A Most Unpleasant Wedding (18 page)

“What did you do with the capsules?”

“I flushed them down the toilet.”

“What about the blister packs?”

“I cut them into little pieces and flushed them, the package too.”

Brisbois nodded. “Go on.”

“I went to his cabin. He had been drinking. A lot, I think. He always drank a lot. I told him I would write him a cheque. He laughed and said maybe I could throw in something extra. He touched me.” She shuddered. “I played along. I told him I'd need a drink. He poured the drink. I said I needed ginger ale. While he went to get it, I put the Benadryl in his drink.”

“And he didn't notice?”

“No. I distracted him. I got him talking about how we would launder the money.”

“So he could account for the sudden jump in his bank account.”

“Yes. I told him we would write up an agreement for some work at the cottage. I wrote the cheque.”

He nodded. “Please continue.”

“He finished that drink and had two more. I said I was ready but that I had to go to the bathroom. I waited.” She took a deep breath. “I was so frightened. I thought he might come and drag me out. After a while, I didn't hear him moving around, so I came out. He had passed out on the bed.”

“Was he dead when you left?”

“He had passed out,” she repeated. She paused, a look of revulsion crossing her face. “Then he started to vomit.” She put a hand to her mouth. “I never could stand to see anyone vomit. I took the cheque and left. I just prayed.”

“That he wouldn't make it.”

Her jaw trembled. “I felt so relieved when I heard he was dead. I know that was wrong. But after what he tried to do, he deserved what happened.”

“What did you tell Tee?”

“I didn't tell Tee.” She leaned forward, gave him a desperate look. “Detective, you have to understand. I did this for us. I did it for Tee. Everybody wanted him to run in the next election. He would have won.” She stopped. “Maybe he still can. Someday, when people forget.”

Bonnie had been taken away. Brisbois sat, staring at his notes.

“Do you think people will forget?” Creighton asked. “Make Tee our next prime minister?”

Brisbois snorted. “Sure, give them a year or so. The public has the attention span of a snail.”

“I'll bet that lawyer's already started working on the insanity defence.”

“He just might be successful with that,” Brisbois murmured.

“Do you think she's insane?”

Brisbois thought about that. “I think she has a one-track mind and a skewed sense of morality.”

“I don't think that counts as insanity. I think that's what they call a character flaw.”

Brisbois smiled. “You really got into that course, didn't you?” He was quiet for a few moments, then said, “Just between the two of us, I think Bonnie Lawrence is as crazy as a loon.”

“When are we going to see Tee?”

Brisbois closed his notebook. “I think we'll let him stew a bit. It'll pump up his imagination.”

“He'll probably start making noise if we don't let him see Bonnie soon. He's probably been tying himself in knots, wondering what she's been saying.”

Brisbois smiled. “I'll bet he has. We've got to stall him long enough to get a report from the dive team.” He paused, opened his notebook. “Who went out with them?”

“Maroni and Petrie.”

“Good.”

Creighton stretched, yawned. “I suppose if they don't come up with the goods before Tee blows his stack, we could wing it.”

Brisbois smiled. “We could and we could make ourselves” — he hooked his fingers in quotation marks — “unavailable.”

“Could we grab a bite while we're being unavailable?”

Brisbois looked at him in mock surprise. “You know, I think we could.”

A subdued Tee Lawrence sat in the interview room.

“Bonnie told me what she'd done,” he said. He stared at the table. “When I got home, she was just sitting there in the dark. I know I should have contacted the police. You have to understand, I was trying to protect my wife.”

Brisbois nodded. “Of course. Tell us what happened, Mr. Lawrence.”

Tee moistened his lips. “After Bonnie told me what had happened, I went up into the woods. I was hoping” — he shook his head — “praying that Mrs. Hopper was still alive.”

Brisbois made a note. “So you just went up through the woods?”

