Two Funerals and a Wedding (Domestic Bliss Mysteries Book 8)

by Leslie Caine

  “It isn’t? I thought wine was supposed to be stored slightly tilted toward the cork.”

  “No. That’s old-school.” She leaned her cane against a shelf and took the bottle from my hands. Her cane tipped over. I picked it up as she replaced the bottle on the shelf, neck out.

  Without stopping to think, I said, “Your cane is lighter than I expected.”

  “Yes, it’s hollow.”

  “Of course it is, come to think of it. It’s gold plated. You wouldn’t want a solid gold walking stick, after all.”

  “No. If it were solid gold, some thief would snatch it away the minute I left my house.” She gestured at the length of shelving. “Did these other bottles pass muster with you?”

  “Umm…a couple of them had that strange circle on the bottom, too.”

  “It’s just the thickness of the indent in the glass that you’re seeing. But enough of this nonsense. Why are you really here?”

  “Well, it’s pretty difficult to explain. More like really embarrassing. I’m still trying to eliminate Steve’s immediate relatives from the suspects list. Last night I kept thinking about how only someone who was familiar enough with drugs as to give someone an injection could have killed him. So it seemed to me that, other than people in the field of medicine, drug dealers, users or—”

  Aunt Bea suddenly pivoted and swung the bottle in her hands as it were a baseball bat. She cracked against the upright corner of her wine shelf as if she were christening a ship.

  I gasped and stepped back as red wine pooled on the floor. I eyed the remaining neck of the bottle in her hand. A golden-colored rod was sticking out of it. That was the circle I’d seen, which had extended from the neck to the bottom of the bottle.

  I stared, uncomprehending for a moment. Then it clicked. It was a rod of pure gold. Bea had indeed been smuggling, but not drugs. She was smuggling cylindrical bars of solid gold in her wine bottles.

  Chapter 34

  Ignoring the glass shards and the puddle of spilled wine pooling around her shoes, Bea grabbed the gold rod with her left hand and yanked it free from the bottle neck. “Don’t make me use this on your face, Erin,” Bea said, brandishing the jagged edge at me.

  I was so stunned by Aunt Bea’s actions that I didn’t know how to react. My heart was pounding with fright, yet I couldn’t quite grasp the concept that my life was in danger. “You killed them? Both men?”

  “Calling them ‘men’ makes it sound like a worse crime than it actually was,” Bea said, her voice remarkably unemotional. “I killed a pair of drug dealers.” She knocked her cane over again as she groped for it blindly. It rolled, the bottom of the cane facing me. I could see that the tip of the cane was solid cork.

  It came together for me then. I had been right the first time. “You killed a pair of drug dealers who sold the drugs that you’d smuggled through customs inside of your cane. You could access the drugs by pulling out the cork bottom from your cane.”

  “Not exactly, Erin. My cane didn’t hold enough drugs to support even one addict’s needs. The contents of my cane were for my recreational use only. The finest quality cocaine in the world. Although I’ve never once shot the drug into my own veins. Just into Drew’s.”

  “And the gold rod in your wine bottles? Is that hollow and filled with drugs, too?”

  “No, that is solid gold.” She glanced at the gold bar in her left hand. “This is a golden rod, as I like to call it. My favorite color.”

  “The rods were created so that you could smuggle gold into India? To feed that country’s citizens’ insatiable desire without having to pay their enormous fees?”

  “Yes. I never should have brought the bottles here. I usually send them straight to India from Damascus. But I had problems with one of my major…beverage importers.”

  “Mark Sullivan?”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Yes. He’s been difficult.”

  “So you framed him for murder.”

  “I tried to, yes. Don’t expect me to feel bad for that, Erin. He’s a wife beater. Michelle didn’t have the backbone to press charges. You don’t want to set a man like that free, any more than I do.”

  Bea’s cane was not far from my reach. I could probably lunge for it and use it as a defensive weapon before she could jab at me with the broken wine bottle. She followed my gaze. Stalling, I said, “It’s so clever how the diameter of your cane is the same size as the typical neck of a wine bottle.”

