“Well, if we think Samantha could be targeting her grandmother over the collection, maybe Rhett is too.” I recounted how peeved Rhett had been at the hospital when Alma gifted her collection to Becca, and how Jacqueline had confirmed it.
“And then there’s Jacqueline herself,” Rachel interjected and shook her head. “I’d be mad too if I owned half The Duchess and Alma hadn’t let me plan a darn thing.”
“Especially because she’s the family film buff. She studied it in college, when Alma’s true love of film seems limited to Gone with the Wind itself.” I finished my coffee and tried to recall something else. “And I also heard her arguing with Rhett about something last night.” My tired mind finally failed me. “But I can’t recall any of the specifics.” Another idea did surface. “I do know Jacqueline isn’t happy with how differently Alma treats her daughters.”
“But is that enough motive to kill?” Truman drained his coffee. “Is there anyone else you can think of that would want to hurt Alma Cunningham?”
“Well, there’s Helene.” She would never live down being pushed into the pool. “And Eric, if he blamed his marriage to Becca dissolving because of Alma.” I slammed down my coffee cup in excitement. “And Alma said something last night about Eric not being a hero.”
Truman smiled at this tidbit and stood to go. “Thank you, ladies.”
We’d definitely been had.
* * *
After Truman left, Rachel and I spent the morning rehashing his theories as to the various motives, means, and opportunities of each suspect. It made our work freshening up the B and B more enjoyable and helped to pass the time. We’d gone from scrambling earlier in the week to make several events happen, to wondering if the next two weddings would even go on.
“If Becca is truly having second thoughts, she should just cancel her wedding to Keith right now.” Rachel fluffed Piper’s pillows while I headed for her bathroom to change out her towels.
“And if Eric can’t leave the hospital in time for his wedding, that’ll be a no-go too.” I doubted Eric and Piper could go through with their large wedding even if Eric could leave the hospital on time. I couldn’t imagine the recently shot man struggling through a big day of meeting-and-greeting guests and being up to the task.
Then again, he’d once seemed awfully keen to wed Piper. It was the only thing that had spurred him to finally get a divorce from Becca. That is, before his confession in the Greasy Spoon that he still had feelings for Becca. But maybe Eric and Piper would still want to go through with getting married in a few days’ time, if not have a big wedding.
A kernel of an idea formed in my mind. “How far along are you on that online class to become a wedding officiant?”
Rachel stopped her fluffing. “I just have to take the final test, then I’m done.”
“I have an idea.”
An hour later, I was pulling my station wagon into the parking lot at the McGavitt-Pierce Memorial Hospital. I made my way to the ICU and peeked my head in Eric’s room.
“Mallory!” Piper jumped up from her fiancé’s bedside and gave me a quick hug. “Look who’s here, sweetie.”
Eric gave me a kind smile as I sat next to his bed. He appeared to be truly on the mend, despite the tangle of wires and IV lines hooked up to him.
“I can’t wait to get out of here and marry this girl.” He turned his gaze to Piper.
I had one answer. Eric probably didn’t want to postpone getting married. His earlier ardor for Becca seemed to have dissipated.
“That’s why I wanted to talk to you two. What do you think of getting married on the appointed day, even if you don’t have your actual wedding?”
Piper nodded, seeming to warm to the idea. “We could marry right here in the hospital.”
“Rachel can do it, if you’d like. And I’m willing to reschedule your reception for any date in the future when I have an opening.” I liked this couple and wanted to accommodate them. “Or, in the alternative, you could just postpone getting married until you’re all better, Eric.”
“No!” He shook his head and turned to Piper. “I’ll ask the doctors today when I can get out of here. If I’m able to leave, we’ll go through with our wedding.”
Piper tsked over her fiancé. “Is that really the best idea? The wedding will take a lot out of you, maybe more than you can give right now.”
I had to privately agree. Eric seemed to grasp the reality of the situation and sighed. “Fine. We’ll see what the doctors say. They were hopeful I could be discharged as soon as tomorrow. If I feel well enough to go through with our wedding, I’d at least like to try.”
