Bitter Roots, page 23
And love, pushed to an extreme, can turn into ugly, possessive jealousy.
I took his wine glass and set both glasses back on the nightstand.
‘So where does that leave us?’ he asked. ‘That’s all I really care about. Making everything right between you and me.’
‘We’re OK,’ I said. ‘We’re good. I wish you had told me sooner about Richard, but you didn’t. We need to forget about this and move on. Besides, we made each other a promise when you moved in and so far we’ve always kept it.’
He smiled and took me in his arms. ‘Never let the sun go down on your anger.’
‘Right,’ I said as he laid me back against the pillows. ‘We have another deal, too. We make love after every argument. I don’t want that to change.’
‘Me, neither. And it seems to me this argument is over, don’t you think?’ He slipped on top of me and bit my earlobe.
I wriggled under him and closed my eyes. ‘Mmmm, I do.’
‘Then let’s move on, baby.’
On Wednesday everyone took a break from the routine of derecho cleanup and vineyard work to get the courtyard ready for our wedding dinner that evening. We still had no power, but it was slowly coming back on in D.C. and a few close-in places in Virginia and Maryland. The announcers on the all-news radio station said we might – might – have power out in the far western region of Loudoun County where we lived by the end of the week, but no guarantee.
Power or no power, we were committed to going ahead with the wedding on Saturday, although no electricity and water was getting to be really, really old and more tedious with each passing day. Still, we could have the ceremony in what was left of the garden in our backyard – under a pretty gauzy canopy Frankie was designing in place of the rose arbor – and move the reception and the band to the courtyard. I wasn’t sure how it was going to work with the noise of the band’s outdoor generator competing with their music, but they assured us they’d done this before and could deaden the generator’s sound so it didn’t seem as if a jet engine was idling nearby.
Frankie had worked her usual miracle to transform the courtyard, which had been mostly put to rights, into a beautiful spring garden for tonight. She’d bought eight enormous terracotta olive jar shaped pots from Seely’s Nursery – she would have bought more if they’d had them – and filled them with the downed branches of redbud, azalea, wisteria, and rhododendron, placing them around the courtyard perimeter. She also rounded up a dozen vintage-looking wrought-iron lanterns – from where I don’t know, since stores had long since sold out of lanterns, candles, flashlights, matches, fire-starters, and batteries – and placed them along the low stone wall that overlooked the vineyard. In between the lanterns she set milk glass vases of pink and white peonies, more casualties of the storm. As for the dinner, we decided it made more sense to rent rectangular tables and make two long rows so we could eat family style, rather than the round tables we’d originally planned on. We also changed the meal to a buffet instead of being served by waiters and waitresses from the inn. I’d lost track of how much time Frankie had spent working on seating arrangements – as well as having place cards designed by a calligrapher – so when I asked her who should sit where tonight, she pointed to a small table she’d placed perpendicular to the two rows so it looked like a ‘T’ and said, ‘You two are going to sit there, along with Kit and Antonio so you can see all your guests. Everyone else can find their place cards on the table where the guest book will be and sit wherever they like.’
We were in the middle of setting out the folding chairs on either side of the tables. Frankie had twisted her strawberry-blonde hair into a knot and used a chip clip to keep it in place. A lock of hair had come down and was hanging in her eyes. She swiped at it with her forearm and managed to tuck it behind her ear. She looked up at me from across the table as she set another chair in place. Both of us were grimy, sweaty, no makeup, dirty hair, and in serious need of a shower. We could not have looked less like we were preparing for a wedding, or at least part of a wedding, in a few hours.
‘I’m sorry all your careful planning seems to have gone for nothing,’ I said. ‘You spent so much time on every detail, especially the seating plan – and now it’s just, “What the hell, sit wherever.”’
Something in what I said, or maybe the woeful expression on my face, made her burst out laughing and then she couldn’t stop, her laughter bubbling over until I joined in, too. There hadn’t been much to laugh about lately and I didn’t even know why we were laughing. Except that it felt good.
Overdue.
