Once Bitten (A Melanie Travis Mystery) (22 page)

I
went down and asked the housekeeper to clear the house of guests, while Aunt Peg used the phone in the bedroom to summon the police. When she was done, Sara called the family lawyer. Surrounded by her cherished Shelties, Delilah seemed almost oblivious to our actions.

If she noticed that her weapon had vanished, she didn’t mention its loss. Maybe she’d been hoping all along that we would talk her out of using the gun. Or maybe seeing her dogs had reminded her that she did have something to live for.

Sara, Aunt Peg, and I closed the bedroom door and went downstairs to wait.

“Good work,” Aunt Peg said to Sara. “That was quick thinking. Melanie was supposed to be providing a diversion, but she wasn’t getting the job done
at all.”

Nothing like having your own relative call you useless. Hadn’t I come up with the information that had brought us hurrying over here in the first place? I didn’t see Aunt Peg mentioning
that.
Of course, that would mean admitting to Sara that we’d thought she was a murderer.

“That part was easy to figure out,” Sara said quietly. “No matter how much pain Delilah might cause other people, I knew she’d never hurt her dogs. She loves those dogs more than anything. She always has.”

“Did you know she was the one who shot Grant?” I asked.

“No, not until I heard what she said upstairs. Maybe it was stupid on my part, but I when I ran down last night and Delilah told me someone had broken into the house and shot him, I believed her.”

“It
was
an accident,” said Aunt Peg. “Delilah didn’t mean to shoot him.”

“Yeah.” Sara’s tone was grim. “She meant to shoot me.”

“Not exactly,” I corrected. “She meant to intimidate you.”

“It’s not as if she needed a gun for that. Delilah’s been intimidating me my entire life. And the one time I decided to fight back, look what happened.”

Sara hadn’t just fought back, I thought. She’d launched an offensive whose sole intent had been to cause real damage to everyone around her. Not that I could see the point in bringing that up.

We stopped at the foot of the wide staircase, waiting, I guess, for someone to arrive. There was no sign of anyone yet, however. Sara turned and wandered toward the dining room, where an assortment of finger foods had been set out on the table. Aunt Peg and I exchanged a glance and followed.

“Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?” I asked as Sara perused the offerings, snagged a jumbo shrimp, and dipped it into a bowl of cocktail sauce.

“Go ahead.” Sara sounded resigned. “I guess this will all be out in the open soon anyway.”

“Why did you leave home the week before last?”

Sara nibbled on the end of her shrimp. “Two reasons. One, because Grant was hassling me about the baby and I figured if I just disappeared, that would show him I was serious when I said that he couldn’t push me around.”

“And the second?” asked Aunt Peg. Like me, she didn’t seem to have much of an appetite.

“I did it for Carole. Up until that point, we’d kept our relationship a secret, which for some reason gave Carole the idea that I was ashamed of her. I wasn’t, not at all, but I also wasn’t ready to make any big announcements either. My moving in with her, even for a little while, was my way of showing her that I was totally committed, even if I wasn’t ready to go public yet.”

“But if you were staying at Carole’s place, what was she doing in your cottage last Saturday night?”

Sara paused a moment before answering. “That’s the stupid part,” she said finally. “Carole’s death was just a horrible, unnecessary waste. She was trying to do something nice for me, and she ended up dying because of it.”

Aunt Peg looked just as baffled as I knew I did. “How?” she asked.

“Carole and I had had an argument earlier on Saturday. We were supposed to see some friends in the city that night and Carole wanted to tell them about the baby and about us being a couple. I wanted to hold off. We both blew up and said things we shouldn’t have.

“Carole was so upset she said she was going to call and cancel our plans, and that made me mad all over again. I told her she didn’t own me and she couldn’t tell me what to do, and that I was going to New York without her.

“I guess after I left, Carole began to regret our fight as much as I did. She left me a note telling me she’d gone to New Canaan to fetch Titus. I’d left him here because she was so allergic she could hardly breathe when he was in the same room, but Carole knew how much I’d been missing him. Apparently she was going to make this wonderful gesture to make me feel better at her own expense.”