Piper leaned down and squeezed her fiancé’s hand.
“And if I’m still here on Saturday, Rachel can marry us.”
“I can’t wait.” Piper dropped a kiss on Eric’s forehead and headed for the tiny bathroom in the corner of the suite.
“How is Pickles?” Eric endeared himself further to me by asking about his cat.
“I think he’s in good hands with Becca.” It was true. He’d seemed content the last time I’d observed him at her home.
“And how is Alma?” Eric’s voice was suddenly sly. “I read what happened at the opening of her theater.”
I took a step away from the bed, not liking the gloating tone I picked up on in Eric’s voice.
“She’s fine, thankfully. No one was hurt too badly in the incident, although many suffered from smoke inhalation.” Including yours truly. “And the theater didn’t burn down, but there’s some damage.”
Eric shook his head in mock regret. “Alma would have an easier time of it if she treated people better. She’s not the sweet little old lady people think she is.”
“And why is that?” My heart pounded while I awaited his answer.
“She and Glenn never thought I was good enough for Becca,” Eric nearly spat. “They broke up our marriage. Isn’t that enough?”
An icy rain of nerves danced down my spine. I tried to recall where Alma had been when Eric was shot. She’d claimed she’d lost the replica revolver, and I’d peered into her purse myself. But what if she’d just stashed the gun near the gazebo and attempted to murder Eric to keep him from sweeping Becca off her feet a second time?
Don’t be ridiculous.
I barely kept myself from shaking my head at the preposterous turn my thoughts had taken. Alma may not have been a sweet old lady to everyone, but there was no way she was an attempted murderess.
“Piper mentioned you don’t recall much about the incident in the gazebo.” I tried to tread carefully and kept my voice neutral.
Eric let out a sigh laden with regret and rubbed at his eyes in a weary motion. “I can remember nearly every detail of each asylum case I’m currently working on back in Colombia. I can recall the exact moment I laid eyes on Piper.” The weariness dissipated and a gentle smile lit up Eric’s handsome face. But then a cloud of annoyance stole over his features. “But besides following Pickles out to the gazebo, I can’t remember a single thing about being shot. Nothing.”
I took in the anguished look on Eric’s face and silently castigated myself for opening this line of questioning. I should just have let the man recuperate in peace.
I quickly bade Eric goodbye and slipped from the room. But I couldn’t get the thought of his anger toward Alma out of my head. I was glad Eric had been accounted for during the arson, safely tucked away in his hospital bed. I was starting to think if he hadn’t, he’d be suspect numero uno.
* * *
I left the hospital and drove through the outskirts of town to Becca and Keith’s house. Boxes containing the decorations for their wedding slid around in the wide trunk with each turn I took. Becca and I had made several trips hauling the loot into her living room, where we’d be finishing the centerpieces for her wedding.
If she and Keith even go through with it.
We put the finishing touches on the busy collections of ostrich feathers, pearls, lace, candles, glass fruit,
and willow branches. Pickles had a grand time playing with the feathers, and Becca made no move to stop the big cat. I loved watching her interacting with the Maine Coon. It softened and humanized her, despite her usual prickly persona. And I had to chuckle at Becca’s passive-aggressive ruining of the decor Helene had decreed by letting Pickles systematically shred each ostrich feather.
“Hello, Mallory.” Keith descended the wide set of cutout stairs from the second floor of his mansion and gave me a cool stare. “Has Garrett made any headway on finalizing Becca’s divorce?”
I was glad Becca’s back was turned to her fiancé, so he didn’t witness her rolling her eyes.
“Not yet.” I was beginning to doubt Judge Frank would get around to reviewing and signing the papers anytime soon. And maybe that would play perfectly into Becca’s new plans to possibly get back together with Eric.
“See to it that he does.” Keith’s tone was high-handed and haughty, and it was my turn to roll my eyes. Pickles dropped an ostrich feather and made his way over to Keith. He sent up a meow and twined around Keith’s legs, looking for pats from the one person in the room who didn’t want to dole them out.