  “Aren’t you going to grab it? Knock the weapon from my hand?”

  I sighed. I was staring straight into her eyes. She lacked all conviction. She also looked as if she lacked the strength to hurt me. “You don’t have the stamina to overpower me and stab me. You’re still breathing heavy from breaking the bottle.”

  “True. I have a flare for the dramatic, but, clearly, the cancer has gotten the best of me.”

  “Cancer?”

  She nodded. “Of the liver.”

  Liver cancer was always fatal, and progressed rapidly. “How long have you known you were ill?”

  “Less than two weeks. My oncologist doubts I have more than three months left. I’m sorry not to have been more forthcoming with you. Or with anyone. I didn’t want to spoil everyone’s mood before your wedding. Yet now I let the cat out of the bag. As well as the gold out of the bottle.”

  “I’m just so….” What was I? Confused? Baffled? Mostly just sad. Maybe Drew and Mark were blackmailing her. Even so, Drew was Steve’s friend, and she’d killed him. Steve’s intense dislike of her had been justified. Yet I felt sorry for her. “I wish I hadn’t built this expensive wine cellar when you could have done some extravagant bucket-list item with the money.”

  “Don’t worry yourself. I’ve made up for my miserable existence many times over in the last decade. I’m prepared to meet my Maker. I’ve traveled all over the world. I was already more than ready to stop. That’s why I bought this place. And this room gives me so much pleasure.”

  But you killed two people! How can you be nonchalant about dying with that on your conscience?

  In defiance of her low-energy mood and physical weakness, Aunt Bea continued to hold the neck of the bottle in front of her as if it was a knife that she intended to stab me with.

  “You don’t want to kill me,” I told Bea, hoping that was the truth. “And you know you won’t be able to overpower me. Put the bottle down. Besides, the police are already on their way. I called them the moment I discovered something was fishy with several of your bottles.”

  “Don’t lie, Erin.” To my great relief, she dropped the broken bottle into the pool of shards and wine. She set down her bar of gold between two bottles on the shelf. “You can go ahead and call the police now, though. It’s time to stop all this madness. I’m too old and tired. That’s a line from ‘The Little Engine That Could.’ And fact of the matter is: I can’t.”

  I felt more sad than relieved. I didn’t understand what she was doing or why. I hadn’t posed much of a threat; if she’d simply demanded that I leave her house, I would have obeyed. Then I would have suggested that the police get a search warrant and discover what was going on with Bea’s wine shipments. Unable to understand her current behavior, I couldn’t predict what she would do next.

  “Watch your step,” she said over her shoulder, as she shuffled out of the wine cellar, leaving her cane behind. My heart was still pounding as I followed her. Maybe she’d hidden a gun out here; perhaps she’d shoot me or turn it on herself. Instead, she merely plopped into the closest chair at her table, her back toward me.

  I rounded the table cautiously, concerned about her health, even though that seemed pointless. Her face was pale and damp with perspiration, and she was still out of breath.

  “You can turn my cane into the police as evidence. There’s bound to be at least trace amounts of cocaine. That’s how I smuggled drugs in and out of India. And they’ll see for themselves how I smuggled gold from Dubai into India.”

  “So you killed Drew? An
d Fitz?”

  “I had no choice, Erin. They were both onto me and were both blackmailing me. They wanted to take over my business and build it into a drug empire. The last straw was when Eleanor told me the day of your shower that Fitz was blackmailing her, as well as me. I have such a limited time left on this earth. I didn’t want drug dealing and smuggling to be my only legacy. My best option was to get rid of those two despicable young men.”

  “But now your legacy is going to include killing two people. Did you think you were going to get away with it?”

  “My intention was to frame Mark. But all I really wanted was to stay out of jail long enough to watch you and Stevie get married.” She chuckled ruefully. “Missed it by a day and a half.”

  “I don’t understand, Bea. Why did you smuggle drugs? And gold? Was it just for the money?”

