BLUE WEDDING (Melody The Librarian Mysteries Book 3) (8 page)

I crosschecked Bergman’s photos to see if his perspective fleshed out the picture at all. Matching up the timing, Bergman was now outside the front entrance and his camera captured a sequence of approaches to Hartford House, including Fiona, followed shortly afterward by Charlie, who was then followed by Gordon. All three appeared to have entered the front entrance.

Was Fiona the person off camera to whom Charlie was speaking before his shoving match with Gordon? And was she the person Charlie followed. Why? And did Gordon have some reason for immediately trailing Charlie to the B&B, other than for the purposes of revenge? The cameras didn’t reveal the big picture of everything that transpired, but the fragments were intriguing and worth exploring further.

On Tuesday, I was back in the saddle at work, but I snuck in my concertina just in case there was a lull when I was absolutely alone. My contraband concertina was stashed in a high cupboard in the breakroom, and just knowing it was there waiting for me in a pinch elicited a devilish tingle one feels from breaking the rules.

Margaret arrived mid-day in a breathless state. “Have you heard about Bob Christian?” she asked. “He was attacked yesterday.”

“Attacked?” I repeated.

“Yes. He’d gone up north to the company’s plant in Houghton for the day. Apparently, he did that once a month and made himself available to employees on the first and second shifts, in case they had a personnel matter to discuss, and sometimes he did EO training and such. Anyway, when he left that evening, I don’t know if he had car trouble or what, but they found his car along the road with no trace of him. They found him this morning somewhere out in the woods, just beaten to a pulp!”

“Oh, my god, that’s terrible! How is he?”

“I didn’t hear a lot of details about his injuries, but the hospital lists his condition as serious but stable.”

After I recovered from the shock of hearing of someone – anyone – being assaulted so savagely, I immediately thought of the Colopys, Max Colopy in particular. He knew someone had planted the arrow that had killed Amanda Holt in his car, and he probably also knew that Bob Christian had managed to get away with murder. Being an employee at the Houghton plant, Max would have also known something about Bob’s scheduled appearance there.

“Did your sources have any other details?” I asked.

“Oh, I just heard about it on the local news. But if I hear anything, I’ll let you know.”

During my lunch hour, I rang up Michael and asked if he was aware of this development.

“Yeah, I spoke with my counterpart in District 8, Frank Handler. He hasn’t been able to interview Christian yet. He’s still unconscious, but his doctor says he has brain swelling, internal bleeding, a broken arm and several broken fingers. They’re waiting for tests to determine any additional injuries.”

“Yikes.” After Michael’s annoying objectivity regarding the cause of death of Charlie Hayes, I couldn’t resist being a bit cheeky. “So…do you think it was an accident?”

“Very funny,” Michael snarled. “No, this has got the Colopy Clan written all over it. The doc said it appears that chains were used, along with pipes, bats and who knows what else? I offered my two cents on the subject to Frank and told him I’d fax my file on Christian’s wrongful death case.”

“Good. I thought the same thing. It looks like Christian tried to frame the wrong guy.”

“Well, he would’ve been the right guy if Christian had gotten away with it. Nobody would’ve thought twice about putting Max Colopy in a cage for the rest of his life. Bob just hadn’t planned his ‘perfect crime’ scenario as perfectly as he’d thought, which is how it plays out in 99% of our cases.”

“Even so, he got away with it scot-free, as far as any punishment was concerned,” I said, pointing out the obvious.

“I just may have occasion to head up that way while he’s hospitalized. Sometimes when folks have a near-death experience, they can have a change of heart about things they’ve done in their past. I’m not going to count on it, but it does sometimes happen. Oh, by the way, I may be in the neighborhood tomorrow. They’ll have the preliminary autopsy results available in the morning.”

“Well, maybe we can get together and you can update me,” I said.

“Maybe so,” Michael mused. “I’ve already gotten a confirmation that Charlie Hayes was, indeed, legally impaired, but the coroner isn’t ruling it an accidental death until all the lab work is in, which could take a couple more weeks. One reason is that there was bruising on the deceased’s chest. I doubt he got that from slow dancing.”

“Interesting,” I said. “I’ve been reviewing the footage and there are some images that might be of interest, should you investigate this as something other than an accidental death.”

