Tying the Knot (13 page)

“What did you tell him?” asked Beatrice, gently swinging.

“I decided to ignore the fact that he was trying to blackmail me. Instead I tried to appeal to the real Trevor, underneath. I reminded him that he'd spent lots of time at my house as a kid. My mother probably saw Trevor even more than
his
mother had. I told him I couldn't imagine that he would deliberately hurt her by spreading the story all over town, especially in her frail condition. I was reproachful, too, telling him that he wasn't acting like a real friend to me,” said Daniel.

“How did he respond to that?”

Daniel sighed. “You remember how he was. He was so intoxicated that night that it was amazing he could even think to blackmail me. It was probably the alcohol that made him laugh after I finished my plea. I think it must have been. But whatever it was, I'd had enough. Here I was trying to lay our personal history out on the line, and he was laughing. That was the moment where I told Trevor that I didn't want him to be my best man. By that time, I'd pulled into his driveway and I was ready to help him into his house and wash my hands of him.”

“What did Trevor say in response?” asked Beatrice.

“He got very quiet suddenly. I think he was shocked, actually. It had clearly been a point of pride to him that he'd been asked to serve as my best man. And then to have that duty removed from him?” Daniel shook his head. “He must have really been intoxicated to think that I'd allow him to remain my best man, under the circumstances.”

“Did he say anything else before you left?” asked Beatrice.

“He did.” Daniel closed his eyes briefly. “He said that if I didn't want him to spread the story about my father all over town, I'd better pay up. And then he asked for more money than he had a few minutes before.”

Beatrice took a deep breath. “Have you told Ramsay about this?”

“No,” said Daniel quickly, “And I have no intention of doing so.”

Beatrice thought for a moment. “But Eleanor said that Trevor was planning on reforming. So at some point, he must have changed his mind.”

“Maybe he'd just mentioned blackmailing again as a way of getting back at me for removing him as best man.” Daniel shrugged. “I don't know. I know only that that's what he told me.”

Beatrice said, “I'm curious why you didn't uninvite him to the wedding, as well. After all, at that point, your relationship must have seemed pretty bleak.”

Daniel said, “It did seem bleak. I called Harper after I got back home and told her that I didn't even want to see Trevor at our wedding—that he should have no part in such a happy celebration. Harper was surprised. She'd seen Trevor's bad behavior, but she knew nothing about the blackmail. It must have looked as if I were overreacting. Harper told me that I'd regret it if I uninvited him. Besides, she said, she'd like Eleanor to be there. So I kept them on the guest list.”

Beatrice said slowly, “And Trevor came to the wedding and behaved very well throughout the ceremony and reception. He didn't drink any alcohol or behave badly. Eleanor swore he'd promised to improve. So maybe he was wanting to apologize to you at the reception? I know you did talk there.”

Daniel's eyes were sad. “He didn't come out and apologize, per se, but you could tell he was sorry. And
I
was sorry. That wasn't how I'd wanted our relationship to turn out. Of course, I couldn't really spend much time with Trevor, either—as the groom, I had guests to greet, pictures to take, guests to thank, cake to cut . . . It was a busy evening. But I did have a chance to thank him for coming and to tell him I hoped our friendship would soon return to normal.”

Daniel was busy at the reception, no doubt about it.
But Beatrice did remember him spending time at Trevor's table. And it wasn't only for a minute, either.

He looked at his watch. “Now I really should go. And you'll need to meet Wyatt in the dining room. I'll see you soon, Beatrice.”

As he hurried away, giving a small wave as he left, Beatrice couldn't help but wonder if Daniel hadn't gotten the memo about Trevor's plan to reform in time—and had proactively decided to stop the blackmail himself.

Daniel had given Beatrice a lot to think about, and she felt rather weighed down as she walked back along the long hallway. Then she spotted Wyatt, listening intently to a resident. He looked up with a quick smile as he saw her. She smiled back, and suddenly all she could think about was him.

