Read Wedding Day Murder Online
Authors: Leslie Meier
Wedding Day Murder (13 page)
Chapter Fourteen
M
aybe it was a dreamâa nightmareâthought Lucy, as she drove through the downpour along the dark and empty roads that led home. Occasional flashes of lightning revealed familiar landmarks: Main Street turned into Main Street Extension; there was the stop sign at the intersection with Route One, and then the familiar turnoff onto Red Top Road. Nothing had changed. The Methodist Church was still standing on the corner of Main Street and Church Street; the Quik-Stop was in its usual place on Route One; there was still that dip in the road just before she began the climb up old Red Top Hill.
aybe it was a dreamâa nightmareâthought Lucy, as she drove through the downpour along the dark and empty roads that led home. Occasional flashes of lightning revealed familiar landmarks: Main Street turned into Main Street Extension; there was the stop sign at the intersection with Route One, and then the familiar turnoff onto Red Top Road. Nothing had changed. The Methodist Church was still standing on the corner of Main Street and Church Street; the Quik-Stop was in its usual place on Route One; there was still that dip in the road just before she began the climb up old Red Top Hill.
And when she got to the old farmhouse on top of the hill, the porch light would be on for her. Inside, Bill would probably be watching TV and the girls would be getting ready for bed or squabbling over the phone or deciding what to wear tomorrow. When she pulled into the driveway, Kudo would bark and scratch at the door until somebody let him outside so he could greet her properly.
Ron's death hadn't changed her life, but it had changed everything for Sidra. Lucy could remember the very moment it had occurred to her that something could happen to Bill. They had only been married for a few weeks; she was walking home from work, eagerly anticipating their daily reunion. What would it be like, she had wondered, if he wasn't there? That tiny, evil thought mushroomed in her mind until she was running down the street, terrified that he'd been hit by a car or shot in a holdup or stricken with a fatal heart attack. She'd burst into the house and flung herself in his arms, sobbing hysterically with relief to find him sitting at the kitchen table doing a crossword puzzle.
For Sidra, however, there would be no strong arms to embrace her; there would be no laughter over her silly fears. For her, the unthinkable had come true. She had lost the man she loved. The joy of her anticipated wedding had vanished, leaving nothing but pain and loss. Love was risky, thought Lucy, putting aside her dislike of Ron. He was the one Sidra had pinned all her hopes and dreams for the future on, he was the one she had chosen. And now, like a gambler who bets his entire stake in a game of chance, she had lost it all in one spin of the wheel.
The only thing worse than losing your partner, thought Lucy, would be losing your child. It wasn't supposed to happen like that. In the natural order of things, parents died first, leaving their children to perpetuate their line. From the first pangs of labor to the bloody birth and on through the perils of childhood, mothers learned to keep their eyes fixed firmly on the future. They poured love into their babies along with every ounce of milk, and willingly sacrificed their own health and comfort for the sake of their little ones. Thelma had been just such a mother; Lucy was sure of it. Once she was widowed, Ron had become the entire focus of her existence, and now he was gone.
Lucy groaned aloud, forcing herself to look at the possibility that Ron's death hadn't been accidental. This was one train of thought she didn't want to ride to the end of the line, but since Sue had told her the gun was missing, she had to consider the possibility that Sid had found it and used it. That, thought Lucy, would have all the trappings of tragedy. Sidra would lose not only her lover but her father; Sue would lose her husband and possibly her daughter; and Sid would lose everything.
Not so fast, thought Lucy. Here she was creating a Shakespearean drama, and she didn't even know if Ron had been murdered. Maybe he just slipped off the boat and banged his head. It happened. It wasn't time to panicânot yet. Right now, the best approach would be to wait and see. There was no sense in jumping to conclusions.
On the other hand, Lucy thought as she pulled into the driveway, it wouldn't hurt to be prepared for the worst. She turned off the ignition and sat for a moment, looking at the glowing porch light. A shadow appeared at the door, which opened, and she heard Kudo barking. She opened the car door and he bounded through the rain, tail wagging. She waited for him to shake, then got out of the car and ran with him, dodging puddles, to the house.
Bill opened the door for her and she ran inside, throwing her arms around him and burying her head in his chest and sobbing.
“Whoa,” he said, stepping back to catch his balance. “What's all this?”
Excited by this display of emotion, Kudo pranced around them, barking.
