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Authors: Isis Crawford

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BOOK: A Catered Wedding
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Chapter 5
“F
or sure there's not going to be any question about the cause of death,” Bernie observed.
“Agreed,” Libby said.
At least this time no one could even consider blaming her cooking, Libby caught herself thinking. And speaking of cooking, what were they going to do with seventy-five quail, not to mention the asparagus waiting for them in the kitchen? Well, she could always make a cold soup out of the asparagus and freeze that and the quail if necessary.
To make the soup, she'd roast the asparagus to bring out the flavor, then puree it and add some chicken stock, a touch of cream, a dash of nutmeg. Maybe a sprinkling of toasted walnuts on the top. Or perhaps almonds. Libby was thinking that almonds would be the better choice when she realized that Bernie was talking to her.
“Yes?” she said guiltily.
“I was just saying,” Bernie repeated, “that this is obviously a homicide.”
“It would be hard to shoot yourself with an arrow,” Libby concurred. She couldn't believe that she'd been thinking about recipes at a time like this.
“Unless it was in the foot . . . or you had really long arms.” Bernie began tapping her fingers against her chin.
“Maybe someone shot her in the heart and then stabbed her with the arrow to cover it up,” Amber suggested.
“And they'd do that . . . why?” Bernie asked her.
Amber hemmed and hawed.
“Exactly,” Bernie said when she didn't answer. She started twisting her ring around her finger. “So we know this is a homicide and we also know the shooter is left-handed.”
“We do?” Libby said.
“Yes we do.” Bernie pointed to the shaft of the arrow sticking out of Leeza's chest. “Look at the way the feathers are pointing,” she impatiently. “They're pointing to the left of the notch,” she went on when Libby didn't say anything.
“So what?” Libby said.
“Well people that are left-handed shoot with the feathers pointing in that direction. Of course,” she added, “if you're shooting a crossbow given the way it's fired it really doesn't matter.”
Libby just stared at her. “Where do you get this stuff from?”
“Camp. We had to take archery, remember?”
“I didn't.”
“You could have if you weren't spending all your time in the nurse's office.”
Libby began chewing on one of her cuticles. “Excuse me if I have allergies.”
Bernie made a rude noise.
Libby put her hands on her hips. “And what's that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing.” Bernie turned back to study Leeza. This was not the time to discuss her older sister's pitiful performance at Camp Min-Nie-Ton-Ka or Camp of the Little Truck as her father insisted on calling the place. “For that matter why use a bow and arrow?” Bernie mused, thinking out loud. “Why not a gun?”
Amber coughed. Bernie looked at her.
“What?” she asked.
Amber nodded towards Leeza's body. “Maybe it's supposed to be like a Cupid's arrow thing,” she said hesitantly. “I mean since she's shot through the heart and everything. It's like about love.”
I can't believe I missed that
, Bernie thought. Perhaps Amber wasn't such a ninny after all. “That's a really good observation,” Bernie told her. “I'm impressed.” And she was.
Amber flushed with pleasure.
“So what do you think brought Leeza down here in the first place?” Bernie asked.
Amber nibbled on her lower lip for a moment, hesitated for a few seconds more, and then said, “Well in the movies she'd have gotten a call luring her into the tent.”
“Give me a break,” Libby grumbled.
“No. Don't be so dismissive. That works,” Bernie said to her sister.
“So does the fact that Leeza went for a walk,” Libby replied wondering as she did why she was feeling so annoyed. It was like suddenly Amber was Bernie's new best friend.
“In the rain? Please,” Bernie scoffed.
“Maybe she came down here because she wanted to make sure the tent wasn't leaking.”
Bernie snorted at the idea.
“Leeza? No way. She would have sent one of her staff. Or called us up at six o'clock in the morning and told us to get down here. No. Amber's hypothesis makes sense. Leeza is wearing her nightgown and her bathrobe and she doesn't have any make-up on.”
Libby put her hands on her hips. “Meaning?”
“Meaning given that Leeza was the kind of woman who wouldn't go to the bathroom without putting on her mascara first, she would have gotten dressed if she was going for a walk. The fact that she didn't indicates she didn't have time to. That she came down here in a hurry, which means someone called and told her to meet them down here.”
“Perhaps you're right,” Libby reluctantly conceded. “But for my money that's an awful lot of maybes.”
Bernie grunted and tapped her ring against her teeth. “You know what else puzzles me?”
“Maybe you should leave something for the police to figure out, Sherlock,” Libby observed.
Bernie ignored her.
“How Leeza was shot.”
“What do you mean? She was shot with an arrow.”
“And?”
Libby gave her a blank look.
“Well, think about it,” Bernie said. “There's nothing here but the tables, right?”
Libby and Amber both nodded their heads.
Bernie began to pace back and forth. “And you can pretty much see anyone who is inside the tent from the outside.”
Amber wrinkled her nose. “Okay. And your point is?”
Bernie looked at Libby. “You get it, don't you?”
“Not really.”
Bernie slapped her forehead in frustration. “Think. A bow takes times to aim. It's not like a gun. It's not inconspicuous. Why didn't she see her assailant and duck? Why did she come in at all?”
Libby shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe he wasn't inside yet. Maybe Leeza arrived first.”
