily.” She screwed up her face and her breath came erratically, but no tears fell.
“Hannah,” I said, “no one could possibly have foreseen something like this. Stan isn’t dead through any fault of yours.”
Mom nudged her. “You’re married now, don’t you think you should comfort your husband?”
“I thought he needed some time alone with his dad and cousin. Imagine what they must feel. They came here for a reunion with Craig and now . . .” Her face stiffened as she watched Darby hurry to the house.
Her shoulders hunched, Darby held a tissue to her nose and avoided making eye contact with anyone. Craig followed behind her and motioned to Hannah. I searched for Robert and found him slumped in a chair. His rounded shoulders and sagging head said everything.
Mom murmured, “Why would anyone kill Stan? He seemed like a fine man.”
Wolf cut through the crowd and joined us. “This is a logistical nightmare. The guests are trampling a crime scene, but there’s nowhere to put them.”
“Maybe we can fit in the house.” In the sixties Faye had built a substantial addition onto the house, expanding the dining and living rooms to accommodate large gatherings. Mars and I had thrown our share of parties for his business, but I hadn’t prepared for this crowd to be inside. Still, a lot of people went home yesterday. I didn’t think we had anywhere near the hundred-plus guests who were originally invited.
“Sophie, would it be unseemly if we served dinner?” asked Mom.
I shouldn’t have been a bit surprised. Poor Stan. Not ten minutes had passed since we discovered his body, and the talk had turned to food.
Wolf shot me a questioning look. “It would keep the guests busy while we collect names and find out if anyone saw anything suspicious.”
Serving dinner at a murder—we would be the talk of the town. But it was the only reasonable thing to do. “Give me fifteen minutes to set up.”
In a murmur, Wolf continued, “You have a guest list in case anyone takes off before we can talk to them, right?”
“No. There was a guest list once, but we have some guests who weren’t on it and a lot of others aren’t here.”
Wolf moaned. “Detain everyone as long as you can.”
I headed straight to Dad and Bernie. After explaining that we needed to move inside, I left them to mobilize the bridal party, and I ran into the house and shoved living room furniture against walls and out of the way. With one last glance at the backyard, I swung the floor-length saffron curtains closed. Walking as fast as I could, I intercepted the waiters with hors d’oeuvres and asked them to serve inside the house.
“Can we set up dinner buffet style?” I asked.
After a short discussion, we agreed to arrange it something like an omelet bar. Each guest would have to retrieve his or her own food, but the plate would be prepared by a cook who would hand it to the guest—sauce, side dishes, and all. That would distract the guests a little bit and keep them busy. We would offer tea and coffee with dinner instead of the wine we’d planned to serve. Once the police finished their questioning, we could offer wine to all.
Amid the clanking of pots and pans, I skirted through the family room, intending to return to the yard by way of the sunroom, but the sound of Craig’s voice stopped me.
“Your parents and Sophie can take care of everything. You know Wolf. If we don’t leave now, we’ll be stuck here for days.”
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What a cold man. His own uncle had been killed, and he was willing to run off and enjoy himself. Or maybe he was willing to run away from a second murder he’d committed.
I waited for Hannah’s response. If I interfered, she’d go with him for sure, just to spite me.
“We can’t leave now. Don’t you see, Craig? We’ve tried . . .” Her voice cracked. “We’ve tried so hard to have a beautiful wedding, but nothing has gone right. This isn’t the same as having it rain on a wedding day. Two people have been killed. My ring is lost. The hotel is drenched. This isn’t how it’s supposed to be.”
I sagged against the wall. Hannah was finally coming to her senses. She might not believe that Craig could be a killer, but at least she wasn’t willing to run away.
Hannah let out a little sob. “Oh no. There’s blood on my dress. That does it. We never should have pushed to be married. Wanda was right. It wasn’t our destiny. If you’ll excuse me, I believe I’ll change into something less . . . bloody.”
I could hear her crossing the sunroom, and I scooted forward just enough to peer at Craig. With his back to me, he looked out over the yard, his hands in his pants pockets. I wished I knew what he was thinking.
I didn’t want him to know I’d been eavesdropping, though. Luckily the clatter from the kitchen covered creaking floorboards as I sneaked through the kitchen to the foyer. But at that moment the front door opened and Darby entered, looking surprised to see me.
“I’m so sorry, Darby,” I muttered, at a loss for comforting words. “I didn’t know your uncle well, but he seemed like a nice man.”
She spoke wearily. “Just before the wedding I asked if anyone had seen Stan, but then the music started and I forgot about him. If I’d only said something, maybe we could have found him. Maybe it wouldn’t have been too late.”
“You can’t blame yourself.”
She wiped her eyes with trembling fingers. “We shouldn’t have come. We never should have come here.”
It finally dawned on me that half of the four uninvited people who had come to see Craig had been killed. “Are you afraid?”
She swallowed hard. “I guess I can say it now. I thought Stan killed Emily. I was so certain. But this changes everything.”
Her revelation shocked me because she knew Craig and his family far better than anyone else. “You have to tell the police. Why did you think that?”
But Bernie and Mars interrupted our little talk by carrying in the first of the long tables. Darby fled to the den, and I was stuck directing. We lined the tables up in the living room with little space between them. Although the sunroom overlooked the backyard, we decided we would have to place a couple of tables there as well. Half an hour later, with the magic of so many helping hands, everything from chairs to flowers had been moved indoors.
