To Brie or Not to Brie (29 page)

“To frame Hugo,” Urso said.

“Exactly. Except the idiot left a note, thus clearing Hugo.”

“And he brought his own ice pick.”

“If we find the gun used in the murder of Giacomo Capriotti”—Rebecca aimed a finger
at Urso—“and we match it to the bullet you found—”

“But we didn’t find that gun,” Urso said. “The killer must have taken it, if there
even was a gun.”

I snapped my fingers. “We might find it in my safe.”

“Your safe?”

I nodded. “Here’s my second theory. Vinnie was the killer. He lied about everything,
the woman calling and the wad of money. He said his brother had a hundred thousand
on him.”

“Where did you hear—?” Urso cut himself off. “Never mind. Vinnie told you when he
barged into your place. Go on.”

“I think he lied about the cash. Let’s face it. Who travels with that kind of money?
Vinnie wanted his brother to change the will. His brother said no. The scene played
out
as before. After Vinnie bludgeoned Giacomo, he took his brother’s Beretta and fled
the scene. Said weapon is resting in my safe at home.” I pinched my lips together.
Listen to you, Charlotte.
Said weapon,
like you’re a prosecutor.

Urso sighed. “Which you will turn over immediately.”

“Of course.”

“But what if the bullet doesn’t match that gun, either?” Rebecca folded her arms.

“Charlotte’s theory about Vinnie doesn’t hold up,” Urso answered.

“Okay, here’s a third theory,” Rebecca said. “Someone else brought along a gun…like
Hugo Hunter.” She raised her voice to stress the surname. “He’s missing in action.
He could have set a meeting with Giacomo to duke it out over Jacky. Hugo ordered Giacomo
to leave Jacky alone. Giacomo refused. They struggled, yada, yada. Vinnie figured
it out. He threatened to expose Hugo, and our would-be hero split town.”

“You still haven’t found him?” I said.

Urso shook his head. “The Scoops haven’t heard a word. Neither has Jacky. She’s very
worried.”

Rebecca gasped. “Oh, no. What if Hugo’s dead, too?”

All that day and the next, news of Vinnie Capriotti’s murder buzzed around town. Customers
flocked to Fromagerie Bessette to get more of the gossip, but we had nothing new to
report. Rebecca was surprisingly tight-lipped—no theories, no insider information,
no television references for inspiration. We did hear that Vinnie’s murderer was caught
on Route 76, east of Akron. He sang like a jailbird, but he didn’t croon about killing
Giacomo Capriotti. In fact, he swore he didn’t. He had his Beretta in his glove compartment.
Many customers told us about Urso storming around town. He hadn’t been seen dating
Edy. He wasn’t smiling.

Around noon, when Urso came into the shop to buy a sandwich, I found the courage to
ask him whether the bullet in the Igloo’s wall matched bullets from Vinnie’s Beretta.
He grumbled something that sounded like, “Keep out of it,” and marched off. I didn’t
dare shout out a follow-up question about Hugo Hunter’s whereabouts.

Bothered by his dismissal, I told Rebecca to watch the
store and, to take the edge off, I visited Sew Inspired Quilt Shoppe and tried on
my maid of honor dress.

“Oh, yay! It fits like a glove.” Freckles did a merry jig. “The gold color is perfect,
don’t you think?”

“I love it.” I twirled on the riser and viewed the dress via the three-way mirror,
appreciating the way the A-line shape hugged my curves. Though I wasn’t always comfortable
in a strapless dress, Freckles had done a marvelous job of making me feel secure.
I especially liked the shirred waist with a faux flower at the cinch. So feminine.
Jordan would love it.

Freckles propped a pincushion wristband on her arm. “Now, let’s fix that hem. I’m
assuming the shoes you dropped off are the shoes you’ll be wearing?” She pulled a
pair of heels from a cubby and handed them to me. “Slip them on.”

Back in September, I had purchased the most darling sling sandals with rhinestones
dotting the straps. A simple gold choker and drop earrings would finish off the ensemble.

Freckles crouched down. “Stand tall.”

I faced the mirror and squared my shoulders. “Where’s Edy?”

“Gallivanting.”

“What does that mean?”