‘Well,’ she said, finally wiping tears from her eyes, ‘maybe I did go a little bit overboard and this is my comeuppance. Not everything needs to be planned to the nanosecond.’
I thought of the binder that had grown so big and thick she needed to lug it around in a tote bag. ‘A little spontaneity is a good thing sometimes.’
‘I’m glad you think so. Because we’re probably just going to wing it and see what happens,’ she said. ‘But one thing’s for sure: no one is going to forget this wedding.’
She was probably the third person to say that to me in the last few days. At least she hadn’t made the other obvious comment: Because all our original plans had been destroyed in a single night by a storm so violent it was one for the record books.
Frankie had found a hotel in Reston that had power and an available room, so she rented it for Quinn and me so we’d have a place to shower and change before the dinner. It was a good forty-five-minute drive east toward Washington, plus our return trip to Atoka meant we’d be dealing with rush-hour traffic leaving D.C. But to be back in the world of lights and electricity and sounds like fans and air-conditioning and hotel lobby music and just plain normalcy felt wonderful and strange.
We took a long, luxurious shower together and then I made Quinn wait in the bedroom while I got dressed in the bathroom. When I opened the door and stepped out, he stopped fiddling with a button on his shirt collar and stared.
For a moment he didn’t say anything and I thought maybe the dress – a long, low-cut spaghetti-strap dusty-blue lace and chiffon concoction that skimmed my figure so it showed off all my curves – was a bit too sexy, too revealing, not what he would have expected me to wear. Then he said, ‘Wow. You look sensational. Absolutely gorgeous.’
Now I was blushing like a teenager on a first date. ‘I’m glad you like it. And you look pretty fabulous yourself.’
‘Thanks,’ he said. ‘It’s nice to feel clean again. And every man at that dinner tonight is going to wish he was me once he sees you.’ He hadn’t taken his eyes off me. ‘Although I think you’re missing something.’
I looked down to see what I’d forgotten. ‘Pardon?’
‘Close your eyes.’
I obeyed and a moment later he was standing behind me and draping something around my neck, which he clasped in the back. He kissed my bare shoulder and said, ‘OK, you can open your eyes now.’
He walked me over to the full-length mirror hanging on one of the closet doors and stood behind me. A pendant consisting of a row of half a dozen European cut diamonds alternating with oval-shaped dark blue sapphires hung around my neck on a heavy braided white gold chain. Clearly something old. And very beautiful.
I touched it. ‘How lovely. I love it.’
‘It belonged to my abuela, my grandmother, just like your engagement ring did,’ he said. ‘It’s my wedding gift to you. My grandfather gave it to her when they got married so it’s quite old. It’s actually a pin, but Frankie suggested hanging it on a chain so you could wear it as a necklace. She also told me your rehearsal dinner dress was blue – I was hoping you’d wear it tonight so the sapphires would go with it.’
‘Now I know why Frankie talked me into buying this dress.’ I threw my arms around his neck and kissed him. ‘I love it. I love you.’
‘I love you, too,’ he said. ‘And now that we’re all dressed and cleaned up, should we go home and welcome our guests to our wedding dinner, Mrs Almost-Santori?’
‘That sounds like an excellent idea.’ I slipped my arm through his. ‘I think we should.’
The dinner was fabulous in every way right up until the end. Although we hadn’t specified a dress code, since no one had running water unless they had a generator because we were all on wells, the women wore flirty summer dresses or sun dresses and the men wore dress pants and open-necked collared shirts or polo shirts. Everyone was hungry and plenty of jokes went around about who was down to eating whatever was left in the pantry and announcing what it was. Ramen noodles, breakfast cereal, peanut butter, tuna fish, canned fruit. Someone even had leftover Halloween candy.
David was there in his official capacity as wedding photographer, but I managed to persuade him that he needed to sit down and eat dinner with us as well.
‘Are you up for a trip to the Goose Creek Bridge tomorrow morning?’ he asked. ‘The weather is supposed to be gorgeous, so I thought I’d come back out here and take my photos then. I’m working on another Civil War project.’
‘I’m not sure I’m ready …’
‘I’ll show you photos from tonight if you do. Don’t you want to see them? Otherwise, you might have to wait until after your honeymoon.’ He gave me an evil grin.
