Newlywed Dead (20 page)

She leaned back and tsked with her tongue. “No, no, kids that young should be enjoying their lives, not settling down. I see it all the time. They have these big lavish weddings and then within six months are divorced. So sad. No one needs to do that to themselves.”

“I agree,” I said, and stood. “Listen, Trinity Prop House will be here in the afternoon to erect tents and set up dressing areas. We have told everyone that jazz-age costumes are necessary. If they don't have one, one will be provided for them. Can you have someone at the door to ensure that no one enters without a costume?”

“I can do that,” she said. “Bruno is my guy at the door. I'll let him know that for this fund-raiser and proposal event, everyone must wear costumes.”

“Perfect,” I said. “Thanks. I think that gets us up to speed for tomorrow.”

“Great,” she said, and shook my hand. “Don't worry. This event will be spectacular.”

“I'm counting on it.”

The next day was a complete madhouse. Snow had started in the wee morning hours and six inches were predicted by four
P.M
. I was biting my nails that people would come out. Most Chicagoans didn't let a little snow stop them, but it was a fund-raiser and it was a last-minute one to boot.

All I could do now was hope that the roads remained plowed and people actually showed up.

The driveway had to be shoveled before I could pull Old Blue out. I bundled up in my puffy jacket, snow boots, hat, and gloves, and got the shovel out of the garage. I noted that Mrs. C always kept an eye out that I didn't pile the snow against her house, but she never came to offer any assistance in the shoveling.

I was halfway done with the drive when I noticed the curtains in her dining room fluttering. Soon she had opened her door and stepped out into the cold morning air.

“They say we might get ten inches before it's over,” Mrs. Crivitz said. People loved to be fatalistic when it came to snowfall. The worse it could be, the better. I, on the other hand, liked to be positive—especially when I had an event planned.

“Oh, I think it's only three inches,” I said, and stuck the shovel perpendicular into the snow. “See? Not very deep at all.”

“It's only just begun,” Mrs. C predicted. “ABC7 says it's going to continue for the next eight hours. They are predicting snowpocalypse. I bet the kids come home early from school.”

I looked at the half of the driveway I had done. It was slowly but surely being filled back in with fresh snow. I blew a stray strand of hair from my face. “I don't know, I think its stopping.”

“You really should call Detective Murphy out to shovel your driveway. He's your landlord, right?” Mrs. Crivitz was wearing her hair in rollers with a bright turquoise scarf over them and tied around her chin. She had on a big old fur coat that showed the housedress she wore underneath it. She also had on thick socks and pink bunny slippers. Come to think of it, I'd never actually seen her off her porch or, for that matter, wearing anything but the housecoat. The curlers had to hurt.

“Detective Murphy is busy solving cases,” I said. “I
knew when I rented the house that the yard work—including shoveling—would be my responsibility.”

She leaned against her porch rail. “I have a nephew, Guido, who would come and plow you out for real cheap. In fact, if you flashed the girls a bit, he might even do it for free.”

I sighed. I didn't really have much in the way of bosom to flash. “I like to shovel,” I lied. “It's great aerobic exercise.”

“Suit yourself,” she said, and straightened. “It's really starting to come down now. You'll have to start over the minute you finish.”

“Thanks for the encouragement,” I said, and waved, then went back to work. Eventually she gave up and went back inside. I made it to the end of the drive and stood taking a moment of pride. Sure, there was now a new inch of snow on the drive, but at least the other four inches were shoveled. I headed up to the garage, running the shovel in front of me, when I heard the snow plow coming by. “No!”

Too late, the driver threw a nice, two-foot-wide section of snow across my driveway. It was at least six inches deep. I sighed and went back to work. At this rate I wasn't going to make it out to the Ice Pit until two
P.M
. All I could do was hope and pray that everyone else would make it as planned.

