A Groom With a View (20 page)

It
was the
longest afternoon
and evening
of Jane's life.

The Thatcher family and everybody else who had been known to be in the lodge when Mrs. Crossthwait died had been told in no uncertain terms that they had to stay until the next day. It went far beyond mere coincidence that two murders should occur within the same group of people without there being a connection. Jane and Shelley took their turns at calling home and explaining that they would be delayed another day. Jane didn't elaborate to her mother-in-law why this was. She just let her think it was to finish off all the loose ends.

She overheard Layla on the phone a few minutes later, sobbing to her husband that she wanted to come home to him and the babies. Shortly after Layla's call, she spotted Eden on the phone, talking very quietly and intensely, funneling her words into the mouthpiece with her hand so as to not be overheard.

Everyone present had to be questioned. The guests were all upset and some of them wasted a lot of time being indignant and rude out of sheer fright and the desire to get away. The off-duty police officers were called in and the county sheriff's office sent a scene-of-the-crime unit.

Mrs. Hessling was too grief-stricken to even speak coherently and Errol begged the police to let her go back to the motel. The coroner, who was also the local doctor, had shown up and supported the idea, even supplying Errol with a mild sedative to give her.

Surprisingly, Iva got involved. "You must stay with your brother's… body," she told Errol. "It isn't decent to leave him with strangers. I'll take your mother back and keep an eye on her while my sister watches over Livvy.”

Mr. Willis and Larkspur both attempted to escape on the grounds that they had business scheduled for the next day, but were told it was too bad and they better get in touch with their assistants or partners and instruct them to take over. They did so with very bad grace.

The guests were all given paper and pencils and asked to write down everything they'd seen and heard, no matter how trivial, from the moment the photographer took the group picture until Kitty had started screaming.

Most of them had only the vaguest recollection of what they'd noticed. A few admitted they'd had too much champagne to remember much. Some wrote virtual tomes of "he said and then I said." Each had to give his or her written report to one of the off-duty officers, who read them, asked additional questions about times and locations, and made a red check mark at the top of the first page. This was what Jane, feeling very much like a prison guard, had to collect before people were allowed to leave in twos and threes.

Between departures, she skimmed through the reports and decided it was going to take a much better mind than hers to fit the various stories together and deduce anything coherent from them. It seemed that Kitty wasn't the only one who had heard how spectacular the wedding cake was and sneaked into the side room to take a look at it in its uncut glory. Several observers claimed they'd seen Layla go in the room. Others described someone who was obviously Eden going through the door.

One trophy wife, whose handwriting suggested she was way beyond mere tipsiness, claimed she'd seen Jack Thatcher go in the room in a most "furtive" manner, looking about to make sure no one saw him. But a great many of the other reports mentioned having spoken to Jack in the main room at one time or another. Jane wondered when he could have found time to skulk into the side room when he was so busy being the gracious host. She also wondered if the woman had a husband in a position to benefit financially if Jack Thatcher were arrested for murder.

Two people said they'd seen Layla go up the stairs to the second floor, another claimed to have seen Eden come down the stairs. Although their looks and dresses were really quite different, apparently the bridesmaids in their pink dresses were indistinguishable to the casual observer. One of the groomsmen claimed he'd been sitting on the second step talking to a pretty girl whose name he couldn't remember and that nobody went up or down the stairs.

Two people said they'd seen a seedy-looking groundskeeper-type hanging around the doorway, but none of them came right out and said they'd seen him go into the room. Jane assumed this was Uncle Joe.

Only one man had paid the least attention to time. He, a clock freak, asked for extra paper and outlined to the minute who he'd talked to, what they said, what they were wearing, but admitted he had his back to the side room the whole time and couldn't have seen anyone coming or going.

Oddly enough, no one, so far, had mentioned having seen Dwayne himself go into the side room. And he obviously had. There was a side door to the room, but it was stuck firmly shut, as Jane had discovered during the bridal shower when she tried to open it to get a little fresh air in. But if nobody noticed Dwayne enter, it might well be that nobody noticed the killer going in either.