“At this point, I have to,” Michael replied. “That’s why I’m picking up the report in person. I plan on speaking with the bride…I mean, the widow. I’ll probably take Deputy Lee back out with me to the Hartford House to do another sweep of the room before we allow Mrs. Hartford to make it available again for rental. Oh, and I will need the video materials returned, so if there’s anything else you want to check out, do it quickly. I’ll pick them up tomorrow.”

“I think I’ve reviewed the most pertinent parts, but I’ll make sure I finish up with it tonight. So we’ll see you sometime tomorrow then?”

“Not sure. I know you’ve got to work tomorrow, so just leave the video stuff somewhere at Mom’s where I can find them. Depending how quickly things go at the Hartford House, I may need to track down some of the guests, maybe run out to Traverse City to interview some of Hayes’ coworkers and associates.”

“I understand,” I said. I was hesitant to just leave the evidence lying about in the open. “I know! I’ll put the equipment in an accordion case in my bedroom.”

“You don’t have to go to all that trouble, Mel.”

“Just as a precaution,” I countered. “It’d be the safest place. After all, who’d want to steal an accordion?”

***

Later, I sent Michael an email, pointing out the key appearances of prominent characters in the video just before the time of Charlie Hayes’ death – which I was sure would be confirmed by the coroner. Of course, Michael would have eventually seen the same images, but I thought a summary might prove helpful. After all, he’d have to familiarize himself with the parties involved and then try to match up names with faces.

I’d no sooner clicked ‘send’ when an incoming message popped up from Gary. The subject was ‘Practice.’

Hi, Melody. Even though we don’t have any gigs lined up at the moment (though I’m working on that), would you be available for a short-notice rehearsal tonight? I thought that we could possibly explore some new material, kick some ideas around and – hey! – I’ll even whip up some dinner! (Hope you like spaghetti….)

What the heck? I didn’t have any plans. In fact, I was glad for the invitation. I really did enjoy the time I spent playing with the boys, and I didn’t need the pressure of an upcoming engagement to motivate me.

Sounds good. I’ve got my concertina with me. Will that suffice?

That was fine with Gary. We agreed to meet at the music store. Gary was working today, and fortunately, the store and the library kept the same hours. I called Mom to let her know I wouldn’t be home for dinner.

“Darn, I picked up some sushi for dinner. Marian and I had lunch at the Chinese buffet today, and I brought back an assortment for later.”

“Sorry, Mom, but Gary called a practice for tonight. He said he’d make dinner for us.”

“Gary Van Dyke?” she interrupted. “Oh, well, the sushi will keep. It’ll be a great snack, or you could have it for lunch tomorrow. It’s not every day that a man offers to make you dinner, right? You just enjoy yourself, and if it gets late, I won’t worry. Have fun.”

Wow. As far as Mom was concerned, Gary could do no wrong. If I borrowed her car and ended up wrapping it around a telephone pole, all I’d have to tell her is that Gary was with me; she’d probably say, ‘Oh, that car was getting old, anyway. We needed to replace it. Is Gary alright?’

I couldn’t help flashing back to that moment toward the end of the reception when Gary held my hand. I’d thought about it many times since then, trying not to overanalyze the gesture. It was an act of tenderness, but I concluded that it was prompted more by a sense of humanity than of romance. I was fine with that. After all, my feelings of passion for Gavin evaporated quickly while the friendship and respect I felt for Gary had endured for years, and that – as they say – was priceless.

The sun was just beginning to fade behind the trees as we walked to the Van Dyke residence. Once we entered, Gary asked, “How quickly did you want to eat, Melody? I can get the spaghetti started now, if you’re starved.”

That was sweet. “Gary, you just got off work, so feel free to relax. I’m not in any hurry. Having said that, I could eat any time.”

“Then let’s get started. Care to join me in the kitchen?”

“I’d love to,” I replied. I brought the concertina with me and sat at the kitchen table.

“Would you like some wine?” Gary asked. “It’s good stuff – not too dry, not too sweet.” I nodded and Gary popped a bottle. Gary commenced chopping onions, garlic and mushrooms while I fiddled with the concertina. For some reason, my fingers found their way to the melody of “Some Enchanted Evening.” When I recognized it, I stopped.

