Drowning in Christmas (Kate Lawrence Mysteries) (21 page)

John's matter-of-fact summation made my blood run cold. “He wanted people to think it was he who had died so his wife could collect on his life insurance,” I pointed out in James’ defense.

“That was never going to work,” John said in disgust. “There are all kinds of physical evidence used to identify a body, like dental records, DNA, traces of medications. Besides, if he cared so much about his wife, did he consider how she would feel having to view the remains? She was pretty lucky Joseph had been in the water only three days when she saw him. After a week, they get … well.” He thought better of supplying details.

“So it's not so much Joseph's death but the cover up that's got James in over his head?” My words replayed in my mind. I clapped a hand over my mouth but couldn't contain an involuntary giggle at my unfortunate metaphor. Margo picked up on it immediately.

“Out of his depth?” she offered and snorted.

“Going down for the third time?” I choked, and we both howled.

“You two are sick,” was John's only comment.

“You're right, we're bad people,” Margo said. We pulled ourselves together. “Now, I believe someone promised me dinner and a movie.” She patted her husband's backside discreetly. I couldn't see in the dim light, but I was sure John was blushing. “What are you and your fella gettin’ up to tonight, Sugar?”

I had a sudden vision of Armando up to his elbows in a sinkful of dirty glassware while hungry cats yowled around his ankles.

“Oh my God, I've got to get home,” I blurted in a panic. I headed for my car at a trot. “Armando and Emma have been coping with the whole wedding thing by themselves all day, not to mention the new cat.”

“New cat?” Margo called after me.

“Gracie, you'll meet her tomorrow. See you then. You guys are the best.”

I started the car and tore out of the lot at an imprudent rate of speed, considering that two of Wethersfield's finest were watching me. At the first light, I checked my watch. Nearly six o'clock, and I had planned to be home to help in mid-afternoon. Well, at least I had a great excuse.

I pulled into the garage and ran up the stairs to the kitchen door. When I opened it, I fully expected to find pandemonium, but all was quiet. The kitchen was in surprisingly good order, and something appetizing simmered on the stove. I followed the smell of wood smoke into the living room, where logs blazed cheerfully in the fireplace. Armando and Emma sat companionably on the sofa, enjoying a glass of wine. They looked up when I came in and stopped dead in my tracks.

“Hi, Momma. We didn't hear you,” Emma stated the obvious, but I was too stunned to respond. I very nearly didn't recognize my own home. In the few hours I had been gone, the space before me had been transformed from a run-of-the-mill dining-living room into an elegant holiday setting for a wedding. The furniture had been moved to the walls to open up the space. Damask-draped tables formed a buffet on which crystal and silver gleamed. A small side table stood at the ready for the wedding cake.

What had been the pass-through from kitchen to dining room was now a fully stocked wet bar. Tasteful arrangements of white roses and baby's breath mixed with seasonal greenery now complemented the Christmas tree and a few other decorations that had been allowed to remain. A bridal garland on the mantel indicated where the ceremony would take place, and short rows of satin-padded folding chairs were arranged down the center of the room in front of the mantel. Very simply, the place was drop-dead gorgeous.

“How did you do this? Did the caterer's staff help?”
Emma gave Armando a thumbs-up. “Oh, they came by around noon and dropped off some glasses and silverware and stuff, and the florist delivered a lot of roses, but we pulled it all together. So you like it?”

“Like it? I love it! I can't believe this is our house. Jeff and Donna will be absolutely thrilled. I think you two should go into the catering business yourselves.” I crossed to where they sat and gave each of them a big hug. “I'm so sorry I got held up, but wait until you hear what happened.”

Armando put a glass of wine into my hand and pushed me gently into the big easy chair opposite the sofa. After just a few sentences, they were hanging on my every word, their eyes round.

“Wow,” was Emma's succinct reaction when I finally wound down.

Armando's eyes danced as he gazed at me across the room. “So once again, Wethersfield's answer to Jessica Fletcher has solved the crime,” he joked gently. “I am sure the police are grateful for your assistance, as they have been in the past.” Despite his teasing words, I could hear the pride in his voice.