There was eventually only a handful of disgruntled guests remaining and their accounts were being read and questioned. Jack was pacing the main room furiously, muttering about the general incompetence of the police. Marguerite had helped Livvy remove her wedding gown and the bride was now in pressed, creased jeans and a plaid shirt. She should have been in her pale blue "going away" suit long since.

Livvy was sitting on a sofa, looking stunned. Errol was trying to get her to eat something. As Jane watched, Livvy waved away a plate of food and suddenly burst into tears. Errol put the plate down, sat next to her, and patted her shoulder rather awkwardly and ineffectually.

Mr. Willis was clearing away the food and Larkspur was dismantling the floral arrangements. Jane guessed that they felt, as she did, that the wedding paraphernalia was now in very bad taste, considering that the groom was dead. Perhaps at the hand of the bride, if Kitty's accusation was to be believed. But could Livvy, the centerpiece of the wedding, have sneaked away without being noticed? Wouldn't that big white dress have been a sort of beacon? And wouldn't it have shown blood?

The last guests handed in their reports and left. And a few minutes later a sheet-covered gurney took Dwayne away. Jane noticed that Errol made a point of standing in front of Livvy, blocking her view, as this terrible departure took place. He was a very considerate young man.

Jane went to the side room, tapped on the door, and handed the reports over to Mel. "I've read a bunch of them. Practically nobody agrees on anything.”

Mel wasn't surprised. "We do a public service class from time to time to show people how the law enforcement agencies work," he said. "In one of the sessions, the attendees are warned that a fake argument will take place during the hour and they are to observe closely. Later a man and woman enter the room, squabbling, and he drags her out the other door. When the attendees write up their impressions, they're almost always way, way wrong. Wrong color hair, heights, weights, clothing. And they've been
told
it was going to happen and to observe closely."

“Then what's the point of the reports here?" Jane asked.

“First, to get an impression of the people writing them…"

“That certainly works."

“And sometimes they get things right, if you're patient enough to piece them all together.”

“Good luck," Jane told him.

Shelley had been helping clear the tables, picking up glasses, dishes, ashtrays, and silverware and taking them to the kitchen. Now she joined Jane.

“We should pack up the gifts," she said.

“The police are using the room to interview people," Jane said.

“Yes, I know that, Jane. That's why I made the suggestion."

“You think they'd let us eavesdrop?" Jane asked.

“Maybe. If we were very quiet and very busy and didn't appear to be listening."

“There's nothing to lose by trying," Jane said.

They went to the door with armloads of boxes. Jane banged on the door with her elbow. "May we leave these in here?" she asked when Mel opened the door.

He grinned. "Just leave them?"

“Well, pack a few things, maybe," Jane said with a straight face.

Jane could see Kitty sitting on one of the rental chairs, twisting a handkerchief in her hands as John Smith sat across from her, asking questions.

“I told you already. Over and over," Kitty was saying in a weak, tear-ravaged voice. "You ought to be talking to Livvy instead of me. I only came in here to look at the cake. I saw Dwayne lying on the floor. I thought he'd had too much to drink and passed out or something and went to him. Then I saw the knife and I pulled it out. I wasn't thinking. I guess something told me I could make it better that way. It was stupid, I know…"

“We'll move to another room pretty soon, Jane. Just leave the boxes by the door," Mel said.

“Well, nothing ventured, nothing gained," Shelley said with a shrug.

“Don't you hate it when trite things are true?" Jane commented, unloading her boxes onto the floor.

The phone rang and Jane, who was closest to it, picked it up reluctantly. "Thatcher Lodge," she said.

A harried-sounding voice came over the line. "Yes, she's here," Jane said, "but she's not able to come to the phone right now. May I take a message?" Jane listened for a moment, perplexed, then started making frantic "pencil and paper" motions at Shelley.