“But Titus wasn’t in the cottage,” I pointed out.

“I found that out when I got back, but I didn’t know it at the time. Nor did Carole. I’d left Titus overnight before, and he’d always done okay. I had no reason to think that this time would be any different.”

Aunt Peg was scowling and I knew what she was thinking. Unless I jumped in, Sara was about to be treated to a lecture on the responsibilities of dog ownership.

“So Carole went to your cottage to look for him?”

“I assume that’s what happened. Carole must have been there when Grant, that sneak, went out to do his dirty work. She knew what had been going on between Grant and me, and I’m sure she didn’t want to answer any questions. She probably hid, figuring she’d come out again when he was gone. Obviously she had no idea of what he meant to do, or that she’d never have a chance to escape.”

Sara stepped over to a window, brushed back the curtain with her hand, and looked out. I wondered if she saw anyone coming up the long driveway.

“One last thing,” I said. “Debra Silver?”

“What about her?”

“What is she afraid of?”

Sara glanced my way. She let the curtain drop. “The truth, mostly. And something she did a long time ago.”

“When you were competing against one another?”

“Yes, although one thing had nothing to do with the other. At least not directly. Debra and I were teenagers at the same time, both of us growing up, trying things out, experimenting with our sexuality, I guess you might say.”

“Did you and she have a physical relationship?”

“Briefly. It was the first time either one of us had ever done anything like that. For me it was a revelation, an awakening. You know how kids are. I was so excited, I just assumed Debra felt the same way.”

Sara frowned. “Well, she didn’t. As far as she was concerned, it was just a one-time thing, a drunken experiment on New Year’s Eve that got out of hand. When I called her the next day, she seemed almost angry about what we’d done. She informed me there was no way we’d ever be getting together again.”

“That would have been a month before Westminster,” said Aunt Peg. “Is that why you poisoned her dog?”

“I never tried to poison Kadu,” Sara said firmly. “All I wanted to do was put him out of commission for a day. Debra had hurt me and I wanted to hurt her back. I certainly wasn’t afraid to compete against her, even though that was the story she told everyone.

“Debra couldn’t afford to make a big stink about what happened, because she knew if she complained to the A.K.C. I’d tell everyone why I’d done it. She’s always been terrified that someone would find out about us and think she was a lesbian.”

Sara snorted in disgust. “Debra Silver with her perfect manicure, her perfect tennis game, and her perfect husband. Even after all these years, she’s still afraid that I’ll spill the beans and ruin everything. I can’t imagine why she thinks I’d even bother.”

Probably because she knows you well enough to see what a bitch you are, I thought. Considering that Sara had been the catalyst for much of the mayhem that had transpired, she seemed to be feeling amazingly little remorse.

Out in the hallway, the doorbell chimed. The police had arrived, or maybe Delilah’s lawyer. I didn’t much care either way. I’d had just about enough of the Waring/ Bentley family. Sara and Delilah deserved one another. I was happy to leave them to deal with the consequences.

D
espite all the turmoil that had preceded it, in the end, Frank and Bertie’s wedding came together beautifully. The tiny church on Round Hill Road provided an utterly charming setting. The bride glowed. The groom, not surprisingly, alternated between looking enormously proud and scared half to death.

This was a huge step for my brother. I’m not sure he realized how huge until he stood before the altar and watched Bertie walk toward him on her father’s arm. As his sister, I recognized the fleeting look of panic that crossed his face. So did his ex-brother-in-law. Standing beside him, Bob reached out and gave Frank’s arm a reassuring squeeze.

Frank’s nervousness receded. His smile grew wider as Bertie neared. By the time the two of them were standing together in front of the priest, the couple’s pleasure in each other was palpable.

Davey made an adorable ring bearer, and Bob, like the rest of the groomsmen, looked sharp in a dove gray morning suit. With Christmas only a day away, the church was decorated with garlands of pine boughs in addition to jonquils, roses, and the yellow tulips that Bertie loved. The scents mingled in the air—a fitting metaphor, perhaps, for the union that was being blessed.