“Depends on who you ask,” I replied. “I don't think that young man sitting in the Hubbard Plaza parking lot for the next several hours is all that happy with me. Anyway, I'm starving. Emma, are you staying to share whatever it is on the stove that smells so good?”

She drained her glass and jumped to her feet. After the day she had put in, I admired her energy. “No can do, Momma, sorry.” She headed for the kitchen.

“Big plans for the evening?” Armando twitted her. I knew he was as happy as I was to see her regaining her energy and spirit. She stuck her head back into the room as she shrugged into her coat.

“As a matter of fact, I do,” she retorted. “I've been invited to a party, and I'm going, so there.” She caught my eye and winked. “Don't worry, Momma. I'm back.”

“I can see that. Have a good time.”

“I intend to,” she assured me. “See you guys tomorrow,” and she was gone.

“A
re
you excited?” I asked Jeff on the phone the next morning.

“Right at the moment, I don't know what I am, Aunt Kate. I'm worried about Donna. If I'm interpreting the awful noises coming from the bathroom correctly, she's in there throwing up.”

“Perfectly normal,” I assured him. “I'm sure it's just a thumping good case of the jitters combined with morning sickness. Surely this isn't a new thing.”

“If she's been having this kind of morning sickness, she's done a great job of keeping it a secret from me,” Jeff said.”

“Well, give her a couple of Saltines when this bout passes, and tell her everything here is under control,” I told him, but I neglected to mention that I had my fingers crossed.

To tell the truth, I wasn't feeling all that perky myself. The events of the past week had really taken their toll on me, physically and emotionally, and I still had this wedding to get through. When the Ghost of Christmas Past came to haunt me in years to come, I hoped he wouldn't choose this one for me to revisit.

I poured a cup of coffee and took it upstairs to Armando. He lay on his back, covers pulled neatly over his chest, snoring gently. Gracie looked up from where she was nestled in the crook of his arm.

“Good morning,” I said to her. She squinted her amber eyes at me. “If you've picked him out as your person, that's fine, but you should know that he's kind of tough to get up in the morning.”

Her eyelids drooped shut, and she resumed her nap.
Great, they're a perfect match.
I plunked the mug down on the bedside table.

“Wake up, Sleepyhead. Salma Hayek is at the front door. She says she's here to make wild, passionate love to you.”

A smile curled Armando's lips. Just as I thought, he was faking. Too late, I tried to dodge out of his reach. He caught me by the wrist and pulled me down next to him. Gracie lumped off in disgust, and I took her place, my head on Armando's shoulder.

“What time is it?” he asked, still without opening his eyes.

“Ten o'clock. Emma will be back with Michael and Sheila and Sheila's mother in about an hour, and the caterer will be here at noon.”

“So we have a whole hour to ourselves, do we not?”

I recognized that tone. “Not a chance,” I told him. “If Margo and John show up early and catch us canoodling, I'll never hear the end of it.” I struggled to an upright position and slid off the bed. “John's at the police station right now with James,” I added for good measure.

Armando sat up and reached for his coffee. “Do not dwell on it,
Cara
. You have done everything you possibly can for these people, and now it is out of your hands. It will be what it will be. Today is for happier thoughts.”

He was right, of course.

“By the way, where did you put my gray suit? I did not see it in my closet last night.”

I clapped both hands to my head. In all the confusion yesterday, I had completely forgotten to collect his suit from the dry cleaner. Armando shrugged, unperturbed.

“So I guess I will be wearing something else today, is that what you are telling me?”

“I'm so sorry,” I apologized before darting from the room to answer the phone, which was ringing off the hook in the kitchen. “Wedding Central,” I answered with manufactured cheer. The day was off and running, and so was I.

At eleven o'clock almost to the minute, Emma let herself in the front door. Sheila was right behind her with her mother. Sheila herself was a vision of understated elegance in a shell-pink, Chanel-style suit and low-heeled pumps. Her stylish brunette bob framed a face that simultaneously radiated embarrassment and resignation. Emma waggled her eyebrows at me meaningfully, and I understood Sheila's discomfiture immediately.