Tee shook his head. “No, I went around on the side road. I knew the Rudleys were camping out back of the inn. Everybody had been talking about that.”

“So you took the road. Did you drive? Walk?”

“I walked.” Tee paused, his jaw muscles bunching. “Every step, I was afraid of running into somebody coming home late. It was unnerving.”

“Where was Mrs. Hopper when you found her?”

He gulped, took a moment to respond. “She was lying on the ground, face down. The horse was beside her. I guess I spooked him. He bolted when I approached her.”

“And what about Mrs. Hopper?”

Tee shook his head. “She was dead. I couldn't do anything. I went back to the cottage. I told Bonnie.”

“How did she take the news? That Mrs. Hopper was dead?”

Tee gave him a look of incredulity. “She was distraught.” He took a deep breath. “I told her I'd do whatever I could to protect her. I put our clothes in a garbage bag and dumped the bag in the lake the next morning.”

Brisbois paused. “Yes, Mrs. Lawrence told us.” He smiled. “And we found it.” He sat back in his chair. “You were smart to drop it by the shoal markers in one way, Mr. Lawrence. People tend to avoid shoal markers. On the other hand, those areas usually have rocks, some of them hidden. The bag ended up on a shelf about six feet down. It wasn't hard to find. As I said, it wasn't far down. And it was orange. It stuck out like a sore thumb. Our dive team barely had to get their flippers wet.”

Tee looked hurt. “I'm not a seasoned criminal. I was just trying to help out my wife.”

Brisbois pretended not to have heard. He flipped through his notes, stopped. “OK, up in the woods.” He looked at Tee. “Know what we found?”

Tee looked annoyed. “No, Detective, I don't.”

“We found a gold star, you know the kind grade-school teachers hand out.”

“OK.”

“The night you went out on the charter, you got the gold star. You got all the gold stars because every fish you caught was bigger than anything anybody else caught.”

Tee shrugged. “That's right.”

Brisbois smiled. “Congratulations. So” — he continued — “what did you do with all your gold stars? Did you stick them on your pole, the way you're supposed to on Doretta's boat?”

Tee gave him a sheepish smile. “No, I threw them away as soon as I got off the boat. I didn't want them on my pole but I didn't want to hurt the lady's feelings.”

Brisbois nodded. “That was thoughtful.” He waited a moment. “Would it surprise you to know we found one of those stars up in the woods near Mrs. Hopper's body?”

Tee sighed. “No, it wouldn't, Detective. I was up in the woods. I told you that. I suppose one of the stars stuck to my clothing and fell off later.”

“Hm.” Brisbois flipped through his notes, turned to Creighton, whispered behind his hand.

Creighton took out his notes, checked them, nodded.

Brisbois turned his attention back to Tee. “The shoes we found in the garbage bag, were those the ones you wore on the boat?”

“Yes.”

“Our people lifted part of a footprint near Mrs. Hopper's body, not much but very well-preserved. It matched the tread and markings on your shoe.”

Tee shook his head. “Detective, I don't see the point of this. I've already told you I was in the woods.”

Brisbois regarded him evenly. “Yes, you did.” He returned to his notebook.

Tee broke the silence. “Look, I know I'm in trouble here — getting rid of evidence, not reporting a crime — but I was trying to protect my wife.”

“Maybe you should have thought of that before you hooked up with Evelyn Hopper,” Brisbois said without looking up.

Tee uttered an impatient sigh. “I wasn't having an affair with Evelyn Hopper.”

Brisbois looked up. “You weren't?” Tee gave him a weary smile. “I met Evelyn a few times for lunch. I was thinking of having our offices redecorated.”

“Why would your wife think you were having an affair?”

Tee shook his head. “You want the whole story?”

Brisbois nodded. “That would be refreshing.”

Tee ran a hand through his hair. “I hate to say what I'm about to say. I feel as if I'm betraying Bonnie, making her look weak, foolish.”