From the family room, they heard Zoe shriek, “Mom's home!” In a moment, Zoe herself had thrown her small body against Lucy, wrapping her arms around her hips. Sara stood in the doorway, looking as if she wished she weren't far too sophisticated to join in the group hug.
Struggling to gain control of herself, Lucy used Bill's shirt to wipe her eyes.
“What's the matter?” he asked.
Zoe was jumping up and down, still caught up in holiday excitement. “I'm a firecracker,” she said.
“Shut up,” said Sara. “Can't you see Mom's upset?”
Zoe stepped back and looked up at her mother's face. “Sorry,” she whispered.
“It's okay.” Lucy stroked her cheek. “You had your face painted.”
“At the party. Sadie's Mom did it. They're stars, see. Just like on a firecracker.”
“I hope there weren't any real firecrackers,” said Lucy, chattering and shaking. “They're dangerous.”
“You better sit down,” said Bill, pulling out a chair for her. “Sara, get your mother a blanket or something. Zoe, maybe you should get yourself to bed.”
Zoe's face crumpled.
“It's okay, honey. Come sit on my lap.”
Lucy rested her cheek on Zoe's silky little head and held her close, breathing in her sweet little-girl scent.
“You smell good,” said Lucy, sniffling. “Like sunshine and shampoo.”
Bill handed her a small glass of brandy and draped the afghan around her shoulders.
“Thanks,” said Lucy, giving him a weak smile. “This was some night.” She paused, sipping at her drink. “Ron's dead.”
Bill didn't recognize the name. “Who's Ron?”
“Sidra's fiancé,” said Sara, in an everybody-knowsthat tone of voice and rolling her eyes.
“That's terrible,” said Bill, too shocked at the news to scold her for being fresh. “What was it? A car crash?”
“I was on the yacht, waiting for the fireworks to start, and I looked down and he was . . .” Lucy paused to blow her nose. She took a deep breath. “He was in the water.”
“You think he drowned?” asked Bill.
Lucy shook her head. “I don't know.” She shuddered, recalling the sight of Ron's lifeless body floating beneath the surface. “The police were there.”
Zoe let out a big sigh and leaned her back against her mother's chest. She'd been waiting a long time to tell her mother about the party and wasn't going to be distracted. “Well, we had a fight at Sadie's house with the boys. They were going to light firecrackers and throw them at the girls but I went and told Mr. Orenstein and he took them away. And he told the boys that if they kept bothering us girls he wouldn't let them stay up to see the fireworks.”
Lucy could just picture Zoe's righteous indignation as she tattled on the boys and the thought made her smile.
“Did you have a good time, too, Sara?”
“It was okay. I got a home run.”
Lucy knew that a game of softball was a July Fourth tradition at the Orensteins' barbecue.
“That's great. How'd your father do?”
“I got a base hit,” said Bill, yawning. “And I caught a few high flies when I was fielding. Not bad for an old man.”
Lucy glanced at the clock.
“Gosh, it's almost ten. You girls better get to bed or you'll be too tired for day camp tomorrow.”
“Do I have to?” whined Zoe.
“You have to,” said Lucy, setting her down on her feet and giving her a little push toward the stairs. “I'll be up to kiss you good night in a few minutes.”
Bill waited until they were gone, then he sat down next to her at the table and took her hand.
“I want the whole story,” he said in a low voice. “Not the G version. Do the cops think he was killed?”
Lucy clasped his hand with both of hers, holding on tightly.
“I don't know what they think. They didn't tell me. But they sure acted like something was funny. They separated everybody, wouldn't let people talk to each other. Then they made me leave; they wouldn't even let me help. Poor Sue. And Sidra.” Lucy dabbed at her eyes. “His mother was there. He was dead in the water and everybody was having a party at the same time.”
“It's awful,” said Bill.
“Have you ever seen a drowned person?”
He shook his head.
“Well, I hope you never do,” said Lucy, getting to her feet. “I better make sure the girls are settling down.”
Climbing up the stairs, Lucy felt as if she were struggling up Heartbreak Hill in the Boston Marathon. Her legs simply didn't want to work. She felt like sitting down right there and going to sleep. Instead, she grabbed the railing and hauled herself up.
Sara was already in bed, a book propped on her chest, pointedly ignoring her little roommate. Zoe was flitting around the colorful toys that littered the floor in her Warrior Princess pajamas. Where did she get the energy? wondered Lucy as she struggled to produce one-word sentences.
“Bed. Now.”
