“You solved it didn’t you, Roxy?”
“I think so. Maybe. I hope so,” I said.
Hattie patted my hand, “That’s my girl. Now we can get down to planning a real celebration. Any clues about how to find a wedding planner on short notice? How about wedding traditions. Did you do any research on that?”
~14~
My heart nearly popped out of my chest. We hadn’t got them back yet and Hattie had decided to marry Howard. I shouldn’t have been that surprised but she had turned him down so many times. The old adage ‘absence makes the heart grow fonder’ came to mind. Only in our case we need to substitute the word – kidnapping.
While our full confidence was with Neal and the FBI, we set about searching for those who would play a part in this soon-to-be Christmas wedding. It was late but the concierge was well aware of the conditions and gave me a list of wedding chapels, wedding planners, florists, bakeries, and shops where we could buy or rent wedding apparel.
Planning weddings is a specialty of some minister’s wives but I hadn’t gotten into that role. This, however, was entirely different and a true labor of love. The perfect antidote to take my mind off of the worst thing that could possibly happen.
The concierge whose name was Chaz gave me a handful of brochures to read. He assured me that although it was a holiday he had connections to make a holiday wedding happen.
“Of course we can do the reception right here at the hotel. All the facilities will be at your service. We have a team of servers I can get in here just for the wedding. We have everything we need for serving. I’ll get with Brennan’s on the food and have Antoinette’s Bakery deliver the custom wedding cake. I will personally take care of the rest.”
I read about the Second Line, a tradition which entails a parade with the bride carrying a lacy parasol followed by their guests who strut to the music of the band. Guests wave handkerchiefs and napkins as they dance to the music. The parasol is representative of southern femininity and represents societal class. I could definitely see us doing that with Hattie and Howard in a chaise and us following. But in our case, the weather was the variable and snow seemed to be in the forecast.
Antoinette’s was the bakery that Chaz recommended. They were world famous for their Wedding Cake Pull. This tradition came from the Victorian tradition of ribbon pulling. Charms were placed in the wedding cake and all the single women pulled a charm for good luck before the bridal couple cut cake. Each charm had a special meaning. A hot air balloon or tiny Eiffel Tower meant adventure and travel. A butterfly indicated beauty. A star meant a wish would come true. A shamrock meant good luck while a heart meant love. Of course, the most prized charm was a ring which was the equivalent of catching the bridal bouquet – it meant you would be the next to get married. The competition for that one was scant – Amy and Clara being the only candidates.
I took notes and gathered the materials that Chaz and I had collaborated on. Since budget was no problem, I had Chaz contact the powers that be to see if the St. Louis Cathedral had a chapel for a small wedding. When they heard who was requesting the chapel, we were able to schedule an afternoon wedding for Christmas Day. I hurried to Hattie’s room with the news. Now all we needed was the groom and of course, the minister.
~16~
Hattie had gathered everyone to her room. I was about to explode with joy, so I blurted out all the wedding plans. It was so nice to have something positive to talk about. Inwardly my stomach churned but at least I could focus on a new turn of fate.
Hattie decided that we would all be dressed in pastel pink. She would wear a darker shade of rose.
“Hattie, what about a ring?” I asked.
“Oh I’ve had that for some time,” she said. She pulled a necklace out from under her neckline. It was antique silver and held a silver band.
“There was another time you know when I was at this point in my life. Only to be disappointed. I pray that this time it works out.”
“It will,” Clara gushed. “I’m so happy. Howard will be ecstatic.”
“He will be shocked out of his argyles,” Amy said with a little giggle. “I can’t wait to see his face.”
“You don’t have to wait,” Neal said from the doorway. He stood there with two weatherworn, tired but smiling men. None other than our Howard and Tom.
I nearly dropped my coffee cup when I saw my husband was in the room, unharmed and smiling. I ran into his arms. Amy, Suzy, and Clara were all weeping. Howard went over to Hattie bowed on one knee and placed his head in her lap. I was weeping, praising God, and laughing all at once.
I couldn’t see Hattie’s face but her hands caressed Howard’s head with care. I knew she was smiling through the grateful tears. In a voice louder than any I’d ever heard from her, Hattie said, “Howard Saunders, I love you. Will you marry me tomorrow?”
Howard nodded. They kissed with tears flowing down their cheeks. Howard turned to Tom and asked, “Will you do us the honor of performing the ceremony?”
“Of course,” Tom answered. “What about the details?” he asked.
“What details?” I answered. “Hattie and I have everything planned out. We have the venue, the apparel, the reception, the cake, and even the ring. All we needed were you two. By the way, what kept you?”
Everyone laughed.
“Howard do you want to take this or shall I begin?” Tom asked.
Howard pulled a chair beside Hattie. We seated ourselves for this explanation of the past two days. Neal sat at the dining table and helped himself to coffee.
“As Neal probably explained more than one Mafioso family was involved. They are all legit now for the most part but a few still feud over what they deem as their birthright. In the 1920s when prohibition was at its height there were some promises made and a great deal of money was at stake. The Matrangas and Marcellos were founding families but never really trusted one another. It was believed they were behind the Kennedy assassinations but never convicted,” Tom began the narrative and nodded for Howard to continue.