The ceremony was brief. Though given the opportunity, no one objected to the marriage, for which we were all profoundly grateful. Not that we were expecting problems, but with my family you never know.

The couple recited traditional vows, but their first kiss as man and wife was passionate enough to earn them a raised eyebrow from Aunt Peg. Seated behind us in the polished mahogany pews, Terry was grinning. Crawford, like Peg, looked miffed. I figured it was probably a generational thing.

A reception followed at the Greenwich Country Club. Our procession of cars drove slowly up the long driveway, winding between two holes of the golf course and passing the paddle-tennis courts before coming to a graceful roundabout in front of the white-pillared clubhouse. Despite all the distractions, Sara had done a wonderful job with the arrangements.

Ironically she wasn’t there to enjoy the event she’d planned. A week earlier, Sara had suffered a miscarriage and was home, resting in bed. Bertie had promised to send Josh by afterward with a piece of wedding cake and a full report on the proceedings.

The ballroom decorations were tastefully lavish. I know that because even Terry approved. Ice sculptures adorned the long buffet table, and Patricia had managed to find yellow tulips for the centerpieces, too. But lovely as everything was, I couldn’t help feeling a lingering sense of sadness.

It was hard not to remember that at one time I’d thought Sam and I would be the ones having a Christmas wedding, a public celebration of the love I’d thought we shared. Instead, this joyous occasion belonged to somebody else, and I’d neither seen nor heard from Sam in months.

When the music started and the dance floor filled with happy couples, I found an empty table in a quiet corner and sat down for a few minutes of solitude. Frank was squiring Aunt Peg sedately around the dance floor while Bertie and Terry made an impossibly dashing duo. Even Davey had found himself a partner among Bertie’s younger relatives and was twirling in time to the infectious beat. As I settled back to watch, I found my toes tapping beneath the hem of my gown.

“Mind if I join you?”

I looked up to see Bob, wonderfully handsome in his formal attire, standing behind me and waiting for permission to sit.

I nudged out the chair closest to me. “Sure, go ahead.”

“As I recall, you used to love to dance.”

“I still do. I just thought I’d sit for a minute.”

“Thinking.”

“Yes.”

“About weddings?”

I nodded. Even after all the time apart, he still knew me too well.

“You and Sam?”

“I thought it would happen.” I sighed. “It didn’t.”

“You and me?”

I lifted my eyes.

Even though he’d asked the question, Bob seemed to know the answer he was going to get. “I don’t want to go back,” he said.

“Good.”

“But I was thinking we might try going forward . . . together.”

I reached over and placed my hand on his knee. “We’ll always be friends.”

“Ouch.”

“I can’t lie to you, Bob,” I said gently.

“I wouldn’t want you to. It’s just that . . .” He paused, laying his hand on top of mine. “. . . being around you and Davey makes me happy.”

“We like having you here, too.”

Six weeks earlier, I’d have been shocked to hear myself say such a thing. But what a pleasant surprise the turnaround had been. I could never fall in love with Bob again, but his visit had turned out to be an unexpectedly welcome distraction. Not to mention the restorative effect it had had on my ego.

My ex-husband watched the play of emotions across my face. “You’re still waiting for Sam,” he said slowly.

“No.” I realized as I said it that it was the truth. I’d never regret one minute that I’d spent with Sam, but it had been his choice to walk away. What I would regret was wasting any more of my valuable time wishing for something that wasn’t going to be. “I’m not. Not anymore. Now I guess I’m just working on getting over him.”

“Will you give me a call when you do?”

“I might.” I smiled. “Who knows? By then you’ll probably have hooked up with another Jennifer, or Tiffany, or Chelsea . . .”

“One twenty-year-old is enough, thank you. Think of it this way, I’ve already had my midlife crisis and gotten it out of the way. That makes me a pretty solid bet for the future. How many men can say that?”

“Not many,” I admitted.

