Bound for Murder, page 18
Karla’s hazel eyes were bright and clear, her dark-blonde hair cut in a sleek bob that just grazed her jaw. As always, her lovely but larger-than-life features reminded me of a statue of the goddess Artemis brought to glowing life.
“Good to see you too. Glad you could make it.” I stepped away but kept my arm around her waist as we crossed to the table. “Here, you sit between me and Richard.” I motioned to one of the chairs. “And Fiona, please sit at the head of the table, as you are the guest of honor.”
I put Hugh on Fiona’s right, while leaving a space for Richard on her left. That allowed Aunt Lydia to sit beside Hugh, facing Karla, while protecting both Karla and me from Fiona’s direct regard. A little measure I thought wise, given the circumstances.
Part of my reasoning was based on Karla’s slouchy gray tunic worn over a pair of black leggings, along with ballet flats and no socks. It was an outfit not at all to Fiona’s taste, especially for a dinner party, and I was anticipating at least one snide comment on the dancer’s attire from my future mother-in-law.
Fortunately, my fears were unfounded. Fiona, charmed by Hugh and Aunt Lydia, spent most of the meal talking to them, with a few asides to Richard. She glanced at Karla once or twice, but that was it.
Richard and I were pouring coffee by the time Fiona finally addressed me. Of course, it was yet another attempt to coerce me into considering her choice for wedding and reception venues.
“And speaking of the ceremony,” she said, after taking a dainty sip of coffee, “what size wedding party are you planning to have? Large or small? It will make a difference in terms of what church might work best, you know.”
“Small,” Richard said firmly.
“I suppose that’s best, given your ages. One doesn’t want to make too much of a spectacle when the bride is over thirty.”
I choked on my coffee, then waved my hand to silence the murmurs of concern from around the table. “Just went down the wrong way.”
Richard, meeting my gaze over the rim of his cup, widened his eyes comically, which made me cough to cover up a burst of laughter.
I pointed at my cup. “Hot.”
Fiona’s gaze rested on me, her eyes narrowed. “So, two or three attendants, then?”
“Just two,” I said, after clearing my throat. “Sunny Fields is my maid of honor, of course, and an old friend from library school has agreed to be the other bridesmaid.”
“You’ll need two attendants then, Richard,” Fiona said, tapping his arm with one buffed fingernail. “To balance things out.”
“All taken care of,” he replied, after wiping his mouth with his napkin. “Amy’s brother Scott is going to be a groomsman. And as for the best man”—he glanced over at Karla—“well, we’re doing something a little different. Your best man is supposed to be your closest friend or a brother, and since I have no siblings, I decided to ask my best friend. Although,” he added, folding the napkin and carefully placing it in his lap without meeting his mother’s eyes, “that means I will have a best woman instead of a best man.”
I clasped Karla’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “Oh, you did say yes!”
Aunt Lydia opened her mouth but closed it again without saying anything, while Hugh looked across the table, gracing the three of us with a warm smile.
“Such an interesting idea,” he said, before turning to Fiona. “It will make the ceremony that much more unique, don’t you agree, Fiona?”
My future mother-in-law sputtered something unintelligible before she was able to spit out, “But you can’t do that.”
Richard draped his arm across the back of Karla’s chair. “I don’t see why not. It’s my wedding, and I want my best friend to stand beside me. Where’s the harm in that?”
“But whatever will she wear?” Fiona’s voice slid up almost an octave on the final word.
Richard sat back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “A gown, of course. She’s not going to masquerade as something she’s not.”
“Amy,” Fiona said, in a tone that made me jump, “are you okay with this?”
“Of course,” I said. “I think it’s a lovely idea. And it’s what Richard wants, which is what matters.”
“It is unusual, but certainly not unheard of,” Aunt Lydia said, turning her most charming smile on Fiona. “And as Amy said, it’s what the bridal couple wants that matters the most, don’t you think?”