“Shoo. Get away, Pickles.” Keith took a step back from the cat, who ignored Keith and luxuriantly stretched against his khaki-covered legs. “Ouch! He scratched me!” Keith glared at the cat and angrily retrieved his golf bag from the corner.
“I’m out of here.” He slammed the lacquered front door behind him.
“It’s okay, pal.” Becca buried her face in Pickles’s luxuriant fur and glared at the front door. She absentmindedly worked the clasp of the cat’s collar, failing to remove it as I had.
“That thing will need the jaws of life before it can be removed,” I said.
Becca opened her mouth to respond when her cell phone trilled out from the table. The name Judith popped up on the screen.
Eric’s mother.
Becca swiped at her phone and must have accidentally put it on speaker. Judith Dempsey’s kind voice filled the room.
“I asked Eric the information you wanted, dear. He doesn’t have a will.”
Becca quickly colored and jabbed at her phone, silencing Judith. She held the cell to her ear and continued her conversation for a few more minutes, only now I wasn’t privy to what was being said on Judith’s end.
Why does she care about whether Eric has a will?
A sickening realization washed over me. Of course. Becca was still married to Eric, so she was the presumptive beneficiary of all his property as his wife.
And perhaps his presumptive killer.
Becca ended her call and turned to face me. “I guess wills are on my mind.” She shrugged and picked up a glass peach to glue to a centerpiece. “I happen to be the executor of Grandma Alma’s will.” A rueful smile appeared on her face. “I didn’t know I’d fail the bar twice, by only a few points each time. We all assumed I’d get to be an attorney, and I was still living in the States, unlike Samantha, so Alma made me executor.” She waved another ostrich feather in Pickles’s direction, and the Maine Coon executed an impressive balletic move to leap for the feather. “A month ago, before all these crimes started happening, Alma asked me to change the sole beneficiary of her will from my dad to my mom.”
I cocked my head, not sure if I’d heard her correctly. What reason would Alma have had to change who inherited from Rhett to Jacqueline?
I must have worn my puzzlement on my face.
Becca nodded at me. “I was confused too.”
Before I had time to ponder that tidbit of information, the doorbell clanged out notice of a new caller.
Becca left and returned with my boyfriend in tow. I sighed with relief when I saw Garrett.
“I thought I’d let you know in person the good news.” Garrett bestowed a kind smile on Becca. “You’re a free woman now. Judge Frank just signed the divorce decree.”
I turned to Becca, not sure what her reaction would be.
Garrett mistook Becca’s stunned silence for happiness. “Congratulations, Becca. You’re officially divorced.”
Becca sat on the couch, the wind seemingly knocked out of her at hearing the news. “I made a horrible mistake,” she whispered.
“No. I’m the one who made a mistake.” Keith strode into the room. “Rebecca Scarlett Cunningham, we’re through.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
I was now thoroughly convinced the wedding decorations from my own defunct ceremony were bad juju. They hadn’t been used in celebration of my canceled marriage to Keith, and now they wouldn’t be used by Becca and Keith either.
“Now get out.” Keith slid his golf bag from his shoulder and stood before Becca, his arms crossed.
“How dare you!” Becca screeched at Keith and tore at the diamond on her left hand. “You can’t break up with me, because I’m breaking up with you!” She threw the ring down the long hallway, where it landed with a metallic plink and jounced across the smooth, glossy floor like a stone skipped across a pond. Pickles leaped after the bauble and batted it around on the marble.
“That’s not how it works, Becca. As I recall, I just dumped you.”
The two former fiancés argued for a good five minutes over who had done the initial breaking up. Garrett send me an incredulous look that turned into one of mirth as Keith and Becca went on and on. My ribs ached as I tried to stifle my laughter. I shouldn’t have been happy about the dissolution of Keith and Becca’ s engagement, but it also meant this wedding was done, once and for all.