*   *   *

By two
P.M.
I was dressed in black slacks, flat-heeled booties, and a black turtleneck. My frizzy red hair was pulled into a messy bun. I had managed to get Old Blue down the slick streets to the Ice Pit. It was kind of ironic to have a
cold party in the middle of a snowstorm. Too bad there wasn't a fire pit nearby. We could have made it fire and ice. I put Brad's ring in the Ice Pit's house safe for safekeeping, then went to work ensuring the centerpieces were set. The flower designer had gone all out with blue and crystal drops amid bare branches. White snowdrop blossoms and evergreens created drama. The centerpieces were kept small to decorate the standing bar tables.

The ice tables were draped in blue and white fairy lights so that they glowed. Stephanie, the Ice Pit event manager, sent two men up on the glass roof to sweep the snow off. It was five
P.M.
and luckily the snow had stopped falling.

Gage and his crew arrived and set up tents, then arranged the racks of costumes inside. I checked that the bar was well stocked and the hors d'oeuvres were ready.

My phone rang. It was Toby. “Hello?”

“Hey, Pepper,” Toby said. “Are we still on? I'm supposed to meet Brad at the coffee shop at seven. The television says that some events for tonight are closed.”

I glanced out the window. It was pitch black. “I think the snow stopped.”

“It did.”

“Then we're good to go,” I said. “I'll send an e-mail around letting all the partygoers know it's still on. Hopefully they won't have a problem coming.”

“What if Jen decides to stay home?”

I chewed on my bottom lip. “Well, that would put a kink in things, wouldn't it?”

“Yes,” Toby said.

“I'll call Mrs. Thomson and ask her to ask Jen to drive her and Samantha Lyn to the party. That way she'll feel as if she has to go to help. Jen thinks this party is for Samantha Lyn's surprise proposal.”

“That might work,” Toby said. “Okay, I'll get Brad there by eight
P.M.”

“Thanks, Toby,” I said, and hung up the phone. Gage walked in. He was dressed in a dark black zoot suit with a heavy watch chain. “Hi, handsome.”

“You need to go get dressed,” he said, and pulled out his pocket watch. “Time is ticking.”

“I need to call Mrs. Thomson first. That was Toby. He was afraid that Jen might not come due to the weather. I'm going to call Mrs. Thomson and get her to call Jen and ask Jen to ensure she and Samantha Lyn get there.”

“Will that work?” He asked. “The Thomsons have money and can get a chauffeur to drive them when the weather's bad.”

“Oh,” I said, and frowned. “How am I going to get Jen to come out in the weather?”

“You can still call Mrs. Thomson and ask her if they can pick up Jen and bring her instead.”

“Oh, that's brilliant,” I said. “She can tell Jen that Samantha Lyn is getting nervous and needs some company.”

“What about Clark?” Gage asked.

“Mrs. Fulcrum is coming,” I said. “I talked to her an hour ago. She has picked up the engagement ring and
Clark's costume. She'll make sure her boy gets to his engagement party on time.”

“So, make the phone call and then go out to the dolls' tent and get dolled up,” Gage said, and grinned at me. “I can't wait to see you all jazzed up.”

“Okay,” I said, and gave him a quick kiss. Then I phoned Mrs. Thomson, who assured me she would see that Jen showed up. Both Mrs. Thomson and Mrs. Fulcrum knew Jen and her parents and were aware of my dilemma of surprising the girl. Thankfully they didn't mind that I was using this one event for two proposals. I hadn't done two at once before. I was still half hoping that Samantha Lyn would say no.

My phone chimed, letting me know I had e-mail. I thumbed through to it as I entered the tent to change into my costume. Stopping short, I stared at the pictures in my hand. The college pictures from the time of Ashley's homecoming had come in. Suddenly it all became very clear in my mind. I dialed Detective Murphy.

“Murphy,” he answered.

“Hi, it's Pepper. I think I know who killed Ashley and why,” I said in a low whisper as I looked around. The tent was full of people who had arrived for the event and were having fun getting into costume. Luckily the place was filled with chatting and laughter and I knew that no one was paying me much attention.

“Pepper, where are you?”

