Murder Melts in Your Mouth (26 page)

Tierney said, “Maybe he really does want to marry the other woman.”

“You don't know her,” Emma snapped. “She's vacant and selfish. He's only marrying her because her family has skyboxes for hockey
and
the Sixers.” She looked surprised at her own outburst.

“Lib,” I said, “how do we know he's going to propose tonight?”

“His sister told Ellie Pargenter, who phoned her daughter, who e-mailed Rawlins's girlfriend, who text-messaged him—”

“I get it,” I said. “It's amazing the bride-to-be hasn't heard by now. What does the ring look like?”

Libby took me seriously and frowned. “I don't know.”

I sighed. “Do we know where he is going to propose?”

“That pretty gazebo in Fairmount Park. On the hill, with the view of the river. You know the one?” Libby refastened her seat belt and put the minivan into gear.

“The gazebo with the rosebushes planted all around it?”

Libby pulled into traffic, but kept talking. “That's it. We're headed there now. The city is setting off some pre–Fourth of July fireworks at ten o'clock. We figure Hart's going to propose just before that.”

“And we're going to be there?”

“Yep.”

“What are we going to do?” Tierney asked.

“Stop him, of course. He only needs to look at Emma one more time to be convinced he can't marry Eva Braun's daughter.”

Emma, who looked sweaty and sick with her hair sticking up and her shirt falling off one shoulder, said, “Slow down. I'm feeling sick all over again.”

I said, “Why is Tierney coming along?”

“We kidnapped him,” Libby said. “Tit for tat.”

He said, “I was minding my own business, hiding out at your boyfriend's house, when they came along and ordered me into the van. I thought they had a gun. Turns out, it was a tube of sunscreen.” He showed me a container of Banana Boat, SPF 45.

“Oh, for heaven's sake, Libby!”

“It was in the glove compartment! It was the only thing I had. We need a man along, and Emma thought of Tierney. And, after all, he should be initiated into the family.”

Tierney said, “Isn't hazing illegal now?”

I said, “Why do we need a man?”

Libby said, “I have it all figured. I'm going to park down over the hillside, and we'll climb up to the gazebo so they don't see us coming. I might be in superb physical condition for a woman of childbearing age, but how are we going to get Emma up there without somebody strong to boost her over the fence?”

“That's not a fence up there,” I said. “It's a wall. Eight feet high, at least.”

“I have a ladder in the back.”

I peered over the backseat of the minivan and saw my kitchen step stool on the floor. “That's not going to help,” I said.

“I know. That's why we need a man along! And since that sweet Henry Fineman is busy—”

“What's he doing?”

“Looking after the children.”

“Henry's babysitting?”

“With the help of that charming man in the sarong who's not allowed to leave the house now that Mama and Daddy are back from the hospital.”

Emma took a deep breath and pulled her head out of the bag. “Libby flirted with him.”

“Who? You flirted with Oscar? What happened to Jacque Petite?”

“Nothing whatsoever.” Libby was huffy. “I have always struggled with the societal pressure to be monogamous. I find both men attractive—each in his own way. Tierney, aren't you drawn to more than one partner at a time?”

Tierney looked at me. “Is that a trick question?”

“Slow down,” Emma begged. “Or I'm gonna hurl.”

I said, “Daddy's out of the hospital?”

“He was discharged this afternoon. He and Mama are having some quiet time in their bedroom.”

“God, I hope she doesn't kill him.”

The city flew past the windows as Libby roared up the avenue, heading for Fairmount Park. Streetlights sputtered to life as the sun sank below the river. A knot of teenagers hung around the circle at the foot of the museum. A man selling Italian ice began closing up his truck for the night. But Libby kept her foot firmly on the accelerator, and we plunged into the park. Emma burped.

We passed a parking lot full of cars and people preparing to watch the pre-weekend fireworks.

Libby hauled the steering wheel hard to the right, then barely missed the bumper of an oncoming SUV. We thundered around a hillside and entered a long stretch of road covered by an arch of trees.

“Where's the plastic bag?” Emma cried.

My phone rang in my handbag. I pulled it out hastily. “Michael?”

“Aunt Nora!” Rawlins yelled. “Is my mom with you?”

“Yes, she is. Do you want to speak with her?”

“God, no,” my nephew said. “Do you think you could convince her that I should go to Hollywood with Chad and be part of his entourage? He says I could finish high school at Beverly Hills and meet Rod Stewart's daughter.”

“Rawlins, darling, you don't want to be in anybody's entourage but your own.”

“But it would be really cool! Even Shawna would think so.”

“Wouldn't you rather be the star of your own life?” I asked.

Sounding sulky, he said, “Delmar's going.”

“Delmar is going to Hollywood? With Chad Zanzibar?”

“I think so,” Rawlins said. “Of course, things might change once Chad figures out Delmar's not Mick.”

“That might be a problem,” I agreed.

“Anyway, Delmar's probably going to break Chad's face pretty soon.”

“Good grief, why?”

“Chad made a rude crack about his grandmother, and Delmar got upset. He says nobody should be disrespectful of grandmothers. It's like grandmothers are sacred or something. So I think he's gonna end up hurting Chad.”

“So maybe the Beverly Hills trip isn't going to happen.”

“Yeah, maybe not.” Rawlins sighed. “Henry says to tell you that Brandi Whoever isn't using her real name, by the way. Her real name is Cadwaller, and she's from someplace in California.”

I gripped the phone with both hands, not sure I had heard correctly. “Rawlins, is Henry there? Can I talk to him?”