“Then why didn't she see the bow when he came in? I mean he had to have come in. He didn't shoot through the tent. There are no tears in the material.”
“Maybe he . . .”
“Or she,” Amber interrupted. “The killer could be a female. Those are the worst kind . . . .”
“Whoever,” Libby said. “As I was saying maybe he,” she nodded to Amber, “or
she
was hiding their weapon under their raincoat.”
“But Leeza would have seen him taking it out.”
“Not if her face was turned away and she was looking at something else.”
“Like what?”
“How the hell should I know,” Libby snapped. “I wasn't there. Maybe he left the bow under the table and then bent down and got it and whammo.”
“That would work,” Bernie conceded.
“Or maybe he/she/it was crouched down when Leeza came in,” Libby suggested getting into the spirit of the thing despite herself. “Or maybe she did see him and it was too late.”
“I don't know.” Bernie glanced around again.
Libby tugged at her sister's sleeve. “Come on. We have to call the police. Anyway we should leave. We've already contaminated the crime scene enough as it is.”
Bernie clicked her tongue against her cheek. “Go ahead and call them. There's something I want to check out.”
Libby groaned. “There's nothing to check out. Remember we agreed that after the last time we wouldn't get involved in another homicide investigation.”
“No,” Bernie told you. “You suggested it; I never agreed to it. Anyway, if I recall correctly, you were the one that was hot to investigate the last time not me. You were the one that got me and Dad involved.”
“Okay. That's true,” Libby allowed. After all it had been her best friend that had been accused of murder. What else was she supposed to do? “But this is different. We don't know these people.”
Bernie turned to face her. She had that look of intense concentration on her face that Libby had come to associate with trouble.
“Do you believe in karma?” she began.
“No,” Libby told her. “I believe in Julia Child's recipes and the
Joy of Cooking.
”
“I'm being serious.”
“So am I.” Libby shook her head. “Mother was right. You should never have gone out to California. Then you wouldn't have met Swami whatever the hell his name is.”
“It's Mister Gupta and he's my spiritual adviser.”
“Whatever,” Libby retorted.
Bernie held up her hand. “Don't be so close-minded. I want you to think about what I'm going to say.”
“And I want you to think about getting out of here.”
“Don't you consider it odd that we're present at yet another homicide?”
“That's exactly what I'm afraid the police are going to say,” Libby told her.
Bernie shook her head impatiently. “No. I'm talking about a different plane. I mean maybe this is the reason we got this job. Maybe we're supposed to investigate Leeza's death. Maybe solving homicides is what we've been put on this earth for.”
“Maybe she's right,” Amber chimed in.
It took all of Libby's willpower not to throttle Amber. “No. No. No.” Libby could feel her head begin to throb. She desperately wished she had a chocolate chip cookie. A peanut butter cookie. At this moment she'd even settle for a Fig Newton and she hated those. “Please don't start in with that stuff now. Next you're going to be talking about channeling and astral planes.”
“How do you know what I said isn't true?” Bernie demanded.
Libby took a deep breath and marshaled her thoughts. “I don't,” she allowed. “But here's what I do know. I know we're standing in front of a dead body. And I know the cops will be pissed if we don't call them.”
Bernie waved her hand. “Of course we're going to call them. In a few minutes.”
“This is not our responsibility.” Libby could hear her voice rising.
Get a grip,
she told herself. Why she always let her sister get to her was something she did not know.
“Just give me a minute,” Bernie replied. “That's not too much to ask.”
Libby bit her lip. “Okay,” she said grudgingly. “Two minutes, but no more.”
Bernie grinned and went over to stand besides Leeza's body. Amber was right behind her.
“I mean it,” Libby said as she wondered if Amber could get any nearer to Bernie without stepping on the backs of her feet.
“I know you do,” Bernie replied. “Let's see,” she continued. “The arrow went into her heart. Arrows follow straight trajectories which, allowing for distance, means that it probably came from somewhere over there.” She started walking to the back of the tent.
“What the hell are you doing?” Libby demanded. Why had she said yes to Bernie? Every time she did she regretted it.
“Looking,” Bernie said her eyes fastened to the ground.
“I can see that. Looking for what?”
Suddenly Bernie's face lit up. “For this.” And she pointed to a chair.
Libby hurried over. “Ohmygod,” she said as she put her hand to her mouth. “I've never seen anything like it.”
“It's a booby trap,” Bernie said with grim satisfaction. “See, that's why Leeza walked in here. There was no one waiting for her. I was right. She got a call to come down here and that was all she wrote, folks.”
Libby looked closely. Someone had secured a wooden box to the chair and mounted a crossbow on it. “But what set it off?” she asked. “I don't see any wires.”
“That,” Bernie said indicating the remote control car hanging down from the bow trigger, “is the really brilliant part. Someone started up the car with its remote control device and then that made the wheels go which pulled the crossbow's trigger.
“And since the radius of a remote control device can be a couple of hundred feet, I'd be willing to bet you that whoever did it was probably sitting in the big oak by the creek. They could see everything and Leeza certainly wouldn't be looking up.” Bernie stood. “Whoever set this up is very smart. It's very simple. Very elegant. And you can get a remote control car like that in any hobby shop across the country.”
“Elegant is hardly the word I'd use, dear.”
BOOK: A Catered Wedding
9.49Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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