“She asked for a little time off. She wanted to ponder her future.” Freckles peered
up at me and winked. “I think she’s stopping by the precinct.”

“To see Urso?” Judging by Urso’s mood, I expected that Edy would wind up disappointed.
Urso had bought a single sandwich earlier, not two as he had been doing for the past
week. But it wasn’t my business.

“Turn,” Freckles ordered. “Stop.” She weaved a pin into the hem.

Meredith slipped past the curtain and flaunted loose pages from magazines. “Hey, look
what I found, Charlotte.
All-cheese wedding cakes.” She held the pages so I could view them via the mirror
without bending. “See the cheeses stacked one on top of each other? Don’t they look
divinely different and decadent?”

I grinned. “You’ve been talking to Rebecca.”

“So what?” She jutted a hip. “I love them. Now, which is your favorite?”

One photograph was of an all-white, bloomy rind cake made up of three simple rounds
of cheese and decorated with long-stemmed peach roses and peach jams. Another was
a combination of blue cheese wheels, swirled with strands of grapes and soft yellow
roses. The third was fashioned with multicolored cheeses, each with a different rind.
Herbs circled the “cake,” top to bottom. Elegant, different, and nothing like any
wedding cake I had ever seen.

“It sounds like a lot of cheese,” I said. “Are you sure that’s what you want? I thought
we’d settled on cheese and fruit platters, tartlets, and a traditional cake. It’s
already been ordered.”

“Well, how about for the rehearsal dinner? We haven’t settled on anything for that.”

Was she thinking clearly? The rehearsal dinner was tomorrow.

“My folks would be over the moon for a blue cheese cake. With the grapes and roses?
It’ll look divine. You wanted something in gold tones, didn’t you? Say yes, please?”

How could I say no to my best friend? “It’s your night. I’ll do whatever you want.”

She hugged me hard. “I’m so happy. I wish for you all the happiness I feel. By the
way, have you set a date with Jordan?”

“Not yet.” Jordan and I hadn’t had a moment alone in days. I missed our long chats
and his caresses. “Life has been pretty crazy.”

“Tell me about it.” Meredith tucked the wedding cake photographs into her tote bag.
“Do you know if Jacky has heard from Hugo Hunter?”

“She hasn’t.”

“He’ll show up,” Freckles said. “You watch. He’ll reappear, and he’ll have some great
story to tell.”

“You liked him,” I said.

“We all did…do,” Freckles replied. “He’s a nice man. Great with the kids. He loves
dishing up ice cream. The Scoops think the world of him. He’s talked both of them
into attending college.”

“And you don’t think he had a hand in Jacky’s husband’s murder?” I said.

“Not a chance. He might have a secret life…perhaps another wife…”

I had come up with the same theory while talking to Urso. Was it the truth? Was Hugo
in some other city playing husband?

“…but he’s not a killer.” Freckles stuck more pins into the hem of my dress. “Turn.”

I obeyed.

Meredith cleared her throat. “You know, when Vinnie Capriotti was found dead, there
was a moment when we were worried for Jordan.”

“Why?” I said.

“Matthew and I thought—”

“Jordan would never hurt a soul.”

“That’s not what I meant. We thought Urso might suspect him. Aren’t you relieved that
they were working together to help Grandmère? Alibis are so important. Speaking of
which, that Iris—”

“—was never a suspect in Vinnie’s murder, either.”

“No, no.” Meredith rapped me on the arm. “Let me finish a sentence. Sheesh. Granted,
I’m mangling the English language—I guess I’m a little hyped up—but what I meant
to say, though any segue was lacking, was Iris was supposed to show up for a floral
review with Matthew, Tyanne, and me last night, but she forgot.”

“Forgot?”

Freckles raised an eyebrow. “She told me this is her biggest paycheck to date.”

Meredith chuckled. “Don’t worry. I’m not angry. I happened to swing by the Village
Green and caught her watching the
Hamlet
rehearsal. I think she has a real thing for Stratton. They make quite an unusual-looking
couple, don’t you think? She’s so tall and slender while he’s stocky and bald. On
the break, she started goofing around with him. I’ve never seen her that playful.
We had a brief chat. She was chagrined to miss our appointment. Time got away from
her, but she assured me she’s on top of things.” Meredith’s words started running
together because she was talking so fast.