“No, I'm at work. He was playing Joan of Arc with Lucy when I left. Look, the other thing is that Mr. Cavendish, the dead guy?”

“Yes?”

“His real name was Cadwaller, too.”

“What?”

“Henry thinks maybe they were cousins or something.”

“You're kidding.”

“Does that mean anything?”

“I'm not sure what,” I admitted. My mind raced. Brandi related to Hoyt?

“So about me going to Beverly Hills?”

“We'll talk later.”

“That usually means no.” Rawlins disconnected.

I closed my phone, not sure how to interpret the new information. What did it mean? Brandi and Hoyt were related? He had helped her get a job in the city, helped her join an influential board? And then what? They hardly seemed friendly with each other, let alone family.

Over her shoulder, Libby said, “I don't like Rawlins's new girlfriend. She's very demanding.”

“Needy,” I said, distracted. “That's different from demanding. Shawna was demanding. She challenged him.”

“I never liked Shawna, either. She was very forward.”

“Sound familiar?”

From the front seat, Emma suddenly said, “That's Hart's car.”

A silver Porsche sat parked under the lee of a rock formation, and Libby blasted past it. “Hunch down, Em, in case they're still inside!”

I took a look at the car as we whipped beyond it. “It's empty.”

“They must be on their way up to the gazebo already,” Libby said. “Hang on, everybody!”

The minivan bucketed over a pothole and took a curve almost on two wheels. Libby cut the lights as we raced over a flat stretch of road planted with flowering bushes on either side.

“I know all the best hiding places in this park,” Libby announced. “One summer I had a boyfriend who worked on the maintenance crew. He took me to every secluded glen and we—oh, he was a wonderful kisser. His name was Ramon. He only had one nipple.”

Tierney said, “I was better off an only child.”

“Nonsense.” I patted his knee. “You'll learn to love us.”

Libby slid the minivan between two fragrant pine trees and killed the engine. “Okay. Who's got a plan?”

“We thought you had a plan!”

“It was more of a general concept, really—”

Tierney tried reasoning with her. “Why don't we find a place to have dinner and think this through? I haven't eaten since I found some cold pizza in the refrigerator. And I haven't had a cheesesteak in years.”

“Don't mention food!” Emma groaned. “I'm out of ginger ale and throwing up! I'm sick! I'm disgusting! I haven't washed my hair in two days! And this is how I'm supposed to tell somebody I'm pregnant with his stupid baby?”

I handed her the second bottle of ginger ale, which she snatched from my grasp.

“Oh, for heaven's sake!” Libby opened her door. “It's not very hard to plan an ambush, is it?”

Emma glugged half the bottle, then opened her door reluctantly. “I need fresh air anyway.”

We all climbed out of the vehicle and found ourselves in a hidden glade where the minivan wouldn't be seen by passing cars. We regrouped in front of it.

“Well?” I glanced around and kept my voice down. “Where's the gazebo from here?”

Libby pointed up the knoll. I could see the only way to reach it was a twisted path through the trees.

I noticed that Libby wore camouflage Capri pants and sneakers in addition to her T-shirt. She looked like a commando who shopped at Lane Bryant.

I said, “I'm not dressed for a hike in the woods.”

“I have a pair of gardening boots in the van.”

Libby opened the hatch of the minivan and rummaged around until she found a pair of green rubber boots. She handed them to me. Next she wrestled out the step stool and heaved it at Tierney.

Tierney stared at the stool. “What am I supposed to do with this?”

Emma said, “I have to pee.”

“Big surprise, after all that ginger ale.”

My cell phone rang.

“Shhhh!”

I grabbed the phone and hit the button before it could ring again. “Hello!”

Michael said, “Jeez, are you okay?”

“I'm fine,” I said. “Just under a little sisterly stress at the moment. I'm with Lib and Emma. Are you out of custody?”

“Yep. But I've got to take care of something. Are you all right on your own for a while?”

“Of course I am.”

He promised to call me later and said, “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

I closed my phone and found Tierney staring at me. I smiled. “He's not as scary as he looks.”

Emma and Libby emerged from the bushes. They were both zipping up their pants.

Midzip, Emma froze. “Shh! I hear voices.”

I stopped in the act of pulling on the boots. We listened, straining in the darkness. Nobody moved. Nobody drew a breath. I began to wonder if I could hear music, sounding tinny in the open air.

At last, Tierney said with disgust, “Oh, my God, it's Celine Dion.”

Emma burped. “Hart loves Celine Dion.”

“How could you sleep with a man who loves Celine Dion? That's just wrong.”

Libby said, “I love Celine Dion, too.”

Tierney said, “Then I'm definitely not related to you.”

I grabbed Emma's arm. “Don't get distracted. Focus. You need to tell Hart he's going to be a father before he makes a dreadful mistake. You'll be saving him from a life of Celine Dion, not to mention bad sex. Don't blow this, Em. And hurry up, will you? I still have to make it to the Chocolate Gala.”

Grimly, she clutched her ginger ale and nodded. “Okay, okay. Let's do it before I lose my courage.”

I threw my shoes and handbag into the back of the minivan. Libby had dug into the glove compartment and come up with a weak flashlight.

“Turn that thing off,” Tierney said. “We'll see better in the dark without it. Save the battery for an emergency.”

Libby surprised me by obeying without an argument. “Are you getting into this?” she asked.

Tierney sighed. “I'm a sucker for a love story. So sue me.”