“Xena doesn't go to bed until . . .”
“Her mother tells her to.”
Zoe started to turn back the bedspread, then looked up at Lucy. “Are you sure?”
“Xena's going to be too tired tomorrow to battle evil unless she goes to sleep right this minute.”
Exhausted by the effort of speaking, Lucy sat down on the side of the bed. She patted it and Zoe wriggled in between the sheets. Lucy bent down to kiss her, then started to go. Zoe grabbed her hand.
“Didn't he know how to swim?” she asked.
Lucy sat back down and sighed.
“I guess not.”
“How come? Everybody I know can swim. I can swim all the way out to the float and back. I'm an advanced beginner.”
“Good for you,” said Lucy. “When you pass the test they'll give you a card with a red cross on it and I'll put it up on the refrigerator for everybody to see.”
“And Dad'll give me a dollar?”
Lucy smiled at Zoe, who was determined to assert her claim to this family custom. Whenever the kids passed on to the next level of swimming lessons, Bill rewarded them with a crisp new dollar bill.
“You bet.”
“I'm tired,” groaned Sara, putting down her book. “I want to go to sleep.”
“Good night, sleep tight,” said Lucy, turning out the light.
“Don't let the bed bugs bite!” Zoe finished the rhyme for her.
Lucy shut the door, wondering if Zoe would ever calm down and go to sleep. In fact, tired as she was, she wondered if she would be able to sleep, considering how tense she felt. She decided to take a warm, relaxing bath. When she finished, Bill was already in bed.
She climbed under the covers and snuggled beside him, resting her head on his chest and stroking his curly, springy beard.
“I take you for granted,” she said. “You've been a good husband and a good father all these years. I love you.”
Bill kissed her head and mumbled something.
“If anything happened to you, I don't know what I'd do,” continued Lucy. “I'd be lost without you.”
Bill snored.
Lucy turned on her side and pushed her back against him, spoon-style. Then she reached up and turned out the lamp.
Chapter Fifteen
N
ext morning, the sun shone brightly in a cloudless blue sky. Birds twittered in the trees, rambling roses bobbed on fences, and fish leapt in the pond. If Nature were grieved at the loss of one of her children, she seemed to be hiding it rather well. Only the weeping willow tree seemed to sorrow at the news on the car radio that the next Bill Gates, Ron Davitz, had died and police were investigating.
ext morning, the sun shone brightly in a cloudless blue sky. Birds twittered in the trees, rambling roses bobbed on fences, and fish leapt in the pond. If Nature were grieved at the loss of one of her children, she seemed to be hiding it rather well. Only the weeping willow tree seemed to sorrow at the news on the car radio that the next Bill Gates, Ron Davitz, had died and police were investigating.
Lucy dropped the girls at camp and drove on to the Queen Vic, where she pulled up in the circular driveway to let Elizabeth out of the car. Andy Dorfman spotted her from the porch and gave a wave, then hurried up to her car.
“Have you heard the news?” he asked, eagerly.
“It's very sad,” said Lucy.
“Well, one man's loss is another man's gain,” said Dorfman, adding a little whistle.
“What do you mean?”
“I got his last interview,” he said, stepping back and raising his arms. “I can see the headline now: âDavitz's Last Words: The Final Interview. ' ”
“You're sick,” said Lucy, shifting into gear and rolling down the driveway.
“That's pretty cold,” observed Toby from the backseat.
But when they got to the harbor, Geoff met them with a big wave.
“Did you hear about Davitz?” he asked brightly.
“I found his body.”
“Oh, sorry,” said Geoff, rearranging his features into a serious expression. “That must've been a shock.”
“It was awful,” Lucy admitted.
Geoff looked at the ground for a moment, then shrugged. “Oh, well, life goes on.”
Lucy watched for a moment as he strode off with Toby. There was definitely a bounce in his step that hadn't been there before.
At the
Pennysaver,
Ted was busy organizing coverage of Davitz's sudden death. “We'll have an obit, of course, and we'll need a bio listing his achievements. We can probably get that off the
Secure.net
web page. Of course, everybody will have that. What we've got that nobody else has is the hometown advantage. That's what I want you to write, Lucy. Something about the impact of his death on our townâespecially his fiancé.”
Pennysaver,
Ted was busy organizing coverage of Davitz's sudden death. “We'll have an obit, of course, and we'll need a bio listing his achievements. We can probably get that off the
Secure.net
web page. Of course, everybody will have that. What we've got that nobody else has is the hometown advantage. That's what I want you to write, Lucy. Something about the impact of his death on our townâespecially his fiancé.”