  She sighed and looked up at me. “No, it was mostly for vengeance. At least, originally that was my strongest motivation. I was tired of being treated like a nobody. That’s how it had been, my whole life. Always in the shadow of my flamboyant, miserable husband. Then, one day, I woke up and saw things clearly. My abusive husband had left me. I had no children. I’d never had an outside job…he’d been against all of that. He never wanted me to have a life of my own. I looked at myself in the mirror that morning and saw this fifty-five year-old image staring back at me. All of that time, gone. So I decided I was going to live large from then on out. I’d take full advantage of being the person in the room who would draw the least attention. I’m no one anyone would ever suspect of being an international smuggler.”

  She paused and eyed me from head to toe. “You still haven’t placed your call to the police, Erin. Go ahead. I’m sure your phone’s right in your purse. I’m not going anywhere.”

  Still edgy, disbelieving that she would truly just sit there, I kept an eye on her and dialed 911. When the dispatcher answered, I gave her my name and Bea’s address, and said that Bea Quinn had just confessed that she’d killed Fitz Parker and Drew Benson and wanted to turn herself in. The dispatcher asked if this was some sort of a prank. While I was assuring her that it was all on the up-and-up, Bea asked to speak with her directly. I handed her my phone.

  “This is Barbara Elizabeth Quinn, and I did indeed kill the two men that my friend Erin told you about just now. I’d appreciate it if you’d send a patrol car immediately to my house.” She paused as she listened to the dispatcher and said, “No. Thank you for offering, but I’m unwilling to stay on the line with you. I was right in the middle of a conversation. Just tell the officers to ring the doorbell, and I’ll come right out with them.” She hung up.

  “As I was saying, Erin, I didn’t see the harm in transporting gold. Buying low and selling high is the way capitalism works, and their fixed-limits on gold imports simply ensure that the rates remain sky high. I looked at my misdeeds strictly as a business opportunity.” She sighed again and shook her head. “What I didn’t realize at the start was that, once you blur one line by telling yourself you’re simply making a harmless infraction, it’s just too easy…and too tempting…to cross the next line. Then you tell yourself: I’ve already got a proven system in place. And that, well, drug addicts got themselves into their addiction. And so dealing drugs doesn’t damage anyone who hasn’t already been abusive to themselves.”

  “So you justified selling the drugs? Then you used drugs to kill? Twice?”

  By supporting her weight on the table and the back of her chair, she got to her feet and staggered over to the highboy in the corner. She grabbed a pair of red-wine glasses from the cabinet, then the bottle of red wine and corkscrew. Shuffling back to the table, she said, “I knew this day was coming, so I picked out my very best bottle for the occasion. Share a glass of wine with me, Erin. I’m assuming with my confession to poisoning, you’re hesitant and fearful. But I’ll drink first, and you can pour.”

  “No, thanks.”

  She opened the bottle with finesse and poured two glasses before dropping into her seat once again. “I should have opened this bottle sooner, to let it breathe.” She took a sip and closed her eyes. “Heavenly. This is the nectar of the gods, Erin. I’m an old woman. I’m going to be in jail for the rest of my life. It’s an excellent wine. At least try a sip.”

  “No offense, Aunt Bea, but for all I know, you’ve already poisoned the bottle and are going to kill us both if I drink any.”

  “You saw that the seal was unbroken and the cork was intact,” she scoffed. “I promise you, Erin, if this was suicide, I’d just gulp it down, then turn red and writhe on the floor. That’s not my style. I’d just as soon go out the natural way…let the cancer take me at its own pace.” She took another slow sip. “Furthermore, I have no intention of killing you. I want you and my ersatz nephew to have a long, happy marriage. I already told the police my story, so what would my purpose be?”

  This might be the strangest and stupidest decision of my life, but I could find no fault in her logic. I pulled out the chair next to hers, sat down, and indulged in a sip of wine. The flavor was sublime.

  “Wow.”

  “You see what I mean?” Bea asked. “A flavor like this should be illegal. How could I, or any rational person, ruin it with cyanide?”

  I laughed at the irony in her last statement. We sat in silence for a moment, luxuriating in my second sip of wine, but I was still so puzzled by her confession. “How did you even know that Fitz was going to be at my party?”

