by B R Snow
“Thanks,” Jill said, putting the suit back in the box. Then she sighed audibly. “I should get going.”
“Are you sure you’re okay?” I said.
“I think so. I just never thought somebody would end up getting poisoned at my rehearsal dinner.”
“Did you know that Roger and your sister had a thing going on?” I said.
“I did,” Jill said, shrugging. “I never understood it. And Roger was never one of my favorite people, especially ever since I found out he was one of the major reasons my folks got divorced. But Faith has always done pretty much whatever she wanted, and it’s really none of my business.”
“Why do you think she was attracted to him?” I said, frowning. “He was a lot older, not to mention the fact that he was dating your mom.”
“The age thing didn’t bother her,” Jill said. “But the fact that he was dating my mom made all the difference in the world to Faith.”
“Faith saw it as some sort of competition with your mom?” Josie said.
“They have a really strange relationship,” Jill said. “My mother looks at Faith and sees herself as she used to be. Faith looks at my mother as the woman she might become. And neither one of them is very happy with what they see and are scared to death. Weird, huh?”
“I guess that’s a word for it,” I said, then finally gave into my neurons that were insisting I ask the question. “This is probably going to sound very insensitive, but do you think it’s possible that either one of them could have poisoned Roger?”
Josie punched me on the shoulder.
“Ow.”
“Give it a rest, Snoopmeister,” she said, shaking her head at me. “The woman is getting married tomorrow.”
“No, it’s okay, Josie,” Jill said. “I’ve been asking myself that question since last night.”
“See? It’s a reasonable question to ask,” I said, making a face at Josie. Then I focused on Jill. “What did you come up with?”
“I don’t think either one of them could have done it,” she said, shaking her head. “Self-absorbed is one thing, murder is something else altogether.”
All three of us let the comment sink in, then Jill hugged both of us.
“I need to go make sure she’s stopped screaming. Hopefully, she’s cooled off by now, or it’s going to be a very long day. Thanks again for everything. I’ll see you guys in the morning,” she said, heading toward the door. “And thanks for the swimsuit. Sammy’s gonna love it.”
We stood there until we heard the sound of her car driving off. Josie glanced around at the dogs and waved for them to follow her.
“Okay, guys. Great job,” Josie said. “Your work is done. Who’s ready for a snack?”
The dogs scrambled across the reception area and disappeared through the door that led to the condos. A few minutes later, Josie returned and sat down next to me behind the registration counter.
“It’s been a long time since we’ve handled check-in,” she said, putting her feet up on the counter.
“Yeah, remember when we first got started, and we had to take turns covering the front desk?”
“I do. That was a long time ago, huh?”
“Yeah. We’ve come a long way,” I said, nodding. “Any regrets?”
“Other than the fact that Captain didn’t give Beelzebub a little love bite, not a one,” she said, reaching for the bag of bite-sized.
“Yeah, that would have been good,” I said, grabbing a small handful.
Chapter 4
Chief Abrams stopped by the Inn about an hour after Jill and her sister had left. Trailing at his heels was his basset hound, Wally, a regular guest at the Inn whenever the Chief’s wife was traveling, and he was working long hours. Josie had been the dog’s vet since he was a puppy, and Wally was one of our favorites. He plodded to the reception counter and stared up at us with big, sad eyes and waited for us to come around to his side and pet him. We did, and he rolled over on his back and accepted our tummy rubs.
“I thought I’d better board him for a couple of days. The missus is on an Alaskan cruise with her girlfriends and with the murder and the wedding, who knows when I’ll be able to get home.”
“You ready to have some fun, Wally?” Josie said, stroking the dog’s floppy ears. “You ready to go see all your buddies?”
We all laughed when he rolled over and headed straight for the back of the Inn toward his usual condo.
“Thanks a lot, Wally,” Chief Abrams said, laughing and shaking his head as the basset disappeared from view. “I don’t even get a goodbye?”
“He knows what he wants,” Josie said, getting to her feet. “You look tired.”
“Yeah, I was talking with the state cops until around two,” he said, helping himself to a cup of coffee.
“Any update?” I said, holding my cup out for a top-up.
“Not really. They sort of like Jill’s mom for it. But I’m leaning toward her sister. She’s a piece of work.”
“She was here with Jill earlier,” I said, sitting back down behind the counter. “Why do you think she killed him?”
“She just seems capable of doing something like that and then not showing any remorse,” he said, taking a sip of coffee.
“Or feeling any,” Josie said.
“Yeah, that too,” the Chief said, glancing out the window. “But nobody saw anyone messing around with the champagne glasses.”
“Then it had to be somebody who was sitting right next to him, right?” I said.
“That’s the only thing that makes any sense. Either that, or we’re going to have to start suspecting one of your staff,” the Chief said, chuckling.
“No, it wasn’t anybody who works for us,” Josie said. “If they were going to poison anybody, it would have been Beelzebub.”
“Are they going to arrest Jill’s mother?” I said.
“We talked about it a long time,” the Chief said. “But we decided to hold off for now. We’re going to keep a close eye on her at the wedding and reception to see if she tips her hand. I don’t know,” he said, shaking his head. “I just don’t see her doing it.”
