Wedding Day Murder

by Leslie Meier

  Lucy made a guess. “You don’t mean Geoff Rumford?”

  Norah’s face lit up. “That was it! I only met him once, but I used to see him around the studio quite a lot. Waiting for her after work, you know, and she always seemed happy to see him. Frankly, I was quite surprised when she started going out with Ron.”

  Lucy was philosophical. “I suppose it would be hard for someone like Geoff to compete with the next Bill Gates.”

  Norah looked at her. “I never thought Sidra was a gold digger.”

  “I didn’t mean that, exactly. But the fact remains that Geoff’s a struggling grad student. He probably couldn’t afford to take her to the movies. And a girl can get pretty tired of walks in the park and spaghetti suppers,” said Lucy. “You can drop me here—my car’s just ahead.”

  “It’s nice seeing you—and being back in Tinker’s Cove. So normal. Not like New York. Lance is with me, you know. I’m sure he’ll be looking for Elizabeth.”

  “She’s working at the Queen Vic this summer, saving for college.”

  “See what I mean? This town is so wholesome.”

  Lucy looked up and down Main Street, where the red, white, and blue bunting still hung from the street lamps and the sidewalk was filled with vacationing families. Appearances can be deceiving, she thought as she opened the car door.

  “Thanks for the lift,” she said.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Lucy sat in her car for a minute, waiting for an opening in the Main Street traffic. A bumper sticker on a passing pickup caught her eye: “TINKER’S COVE: A QUAINT DRINKING VILLAGE WITH A FISHING PROBLEM.”

  The stickers had been a fad a couple of years ago, when the state first announced the lobster quota, and a human services report issued about the same time concluded the town had a higher rate of alcoholism than the rest of the state. As far as Lucy could tell, the stickers had faded and begun to curl around the edges, but the town still had the same problems: too few lobsters and too much drinking. Summer vacation was starting to seem very long, especially now that Toby had discovered the Bilge. There was plenty of time for him to get into trouble, she decided, counting the weeks until he would return to college.

  Seeing a break, Lucy pulled out of her parking space and joined the line of traffic. She was behind a van from Maryland loaded down with a roof carrier and bicycles—a familiar sight in summer. She supposed the people in the van had the same view of Tinker’s Cove that Norah did: a wholesome New England village.

  A harbor filled with colorful boats, white clapboard houses, and window boxes filled with geraniums could sure give people the wrong impression, Lucy thought bitterly. Take Sue, for example. She lived in a charming house; she was planning her daughter’s wedding; it all looked so perfect from the outside.

  On the inside, however, it was a different story. What a tangle of emotions! Sidra had fallen in love with Ron, but Sue and Sid didn’t approve. Now that Ron was dead, Sue was relieved but Sidra was broken-hearted. As for Sid, he was out of town, and Sue seemed in no hurry to have him return. You might almost think that Sue was worried Sid would be a suspect.

  Lucy braked for the traffic light. If Sid was a suspect, so were plenty of other people, she thought. Geoff Rumford came to mind. As a jilted lover, he certainly had a motive. And there was no love lost between him and Ron. Lucy herself had seen the two men argue. Of course, the entire commercial fishing fleet also detested Ron, with his rented yacht and his buckets of money. Any one of them could have had a few too many beers at the Bilge and sent him off the end of the pier, especially if Ron had gotten into an argument over the parade float. Even Wiggins might have blamed Ron for subjecting him to the fishermen’s ridicule.

  The light changed and Lucy drove on slowly in the stop-and-go traffic that had become typical in summer. She thought of Dorfman—he certainly wasn’t shedding any tears over Ron, but Lucy didn’t think he would actually kill the man in order to get “The Final Interview.” On the other hand, she had seen the two of them arguing at Jake’s Donut Shack. Ron had certainly had a knack for ticking people off, and he might have pushed Andy Dorfman too far.