Lucy stared at him. “I can't believe this.”
“Now, don't get all huffy,” he said. “You can do this sensitively.”
“You want me to take advantage of my friendship with Sue to intrude on her privacy to write about how her daughter is coping with an absolutely devastating loss?”
Ted looked embarrassed. “Well, if you put it that way . . .”
“You bet I'm putting it that way. And I'm not writing the story.”
“Okay. You write the obit and I'll see what I can do with the reaction story.”
“Maybe you should kill it. Did you think of that?”
“Not gonna kill it.” He set his chin. “I'll be sensitive. Promise.”
“I'm out of here,” said Lucy, grabbing her bag and heading for the door.
“Good idea,” said Ted. “Take a personal day. I know this must be difficult for you. Take all the time you need.”
The door slammed.
“Just get me that obit by Tuesday!” he shouted.
Outside, Lucy stood on the sidewalk, wondering what to do with herself. Spotting her friend Police Officer Barney Culpepper directing traffic at the corner, she walked in his direction. He joined her on the curb.
“Beautiful day, isn't it?” he said, sniffing the air appreciatively.
Barney was a big man, and the gesture reminded Lucy of a bear emerging from its den after a long winter's nap.
“It's almost too nice,” said Lucy. “Considering what happened last night, it ought to be gray and rainy.”
“I s'pose you were there at the party,” said Barney.
“I was.”
“Terrible thing to happen. The groom turns up dead at the wedding shower.” He shook his head. “How's the bride taking it?”
“I don't know. Horowitz wouldn't let me see her last night. I guess I'll head over there now and see if there's anything I can do.”
He nodded. “Marge is making a lasagna. She's going to stop by this afternoon.”
Marge was Barney's wife, who had recently been given a clean bill of health after undergoing chemotherapy for breast cancer.
“How's Marge feeling?”
“Great. Says the whole thing gave her a new attitude. Every day is a gift.”
Lucy watched as Barney held up his hand and stepped off the curb, stopping traffic so that a family of tourists could cross the street. When they were safely on the other side, he rejoined her.
“I feel so badly for Sidra,” said Lucy, continuing the conversation.
“Aw, she's young,” said Barney. “She'll get over it.”
Lucy didn't agree. In her experience, younger people had a harder time dealing with loss than older folks. She suspected it was because they simply didn't expect it and hadn't developed any strategies for coping.
“Maybe,” Lucy said with a shrug. She didn't want to argue, especially since she was hoping Barney would share some information with her. “Any word yet on how he died?” she asked, keeping her voice casual.
The effort was lost on Barney, who had leaped off the curb and was blowing his whistle furiously at a convertible that hadn't slowed for the crosswalk. Lucy watched as he reprimanded the young driver, even going so far as to pull his citation book out of his pocket. In the end, he let the kid go with only a verbal warning.
“Kids,” he muttered when he returned. “They're so busy listening to the radio, they can't be bothered reading the signs.”
“They're reckless,” agreed Lucy. “Never think anything can happen to them.” She paused. “Do they know what the cause of death was yet?”
“Haven't heard anything,” admitted Barney.
“Last night it seemed as if they were treating it as a homicide,” said Lucy.
“That's standard procedure at all fatals these days. Sometimes what looks like an accident isn't, if you know what I mean,” he said with a knowing expression.
“But as far as you know, they haven't decided if it was an accident or not?”
He looked at her sharply. “Is there something you're not telling me? Some reason you think it wasn't an accident?”
Lucy opened her eyes wide and held up her hands in protest. “No, no. I was just wondering, that's all. Seeing he was so young and all, it seems funny he would drown like that. I mean, there were lots of people around, and he could easily have swum to a boat or a dock.”
“Didn't know how to swim.”
Lucy's chin dropped. “He couldn't swim?” she asked, incredulous.
To her, swimming was something children learned naturally, like walking and talking. Living on the coast and among so many lakes and ponds, her kids had grown up spending most of the summer either in or on the water.
“His mom said she thought it was too dangerous. Never let him learn.”
That sounded just like Thelma, thought Lucy. “Penny wise and pound foolish.”
“You said it.”
Barney tipped his hat and stepped back into the intersection, which definitely needed his attention. Traffic had backed up as drivers futilely waited for a break so they could turn left. It was so bad that Lucy decided to walk around to Sue's rather than cope with the stop-and-go traffic on Main Street.