Fiona’s gaze swept over the table. She was obviously looking for someone to back up her opinion. Finding no one willing to do so, she sank back in her chair and pressed one hand to her forehead. “Goodness, I’m feeling a bit light-headed all of a sudden. Would you escort me over to a more comfortable chair, Richard?”
“Of course,” he said, rising to his feet and offering her his arm with what looked like exaggerated gallantry.
But Fiona didn’t seem to notice any sarcasm in his words or actions. She stood slowly, took his arm, and allowed him to guide her across the room. Seating her in one of the upholstered armchairs, Richard leaned in and solicitously asked her if she would like him to bring over her coffee cup.
“Oh no, that’s quite all right,” she replied, fanning herself with one hand. “I think perhaps the coffee overheated me, to tell you the truth.”
Richard, who’d turned back to face the table, pulled a comical face and said, “Yes, I’m sure that was it.”
I pressed my napkin over my lips to silence a giggle, as Hugh pushed back his chair and rose to his feet.
“Allow me,” he told Aunt Lydia, pulling back her chair so she could stand up. “Why don’t we join Fiona while the table is cleared?” he suggested, with a nod toward the living room area.
“That sounds like an excellent plan,” Aunt Lydia said, sharing a knowing look with me.
With Fiona occupied with company, Karla, Richard, and I set to work gathering up dishes and other items from the table and carrying them into the kitchen.
“We’ll wash everything up later,” Richard said, when the last load of dishes was placed in the sink. “For now, I suggest a glass of wine.”
“Sounds good,” I said as he uncorked another bottle.
“Just let me take out this bag of trash. I assume the can’s out back?” Karla kicked open the door to the screened-in back porch.
“Wait!” I tried to dash forward fast enough to close the door before Loie and Fosse, who’d been relegated to the porch for the afternoon, slipped through Karla’s legs.
But I was too late. Richard swore as the two kittens dashed through the kitchen and bounded into the hall, making a beeline for the living room.
“I’ll grab Fosse and you capture Loie,” I told him, as we left Karla standing at the back door laughing, and ran after the cats.
Skidding into the living room on the slick soles of my loafers, I gasped as Loie leapt directly into Fiona’s lap. Fosse, not to be outdone, immediately jumped up onto the arm of the chair and threw his furry body on top of Loie’s arched back.
Fiona shrieked and leapt out of the chair, sending kittens flying. With the dexterity of their kind, both cats flipped in midair and landed on their feet on top of the coffee table, but that action sent magazines sailing toward Aunt Lydia and Hugh, who were seated on the sofa.
Aunt Lydia threw up her arms, while Hugh batted away the magazines with his fists. Fiona, her hands waving like she’d been attacked by bees, kept repeating something that sounded like “furry fiends.” As Richard strode into the seating area, Fiona’s flailing fingers caught in her hair and pulled a chunk free of its carefully twisted updo.
I stopped short as Richard chased the kittens toward me. As I spun around to try to snag one of them, my foot slipped out from under me, and I ended up on my backside on the floor.
Richard scooped up Loie while I just sat there, frozen in surprise at my tumble. After a minute, something nudged my arm, and I looked down at Fosse gazing up at me, his amber eyes wide and innocent. “You little stinker,” I said, pulling him into my lap.
Richard, who’d apparently already deposited Loie back onto the porch, reappeared. He gazed down at me and Fosse, who had begun to purr and knead my upper thigh with his paws.
“Troublemaker,” he said in an indulgent tone, before lifting the kitten from my lap. He held out his other hand to me and pulled me to my feet. “Nothing broken or bruised, I hope.”
“Only my pride,” I said, then motioned discreetly toward the center of the room, where Aunt Lydia was helping Fiona pin up her hair. “Looks like I’m not the only one.”
“So much for celebrating Mom’s birthday in a proper fashion.” Richard released my hand and shifted Fosse so that he could hold the kitten up before his face. “You and your sister have made a very bad impression, you know.”
Fosse reached out and bopped Richard on the nose.
“I don’t think your tough talk is working,” I said.