“Whatever, Keith. We’re leaving.” Before I knew what was happening, Becca had linked arms with me and started pulling me up the stairs.
“Um, what?”
Becca yanked me into the bedroom she shared with Keith and pulled suitcase after suitcase from under the high bed.
“I’m moving into the B and B.” Becca dumped hanger after hanger bearing designer clothes into her cavernous suitcases, not pausing to gauge my reaction.
Like hell you are.
“Piper is staying at Thistle Park.” I broached the subject obliquely. “Perhaps it would be better for you to stay somewhere else—”
“Let’s go.”
* * *
Garrett was a gentleman and made several trips to ferry Becca’s last flotilla of luggage into the blue room back at the B and B. I sent up a silent prayer that Piper wasn’t around. I wasn’t in the mood to referee the same kind of tiff they’d had at the hospital when we’d all gotten kicked out. But I needn’t have worried; the evening passed uneventfully. Becca enjoyed takeout in her room with Pickles, and Piper didn’t return from the hospital until after Becca had presumably turned in for the night. I prayed Piper’s allergies wouldn’t start acting up now that Pickles was back in the guest portion of the B and B.
But I couldn’t hide the fact that Becca had moved in for long. As the sunlight streamed across my comforter the next morning, I prepared myself for the World War Three that might ensue when Piper realized Becca had come to live with us at Thistle Park. Rachel left me to fend for myself as she attended her yoga class. I nervously fed Becca a breakfast of egg white omelet and turkey bacon, per her request. She sat at the kitchen table rather than the guests’ usual seats in the dining room. Her dark hair part stood out more than usual against the dyed blond, and big bags lurked beneath her eyes.
“I can’t believe I’m divorced from Eric and I’ve broken up with Keith.” She picked at her food with listless hands and eventually shoved the breakfast away. “What am I going to do?”
I carefully sat down before her and pushed a cup of tea toward her. She took a fortifying sip and stared at me expectantly.
“What do you want to do?” It was a simple question I’m not sure would earn me a simple answer.
Becca sighed and ran a hand through her hair. “The truth is, I think I just went to law school because my sister and my rival were going. And then I realized I had to actually practice law.” She made a face. “I wanted to pass the bar, but I
couldn’t do it in two tries. I just assumed I’d marry Keith and we’d make our life here.” Her eyes grew wistful. “But then Eric walked back into my life. And now everything’s changed.”
Uh-oh.
What Becca failed to realize was that Eric may not have wanted her in his life, despite his mother’s seeming preference for Becca over Piper. His close brush with death had seemed to renew his commitment to Piper.
A car door slammed outside the kitchen window, and Becca ran to see who had arrived.
“Eric!” She set down her tea and raced to the front hall to greet the man who had graduated from his hospital stay.
Double uh-oh.
Becca flung open the door and stopped herself from running down the porch steps in the nick of time. Piper pushed Eric in a wheelchair up the herringbone-brick walkway with an ear-to-ear grin on her face. Becca took refuge in the library, her face sullen and defeated. Piper took the long way up to the front porch, using the series of ramps at the side of the house to avoid the steps. She finally pushed Eric into the front hall.
“Welcome back.” I gave Eric my hand and congratulated him on his recovery. I resisted the urge to turn to see where Becca was.
“I owe my health to this lovely lady.” Eric impetuously pulled Piper onto his lap, and she let out a lovely laugh. “I can’t wait to carry you over this very threshold after our wedding.” Piper leaned in for a deep kiss, and I heard a soft yelp behind me. Becca stole into the hall and made for the back of the house. I distantly heard the kitchen door slam and wondered if now was the time to tell the two lovebirds that Becca was also staying at the B and B.
“I have some interesting news.” I heard the false cheery note in my voice and attempted to tamp it out. “First off, you’re officially divorced from Becca Cunningham.”
“Whoo-hoo!” Eric deftly spun around in his chair, Piper still giggling and ensconced on his lap.
“That’s the good news.” I waited for the spinning to stop.
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