“No, keep playing,” Gary said, turning from the cutting board. “A little romantic ambience would complement the meal, don’t you think?”

“If music be the food of love, play on,” I replied. It might not have been the most germane response, but what the heck? “So…will your dad be joining us for dinner?”

“No, Dad has a date,” Gary said, heating the sauce.

“A date?” I asked, pausing my playing. “Zak has a girlfriend?” I resumed playing quietly.

“I’m not sure what the proper designation is for people their age, but I guess that will work. Her name is Joyce. She lives in Rose City, so he went there this morning to spend the day. They’ve been seeing each other for a couple years.”

“How sweet,” I said. “I’m glad he has some companionship.” Zak had been widowed for at least eight years. His wife, Inara, was such a nice woman. She used to work at the music store and was always so pleasant.

“I’m glad, too. I am a little concerned, though, that they may be indulging in activities that are, you know, normally reserved for married couples.” He looked up with a straight face to check out my reaction.

“Well, I guess you’ll just have to ground him, won’t you?”

Gary played along. “Sorry, Dad, but from now on, you come home directly from work. No more road trips for you. In fact, hand me the car keys, mister.”

“It’s for his own good,” I offered. “Be sure to use that line. Put a little salt on his wounds.”

“That’s right. Sprinkle some of those clichés he used on me right back at him, full circle. ‘What would the neighbors say?’”

“Or ‘what if everybody did it?’” I blurted. Gary and I froze, looking at each other, and then burst out in laughter.

“Indeed,” he said, poker-faced. “Where would we be then, if everybody was…doing it?”

“We’d be overrun, just like China,” I concurred. We chuckled as I played something that sounded vaguely Cajun…or maybe more like Acadian. Same thing, I guess.

“I like that,” Gary said, tapping out a waltz rhythm with a wooden spoon.

“Yeah,” I nodded, eyeballing my hands so I’d remember what I was playing. “Maybe we could take a crack at something like this tonight.” I stopped playing, listening to the water boiling. “What time is Tommy coming by?” I asked.

Gary picked up a package from the counter. “Oh, I could have sworn that this was spaghetti. I hope fettucine’s okay.”

“Fettucine’s fine,” I replied. “When’s Tommy due?”

“Actually, Tommy’s not coming tonight. I thought that it would be nice with just the two of us. I thought that we might just improvise a bit….”

“Improvise?” I repeated, trying not to smile.

“Yeah, and see where things lead. No pressure, just enjoy playing together.”

“Suits me,” I said, wondering if he was aware of how I might be interpreting his words.

Gary turned away from the stove and stood near me. “Melody, may I say something? This is kind of difficult, so bear with me. Umm, I’ve been straddling the fence for way too long. I wanted to say something to you ever since you came back to Lake Hare, but it all hit me at the wedding reception. There we were, part of a celebration for two people in love….”

“Charlie and Tiffany, you mean?” I wanted to be sure we were talking about the same two people.

“Exactly. And then, just like that, it ended. I realized how
fleeting
life can be. And it made me more determined to tell you how I feel.”

I realized it was a good thing that Gary wasn’t aware of the autopsy findings. I looked up at him. He seemed to be at a loss of words at this point.

“Gary,” I said softly. “Why don’t you just kiss me?”

I could see the shock in his expression. It was probably something he’d imagined, hoped that I might say, and now that I’d said it, his fantasies had converged with reality, like that Jerry Lee Lewis song, “When World’s Collide.”

Thankfully, his brain stopped ticking and he bent down and gave me a soft, tender kiss. It was wonderful. He rose and looked down at me, seeking my reaction.

“Please, sir,” I whispered, “May I have another?”

Gary complied, and this kiss lasted a little longer. I think I may have reciprocated a little more forcefully. In fact, I know I did.

Gary stood, a stunned smile spreading across his face. “What a relief!” he sighed. “That was terrifying!”

“That first move is the hardest,” I agreed. “It’s all smooth sailing from here.”

We both laughed, and then the boiling water began to blurp. Gary merrily stirred at the noodles. “Oh, I forgot to make the salad,” he fretted.