“I don't think you've ever met Sheila's mother, have you, Momma? Grandma Mitzi, this is Joey's and my mom, Kate Lawrence.”

“Hi, there, Sheila, come on in. Mitzi, welcome. It's a pleasure to meet you. I've heard so much about you.”
None of it good,
I added silently. In stark contrast to her daughter, Mitzi had gaga old lady written all over her from her flowered straw hat, circa 1959, to the wrinkled stockings that sagged around her skinny ankles. The rest of her was covered by a girlish dress with a full skirt, two sizes too big for her, in a violent shade of yellow. It hurt to look at her.

“Pleased to meetcha, I'm sure,” she said, extending a wizened claw tipped with red acrylic nails. “I don't understand why we're here. Who's getting married this time?” Bright lipstick that matched her frightening nails wandered uncertainly across her mouth.

“I've told you, Mom. Michael's nephew Jeff is marrying his fiancée Donna this afternoon.” She ushered her mother firmly down the hall to the living room.

“Oh, I know Michael, all right. He's that bigshot you're married to now, drove us over here from the hotel. Where'd he get to?”

I had been asking myself the very same thing.

“He's parking the car down the street,” Emma explained. “We didn't want to block the driveway, or the caterer won't be able to get in.”

Oh, good Lord, I had forgotten all about the parking situation. Between the caterer and the sixty invited guests, there could be upwards of forty vehicles jockeying for position on The Birches’ quiet streets by two o'clock. Would that number of cars even be tolerated by the condominium association? I foresaw a nasty-gram from the property management company in my future.

Oh, well, too late now,
I thought,
Still, the caterer has to be able to get in and out.
I grabbed Emma and begged for her help. “I'm on it,” she said and vanished back outside to keep traffic away from the driveway. “Hi, Mary,” she greeted my next-door neighbor on the way out, and I cringed anew. On her best day, Mary was a loose cannon. The idea of her in the same room with Grandma Mitzi during a solemn, formal occasion was downright alarming.

“What's cookin’, Snookums?” Mary greeted me, her eyes bright behind her thick spectacles. “Where's your ex? I'm dying to get a squint at him.”

“Right behind you,” I informed her sourly. “Come on in, Michael, and join the party.”

He did, grinning from ear to ear, and introduced himself to Mary. Michael's easygoing nature and genuine niceness had always been attractive to the ladies, and Mary was no exception. She goggled at him happily.

“So where's the new wife?” she demanded after names had been exchanged. “I want to get a look at her, too.”

“Sure thing,” Michael agreed affably. He gave me a peck on the cheek and a wink. “Come along with me, and I'll introduce you. You didn't lock Sheila in the basement like you did the last time, did you, Kate?” He took Mary's arm and ushered her down the hallway. “Thanks again, Kate. The house looks great,” he said over his shoulder. I shook my head and remembered once again how much I liked Michael. We made much better friends than we had spouses.

Promptly at noon, the caterer's trucks pulled into the driveway. They were followed closely by Margo. “What's familiar about these guys?” she wondered aloud. She tapped her chin with a beautifully manicured finger.

“They all pretty much look alike in those white smocks, don't they?” I yanked her into the kitchen for a private conference. “Where's John? How did it go at the station?”

“He'll be along soon, Sugar. As far as I know, it all went accordin’ to plan. James showed up, and Mary was with him. They did their thing, but there's a lot of paperwork, statements to be taken and so forth. It bein’ Sunday, it's tough to get a magistrate on board, so that takes more time. Then they have to find a bail bondsman. You know how it goes.”

I didn't, but I was willing to take her word for it. Margo went to join the others in the living room and play hostess for me. At that moment, Emma opened the door between the kitchen and the garage. A procession of white-coated catering staff filed in, burdened with food and equipment. For several minutes, it was pandemonium. Then everything fell smoothly into place, and the crew became a team of seasoned professionals.