Murder on the Bride's Side (29 page)

BOOK: Murder on the Bride's Side
8.88Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

My step faltered and I glanced uncertainly at Bridget. Coming up with the plan to confront Avery about his lie had been the easy part; enacting it, I suspected, would be another matter. At our entrance, they all looked up. Avery greeted us with a relaxed smile, and I thought with sadness that it had been a long time since I’d seen him so at peace.

“You three look like drowned rats,” Julia said affably. “What in heaven’s name were you doing out in this weather? It’s dreadful out there.”

Suddenly tongue-tied, none of us replied. We stared dumbly first at each other and then back again at Avery. Being an intelligent man, he sensed our tension. His eyebrows pulled together and he asked tersely, “What’s happened?”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Millie lay her book down on her ample lap. Bridget threw me a pleading look and I realized with a sinking feeling that if we were going to learn anything, it would be up to me. “Nothing’s happened, exactly,” I
said slowly, as I sat down in one of the empty chairs. “It’s just . . . it’s just that I talked to Claire last night.”

Avery started to shake his head as if he didn’t understand, then the meaning of my words hit him. With an apprehensive glance at Julia, he said, “Oh, I see.”

Both Julia and Megan tensed at the tremor of nervousness in his tone. Megan turned to me, her face pale. “What’s going on?” she asked.

Avery looked at her with pained eyes. “Nothing’s going on,” he said, forcing his voice back to normal. “But I think I need to talk with Elizabeth alone for a minute.”

Julia said firmly, “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Giving her a desperate look, Avery nodded almost imperceptibly toward Megan. Megan’s eyes were focused on Julia, so she missed it. However, Millie, with her uncanny sensitivity to her patient’s wants, did not. “Megan,” she said in a brisk tone that left no room for argument, “please come with me. I need you to help me make tea.”

Realizing that she was being got out of the way, Megan threw a curious glance at us before pulling herself to her feet and trailing on reluctant feet after Millie to the kitchen.

“What is this about?” asked Julia, her tone uneasy.

I looked at Avery.

He sighed. “I . . . I lied to the police about where I was the night Roni . . .” His words caught in his throat. He tried again. “I lied about where I was the night Roni . . . died.” He did not look at Julia as he spoke. “Claire knew and lied to protect me.”

Julia shifted uncomfortably in her chair. Avery’s eyes fell to his lap and stayed there.

“What really happened?” I asked.

Avery’s anguished eyes briefly landed on Julia before turning my way. His next words came out haltingly. “I wasn’t in my room all night as I told the police. Around one thirty, I went to the study to make a phone call. My cell phone was dead and there isn’t a phone in my room.”

“And you called . . . ?” I asked.

Avery did not respond. He fixed his eyes on his lap again. I repeated the question. “Avery, who did you call?”

“He called me,” Julia said suddenly. “He called me,” she repeated quietly.

“Julia . . .” Avery began.

“Avery, it’s okay,” she said, but Avery interrupted her.

“No, it’s not. Let me tell them.”

His eyes swept over Bridget and Colin still standing stiffly in the doorway, before focusing on me. In a tentative voice, he said, “As you probably know, Julia and I were . . . were very close before . . . before I married Roni.” He shrugged quickly as if to ward off hurtful memories. “When I first met Roni, I thought . . . well, I guess I thought she was wonderful.”

Julia’s face bunched in pain. Seeing it, a different kind of agony crept into Avery’s expression. With a cheerless shake of his head, he continued. “After we were married, I still thought she was wonderful, even when faced with evidence to the contrary. The mind can play funny tricks on you, I guess.” He stared blankly at the leaping flames in the fireplace. Dragging his eyes back to mine, he went on. “Anyway, I managed to blind myself
to all the ugliness, but when I saw Julia again at the reception, it was as if someone suddenly ripped the blinders away. In that one moment, I saw everything clearly: Roni’s shallowness, her greediness, and her propensity for cruelty—especially with Megan. I realized what a horrible mistake I’d made and how much I’d lost when I . . . when I ended my friendship with Julia.”