They walked into the sunny dining room together. There were flowers on every white tablecloth-covered table and a piano in the corner, which a sprightly resident with an erect bearing was playing with enthusiasm. Beatrice and Wyatt stood in a long cafeteria line, holding blue trays as they waited for their roasted vegetables and spiral-cut ham. “I'm so glad you could be here today,” he murmured to her.

And once again she had the feeling of all the worrying thoughts and the pressure drop from her. The only thing that remained was the two of them spending
time together . . . even if it was while they were volunteering their time or delving into a mystery.

Before she could answer Wyatt, she saw a wispy woman who appeared to be in her eighties giving her a wink and a thumbs-up. It was all Beatrice could do not to giggle like a schoolgirl in response. Instead she said, a little breathlessly, “I am, too.”

She and Wyatt sat at a table for four. A gentleman who was particularly hard of hearing sat with them. After Beatrice and Wyatt made several attempts at conversation, he waved at his ears, shrugged, and focused all of his attention on his plate. The lady who'd been vigorously playing a complex and lively piano piece settled into slow, gentle piano jazz. The ham and vegetables were much more flavorful than Beatrice had anticipated and she felt almost as if she and Wyatt were at a restaurant.

“What quilt are you working on now?” asked Wyatt. “Did you finish the owl quilt you were making for Piper?”

“Almost. Then I'm going to try something new—a kaleidoscope pattern,” said Beatrice.

Wyatt raised his eyebrows. “That certainly doesn't sound easy. I'd love to see it when you're done. Maybe it's time for another quilt show at the church. I'll have to check with Meadow to see if she's interested.”

Beatrice smiled. A man who appreciated her craft, a tasty lunch, and jazz music. Who could ask for more? She felt herself relax, muscles loosening for the first time in days.

*   *   *

After lunch, they headed back to Dappled Hills Presbyterian in the van. Now Beatrice was preparing to walk home from the church.

“Want a ride?” asked Miss Sissy. She pointed an arthritic finger in the direction of her ancient Lincoln.

Beatrice repressed a shudder. Miss Sissy saw no difference between the road and the sidewalk. In fact, she usually chose the sidewalk to drive on because there was less traffic there. “No, thanks, Miss Sissy. I could use the exercise.”

“Do you want me to give you a lift?” asked Wyatt under his breath, as Miss Sissy climbed into her car and drove away after a series of backfires. Beatrice realized that although she'd tried to be talkative during lunch and the ride back to the church, she'd had a lot on her mind after her talk with Daniel. And she was conflicted about whether she should share it with Wyatt. She finally decided that she shouldn't fill Wyatt in until at least Daniel had time to talk with Harper.

“Oh no. It's just right down the road.”

“Then let me walk with you. After the huge lunch we had at Mountain Vistas, I think I could use a little walking,” said Wyatt, patting his stomach.

There was a spring breeze blowing around them as they walked, and Beatrice gave a small shiver. Wyatt immediately removed his light jacket and put it around Beatrice's shoulders. She smiled at him, and he reached for her hand. In a soft voice he said, “I'm happy we were able to spend some time together today.” He hesitated before saying, “Although I love my work with the church, it sometimes pulls me in many different directions. It doesn't mean that while I'm being pulled off, I wouldn't rather be spending time with you.”

Beatrice gave his hand a squeeze, and they walked to her house in comfortable quiet.

*   *   *

The busy day tired Beatrice more than she'd thought. She ate a light supper of tomato soup before turning in before ten o'clock. Beatrice slept soundly until gruff barking from Noo-noo sometime before dawn startled her awake.

Beatrice frowned. Noo-noo usually only barked if there were people knocking on the door. She listened hard, but couldn't hear any unusual sounds. And then Noo-noo gave another gruff bark.

That was enough for Beatrice. The corgi's ears were so large, she trusted that her dog was hearing something that Beatrice's pitiful human ears couldn't. She pulled on her bathrobe from the foot of the bed and stuck her feet into a pair of fluffy slippers. Beatrice paused long enough in the living room to grab a fireplace poker from the hearth and then cautiously moved toward the front door.

Peering out the window, all she saw was the dim light of the dawn struggling against cloud cover. Then she looked down and saw a large, wriggling black object. Meadow's Boris.