“I'm sorry. I'm not authorized to give that information without permission. Let me call you back in a moment.”

She scribbled a woman's name, a newspaper name, and a telephone number, and said, "I'll get back to you as soon as I can."

“A reporter?" Shelley sneered.

“Not exactly," Jane said, staring at the paper. "The society editor of a Chicago paper. Wanting to confirm a wedding announcement."

“I thought you'd already taken care of that," Shelley said.

“I have. It's to appear this Sunday in a different paper. And with a different bride."

“What on earth are you talking about?"

“The editor wanted to confirm the details and spelling of the names of the bride and groom: Katherine Louise Wilson and Dwayne Hessling."

“What? Who's this Katherine person?"

“Kitty."

“Oh, Jane, they just mixed up the bridesmaid with the bride.”

Jane shook her head. "No, Shelley. I was in charge of the announcements and I never turned one in to this paper. Somebody
else
mixed up who was the bridesmaid and who was the bride at this wedding.”

Jane
knocked on the door of the side room again. This time Mel looked distinctly cranky. "What now?" he asked, stepping through the doorway and closing the door.

“I've learned something you really should know.”

He didn't look heavenward, but it was a near thing. "Okay, let me have it," he said.

But when Jane was through explaining about the phone call, he lost his impatience. "You're certain you didn't call this in wrong?"

“It's just a little local suburban paper. Almost a shopper. I had no reason to contact them." She gave him the name of the newspaper. "Nobody there would be interested."

“Except that it's where Kitty lives," Mel said.

“No!" Jane exclaimed. "I guess I didn't pay much attention to her address. Come to think of it, I mailed her sample fabric to a post office box. I think."

“Now, Jane, think hard. You're one hundred percent sure this isn't just a mistake of yours? You looked up a newspaper number and maybe accidentally dialed the one before or the one after?"

“I didn't dial anyone. I sent the engagement photo and typed up the information to mail. I couldn't have accidentally addressed it to a paper I had no intention of notifying."

“Okay, wait here.”

A few moments later, he was back. "I told Smith about the call. He wants you to come in the room in about five minutes and convey the phone message to Kitty. No questions. No elaboration. Just tell her what the person on the phone said.”

Shelley grabbed Jane's arm and said, "You're not going in there without me.”

They waited the required five minutes. Jane had made a copy of the information she'd written down. She knocked on the door and they entered without waiting for permission. Jane handed Kitty the copy. "This person called for you, Kitty.”

Kitty only glanced at the note. "Who is this?"

“The society editor of your local newspaper. She wanted to be sure she had your name and Dwayne's spelling right in your wedding announcement.”

Kitty looked at her blankly. "I don't understand."

“Someone called in and gave her the wording for an announcement that you and Dwayne had gotten married this weekend."

“You've made some mistake. Or they did when you called."

“I never contacted them," Jane said.

“Who did?" Kitty asked.

At this point, John Smith interrupted. "You know, I wouldn't be surprised if they record those calls, just to be able to review the information when they write it up. Maybe I should ask for a dupe…”

Kitty looked stricken.

“Do you have something else to tell us?" Smith asked calmly.

Kitty slumped and put her hands to her face, sobbing. Nobody spoke. They waited impatiently for her to pull herself together. Finally she raised her head and said, shakily, "Okay. Okay. I'll tell you the truth. Dwayne and I were in love. We were going to get married. But neither of us had much money and we wanted a house and children and — well, we came up with a plan."

“When?" Smith asked.

“A year ago. I introduced him to Livvy. He pretended to be crazy about her. See, I'd overheard her father harping on her about how it was time to get married and give him grandchildren. We thought — Dwayne and I — that if he managed to get engaged to her, her father would pay him off to get lost. Jack Thatcher is such a damned snob. And Jack did try to get rid of Dwayne, but wouldn't pay enough.”