I remembered the change in Avery’s demeanor after he talked to Julia at the wedding. He had seemed to suddenly withdraw into himself. His mood certainly caught Roni’s attention, but like her, I had believed his explanation that he was merely tired. Now I saw his odd silence and desire to be alone for what it was—a man understanding what a giant mistake he had made with his life.

Julia reached over and grabbed Avery’s hand. The gesture was Avery’s undoing and tears welled in his eyes. Seeing that Avery was incapable of speech, Julia picked up the narrative. “What Avery is trying to say,” she said with a melancholy smile, “is that he called me that night. I wasn’t home yet, so he left a message. He was very upset. He told me . . . well, you don’t need the exact transcript, but the gist of it was what he’s just told you.” Still holding tightly to Avery’s hand, Julia turned her eyes on me. “When I got in from the wedding, I went straight to bed. I didn’t get his message until the next morning. But when I did hear it, it scared me. Avery sounded like a man at the edge of a deep, dark hole. I was afraid that he was in danger of doing something rash.”

My expression must have registered alarm, because Julia quickly clarified her words. “Not to anyone else, of course! I merely meant I was afraid he was in danger of hurting himself,”
she said firmly. “That’s why I dashed over here as soon as I heard his message. And then . . . when I saw the police cars . . . I was terrified that my suspicions had been right and I was too late.”

My mind jumped back to that chaotic morning and Julia’s clearly distressed state when she arrived at Barton Landing. She’d been desperate to see Avery, but there was something else. She’d also taken a special interest in Megan.

“You were very kind to Megan,” I said.

Apparently, Bridget was right when she told me that my diplomatic skills are worthless. Julia arched her eyebrow and studied me. Choosing her words with care, she said, “I was very concerned about Megan, but not in the way you seem to think. As a counselor, I’ve seen the terrible damage an overbearingly critical parent can do to a child, especially a sensitive child like Megan.” With a swift glance at Avery, she continued. “Megan was in danger of losing herself under Roni’s abuse. Even the little I saw of them together at the wedding told me that. I could see that unless something happened to change Roni’s behavior, Megan’s wounds would only deepen. I . . . I wanted to help her.” Softening her tone, she added, “Anyone would have wanted to, really.”

“Megan is very special,” I said, tipping my head in agreement. “But I still don’t understand. Why the need to lie about the phone call?”

Disquiet radiated from both of them; they did not look at each other. Taking a deep breath, Julia finally answered. “I think Avery had some old-fashioned notion about protecting me.” She seemed faintly amused by the idea. “He didn’t want me involved. It was very sweet of him,” she said, flashing a brief
smile in his direction, “but completely unnecessary. I can take care of myself.”

Avery returned her smile, but I could see that he was unconvinced by her declaration and troubled about the revelation.

That’s when it hit me: each one had initially suspected the other of Roni’s murder. Avery wondered why Julia hadn’t been home when he called, and Julia wondered if Avery’s despair had transcended into a murderous rage.

Watching them now, as they sat with their hands entwined but not making eye contact, I realized that on a certain level, each still harbored that uneasy suspicion.

CHAPTER 21

Any fool can tell the truth, but it requires a man of some sense to know how to lie well.


SAMUEL BUTLER

Megan entered the room carrying a wooden tray laden with lime green teacups and matching saucers. Colin rushed over to her, taking the tray and placing it on the coffee table. “Thanks,” Megan said with her shy smile. “That was heavier than I expected. I’ll be just a second; I’m going to help Millie with the rest.”

Realizing there was no polite way to question Avery about his ability to walk, I decided my only hope was to tackle Millie on the subject. Given her obvious devotion to Avery, I hoped that she wouldn’t tackle me—in actuality—for what would no doubt be considered highly inappropriate questions. “Oh, let me get the rest,” I said, and rapidly set off for the kitchen before Megan could argue.

Elsie’s kitchen was exactly how I would design one—if I had a couple of hundred thousand dollars to spend. She had renovated it a few years ago, modernizing the appliances without destroying its old-fashioned charm. Exposed wooden beams
still lined the ceiling, and the original wide wooden planks ran the length of the floor. The walls gleamed white except for blue Spode tiles that served as the backsplash. In front of the room’s small stone fireplace was a long wooden kitchen table. Millie stood at it, her broad back to me, pouring steaming hot water into a large teapot. Hearing me, she said, “Oh, Megan, can you pour the cream into the pitcher? And I think there are some cookies in the cupboard.”