I put a finger in my opposite ear and turned my back to the crowd. “I'm at the Ice Pit for an event. I need you to come and bring backup. I'm going to reveal Ashley's killer.”

“Pepper, don't. Don't do anything stupid. Tell me what you know and I'll take care of the suspects.”

“Pepper, darling!” Mrs. Fulcrum entered the tent wearing a full-length mink coat over a dazzling gold-beaded flapper dress. She had her arms out and smothered me in her embrace. “This is fantastic.”

“Thanks,” I muttered next to her ear as she gave me two air kisses. I kissed the air back and stepped away. “Hold on just a second.” Then I put my phone back up to my ear. “I need you here ASAP,” I said. Then I hung up.

“Who was that?” Mrs. Fulcrum asked. “One of your employees?”

“Sure,” I said, and sent her a weak smile. “The weather has people all jumbled up.”

“Terrible to have a snowstorm on the same day as this event, but I'm so excited. Clark is dressed and I sent him inside to get a beverage with a warning not to spill anything on his suit.”

“Good,” I said.

She locked her arm through mine and turned me to the happy, busy tent. “Tell me what's going on here.”

“I got Trinity Prop House to donate jazz-age costumes and props,” I said, and waved toward the three racks of clothes and the wall of accessories. “Then I hired a male stylist and a female stylist to help anyone who was having trouble putting together a look. That's Miranda in the corner helping those two young girls.”

“Perfect,” Mrs. Fulcrum gushed. She looked around. “I don't see our girls yet.”

“I called Mrs. Thomson a few minutes ago. She is calling Jen and picking her up so that Samantha has a friend.”

“Smart girl,” Mrs. Fulcrum said. “Well, now, you need to get dressed and get inside the venue.”

“Yes,” I said with a nod. “I do. Why don't you go inside? There's a three-piece orchestra playing and there are cocktails. The hors d'oeuvres will be out in thirty minutes.”

“And the courses?” she asked. “Are they still as we discussed in the proposal?”

“Yes, as discussed there will be six separate hors d'oeuvre courses,” I said. “We start with a light shrimp cocktail, move through the courses, and end with wedding cake shots. Those will go around after the proposals.”

“Yes, of course,” she said with a nod. “Good, I'll see you inside.”

“Have fun,” I said, and waved her on. Then I rushed over to the rack with the blush pink flapper gown I had tried on earlier and asked Miranda to accessorize for me. She had set the outfit aside so that no one else would take it. Not that they could. It took a special type of dress to fit my beanpole figure. Flapper was a good look for me. The girls were meant to be boyishly thin with little bosom.

I yanked off my black turtleneck, then my black slacks, and slipped the gown over my head. Next I sat and rolled silk stockings up over my knees and held them in place with pink garters. Finally I went to one of five mirrored vanities at a long table on the far side of the tent and pinned my unruly carrot-red hair into a wavy faux bob. My makeup was cool neutrals with a Clara Bow lip. Then I slipped into silver
twenties-inspired dance shoes, added chandelier earrings, and stepped up to one of the four full-length mirrors.

“You look fabulous,” Miranda gushed as she walked over from where she had been helping an elderly woman find the right faux fur.

“Thanks,” I said. “What coat do I have?” Coats and gloves were a must in the Ice Pit, as it was kept at twenty degrees to ensure nothing melted.

“I saved this faux silver fox.” Miranda went over to her rack and pulled a three-quarter-length-sleeved swing coat in what appeared to be a silver fur.

“It's marvelous,” I said, and put it on. It swung from the shoulders and was warm but lightweight.

“I thought you'd be warmer than most, running around ensuring everything went off without a hitch. Here is a pair of opera-length silver gloves.”

She handed me the gloves and I put them on. “Not bad.”

“Perfect,” she said. “Now, go out there and be a success.”

I smiled at her. “I'll do my best.” But my spirit wasn't into tonight's proposals. My heart was beating fast as I hoped to goodness that Detective Murphy took me seriously and was on his way with backup. If I could get Ashley's killer to confess, then the event would certainly make the evening news as promised.