“Correct,” Howard said and kissed Hattie’s hand. “It seems my mother was a distant relative to this group and one of their members tracked me down through the Somewhere Bar. They made an offer for me to buy Sylvestro’s which was famous for the ‘family gatherings.’ I took the bait and investigated. But as you figured out, we never made it that far. They showed me letters my mother had written and included photos of me as I grew up.
But with all of the discussions they finally got around to asking about the missing funds. Of course, I knew nothing. All of this background was news to me. Mom never mentioned any of this. My mother never revealed any of her heritage and I never met anyone from her side of the family so I assumed they were all dead.”
“So what about the other family, the Marcellos?” Amy asked.
“Yes that was interesting and somewhat humorous. We kept asking to leave and they were serious about us staying until they could figure out where the missing money went. I assured them that my family was not wealthy. My father owned a furniture store which gradually became a chain. I worked with him and inherited the business. Then I made a few good investments.”
“I think they would have let us go then except the Marcellos kept threatening to call the New Orleans police,” Tom added. “They weren’t very good at playing gangsters. When I overheard their plans I decided that if I got a chance I would give you a clue – hence the sugar bowl, ants, and Alamo phrase. I knew my genius wife would get it,” Tom said and patted my hand. I moved a little closer to reassure myself this was real and not a dream.
“So that’s about all isn’t it Neal?” Howard looked back at his future nephew.
“Yes, we got the clue from Roxy and followed up on it. Moved in on them as they transported these two and arrested the lot. They probably will get off on kidnapping charges but I don’t think they’ll play gangsters anytime soon. I’m just thankful there were no weapons or injuries of significance. They did use a gun to force
you into their van, but it wasn’t loaded. However, the judge will take all of that into consideration,” Neal added. “Then there’s the dead Father Christmas in the lobby. Was it an accident? Or was it murder?”
“Who is he anyway,” Amy said. “Was he a member of one of those families you mentioned?”
Neal answered, “We aren’t sure but the pathology report shows antipglactic shock due to an interaction between his peanut allergy and a medication yet to be determined. His family will shed more light when we can get in touch with them.”
“Seems like he had some kind of food allergy that kicked in when he ate the party mix in the lobby. That reaction plus a previous heart condition caused him to expire in a most public way. Too bad that there were children in the hotel who witnessed it. They will probably need therapy to recover,” Neal said as he sipped his coffee.
“A sad thing to happen. When you get details I want to send something to help the family with Christmas,” Howard said and lifted the house telephone. When he returned to the group, he said that our Reveillon Dinner was ordered and we would dine presently.
Meanwhile he was back at Hattie’s side and slipped a ring on her finger that was at least a carat diamond surrounded by rubies – her favorite stone. More tears and more laughter. How could anything be so hopeless earlier in the day and so marvelous at day’s end?
I couldn’t have been happier. The scenario reminded me of when Tom proposed. It was on the college campus. We were young and in love, poor as proverbial church mice and determined not to wait any longer. Tom continued in school while I worked full time and he worked part time. We lived in the married couples’ apartment on campus and lived from paycheck to paycheck. It was one of those experiences which was hard at the time, but now I look back on as a sweet history for us. No engagement ring. Only a wedding band of silver engraved with our names. But it didn’t matter that I didn’t have a luxurious diamond or a wedding with all the trimmings, our vows were true and we were sincere in our devotion to God and to each other.
It’s funny how our memories are triggered. I was going over all this while the Thursday Club was united in preparing for the wedding of the year. We donned pink velvet evening gowns topped with a fur capelet and we each carried a white fur muff. Hattie made an appearance in her deeper pink gown with a crown of pink and scarlet roses entwined in a circlet on her head. She glowed as she made her entrance. A limo waited to take us to the cathedral; another would escort us carrying the men. We ordered gray tuxedos for them with pink vests and ties. It was a wedding worthy of royalty which Hattie and Howard were – at least to us.
At the altar, Tom winked at me as he began, “Dearly Beloved. Today we are gathered in the sight of God and this company to join this man and this woman in holy matrimony . . . “
Since I’m a minister’s wife I’ve heard this thousands of times, but this time was special – more than special. We had Skyped Debra and Tony in so they could witness this blessed event which would change all of our lives.
I mentally went over every detail. Between all of our gray cells, I believe we had thought of everything. I tried not to make eye contact with Tom as I didn’t want the waterworks to start and drip on the lovely fur muff I held . Howard beamed as he said his vows. I couldn’t see Hattie’s face but I knew she glowed like all blushing brides. Her happiness had come but it had taken a long time.
Chaz was a whiz at pulling together a wedding reception at the last minute on Christmas Day. The lobby held pink poinsettias and pink roses and anything else pink that Chaz could procure.
The buffet straight from heaven was Brennan’s best efforts. Most of the restauranteurs knew Howard and sent a signature dish with their best wishes. Champagne flowed as well as more tears. I didn’t think I had any more to shed, but these were tears of joy.