A table covered with one of my gingham cloths had been set up for the entrees. The waitstaff plated a choice of Pepper-Crusted Filet Mignon, Asparagus Tips with Hol landaise, and Duchess Potatoes, or Pan-Seared Salmon with Wild Mushroom Risotto and Parmesan Spinach. Guests stood in line and if police hadn’t been swarming through the yard, it might almost have seemed like a normal wedding buffet.
Mom intercepted me in the sunroom. “What should we do about Jen? We can’t keep her cooped up.” Together we walked up the stairs to my bedroom. I opened the door carefully and peeked inside.
“Mochie has been a perfect kitty,” Jen announced from the bed. She still wore her fancy dress and the tiara. “Hermione was scared at first, but I think she’s okay now.”
Nina looked up from a magazine. “Jen has taken excellent care of them so they wouldn’t be underfoot in the kitchen.”
Mom sat down next to Jen and told her what happened. Turning to me, she said, “Do you think you’d be okay if we packed Jen up and drove home?”
“No!” cried Jen. “Aunt Hannah will need me when they arrest Uncle Craig.”
TWENTY-SEVEN
From “Ask Natasha” :
Dear Natasha,
My mother is appalled at the thought of my Papillon at my wedding. He’s my baby, and I can’t marry without him. How can I convince her?
—Pixie’s Mom in Pawley’s Island
Dear Pixie’s Mom,
I understand your mother’s concerns. If you must include your dog, be sure he receives a full spa pampering on the day before the wedding—bath, trim, and painted claws. Sew a special outfit for him that matches your dress. If you’re not an accomplished seamstress, Pixie can be custom-fitted for his wedding attire. Don’t forget the bling. Swarovski crystal jewelry, hairpins, and tiaras dress up any dog. Visit http:// www.barronshouseoftreasures.com.
—Natasha
I gulped. Poor Jen had probably overheard far too much of our anti-Craig chatter.
“Why would you think that, honey?” asked Nina.
“Uncle Craig and Stan had a big argument. They were really mad, worse than my mom and dad ever are.”
Mom frowned at her, evidently unaware of problems in my brother’s marriage.
Her little face earnest, Jen continued. “Uncle Craig said he just wanted to live in peace. But Uncle Stan said he should have thought about that a long time ago and it was too late.”
“Where were you when you heard this?” I asked.
“Gramma sent me to the basement for extra paper towels and when I opened the door, I could hear them yelling, so I didn’t go down.”
“Are you sure it was them?”
“I waited in the kitchen and saw them come up. I couldn’t hear everything, but Uncle Stan said something about icing. I didn’t say anything before because it was just an argument, but . . . isn’t that another word for killing?”
Mom clutched Jen and stroked her silky hair, giving me a can-you-believe-this look. “No more TV unless I approve it. We’ll go home as soon as we can, baby.”
“Did you hear them, too?” I asked Mom.
“No,” said Jen. “She was busy telling Humphrey that you still think he’s sexy.”
“What?” I studied Jen doubtfully. Mom had strange ideas sometimes, but she surely wouldn’t say such a thing to Humphrey. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Nina lean forward, a huge grin on her face.
“It’s no big deal, Sophie,” Jen explained with the sophisticated aplomb of a fourth-grader. “Humphrey thinks you love Mars and it’s hopeless for him, so he thought he should get Hannah on the rebound and he kissed her in the shed. But then Craig came back and Hannah dumped Humphrey, but he knew you’d seen him kissing Hannah and thought you wouldn’t like him anymore.”
“That does it. We’re going home. Maybe they can pack a dinner for us downstairs.” Holding Jen close, Mom whispered, “I had no idea she heard all that.”
“I don’t want to go home,” whined Jen. “You promised we would stay the whole weekend. I want to stay with Aunt Sophie.”
“Things are different now. The wedding is over.” Mom flicked dog fur off Jen’s dress and stood. “Pack your bag.”
Jen folded her arms over her chest and averted her eyes.
“Oh, Jen,” sighed Mom. “She didn’t get this stubbornness from our side of the family,” Mom insisted before turning back to Jen. “We’ll go downstairs to have some dinner, but I want you to stay away from the garden shed and the police.”
Jen’s face shone again. “I’ll be very good, but I have to tell Wolf about Craig, okay? Maybe he won’t get into trouble if he killed Stan in self-defense.”
Mom inhaled a deep breath. “What do you know about self-defense? Honestly, I can’t imagine what your parents are thinking when they let you watch adult television programs.”
We left Mochie and Hermione in my bedroom so they wouldn’t be underfoot, and Jen led the way downstairs. Mom pulled me aside for a second and whispered, “She’s a huge fan of Nancy Drew and liable to be inclined to do some sleuthing, so help me keep her out of it.”
“We’ll tell her it’s her job to watch Daisy.” But I never implemented that
idea because Hannah reappeared in a pale yellow sheath and grabbed my arm with a strength that made me nervous. What had I done now? She’d taken off the tiara but left her hair in the becoming chignon. All traces of the feted bride had vanished. Even the wedding ring. Belying the tension I could feel in her fingers, she chirped cheerily, “Sophie, I need to borrow you.”
I followed her outside and around to the front of my house. She intertwined her fingers so tightly that her knuckles shone white. “I know I’ve been a pill and that I have no right to ask anything of you after the way I’ve acted. But, oh . . . I can’t believe I’m saying this. When I was getting ready, I looked out the window to check the progress in the backyard and I saw Craig come out of the shed.”
The Diva Takes the Cake Page 18