  Finally breaking free of the downtown congestion, Lucy accelerated on Main Street Extension. A glance at the speedometer told her she was going fifteen miles above the speed limit, so she lifted her foot off the gas pedal. Whoa, she told herself, thinking that she ought to rein in her thoughts as well. She didn’t even know for sure that Ron had been murdered. Maybe he just slipped and fell off the dock. What horrible irony that would be. Drowning within just a few feet of his yacht. All that money was absolutely no good to a man who’d fallen in the water and couldn’t swim.

  Lucy turned into the driveway and was greeted by Kudo, who ran up to the car with his tail wagging. She started walking to the house, but he didn’t follow her as he usually did. He stood in the yard grinning, showing his white teeth and pink tongue.

  “What do you want?” she asked.

  He turned and headed for the dirt road leading to Blueberry Pond that ran behind their property.

  “You want a walk?” Lucy asked. “Maybe a swim?” It sounded fine to her.

  Seeing her following him, Kudo showed his approval by running back and forth and wagging his tail furiously. Lucy couldn’t help smiling at this display of doggy enthusiasm, but she had to admit that, while the walk was a distraction, it wasn’t a solution.

  What was really bothering her? she wondered. Was she really that upset by Ron’s death? It was undeniably tragic—a young man with so much potential lost—but Lucy couldn’t truthfully say that she grieved for Ron. It was horrible for the women who loved him, of course. She would have to pay a visit to Thelma, she realized, but not just yet. And her heart went out to Sidra, but from what she’d seen at the shower, Sidra wasn’t quite the sweet, sensitive girl she remembered. Furthermore, there was the niggling doubt whether Sidra had really loved Ron, even if she had managed to convince herself that she did.

  It was none of those things, thought Lucy as she stepped out into the clearing and saw the sparkling blue water of the pond. Kudo was involved in his favorite game of chasing the tadpoles that lined the water’s edge, but his antics didn’t make her smile. She stepped from rock to rock, finally perching on a big boulder. There, she took off her shoes and let her feet dangle into the pond. The cool water felt delicious. She took a deep breath and relaxed, pressing her back against the sun-warmed rock.

  She was depressed, she realized, recognizing the black cloud that had settled on her heart. And she knew why. In the past, she’d always been able to share her thoughts and fears with Sue. But now, all these walls that Sue was busily building in an effort to avoid facing the truth had created a barrier between them. In all the years they had been friends, Lucy had never before felt shut out. But now she was.

  Sue had become so defensive and guarded that conversation didn’t flow; it was like walking on a minefield. Lucy never knew when she would say the wrong thing and Sue would close up. Lucy understood that her friend was unhappy—the wedding hadn’t gone the way she wanted; Ron was behaving strangely; Sidra had disappointed her. But before, Sue wouldn’t have dealt with these problems by drinking too much; she wouldn’t have started popping tranquilizers. She would have had a heart-to-heart chat with Lucy.

  Oh, she’d been chatting, thought Lucy, kicking her feet in the water. But she had only been going through the motions. There was something Sue was keeping from her—something Sue didn’t want to share—and it made her feel sad. She shared everything with Sue; why couldn’t Sue do the same with her? What secret could her friend possibly have that was so terrible she couldn’t share it?

  Oh my God! thought Lucy, sitting bolt upright. What if Sue had killed Ron? That would explain everything. Her drunkenness at the shower. Her tension. Her odd little silences. Her decision to sequester herself, unwilling to accept her friends’ attention and condolences.

  Lucy was on her feet. She jumped off the rock and started pacing back and forth o
n the gravelly beach. She couldn’t be still; she had to move. It can’t be true, it can’t be true, she muttered as she headed back for the path. Sue would never do such a thing. Never.

  Sid, she was willing to admit, had a tendency to go a bit too far in defense of his family. Lucy could remember an incident when Sidra was involved in a minor automobile accident and Sid had marched into the emergency room and confronted the motorist who had rear-ended her car. And there was the time at the pizza place when Sid hadn’t liked the way a customer was looking at Sidra and had threatened him. Sid was a little hotheaded, but not Sue.