When the excitement died down, I whispered to Howard, “ Are you staying here for the honeymoon?”
“No ma’am. Hattie and I have decided that we have had quite enough of this city. We are headed to the Big Apple for theatre and hopefully no drama,” he replied.
I winked at Hattie.
She smiled.
“And all this time I thought he knew you pretty well. No drama. You’ve got a lot to learn Mr. Howard Saunders. And I’ve got a lot to get used to – Hattie Saunders,” I said.
“Yep. I don’t even have to change my monogram,” Hattie chuckled.
And now Hattie had her family. She had Debra and a chucklehead grandson. She always had the Thursday Club plus our husbands. Who knows? The New Year might bring in more adventures, more marriages, and possibilities galore. The main thing is that we have each other and that’s enough.
The End
Murder at the Manor
A Thursday Club Mystery, book 7
By: Sheila S. Hudson
Copyright 2017 Take Me Away Books, a division of Winged Publications
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission of the authors.
Scripture taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version (NIV), Copyright 1973, 1978, 1984 by International Bible Society. Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the authors’ imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual people, organizations, and/or events is purely coincidental.
~1~
What I needed was a clone to oversee the spring bake sale to fund the summer youth camp, the Community Egg Hunt, not to mention the Easter Sunrise Service Breakfast, and a companion to help me remain sane during the season. What I had was a lot on my plate and not a lot of time.
The holidays had come and gone. The Thursday Club had returned from New Orleans after seeing Hattie and Howard’s off on their honeymoon. The happy couple had only recently returned to Athena after a month long cruise. Howard instructed his assistant to purchase the former Ansley Manor, a former Bed & Breakfast just off the bypass in Watsonville.
I inspected the manor before they moved in. When it was a B&B, it was popular with the football weekend crowd. Howard had transformed it or should I say was in the process of transforming it into the perfect abode for his princess.
It was a perfect spring day. The birds were singing. The squirrels were squirreling. I was deep into a murder mystery written by one of my friends when my cell buzzed its merry tones of “O What a Beautiful Morning.” I glanced at the caller ID. It was Howard Saunders. I was tempted not to answer, but something told me that I should.
“Hello Howard. How are you this gorgeous day?”
“A body. There’s a body in the manor. The workers found a body. Can you come?” his tone threatened to burst my eardrum. It was very un-Howardlike.
“Say again, dear. I think we have a bad connection,” I said in my most soothing tones.
Did I hear him correctly? A body. Surely he said something other than ‘body’ or did he? No. I was right the first time. He said they found a body. Of course I had already put on my shoes and headed for the door before he finished saying it for the second time.
I thought of ringing Tom and then remembered that he was in his church office writing a lesson or a sermon or something. At First Church Tom was senior minister, youth minister, maintenance man, and cook and bottle washer. We were a small congregation.
Until I found out the facts, I decided not to bother my spouse. I put on my shoes and climbed into the PT Cruiser that I’d possessed since the beginning of time. Like a faithful servant, she took me straight to the manor – later to be named the scene of the crime.
By the time I arrived, the police were there along with paramedics, an ambulance, and a number of other law enforcement individuals. Since the body was already a corpse, I wasn’t sure how much use the paramedics would be. I pushed my way through the crowd of professionals and nosy neighbors. Howard met me and escorted me into the living room where a s
haken and tearful Hattie was waiting. I could tell that she was quite upset because her attire didn’t include some type of millinery.
“Oh Roxy,” Hattie called and waved me to her side. “Isn’t this terrible? The workers were taking up the old flooring in the dining room and found a body.”
With that she dabbed her already red eyes some more. I knelt and put my arm around her. She was trembling.
Callie came into the room with a tray of coffee and some pastries.
“Ma’am,” she said and placed the tray on the table between us.
“Roxy, this is my assistant – Callie Mason,” Hattie said.
“Nice to meet you Callie. I’m Roxy Thibideaux,” I said.
Callie nodded. Howard was called out of the room by the investigators.
“Coffee?” she asked. Hattie nodded. Callie poured a cup and stirred in cream. She handed it to Hattie and did the same for me, but without the white additive. With her service done Callie left us alone.
“Do you want to talk about it dear? Or should I just sit here in comforting silence?”
That made Hattie chuckle.
I took a seat opposite her in the plum velvet chair that resembled a throne.
“You know we’ve seen worse than this, old girl.” I said. “Remember old Cyrus, or the shipboard smuggling ring, or William who was dead but wasn’t dead?”
My recollections of adventures in the past at least got her mind off the people who were carting away a corpse in the next room.
“We’ve had some times haven’t we? The Korean Spa was the best. I’ll never forget that one. If I had a nickel for every time I’ve recounted that experience, I’d be a rich woman,” she said.
“Heck you ARE a rich woman. Look around Hattie my love. You’ve made it to the BIGS,” I teased. “Howard is a wonderful person and he’s loaded. Plus he is generous and he likes me.”
Thursday Club Mysteries: All 7 stories Page 31