With a sigh she opened the door. “Boris, what are you doing here?” she scolded the animal. “It's too early to visit.”

Boris grinned joyfully at Beatrice, sure that his presence was a delightful surprise. He touched noses with Noo-noo, who gave Boris a disdainful look and backed away. And then Beatrice saw Boris had apparently been swimming in a nearby creek. A second, closer inspection revealed that it was mud, not water, covering Boris.

“Boris!” said Beatrice with exasperation. She couldn't
let the dog back outside or he'd run off again. But she didn't want the red mud all over her floors and throw rugs, either. “Sit, Boris!” she said sternly. “Sit!”

Boris continued grinning up at her. Beatrice very much doubted Meadow's assertion that Boris was part corgi. If Boris had had an ounce of corgi in him, he'd be sitting with alacrity by now.

Beatrice hurried into the kitchen and pulled open a drawer with folded cleaning rags inside. She took out three and then got another. Boris had, naturally, followed her from the doorway and was finally sitting, tail slapping the floor as he wagged it. Beatrice took out a bucket, filled it halfway with water, and got to work scrubbing the mud off Boris.

At least he lay still and the job didn't take as long as Beatrice had thought it would. Although she somehow still managed to get muddy red clay all over her robe, the hem of her nightgown, and parts of her slippers.

She patted him down with a dry towel. “All right, Boris. I'm not sure Meadow is up yet, so why don't you just hang out here for a while?” Beatrice, stiff from having crouched on the floor for so long, stood with a bit more difficulty than she'd expected. She sent Meadow a text message so that once she woke up, she'd know where Boris was. Then she mopped up the muddy paw prints, changed clothes, and started a load of laundry.

Thirty minutes later, Meadow appeared. Beatrice wordlessly handed her a cup of coffee as Meadow walked through the door. Meadow looked wild, and was wearing startling yellow pajamas that made her look like a canary. Her gray braid was messy, with most of the strands working their way out. She immediately
spotted the mop and bucket and the sparkling-clean Boris and said, “What a bad dog! We don't visit neighbors before dawn—and definitely not when we're filthy.”

“How do you suppose he got out, Meadow?” asked Beatrice.

“I haven't the foggiest idea.” Meadow gave Boris a look of reluctant admiration. “But he's such a smart dog that I'm not all that surprised. He escapes on a regular basis. It's quite astounding.” She pointed over to the living room. “Is it okay if we visit for a while?”

Meadow sat on the cushy sofa, and Beatrice sat in the overstuffed gingham armchair next to her. Through the large window in the back of the room, Beatrice saw that the sun was coming up and shining bands of light across Beatrice's backyard, illuminating the gardenia bushes, azaleas, and trees. Cardinals, chickadees, and Carolina wrens were at the feeders. This was, actually, her favorite time of the day.

Meadow took a large sip of her coffee and leaned back into the softness of the sofa. “Now,
this
is a good start to a morning. Not like having to clean up a muddy dog and muddy floor. Sorry about that, Beatrice. But I'm glad I'm here because I wanted to ask you how everything went with Wyatt yesterday at the retirement home. Did you get to spend some quality time together?”

Beatrice gave a rueful smile. When Meadow was stuck on a topic, she was
stuck
on it. “We did. It was a nice day. I think Miss Sissy's nose was a little out of joint that I took her spot on the church van, but, other than that, everything was good.” Except, maybe, for
the fact that she'd discovered Wyatt's brother-in-law's secret. That wasn't all that good.

“See, I think you're holding out on me. Something happened. Maybe, judging from that look in your eyes, something that wasn't so great. And I don't need to hear the scoop on Miss Sissy, for heaven's sake. So, fill me in.” Meadow used her most commanding voice.

“Wyatt and I spent time together. We visited with residents there. We ate lunch in the dining room. And he walked me back home afterward. So we had a very pleasant day together. And, yes, something did happen. Something related to the case. But I don't feel right about disclosing it now. That's all.” Beatrice gave a small shrug, as if that was all she had to say. She knew Meadow wasn't going to let it drop at that, however.