“Actually, it’s just me, but I’m happy to help.”

At the sound of my voice, Millie whirled around, clearly startled. I couldn’t fathom why. “Oh,” she said, her voice now brisk and professional. “Yes, thank you. I just need some cream.”

I opened the refrigerator’s chrome door and pulled out the container of cream. Pouring a generous amount into the green-and-white pitcher, I watched Millie from the corner of my eye as she busied herself with the teapot.

“So, how is Avery doing?” I asked, trying to keep my voice neutral.

Millie’s movements slowed as she considered my question. “I think he’ll be okay,” she said, dunking several tea bags into the pot. “Of course, terrible shocks like these can be a real setback to a recovery.”

“I’m sure they can,” I agreed, placing the pitcher of cream on the counter, “but his recovery was going well before . . . before all of this, right?”

Millie turned to face me, her eyes unreadable. “He was doing quite well. Why do you ask?”

I shrugged. “No reason, really. I just wondered. He’s always
been so active. I imagine living in a wheelchair is very hard for him.” I took a gamble and continued. “Now that he’s able to walk on his own again, it must be a huge relief for him.”

Millie set down the heavy teapot with a loud thump and stared at me in disbelief. “What are you talking about?” she asked, shocked. “Where did you ever get the idea that Avery—I mean Mr. Matthews—can walk?”

“I . . . I don’t know, really,” I stuttered. “I guess maybe when he almost went after David the other day. It . . . it seemed like he was trying to stand up.”

Millie let out a sharp bark of laughter. “Trying to stand up?” she repeated, eyeing me in amazement. “Are you serious? That man could no sooner stand than I could . . . well, than I could land on the cover of the
Sports Illustrated
swimsuit issue.” She shook her head in disbelief at me. “Did you really think he was trying to stand up? And do what? Fight David?”

I felt my face flush under her bemused scrutiny. Millie shook her head again. “Trust me, Mr. Matthews needs that chair. At least for now he does.” She shrugged and added, “But, truth be told, I wouldn’t have blamed him
had
he tried to go after David. He’s almost as bad as
she
was.”

I didn’t need to ask Millie whom she meant by “she.” I opened a box of shortbread cookies and spread some out on a small blue plate. My empty stomach growled at the sight of them. I grabbed one and took a large bite. “David is a pain in the ass,” I agreed, once I’d finished chewing. “And I know it isn’t nice to speak ill of the dead, but Roni wasn’t very nice, either.” I shoved the rest of the cookie in my mouth and took another.

“She was pure poison,” Millie agreed with force. “Mr.
Matthews is well rid of that woman, but if you ask
me
, he never really loved her. How
could
he love someone like
her
?” Pausing, she added, almost to herself, “Now that she’s gone, I think he’ll realize that.”

“Well, I just hope that he finds some peace soon,” I said, once I’d finished the second cookie. Still hungry, I dug into the box and grabbed two more. “He’s such a nice man.”

“He’s a
lovely
man,” she said softly.

Something in her tone distracted me from the shortbread cookies—no small feat there. Pausing with the cookie halfway to my mouth, I considered her. Could her devotion to Avery go beyond that of a dedicated nurse? “I wonder if he’ll remarry,” I mused, with what I hoped was a casual tone.

“Oh, I think he will,” Millie said with brisk assurance. “He’s the type that needs a woman in his life. The right kind of woman, mind you, especially now that it’s just him and Megan. Now
that’s
a girl who needs a steady woman’s influence in her life.”

Other books

Petticoat Ranch by Mary Connealy
Becoming Lady Lockwood by Jennifer Moore
On the Auction Block by Ashley Zacharias
Tabor Evans by Longarm, the Bandit Queen
The Society of the Crossed Keys by Zweig, Stefan, Anderson, Wes
Kismet by Jakob Arjouni
Dry Ice by Evans, Bill, Jameson, Marianna
The Proposal by J. Lynn