“We already know she's a murderer, Mr. Lawrence. I don't think it can get too much worse.”

“OK.” Tee took a deep breath. “You have to understand, Detective, Bonnie is pretty insecure. She doesn't have much education. I met her when she was working as a hostess at a boat show one summer. She had the right manners, knew how to dress. She presented well. Still, she had some trouble fitting in. She didn't have the background. Then she started helping people out with weddings. She got a lot of accolades for that. It became her thing.” He paused, coughed. “I'm afraid I didn't take that talent too seriously. I was pretty insensitive about it, as a matter of fact. She wanted children. She was told she couldn't have them. We could have adopted, but I think she saw that as another failure. She got more insecure after that. If I didn't return her calls right away, if I had to cancel a lunch date, if I was a few minutes late coming home from work, she assumed I was seeing someone. I didn't pick up on how serious the situation was. I was working.”

“You were working.”

Tee bit his lower lip. “I'm not proud of my behaviour, Detective. I should have taken some time off, taken her on one of those romantic Caribbean vacations — she would have liked that — done something to make her feel special.”

“Instead, you brought her to an inn, a half-mile away from the woman she thought you were having the affair with.”

Tee spread his arms. “Detective, when I booked the trip, I didn't know she thought we were having an affair. I had mentioned to Evelyn that I was looking for something different for my annual fishing trip. She suggested the Pleasant. I didn't know Bonnie thought we were having an affair until that night. I screwed up, but I can't do anything about it now.” He slumped back in his chair. “I had to stand by Bonnie. She would have been devastated if I'd called the police.”

Brisbois watched him for a moment “How far were you prepared to go to cover up for your wife?”

“As far as I had to.”

“Including covering up the fact that she murdered Jack Arnold?”

“What?”

“Your wife has confessed to helping him along with a spiked drink.”

Tee's face collapsed. “I didn't know. I didn't know. My God, she must have had a complete breakdown.”

Brisbois tapped his pen against his notebook. “It's too bad Bonnie thought she had to deal with Mr. Arnold. She said he was trying to blackmail her. He told her he saw her going up the side road the night Evelyn Hopper was murdered. Bonnie told everybody she'd never left her cabin.”

Tee shook his head.

“If she hadn't killed Arnold,” Brisbois continued, “she might have had a future to look forward to. She might have got a break for Evelyn's murder. Maybe manslaughter. But what happened to Mr. Arnold, that was planned. And that means murder, Mr. Lawrence.”

Tee stared at the table.

Brisbois turned to Creighton. “Have you got those photographs? And can you tell us what that report says?”

“The report says Mrs. Hopper's tissue and blood were found on a rock at the scene,” Creighton said. He handed the photographs to Brisbois.

Brisbois turned to Tee. “What do you think about that?”

Tee moistened his lips. “I don't know.”

Brisbois held up the first photograph. “This is the rock.”

Tee stared at the photograph. “All right.”

“You remember that we found your footprints up there.”

Tee's gaze wandered. “We've already talked about that. I said…”

Brisbois interrupted. “We agreed the print matched the tread and markings on the shoe you were wearing that night.”

Tee sighed. “I don't know what you're getting at, Detective. I was in the woods. I was near Evelyn's body. I left footprints. So what?”

Brisbois pulled out the second photograph. “We found the footprint under the rock.” He smiled. “How do you suppose it got there, Mr. Lawrence?”

Detective Brisbois faced Elizabeth Miller over the table in the dining room at the Pleasant. “I'm glad I caught you before you left. I wanted a chance to wish you well.”

“Why, thank you, Detective.”

“I hear you're headed to Algonquin Park.”

“I want to show Edward the real wilderness.”

“I hope you're taking plenty of bug spray.”

“A Girl Scout is always prepared.”

He didn't respond for a moment, just stirred his coffee, enjoying the quiet of the dining room after the breakfast rush. “You have a good eye, Miss Miller. That scarf didn't look like much when we packed up Herb's things.”