Karla stepped up behind us. “Here, let me take the little monster and put him back on the porch. You two had better go make nice with Fiona. And Rich, I’d also suggest that you take your mom out to some fancy restaurant, just the two of you, in the next week or two. Someplace where you’ll spend a great deal of money on some tiny plates of food.” Karla winked. “Just a suggestion.”
Richard handed the kitten off with a sigh. “And not a bad one, I’m sorry to say.” He glanced over at me. “You don’t mind if I do that someday soon, do you, sweetheart?”
“Not at all,” I said, sliding my arm around his waist. “Whenever you want to spend time with Fiona without me is fine.”
“I know,” he said glumly, as Karla chuckled and carried Fosse toward the back porch.
Fiona, sharing some words with Aunt Lydia and Hugh, who both looked pained enough for me to guess the tenor of her remarks, shot us a glare from across the room.
“Perhaps you should go and entertain your mom while I escape … I mean, finish cleaning up the dishes.” I hugged him a little closer. “I’ll make it up to you.”
“Will you?” He flashed me a wicked grin. “Do I get to set the terms?”
“Within reason,” I said, but couldn’t help smiling in return.
“That’s fair. Maybe I can make it through the rest of this afternoon now. At least I’ll have something to look forward to.”
“Richard,” Fiona called out, “would you please make sure those creatures don’t get out again? Otherwise, I’m afraid I may have to leave early.”
Both Richard and I cast longing glances down the hall before looking back at each other.
“I know what you’re thinking,” I said, tapping his chest with one finger. “And it’s a wicked plan.”
He shook his head. “You were thinking the very same thing.”
“Yes, I was,” I said, as we both turned and looked at our guests. Fiona, once again seated, was saying something about the impossibility of getting good help while Aunt Lydia and Hugh practiced their poker faces. “And depending on how things go, I might implement it,” I added as Karla rejoined us.
“Leave that to me,” she said. “You just give me a signal and I’ll release the beasts.”
“Richard, are you ever going to join us?” Fiona’s shrill tone cut through our sotto voce conversation like a blade.
“Coming,” Richard called out, before casting Karla a knowing look. “I stand and point one foot. That’s the signal.”
“Aye, aye, Captain,” she said with a grin.
While Richard strode forward to join the others, I laid my hand over Karla’s wrist. “I can see why Richard chose you. Best woman, indeed.”
“I’ve dealt with Fiona before, remember?” Karla’s hazel eyes were bright with mischief. “And believe it or not, she’s actually mellowed.”
Karla plastered on a smile and strode over to sit in the rocker near Fiona’s armchair. As I settled in beside Aunt Lydia and Hugh, I gazed over at Richard, who was slumped in the armchair facing the sofa. I cast him a warm smile and mouthed later while pointing a finger from him to me.
He grinned and straightened in his chair. “So Mom,” he said, “how’d you like the gift from Amy?”
Fiona turned her head to stare at him, suspicion narrowing her eyes. “It was lovely, actually.” She cast me a quick glance. “Thank you again.”
“You’re quite welcome,” I said, adding for the others’ benefit, “It was an antique cup and saucer.”
“Haviland,” Fiona said, with a lift of her sharp chin. “Very nice, though I am surprised you remembered that I love old china, Amy.”
I bit the inside of my cheek to prevent a sarcastic response. Fiona had mentioned her china collection every time I’d seen her over the last few months. “I hoped you would like it,” I said.
“Yes, well”—Fiona fluttered her hands—“it was certainly more appropriate than Richard’s gift, I must say.” She shot him a sharp glance. “A bottle of cognac, of all things. He knows I don’t drink that much.”
“I thought we could share it the next time I visited,” Richard said, before smoothly shifting the topic to art and engaging Hugh in a discussion of Chinese ceramics.
Later, when all our guests had left and I was snuggled beside Richard on the sofa, I mentioned Karla’s comment about Fiona having mellowed over the years. “Is that true?”
“Actually, yes,” he replied.
“You poor thing.” I stroked his bare forearm with my fingers. “I suppose I should be extra nice to you then. You know, to make it up to you, like we agreed earlier.”