  “Audrey had shared the guest list with me earlier.”

  “How did you get the cyanide?”

  “Oh, please, Erin. I have all sorts of ignoble connections.”

  “And you drove out to Mark and Michelle’s house, found him on the porch, and convinced him to shoot up some coke with you?”

  She grimaced.

  “I’m truly just trying to understand.”

  “He didn’t need any convincing. He was already so high, he couldn’t function. I gave him a second dose.”

  “Just to stop him from besmirching your legend?”

  “And to undo the damage I’d done by not blowing the whistle on him. This was my deal with the devil to stay out of jail, clear back when Drew and I crossed paths in our dealings in California. I killed Drew for the good of the people in my life I was leaving behind. He brought everyone crumbling down around him. That boy had every gift in the world—loving parents, friends, community, good looks, a sharp mind, a big inheritance. Yet he was all about wanting more. He wasn’t strong enough to kick his habits. He was going to OD all on his own one day. I simply hurried the process.”

  “But…killing someone as your last act on this earth….” Not mention that one of them was the best friend of the man that I loved.

  “My only regret is that I wanted to frame Mark, but failed. He weaseled out of it.”

  “He’s innocent.”

  “No. No, he’s not. He’s committed crimes against his wife. He’s pilfered money from customer accounts.”

  “But he didn’t murder anybody.”

  “And I did.” She lifted her glass. “Here’s the toast I intended to make at your wedding. ‘To two of the loveliest people I know. May you always find the little byways in your life’s journey that give you unexpected adventures. May you remember every day how blessed you are to find each other. May your love be the beacon that guides you through the dark and troubled times. May your dark and troubled times give you the strength and maturity to never take yourself too seriously or take your love for granted. Cheers.’”

  We clinked our glasses and had a sip. I was getting choked up and had to quickly take a second one to swallow the lump in my throat. The doorbell rang. “That would be the police, here to arrest me. Let’s go let them in, shall we?”

  Chapter 35

  The next morning felt surreal. It was impossible for me to process the fact that Aunt Bea had been arrested for two murders, and that twenty-four hours later, I was sitting in a beauty salon with my bridesmaids, getting my
hair and nails done for my wedding.

  All that morning and into the afternoon, Audrey and my bridesmaids kept filling my champagne glass, taking care of my every need. I allowed myself to be whisked off to the hotel suite a short distance from the church. Next thing I knew, I was in my dress, and Audrey was handing me my bouquet and making me turn around to face the full-length mirror. It was at that moment, as I was holding my bouquet of pure white calla lilies and seeing myself in my Vera Wang gown, that I suddenly became giddy.

  My journey through hell was over. The killer had been arrested! Steve’s family members had been exonerated. Here I was, looking at myself in my wedding dress, feeling beautiful and so phenomenally lucky to have my dreams come true. I started giggling, as did Rachel, Carly, and Rhonda.

  Audrey snorted and said, “You young people just don’t know how to hold your liquor.”

  “I’ll drink to that,” Rachel said, and the four of them clinked glasses. I was too busy staring at my own reflection, telling myself that this was real. I’d gotten my dream career, my dream house. I had tried-and-true friends who meant the world to me. I was marrying the love of my life within the hour. And I believed that in heaven my mothers—my adoptive mom and my biological mom as well—were lifting their own champagne glasses to me in our shared happiness.

  Someone knocked on the door, and Audrey answered. Steve’s mom stepped inside. She gushed about my dress and exchanged some chit-chat with my friends. Then our gazes locked, and her eyes teared up.

  “Let’s step inside the bedroom for a moment,” I suggested.

  She nodded, and we sequestered ourselves for a private conversation. The moment she’d shut the door behind us, she said, “Oh, Erin, I’m never going to be able to apologize fully enough. There aren’t even words to describe how grateful I am to you for hanging in there with my family, and especially with me, in spite of how I treated you.”

  “You don’t owe me an apology. You were doing your best with an impossible situation. And, as for gratitude, you and George raised my favorite person in the entire world. I’m the one who’s grateful and indebted to you.”