I said, “Slow down and breathe.”

She inhaled and exhaled and then giggled. “Anyway, not to worry. Iris had her display
books in her tote bag. All the flowers are ordered and due to arrive Sunday morning.
Did you know she makes everything that very morning? Bouquets, everything. I know
she cut her prices for us, but I’m thinking of giving her a bonus.”

“Charlotte, are you in there?” The curtain parted and Prudence Hart strode through,
wearing an electric blue sheath, matching pumps, and a flashy blue hat. Was she trying
to out-Sylvie Sylvie? “Aha, I’ve found you.” Mouth grim, she planted her hands on
her bony hips—a woman on a mission. “Meredith, I’m glad you’re here, too. You won’t
believe what I learned. Sylvie is going to throw a wrench into your wedding.”

“She wouldn’t dare,” Meredith said.

Prudence bobbed her head. “I happen to know for a fact that she’s planning to bring
and release a horde of ladybugs. They’ll flock to the food.”

“No.” Meredith clutched my arm.

“Don’t worry,” I said. “I’ll have a chat with Sylvie.”

Sylvie bounded through the curtain. “What will you chat with me about, Charlotte?”

Prudence sputtered. “Are you following me?”

“Heavens.” Sylvie slapped her chest and widened her eyes. “Why ever would you think
that?”

I gaped at Sylvie. Not because of her holier-than-thou act. She had donned yet another
eye-popping outfit, this one a skintight, shimmery red sheath. It was the middle of
the afternoon in Providence. She wasn’t headed to some swank New York cocktail party
or to some corner in the red-light district of Cleveland, for that matter.

“It’s getting crowded in here,” Freckles whispered to me.

“Do you think?” I bit back a snort.

“I know what you’re up to, Prudence Hart.” Sylvie stabbed a finger at her nemesis.
“You’re spreading lies, lies, and more lies.” She sidled up to the riser, viewed my
dress, and let out a slow hiss. “Pastels and you, Charlotte…”

I smiled beatifically and counted to ten. I would not let her get to me. No way, no
how.

“They’re not lies,” Prudence said, dragging Sylvie back to the argument.

Like a heat-seeking missile, Sylvie zeroed her focus on her rival. “Yes, they are,
you…you…”

“I heard you talking to Iris,” Prudence insisted. “You asked her about ladybugs.”

“For my garden.”

“Bah!”

“Believe what you will, love, but I wanted to know about ladybugs taking care of the
pests in my garden. They eat aphids.”

Meredith said, “Actually they do, Prudence. I’m sure—”

“Not in October,” Prudence said. “They are predominantly spring and summer creatures.”

Meredith threw open her hands. “Perhaps this was an innocent mistake.”

“Innocent, my foot. Sylvie is purposeful, if nothing else.”

Sylvie leaned forward. “You’re mad, Prudence Hart, because Under Wraps is doing better
than La Chic Boutique. My business has put a dent in your earnings, and that’s why
you’re selling.”

“I am not selling.” Prudence’s voice thinned to a screech. “How many times do I have
to tell you? I will never sell.”

“Tosh. Try to explain away Edy Delaney looking for a loan at the bank. Just try.”

Here we go again,
I thought. When had every place in Providence turned into Sylvie and Prudence’s sparring
arena? Well, no more.

“Excuse me, Freckles.” I stepped gingerly off the riser and grabbed Sylvie and Prudence
by the elbow. “Ladies, you’re leaving.”

“What?” they sputtered.

“Out, now.” I muscled them through the curtain and to the front of the shop.

“You heard her.” Meredith followed behind, a hand pressed against each of the women’s
backs.

“Leave,” I said. “I will not have you scaring off Freckles’s customers.”

“But I came to warn Meredith,” Prudence said.

“Consider me warned.” Meredith opened the front door and held it wide. “Go.”

“Well, I never.” Prudence wriggled free. “Mind my words, Meredith Vance. Sylvie will
bring evil to the proceedings.” As a parting blow, Prudence said as she tramped down
the sidewalk, “By the way, Sylvie, my dear, a woman your age should never wear such
an ensemble. You don’t have the narrow hips and thighs for it. That’s why it creeps
up. Tastelessly, I might add.”