“Yes, about that.” Richard flashed a devilish smile. “I have some ideas.”
“Well, as I’ve often read in critiques of writers—show, not tell.”
“Sounds like excellent advice,” Richard said, before proceeding to follow it.
Chapter Twenty
When I arrived home from work on Monday, I walked in on an intervention.
From the central hallway, voices rose and overlapped. I recognized them immediately—the primary speakers were Zelda and Walt, with a few interjections from Aunt Lydia.
“I just want you to be on my side, at least in public,” Zelda was saying as I walked by the open door to the sitting room. “Amy, dear. Wait. We need you to help settle this.”
I sighed and dropped my keys into the ceramic bowl on the hall side table. “I’m not sure I’m the best person to ask at this moment,” I said, hanging my jacket on the coatrack. “The patrons stomped on my last nerve at the library today.”
“Oh, fiddle.” Zelda appeared in the doorway and motioned me into the sitting room. “All I want is an honest answer to one question.”
I glanced at Walt’s stony face before catching Aunt Lydia’s eye. “Okay, but I retain the right to refuse to answer if I think it might incriminate me.”
“Nonsense.” Zelda bustled over to the center of the room. “Sit, sit. I’m sure you’ve been on your feet enough for one day.”
I sank down onto the sofa, mentally calculating just how diplomatic I’d have to be to get out of this situation without antagonizing at least two people.
Aunt Lydia, seated in her favorite armchair, cast me a sympathetic smile, while Walt, standing next to one of the built-in bookcases, stared fixedly over my head as if mesmerized by the painting that hung behind the sofa.
“You see, Lydia invited us here.” Zelda perched on the padded arm of the room’s other upholstered chair. “Separately, I might add. It was quite an underhanded move to pull on old friends.”
“It’s because you’re both my friends that I wanted to bring you together. You needed to hash things out,” my aunt said, her tone mild as butter. “You’ve been spatting too long over nothing as it is.”
“Nothing? You call Walt not having my back when that weasel Blackstone was smearing poor, dear Sunny, nothing?” Zelda swung her legs, which were so short they didn’t touch the floor, banging her heels into the suede fabric of her chair.
“I call it foolish, and if you don’t mind, I’d prefer that you don’t punch a hole in my armchair with those spiky heels.”
Zelda stilled her legs and threw my aunt a sharp glance. “You weren’t there, so how can you know what really happened? But Amy was. You tell her, Amy. Tell her how Walt threw me to the wolves.” Zelda’s rosebud lips puckered into a pout.
I lifted my hands. “I don’t know. I can see both sides of this.”
Walt snapped his gaze from me to Zelda. “See. It’s not as cut-and-dried as you think, Zel.”
“I just mean that I can understand why Walt isn’t quite ready to absolve Carol and P.J. Fields of all involvement in his cousin’s death.” I held up one finger as Zelda opened her mouth. “Let me finish, please. It’s not that I think they were responsible for his death, but perhaps they do know more than they’re telling. I honestly think they may be harboring some secret.”
“What secret might that be?” Zelda asked with a toss of her crisp curls.
“I’m not sure. But knowing P.J. and Carol, I can imagine them covering up an accidental death if they thought they were protecting a friend or the commune.” I tipped my head and stared directly at Zelda. “Can’t you?”
“I suppose.” Zelda slid down off the chair, teetering slightly on her high heels. “But I don’t like the mayor using this tragedy—and yes, I do consider it a tragedy,” she said, with a swift look at Walt, “to further his own interests.”
Walt’s expression softened. “We can agree on that point, at least.”
“Of course it’s a tragedy,” Aunt Lydia said. “But what’s even worse is how it’s driven a wedge between you two.” She rose gracefully to her feet. “Which is why you’re both here—to work things out instead of sulking in separate corners. And I intend to keep you here until you come to some sort of understanding.”
“Keep us here? How do you plan to do that?” Walt strode forward, towering over my slender aunt.
Aunt Lydia lifted her chin and met his gaze with a steely stare. “By appealing to your friendship. If not with one another, with me.”