“Well, there were fifty people around that table,” I said. “Somebody could have easily walked by and dropped a little poison into the glass, right?”
“Sure. Everybody was eating and chatting with each other,” he said. “It certainly wasn’t impossible to pull that off. But how the heck could they be sure he’d be the one who ended up with that glass?”
“Which leads you back to the idea that the poison might have been meant for the mother,” I said.
“Yeah, it’s a strange one,” the Chief said, glancing out the window. “Well, would you look at this.”
He walked to the front door and held it open. Soon, three Labrador retrievers, no more than five months old, strolled inside like they owned the place.
“My goodness,” Josie gushed. “They’re gorgeous.”
She knelt down, and all three dogs surrounded her, tongues licking and tails wagging. I sat down on the floor next to her, and the chocolate lab made a beeline for me.
“If you’re not careful, you’ll be down there all day with them.”
All three of us looked at the woman who was standing in the doorway beaming at us.
“You must be Suzy and Josie,” she said, strolling toward us. “Jill has told me so much about you.”
“You’re her godmother, right?” I said, climbing to my feet to shake hands. “Suzy Chandler. It’s so nice to meet you.”
“Missy McNamara,” she said, returning the handshake. “And you must be Josie.”
“Hi. Nice to meet you,” Josie said, laughing as the two other labs did their best to keep her sitting on the floor. “When we heard you were bringing in three small dogs, we weren’t expecting these guys. They’re adorable.”
“Yes, they certainly are,” she said, beaming at the dogs. “And they’re not going to be small much longer. Allow me to introduce you. The chocolate’s name is Cocoa
. The black lab is Licorice. And the yellow is Sunset.”
“Three puppies are quite a handful,” I said, rubbing the chocolate lab’s head.
“Everyone thought I was crazy,” Missy said. “But they’ve been inseparable almost since birth, and I couldn’t bear to break them up. So, I just decided I had to get all three.”
“Oh, no,” Josie said, laughing. “Not the briar patch.”
“Exactly,” Missy said, glancing over at Chief Abrams and extending her hand. “I’m Missy.”
“Chief Abrams. It’s nice to meet you,” he said, then his voice softened. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”
I’d been so distracted by the arrival of the labs that I’d completely forgotten the woman was the ex-wife of the man who’d been murdered last night. But judging from the look on her face, it was pretty clear she didn’t have a clue what Chief Abrams was talking about.
“My loss?” she said, frowning.
“You haven’t heard,” he said, embarrassed. “I’m sorry. I just thought you would have by now. I shouldn’t have made the assumption.”
“I think I’m going to need an explanation,” she said, glancing around at our expressions.
“Haven’t you talked with anyone yet?” I said.
“I’ve had my phone off since I left New Hampshire yesterday. I spent most of my week on the phone and decided to leave it off for a few days. And the silence has been a most welcome change.”
“You might want to check your messages,” I whispered.
She frowned at me but reached into her purse and removed her phone. She turned it on and waited. Then she grimaced and glanced around at us again. “Twenty-seven messages? What on earth is going on?”
She punched a few keys, then held the phone up to her ear and listened to the first message. Then she staggered backward and dropped the phone on the floor. The dogs were startled by the clatter, then noticed Missy’s distress and trotted toward her. We helped her into a chair and stood by helplessly as she began to cry. Josie handed her some tissues, and we waited out the first of what I assumed would be several rounds of tears.
“Roger’s dead? How did it happen?” she said, glancing up at Chief Abrams.
“We’re still waiting for the toxicology report, but we think he was poisoned.”
“Poisoned? What?”
“It appears something was put in his glass of champagne,” I said softly. “At the rehearsal dinner.”
“What on earth was he doing here at the wedding?” she said, baffled.
“Why does that surprise you?” Chief Abrams said.
“Because of all the bad history, primarily,” she said through another burst of tears. “Has Jill told you the story?”
“Some of it,” I said. “She said that your ex and her mom had a thing going on that was the major cause of both marriages breaking up.”
“It was,” Missy said, nodding. “By the time their affair ended, it was too late to salvage either one.”
“Uh, the affair ended?” Chief Abrams said, glancing at me.
“Yes, several years ago,” Missy said. “Why do you ask?”
“Because your ex-husband was invited to the wedding by Jill’s mom,” I said. “And from what we saw, it didn’t look like the affair was over.”
“Really? They were back together? That’s impossible,” she said, shaking her head. “They ended up hating each other. In fact, all four of us ended up hating each other.”
“I don’t know what to say, Missy,” I said, shrugging. “They were getting pretty snuggly at dinner.”
“Knowing her, it was probably just a ruse to get him to lower his guard,” she said, then glanced at Chief Abram. “Is she a suspect?”
“I really shouldn’t talk about it,” he said.
“She has to be a suspect,” Missy said, frowning. “Either her or that despicable creature she calls her daughter.”
“I take it you’re not a big fan of Faith,” I said.
“Nothing gets past you,” Josie whispered.
“Shut it.”
“Have you met Faith?” Missy said.
“We have,” I said.
“And?”