“We’ll keep in touch,” he said.

“Of course we will.”

“Just in case you change your mind.”

“Bob—”

He didn’t let me protest. Instead he took my hand, lifted it to his lips for a brief kiss, then used it to draw me to my feet.

“Let’s dance.”

“I’d love to.”

For the first time that day, my smile felt genuine, not forced to suit the occasion. The band was playing Van Morrison’s “Moondance.” We walked over to the dance floor and I stepped into Bob’s arms.

Davey and his dance partner glided by. She was at least six inches taller than he was and probably three years older. Neither seemed troubled by the disparity. The girl was leading, which was a good thing, because my son’s grasp of ballroom dancing is rudimentary at best.

“What do you think?” I asked him. “Shall we dance all night?”

Anything that involves staying up past his bedtime garners Davey’s immediate approval. “Yeah!”

Two votes in favor, none against. Everything in life should be this easy.

Christmas Eve passed in a flurry of baking, wrapping, eggnog, and laughter. I don’t come from a family of procrastinators. For the most part, we’d all finished our shopping early, which left us with nothing to do but actually enjoy the holiday.

Aunt Peg hosted an open house in the afternoon and early evening. She doesn’t entertain often, but when she does, she draws a crowd. Dog show folk mingled with family, friends, and neighbors around a twelve-foot Christmas tree, which, improbably, featured a blinking Poodle on its top branch.

Davey, who’d been excited for a week at the twin prospects of being in the wedding and celebrating his favorite holiday, finally began to wind down around eight o’clock. His eyes were drooping as he kissed his father good night and I loaded him into the car. Back at home, he revived just long enough to hang up his stocking and set out a glass of milk and shortbread cookies for Santa before brushing his teeth and tumbling into bed.

Outside, snow had begun to fall. Flakes drifted through the haloed light around the street lamps and settled softly on the ground. The night air was cold and dry; within minutes the snow began to accumulate.

I let the two Poodles out in the backyard, watching their reactions through the kitchen window. Eve, seeing snow for the first time, turned her face up into the flakes, blinking in wonder. Faith, who already knew how much fun a snowstorm could be, immediately began to tunnel, shoving the white stuff aside with her nose as she scooted around the yard.

I loved her racy new look: the grooming-intensive continental trim had been replaced by a becoming blanket of short, black curls on the day the certificate had arrived from the American Kennel Club confirming Faith’s championship. Now she could play as much as she liked, and the Poodle was making the most of her newfound freedom. Out in the yard, both dogs’ dark coats were quickly frosted with white.

Davey was sound asleep when I went upstairs to check. I doubted that he was dreaming of sugarplums—more likely the toy truck he’d been eyeing covetously at the mall for the past two months, which was now sitting wrapped in the hall closet. Satisfied that he wouldn’t awaken, I began to dig his presents out of their hiding places.

The Poodles, predictably, wanted to help with the arrangements. Each earned a shortbread cookie for her hard work. I drank the milk myself.

Setting things up took longer than I thought it would, but the end result was well worth it. Our Christmas tree wasn’t tall, but it was full. White lights glistened on its heavy branches. Brightly colored ornaments seemed to dance on silver strings. I turned down the lights in the living room and stood back to savor the effect. The peaceful hush of the snowy night outside added the perfect final touch.

The gentle sound of someone tapping on the front door was so soft that for a moment I thought I’d imagined it. The Poodles were alerted, though. I grabbed Eve before she could make any noise, then quickly shushed Faith with a wave of my hand. She ran to the door and cocked her head questioningly.

I followed her out to the hall, unfastened the locks, and drew the door open. In that instant, time seemed to stop. All my thoughts, all my emotions, were wiped clean.

I couldn’t think what to say. I couldn’t even seem to move.

All I could do was breathe. In, out. In, out.

I’d been there before.

Heart pounding, I stood and stared at the man who was standing on my front steps. His head and shoulders were dusted with snow; his blue eyes, shining with love.

“Merry Christmas,” said Sam.