“You can't just leave me hanging like that,” said Meadow reproachfully. “I'm your sidekick.”

Beatrice wasn't convinced.

Meadow paused. “All right. Well, at least tell me who it's regarding and what it's about, even if you don't give me any details.”

Beatrice considered this. “All right. But not a word to anyone.”

“I
never
gossip.”

Beatrice rolled her eyes.

“Revision: I never gossip during murder investigations. I wouldn't—it would go against the sidekick code of honor,” said Meadow, crossing her heart with her finger.

“I didn't realize that sidekicks had a code of honor,” said Beatrice with a smile.

Meadow said breezily, “Oh goodness. We're very advanced as an organization. Even unionized.”

“Okay. Well, basically, when Wyatt and I were volunteering at the retirement home, we saw Daniel there with Mrs. Kemp in one of the common areas. He looked alarmed at seeing us, actually,” said Beatrice.

Meadow's eyes opened wide. “Did you have an opportunity to speak to him?”

“I did. We'd finished visiting with the residents there and were about to head to the dining room for lunch. You know how Trevor needed money and was attempting to blackmail your doctor, Patrick Finley? He was also apparently trying to extort money from Daniel,” said Beatrice.

Meadow released her pent-up breath. “Oh no. That's what I was hoping
wouldn't
happen. That means that Daniel had more of a motive than we thought. We were thinking he was simply angry at Trevor for his crazy behavior. It didn't seem like he had that much reason to kill Trevor—not like Eleanor or Patrick or Lyla, anyway. Now it looks a lot more likely. And who would suspect the groom?” Looking despondent, she collapsed back into the cushy depths of the sofa. “And I like Harper so much. She is going to be your sister-in-law.”

Beatrice's head was starting to hurt. She rubbed it with a few fingers. “I was sorry to hear it, for sure. Although I'd suspected that something like that was possible, I was upset to have it confirmed. But, Meadow, it doesn't mean that Daniel
did
murder Trevor. Think about it: Trevor was a very good friend of Daniel's. And it was Daniel's wedding, after all. He was in the
spotlight. He'd have to have been pretty brazen to slip sleeping pills into his former best man's drink during his own wedding reception.”

“Or desperate,” pointed out Meadow, glumly. “Besides, he's a lawyer, and they're brimming with self-confidence. And he hangs out with criminals all day.”

Beatrice gave a spluttering laugh. “In the context of a trial, maybe. It's not like he's hanging out with bad guys on street corners.”

“Whatever. It all seems very grim suddenly.”

Beatrice took a thoughtful sip of her coffee. “Let's think of it this way. As you mentioned, there were other people who were more likely to have killed Trevor.”

“Until now.”

Beatrice ignored her and kept going. “Your physician, for instance. Patrick Finley was being blackmailed by Trevor Garber for something that could end his livelihood. That's pretty major. I'm not going into details about what Daniel was being blackmailed for, but I can promise you that it was nothing in the same league.”

Meadow looked somewhat more cheerful.

“Besides, Patrick wasn't supposed to even be at the wedding at all. Daniel and Harper didn't know him. So it seems rather more suspicious that he was lurking around the tent,” said Beatrice.

“He claims he was lurking around the tent to wait for an opportunity to reason with Trevor, right?” asked Meadow. “That's how he explained it, anyway. And it kind of makes sense, if you think about it. Dr. Finley probably figured that Trevor would be on his best behavior during a wedding.”

“Wonder how Patrick even knew about the
wedding?” asked Beatrice. “Considering he wasn't invited at all.”

Boris, sound asleep on the floor, started having a nightmare, and Meadow patted him reassuringly. “Trevor probably told him about the wedding, maybe even when they were out at the restaurant that night. Or maybe he made a note of it when the engagement announcement was in the paper. Patrick might have figured that Trevor, as best man, would be of sound enough mind to reason with. That maybe Trevor took the position seriously enough that he wouldn't be completely intoxicated at the wedding, and Patrick could reason with him. Maybe he tried to catch Trevor at home several times and Trevor was in no condition to speak to him then. And we know that Trevor wasn't really going into work any longer, so he couldn't speak to him then.”