  Sue was calm and rational, thought Lucy, striding back to the house. She was warm and nurturing and . . . Lucy stopped dead in her tracks. She could remember it as clearly as if it had been yesterday. Sue had called, absolutely mortified. Sidra was in eighth grade and for some reason or other hadn’t made the honor roll. Sue confessed she had gone into the principal’s office and completely lost her temper. In fact, Lucy remembered, Sue had been so embarrassed that she’d resigned as class mother and avoided the school until the man left to take a new job a year later.

  Lucy was standing there, lost in her thoughts, when Kudo trotted up and, planting his feet firmly on the path, gave himself a good shake and Lucy a cold shower in the process.

  “Thanks, I needed that,” she told him as they continued along the path. She felt, she realized, like Marge must have felt when she’d gone for a routine mammogram and learned that there was a suspicious lump. There was nothing to do then, Marge had told her, but to hope for the best while preparing for the worst.

  That was what she was going to have to do, too. Now that the possibility that Sue might have killed Ron had reared its ugly head, she was going to have to face it and find out if it was true. But first, she realized, glancing at the clock as she stood at the kitchen sink and drank a glass of water, she had to pick up the kids.

  Lucy got to the Queen Vic a few minutes before five. She sat in the car, waiting for Elizabeth. Waiting, she thought, was about all she was up to. After all the emotions of the afternoon, she felt completely spent.

  “That Mrs. McNaughton is so unfair,” exclaimed Elizabeth, yanking the car door open and startling her.

  “Hi, Elizabeth,” she responded, with a deliberate show of manners, “it’s nice to see you. Did you have a nice day?”

  The subtle lesson was lost on Elizabeth, who plopped herself down in the passenger seat.

  “Nice day? Are you kidding? I mean, even when it’s a normal day, it’s disgusting. I’m a chambermaid, for Pete’s sake. And today was not normal. That writer guy, the one in 3B, Dorfman, complained to Mrs. McNaughton that his notes and tapes were missing, and of course, she accused me. Which is so stupid, because what would I want with that stuff anyway? Besides, that guy is such a pig, it’s probably all there but he just can’t find it. Like it’s my fault if I have to move his stuff around just to make the bed and dust the room. But I wouldn’t steal it—give me a break here.”

  Lucy resisted the urge to giggle hysterically. Elizabeth, who was affectionately known as “Piggy” at home, did not see the irony of the situation.

  “I don’t think you’re even listening to me,” complained Elizabeth. “Can’t you say something?”

  “I’m sorry,” said Lucy. “I’m a little upset. I’ve been thinking about Ron’s death and all.”

  “Yeah, that is weird, isn’t it? They say he just fell in the water and drowned, right next to his boat. You’d think he would have yelled or something.”

  Elizabeth’s casual comment hit Lucy like a punch to the stomach. Of course he would have yelled—if he’d just slipped into the water accidentally. But all those people on the yacht hadn’t heard a thing.

  “I don’t think they know for sure how he died,” she said, wondering if the music and talk had been loud enough to cover the cries of a desperate man.

  “It’s creepy. One minute he was alive, and the next he was dead.” Elizabeth pondered this conundrum for a moment. “You know, I saw him yesterday. Right here in the inn.”

  Lucy was interested. “When was this?”

  “Sometime in the afternoon. Kind of late, I think. Just before I left.”

  “Around four or five?”

  “I think so. Why are you so interested?”

  “Like you said, he was alive and then he was dead. I was wondering what he was doing before he died.”

  “Well, when I saw him, he was coming down the stairs from the third floor.”

  “That’s the floor Dorfman’s room is on?”

  “Yeah.” Elizabeth stared out the window for a minute. “This is really crummy for Sidra, isn’t it?”

  “It’s awful.”

  “She was planning her wedding. . . .”

  Lucy responded with a sniffle.

  “So, what do you do when this happens?” demanded Elizabeth. “I mean, do you get to keep the ring? What about your wedding dress? Can you return it and get all your money back? And the shower presents—can she keep them? I heard she got quite a haul.”

  “Elizabeth,” Lucy exclaimed, losing patience. “This isn’t like your prom date changed his mind or something. Ron’s dead. Sidra’s lost the man she loves. It’s tragic. Somehow, I don’t think she’s even thinking about the dress or the presents.”