“We can thank Mrs. Rudley for cleaning it up.”

He nodded. “And for so much more.” He paused. “Still, if Bonnie hadn't panicked, we might not have been able to get her on the scarf alone. If she'd had the presence of mind, she could have said she dropped the scarf anywhere around the place and Herb picked it up.” He shrugged. “I hate to say this, but she isn't the sharpest knife in the drawer.”

“She lost her nerve.”

“Yes, the stress of trying to hold things together got to her, for sure. When she saw you looking at the scarf, it was almost a signal for her to let go.”

“I could forgive Bonnie,” Elizabeth said. “Everything she thought was important in her life was in danger of being taken away — first by Evelyn Hopper, then by Jack Arnold. But what Tee tried to do is unforgivable.”

He nodded. “Evelyn was still alive when he found her. At that point he could have saved Evelyn and saved Bonnie. If Evelyn had survived, Bonnie would have had a chance to reclaim her life.”

“It was all about him.”

“He was ambitious,” Brisbois said. “He thought, if he killed Evelyn, he would be free to pursue a political career. He figured, in the worst-case scenario, if Bonnie got caught, he could at least go on as before. But if Evelyn lived, the story of his infidelity would come out.”

Elizabeth gave him a chagrinned smile.“He thought his career could withstand his wife's criminality better than his infidelity.”

“Yes. Hard to understand.”

She looked pensive, sat stirring her coffee lazily.

“A penny for your thoughts,” said Brisbois.

“Maybe implicating Tee was Bonnie's ultimate revenge. She didn't have to say he was involved in anything. After all, she didn't know he had killed Evelyn.”

Brisbois raised his brows. “You mean maybe she wasn't as dumb as she seemed?”

Elizabeth smiled. “At least, now, she knows exactly where he is at every minute. Probably for the first time in years.”

“I hope we never see him again, Margaret,” Rudley said as Brisbois disappeared down the front steps.

“Be nice, Rudley.”

“If he insists upon coming here for dinner, we won't stop him, of course. But I'll be damned if he's going to make a career of this place.” He looked up as Lloyd entered the lobby.

“There's a man out there who wants to talk to you,” said Lloyd, motioning toward the veranda.

“Did he say what it was about?”

“Just that he had to talk to Mr. Rudley.”

“Probably some damned salesman,” Rudley muttered. He charged out onto the veranda.

A few minutes later, he returned.

“What was that about, Rudley?”

“That was the Reverend McBroom from St. Peter's in Brockton.”

She frowned. “Where are your manners? You should have invited him in for tea.”

“He heard about the wedding.” He slipped in behind the desk, stood, fiddling with the register.

“Out with it, Rudley.”

“Very well.” He paused, gathering his thoughts. “It seems, Margaret, that the Reverend Pendergast was involved in an incident at St. Peter's Parish Hall recently.”

Her brow furrowed.

“It seems that while a guest at the one-hundredth anniversary of the St. Peter's Ladies' Auxiliary, while tea was being served, the Reverend Pendergast proposed a toast, then, to everyone's consternation, he dropped his pants.”

She put a hand to her mouth. “I trust he was wearing underwear.”

“Not a stitch.”

“Oh, dear.”

“So,” Rudley continued, “the bishop called the reverend in to account for his behaviour. He found him a tad senile. He decided to keep the matter under wraps — well, as much as you can keep anything under wraps when it's done in front of fifty old ladies — and allow him to enjoy an honourable retirement. Part of the understanding was that the old pisspot would refrain from performing the sacraments.”

She looked at him in horror. “Do you mean they're not married?”

“Quite right. But no matter. Reverend McBroom will contact the young couple and sanctify their vows in some sort of backroom ceremony.”

“They're headed into the wilderness without benefit of clergy.”

He put an arm around her. “No matter, Margaret. It's not as if they haven't been there before.”