“And your contempt is completely understandable,” I said, shrugging. “But murder is something else altogether.”
“Did you know she was sleeping with Roger?” Missy said, wiping her eyes.
“Yes, we heard,” I said.
“And she confirmed it herself last night when I interviewed her,” Chief Abrams said.
“It’s disgusting, but knowing both of them, I can’t say I was surprised when Jill told me.”
“When was that?” Chief Abrams said.
“When did she tell me?” Missy said, frowning. “It must be several months ago.”
“So, they’d been an item for a while?” the Chief said.
“Apparently. But I haven’t spoken to either one of them in a very long time. And I doubt if they were actually an item. It was probably a casual sort of thing where they got together when they didn’t have anything better to do.”
“Romantic,” Josie said.
“If you knew them very well, their approach wouldn’t surprise you at all,” Missy said, tearing up again. She took several deep breaths and exhaled loudly. “Okay, I guess I should go touch base with some people.” She exhaled again. “I am not looking forward to this.” Then she snapped to attention. “How is Jill doing?”
“She’s going to be okay,” I said.
“The poor thing. I hate the fact that she has to deal with this right before her wedding. Do you know where she is at the moment?”
“I think her and Faith are running some errands,” I said.
“Then I think I’ll wait until later,” Missy said, grabbing a piece of paper from her purse. “Could you give me directions to my hotel?”
Josie nudged me with her elbow, and I glanced over at her. She nodded her head in the direction of our house behind the Inn, and I smiled.
“If you don’t feel like staying in a hotel, Missy, we’d be delighted to have you stay with us,” I said. “We have a ton of room at the house.”
“Really?” she said, giving it some thought. “Are you sure I wouldn’t be imposing?”
“Not at all,” Josie said. “But you will have to agree to do one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“You have to bring these guys with you,” Josie said, leaning down to pet the black lab that had taken a keen interest in one of her shoelaces.
“Absolutely. You won’t have to stay in a strange hotel, Chef Claire is making a lasagna that’s a total knee-buckler, and you wouldn’t have to leave these guys down here on their own.”
“That does sound pretty good,” Missy said, managing a small smile.
“Chef Claire is making lasagna?” Chief Abrams said, doing his best to sound casual.
“She is,” I said. “Would you like to come to dinner, Chief?”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
Chapter 5
Josie and I, wearing identical burgundy, floor-length, off the shoulder bridesmaid dresses, managed to get out of the car without snagging chiffon or dragging the bottom hem through the remnants of the morning’s rain shower. My mother and Chef Claire were already waiting for us at the bottom of the steps that led into the church. They both beamed at us as we approached.
“You two look fantastic,” my mother said, brushing away some imaginary lint from my dress. “Now, this is the way to dress, darling.”
“Yeah, I’ll make sure I wear it the next time I go fishing, Mom,” I said, gently swatting her hand away.
“How is this memorial service supposed to work?” Chef Claire said, frowning. “I mean, are you guys expected to be there? I can’t imagine you and the bride would be sitting there in your dresses the whole time.”
“According to Jill, the bridal party is supposed to wait in the room off the back of the vestibule until the memorial service is over. Then we’ll line up and get the c
eremony started,” I said.
“Who on earth decided to combine a memorial service with the wedding?” my mother said, frowning.
“Jill’s mom,” Josie said.
“Hmmm,” my mother said.
“What is it, Mom?”
“It just seems a bit strange that the woman who’s one of the primary suspects would feel the need to organize a memorial service for the victim.”
“Maybe she did it to help cover her tracks,” I said, shrugging. “You know, deflect attention away from her.”
“I think it’s weird,” Chef Claire said.
“That’s a word for it,” my mother said.
“Apparently, it’s not going to last long. Just a couple of people are going to say a few words,” I said. “But pay close attention. Since we won’t be there, I want to make sure we don’t miss anything juicy.”
“Maybe the killer will confess,” my mother said, grinning at me. “Wouldn’t that just frost your cupcakes if you weren’t there to hear it?”
“You know me so well,” I said, making a face at her before turning to Josie. “You ready?”
“Let’s do this,” she said, heading up the steps. “My feet are killing me already.”
“Don’t start. We can take our shoes off at the reception.”
“Darling?”
“Yes, Mom?”
“You’re about to enter a place of worship,” she said, her voice rising a notch. “Please try to remember that. Let’s not have any shenanigans today, okay?”
“Have a little faith, Mom,” I said, laughing at my own joke.
We entered the church, and I spotted Rooster and Jackson standing just inside the vestibule. As the two groomsmen, they were wearing tuxedos and looking very dapper. Rooster, someone who took great pride in his usual disheveled look, had even gotten a haircut. And if I didn’t know him as a man who spent most of his time wearing jeans and a sweatshirt usually streaked with engine grease, and an old pair of work boots sans shoelaces and socks, he could have easily been mistaken for some sort of corporate executive. Jackson, our former chief of police, and now the owner of our local grocery store, was tugging at his bow tie.
“Wow. You guys look great,” Rooster said, immediately ushering us toward a door. “We’re under strict orders to escort you right into the waiting room.”