  “I suppose not,” said a chastened Elizabeth.

  Lucy turned onto Sea Street and back to the harbor to pick up Toby. The parking lot was full of boxy trucks with satellite dishes on top; Ron’s death would make the TV newscasts this evening. A lone police cruiser remained at the yacht, probably to keep the reporters from bothering Thelma. Lucy parked nearby, as close as she could get to the pier.

  “Do you think Ron could have been visiting Dorfman?” she asked.

  “Probably,” said Elizabeth. “After all, Dorfman is doing a story on him. Most of the stuff in his room is about Ron.” She gasped. “You don’t think Ron took the tapes and stuff, do you? Maybe he didn’t like the way the story was going or something.”

  “It’s something to think about,” said Lucy. She gazed out over the harbor, looking for the Lady L. “You know who I saw today? Norah.”

  “Oh,” said Elizabeth.

  “She said Lance is here with her.”

  “That’s interesting,” Elizabeth said in a carefully neutral voice.

  “I thought you’d be more excited. I thought you and he kind of have a thing, maybe, sort of. You know.”

  “He’s okay, but he’s so immature. And I’m not going to be able to see much of him, anyway, since I’m working. I can’t spend my time lying around the pool or riding a jet ski like he can.”

  “You make it sound as if you’re in a penal colony. You do have days off, you know.”

  “I’m volunteering to help with the lobster project on my days off,” Elizabeth said, surprising her. “I thought it would be good for college.”

  Lucy nodded, not quite sure what to think. Maybe Elizabeth was interested in turning over a new leaf, or maybe she had come up with a way of getting closer to Geoff.

  Seeing Toby approaching the dock in a dinghy, Lucy honked her horn and checked her watch. Once again, she was going to be late picking up Zoe and Sara.

  Chapter Seventeen

  It was the top story on the local TV news Friday night: Ron Davitz’s death had been ruled a homicide by the medical examiner. Autopsy results had revealed there was no water in Davitz’s lungs, which meant he had been dead when he hit the water. Further examination had revealed bruising and lacerations consistent with a blow to the head. The time of death had not yet been determined.

  “I wonder how they can be so sure it was a homicide,” said Lucy. “Maybe he hit his head accidentally on something on his way into the water.”

  She and Bill were sitting together in the family room, drinking their after-dinner coffee and catching up on the day’s news.

  “It’s amazing what these forensic guys can figure out just from the body,” said Bill
.

  “I’m so glad he wasn’t shot.”

  “What do you mean? What does it matter how he was killed?”

  “Because,” said Lucy, “Sue found a gun in the house, and considering how much Sid disliked Ron, it seemed possible he might have shot him.”

  “Sid?” snorted Bill. “That’s crazy.”

  “Not so crazy, especially since he’s left town.”

  “The man went fishing. He goes this time every year.”

  Lucy didn’t like Bill’s tone.

  “Well, it did seem pretty suspicious,” said Lucy, defending her thinking. “Especially with the wedding coming up. But now that Ron wasn’t shot, it couldn’t have been Sid.”

  “I don’t follow your logic at all,” said Bill, leaning back in the recliner and opening the sports section of the paper. “Sid could have hit him on the head with the gun.”

  Lucy’s jaw dropped. “You think Sid did it!”

  “No, I don’t.” Bill lowered the paper. “If you ask me, I think it’s unlikely his death had anything to do with Tinker’s Cove. This guy had connections all over the world, and you know what they say, you don’t get to be that rich without stepping on a few toes.” Bill narrowed his eyes. “Lucy, you’re not getting involved in this thing, are you?”

  “Of course I’m involved. Sue’s my best friend. I work for the newspaper. How can I not be involved?”

  “You know what I mean, Lucy. You’re not conducting a private little investigation of your own, are you? Because if you’ve got time for something like that, you could be taking care of some things around here.” He disappeared behind the paper.

  “What, exactly, do you think I’ve been neglecting around here? You’ve got clean clothes; the house is relatively clean; you get a hot meal every night.”

  “Well, if you don’t see what’s wrong, there’s no point talking about it. We’d just fight.”