‘That’s bribery.’
He grinned some more. ‘I’ll pick you up at ten o’clock.’
Frankie joined us. ‘I think everyone’s here,’ she said. ‘With the exception of Bobby Noland and Vance Hall. We should probably announce that the cocktail hour is over and dinner is served.’
‘I’m going to take a few more photos before everyone sits down,’ David said. ‘Will you two excuse me?’
‘Vance might not be coming,’ I told her after David left. ‘He said he’s got a lot going on at GSV with Sloane out in LA. And Kit told me Bobby’s working tonight, but he expects to be by later. So we should go ahead without him, too.’
‘I’ll tell Hailey,’ Frankie said. ‘She’s in charge of the waitstaff tonight.’
‘Is something wrong with her?’ I asked. ‘She seemed a bit out of sorts this evening.’
‘I know, I thought so, too. I’ll talk to her.’
‘You won’t need to find her,’ I said. ‘She’s on her way over here.’
‘Lucie,’ Hailey said as she joined us, ‘I’ve been meaning to tell you that you look absolutely dazzling tonight. Everybody is saying so.’
‘Thank you,’ I said. ‘Thanks to Frankie, Quinn and I actually got to take a shower at a hotel in Reston, which helped with the dazzle. But thank you for the lovely compliment.’
‘Lucky you, a real shower. I’m still doing sponge baths. By the way, the reason I came over is that Dominique says dinner is ready to be served.’
Frankie nodded. ‘There’s a dinner bell on the buffet table. Can you ring it, please?’
‘Yup.’ A bit curt.
‘Is something wrong?’ Frankie asked.
‘What do you mean?’
‘You’ve seemed upset this evening, or like something’s on your mind,’ I said. ‘Frankie and I were concerned.’
‘You mean grumpy? Irritable?’ She looked contrite. ‘Sorry. It’s been miserable at work these past few days. Everyone’s out of sorts and ready to bite each other’s heads off. Especially Richard. I didn’t mean to bring it here.’
‘Because of Eve’s death?’ I asked.
‘That’s part of it. The other part is that he and Jackson had a big argument the other day. I didn’t hear it, but I did hear about it. It sounded epic.’
‘Before Eve was killed or after?’ I asked.
‘After. But Richard and Eve were going at it before she was killed.’
Who hadn’t Eve been arguing with before she died? First Vance. Now Richard. ‘What were all these arguments about?’
Though I had a pretty fair idea by now.
‘Listen, you two, dinner’s going to get cold.’ Frankie laid a hand on each of our arms. ‘And this is a wedding celebration, not an interrogation room at the Sheriff’s Office. We have one hundred and twenty hungry guests to feed. Can you talk about this later … if you even have to talk about it, you being the bride and all, Lucie?’
I gave her a guilty grin, and Hailey said, ‘Of course. Sorry.’
But later, after everyone was served and all our guests were eating and there was a pleasant hum of conversation, Hailey stopped by our table and leaned down so she could speak softly in my ear.
‘All of the arguments were about the problems with dying vines in your vineyards, Lucie. Yours and everybody else’s. I don’t know any details, but what I heard was that Eve was mad at Richard because she said he was lying to people. And then Richard and Jackson were arguing about Eve, about something she’d found out,’ she said. ‘That she’d become a liability.’
‘A liability?’
‘Don’t quote me, but something like that.’
‘Lucie?’ Frankie touched my shoulder. ‘It’s time for you and Quinn to cut your wedding cake. Or rather your cupcake. Hailey, can you make sure the champagne flutes are filled and the staff is ready to serve them?’
The wedding cake had been one of the early casualties of the derecho. Frankie had come up with cupcakes as an alternative and found a bakery in Georgetown that could not only make them and decorate them for us in time, but would also deliver.
It was after the toasts and speeches and everyone was eating cupcakes that Bobby showed up at our table. He looked like he’d had the day from hell. Quinn got up and got a chair for him and signaled for Hailey to bring Bobby a beer.
‘What is it?’ Kit asked.