It was funny, she thought as she stood on the front step and prepared to ring the bell. From the outside, the house looked just the same as always. The neat lawn was edged with a border of flowers, white curtains were blowing at the open windows, and geraniums were blooming in a crock by the door. It was enough to break your heart. Lucy rang the bell.
“Thanks for coming,” said Sue when she opened the door.
“Of course I'd come.”
“I know,” said Sue, hugging her.
“How are you doing?” Lucy thought Sue looked as attractive as ever, dressed in a simple T-shirt and linen shorts, with not a hair out of place. The only hint that something was amiss was the fact that the only jewelry she was wearing was her wedding ring.
“I'm okayâthe doctor gave me some tranquilizers.”
“Hey, whatever works,” said Lucy, following Sue to the kitchen. “How's Sidra?”
“Still asleep. It was late when we got home last night, after the police and everything. She went in her room and shut the door. I didn't sleep much myself and I checked on her a few times, but she was always sound asleep.”
“That's all for the best, I guess,” said Lucy, taking a seat at the table.
“Coffee?”
“No, thanks,” said Lucy, thinking that the house was awfully quiet. In Tinker's Cove, friends and relatives usually rallied around following a death. Family members gathered to tend to the needs of the bereaved, the phone rang off the hook with offers to help, and a steady stream of visitors brought baked goods and casseroles. Florists' trucks arrived regularly with arrangements, and the mailbox was full of sympathy cards. “I saw Barney on the way over. He said Marge was making lasagna for you.”
“Bless her.”
“Has anyone else called?”
“Don't know.” Sue was looking out the window. “I turned off the phone. I didn't want the ringing to bother Sidra.”
“Oh. I didn't know you could do that.”
“Sure.”
“And where's Sid? Did he go to work?”
“Uh, no. He's away.”
Lucy was shocked. “Away?”
“He left yesterday. He wanted to avoid the shower and all that, so he went fishing for a few days.”
“Ah.” Lucy couldn't help thinking it was a good thing Sid had an alibi, just in case Ron's death wasn't accidental.
“You know what Barney told me? He said Thelma told the police she never let him learn to swim. Can you believe it?”
Sue pounced on the news. “He drowned?” she asked. “Is that what the police say?”
“They don't know yet.” Lucy hated to disappoint her, especially since it seemed those tranquilizers weren't working too well. Sue was obviously as tense as a mother cat watching the family dog sniffing at her kittens. “Barney did say that they investigate all sudden deaths the same way. Just because Horowitz was questioning everybody last night doesn't mean they think it's a murder or anything.”
“That's good.” Sue seemed to relax a little. “Coffee?”
“You already asked me. I don't want any, but go ahead and have some if you want it.”
“I think I will.” Sue poured herself a mugful and brought it over to the table, where she sat down next to Lucy.
She didn't say anything, and the silence hung awkwardly between them. Finally, thinking over the events of the previous night, Lucy remembered the WIBs.
“What happened to the bridesmaids?” she asked. “Are they staying here?”
Sue's head snapped around to confront her. “Don't ask me. I didn't invite themâthey're not my responsibility.” She sipped her coffee. “They're Thelma's guests and she can take care of them.”
“Of course,” said Lucy, reminding herself that she shouldn't judge Sue. She had never had to cope with anything like this, and she didn't really know what she would do. “Poor Thelma. She must be devastated.”
“Poor Thelma! She's got the entire staff of that yacht to take care of her, and I'm willing to bet she's making sure they do. I'm not worried about Thelma. The one I'm worried about is Sidra.”
“Of course,” said Lucy, gently. “But you have some responsibility for Thelma, too. After all, you almost became family.”
“It was a close call,” said Sue with a sardonic little chuckle.
Appalled, Lucy drew back in her chair.
“Don't act so shocked, Lucy. It's not as if you like her any more than I do. She's awful and so was Ron. I'm not afraid to say it: I'm glad he's dead. I never liked him; I never thought he was the right man for Sidra. She was making a horrible mistake marrying him, and now . . .”
“Mother!”
Sidra, pale and disheveled, was standing in the doorway, dressed in what Lucy suspected was her weddingnight lingerie. She stayed there for a moment, swaying on her feet, and then turned and ran down the hall, sobbing.
“Oh, shit,” said Sue, jumping to her feet and hurrying after her.
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