‘I’ve just arrested Richard Brightman for the murder of Eve Kerr,’ he said. ‘He’s in jail and being held without bond.’
TWENTY
Richard Brightman had pushed Eve Kerr off the Goose Creek Bridge and left her there to die. Bobby’s news shocked us all into silence, the savagery of her death, the revelation that someone so close to her had killed her and walked away, leaving her to drown after brutally hitting her. Someone all of us knew and had worked with for years.
‘How did you find out?’ I asked.
‘You’re sure it was Richard.’ A statement rather than a question from Kit, who knew her husband wouldn’t have made an arrest in a murder investigation without having an absolute iron-clad, airtight case that no defense lawyer could dispute.
‘Damn sure. We found the murder weapon in the trunk of his car,’ Bobby said. ‘Wrapped in a towel. There was blood on it and our tech lifted a couple of good, clean fingerprints. Richard’s. We tested the blood and, no big surprise, it was Eve’s. Plus Win Turnbull confirms that hammer we found is consistent with the wound that killed her – or almost killed her. No idea why Richard left it in his car, why he hadn’t gotten rid of it – for a smart guy it was a stupid thing to do. But we had a search warrant, so we found it right away. Manna from heaven.’ He took a long, deep slug of beer. ‘I hate this expression, but it works for this case. Slam. Dunk.’
I glanced over at Hailey, who was putting empty wine and champagne bottles into their original boxes so they could be brought back to the winery. Since Bobby had arrived, she’d been casting furtive glances in our direction, so she knew something was up. She caught me looking at her looking at us and mimed drinking a glass of wine, asking if we wanted another drink. I shook my head.
But it wouldn’t be long before this news got out. Besides, Kit had already pulled out her phone.
‘I need to call the Metro desk and update them,’ she said. ‘At least we’ll get it on the Internet since it’s too late for the print edition.’
She got up and walked over to a quiet corner of the courtyard.
‘What did Richard say when you arrested him?’ Quinn asked.
‘I can’t go into detail, but the short answer is not much.’
‘You mean he didn’t say, “You’ve got the wrong guy” or “Let me explain?”’ I said.
‘Nope. Just “I want my lawyer.” The usual. We’re, ah, also testing his DNA.’
‘To see if he’s the father of Eve’s baby?’ Quinn asked and Bobby nodded.
‘Did you ask him if he was?’ I said.
‘I told you, he didn’t say much. We’re gonna find out sooner or later, anyway.’ He finished his beer and set the glass on the table.
Quinn pointed to his glass. ‘Another one?’
He held up a hand. ‘That’s my limit. Thanks. It’s been a long day. Sorry I missed the wedding dinner, but this couldn’t wait.’
‘Were you surprised?’ I said.
‘That it was Richard? Not really. He’d been high on our list of suspects from the get-go. Disappointed, yes. Mad as hell, absolutely. No jury is going to let him off easily because of the way he killed her and that gives me some satisfaction,’ he said. ‘But I still don’t feel good about it. It’s not going to bring Eve back.’
Kit had returned from making her phone call. ‘Thank God we’ve got cellular service again. I dictated something and they’re putting it on the website right now.’
‘The word is going to go around like wildfire,’ I said. ‘Once this gets out.’
‘I know,’ she said. ‘I wonder how Carly’s doing. She must have been absolutely destroyed when she found out.’
‘Carly’s pretty tough,’ Bobby said. ‘I think she’ll pull through. She wasn’t there when we cuffed him and took him away, so at least she didn’t have to watch that scene.’
Frankie joined us and placed a hand on my shoulder. ‘Your guests are starting to leave, Lucie and Quinn. Bobby, I prepared a plate of food for you to take home since I’m guessing you haven’t eaten considering the day you had.’ She held up her phone and turned it sideways so we could see what was on the display. A banner headline from the Washington Tribune.
UNV Professor Arrested for Murder of Vineyard Expert Eve Kerr.
‘Well, that didn’t take long,’ Kit said.
‘I overheard a few folks talking about it already,’ Frankie said. ‘Some people are tethered to their phones, even with no power.’
