Shear Murder (7 page)

“I haven't seen many people from the wedding party today,” Alexis replied. “Either they're sleeping in, or they left early. That wouldn't surprise me, considering what happened last night.”

Marla tilted her head. “We all had quite a shock. What a terrible tragedy. I feel so bad for Jill.”

Alexis scraped a chair over while Marla shot a glance at Dalton. The corners of his mouth turned down. No doubt he'd rather relax without the encumbrance of company.

“Heavens, child, I know,” Alexis said. “It was such a beautiful wedding. Just like Torrie to ruin things. Used to be the other way around, from what I understood.”

Marla's ears perked up. “Meaning?” She scrutinized Alexis's hair with a critical eye. Her auburn tint could use some shine. Copper highlights would do the trick.

“Jillian was the one who caused trouble in her younger days. I'm glad she's turned into a straight arrow. Changed her looks, too.” Alexis waggled her eyebrows. “Got a boob job, bleached her hair. I could use the opposite,” she said, chuckling and lifting her bosom.

“Tell me, how is your husband Eddy related to Jill? I know he's her uncle, but through which parent?” Marla hoped to delve into Jill's background without seeming too nosy.

A thoughtful gleam entered Alexis's expression. “Well, now, let me see.” She tapped her chin. “Sarah and David Barlow were Torrie and Jill's parents. Eddy was Sarah's brother. Jill brought her folks a lot of grief back then, and Eddy kinda feels bad that he didn't step in to help.”

“Is that why Eddy is helping the girls with this property thing?” Marla guessed.

“Uh, huh. That child has a lot of gumption, I have to say. I never thought Jill deserved . . . well, that's water under the bridge. Obviously, she's gone through a lot of changes.”

“Arnie's a good man and a friend of mine. I wouldn't want him to get hurt.”

“Jill will do well by him, and she loves his kids. They'll be fine. It's too bad she and Torrie got dropped that bucket of worms, though. Eddy was just working on an agreement for them. Now Kevin has gotten himself involved.”

“Kevin is their cousin, right?”

“Kevin is Luke's son. He's the other sibling. Luke, Sarah, and Eddy, that's the three of 'em. Can't say much for the other two, but my Eddy has done me proud. You have to come by our place sometime, child, and see our house. We have an extensive cellar, if you're into wine.”

“Where do you live?”

“In Coral Gables. We have our own pool, of course, but I have to get my early morning swim, or I'm ruined for the day.” She gave a trill laugh that sounded oddly like a neighing horse.

Dalton uttered a strangled cough. At Marla's glare, his face puckered and his lips clamped to suppress a grin. Okay, maybe he'd put that unkind image in her head.

“I suppose Torrie's funeral will be in Miami,” Marla said. “Is her home anywhere near yours?”

“Heavens, no. They live in Kendall. Poor Scott. He tries so hard but always seems to be struggling. Or at least, that's my recent impression. They used to be quite well-off.”

“Really? What happened?”

Alexis shrugged. “Beats me. It's probably a good thing they never had kids. Scott's a good-looking guy. He won't be alone for long, although he'll mourn his wife. The man truly loved her.”

“I'd like to attend Torrie's memorial service. Will you give me a call when you get the information?” Marla rummaged in her bag for a business card. “Although, I suppose I could ask Jill. Arnie couldn't take off from work this week, so they're delaying their honeymoon.”

“You don't want to bother the child. She'll be distraught, not that she isn't already. Jillian was positively shaking when I saw her in the ladies' room yesterday. You'd think she'd have been more relaxed with the wedding winding down.”

“What time was this?”

“Oh, I dunno. Sometime after dinner but before she cut the cake. She's a bundle of nerves, that girl. If you ask me, this business with their property is driving her over the edge. She stood there, scrubbing her hands at the sink, muttering to herself. She's got too much on her mind.”

“Such as?” Dalton cut in. Marla recognized his deceptively smooth tone. He could be a sly fox when interrogating suspects. Odds were in their favor that Alexis didn't know his occupation.

“That's for Jillian to say.” Alexis rose. “Are you folks sticking around much longer?”

“Nope, checkout time is eleven o'clock.” Dalton stood, and Marla followed suit. She really wasn't in the mood for sunbathing anyway.

“Aren't you two getting married next?” Alexis wagged her forefinger. “You should consider Philip Canfield if you don't have a wedding decorator. He did a terrific job last night. I just loved the orchids in the centerpieces.”

“The flowers were beautiful, weren't they? Someone told me he works for Falcon Oakwood.”

“Phil helps Falcon obtain his orchid specimens. Are you into plants, Marla? I can't abide the things. Too much trouble.”

Marla gave an empathic smile. “I have a black thumb myself. Plants wilt if they come near me.”

Alexis sighed. “I'd better trot off and nudge Eddy awake. Nice chatting with you people.”

“You hear?” Dalton poked Marla after Alexis left. “She has to
trot
off and
nudge
Eddy. What did I tell you?”

“Give it up, Dalton. I'm more interested in hearing what she has to say about Jill.”

“Interesting remark she made about Jill washing her hands. Almost reminds me of Lady Macbeth.”

She glared at him. “I trust Jill, but there are things about her we don't know. If it's something she hasn't told Arnie, that's not a good way to start a marriage.”

On their way indoors, Dalton hummed a classic Disney tune. “Not your business, oh no,” he sang, “but if I know you, you'll know what to do, and it won't be making stew.”

“So now you're a poet like my neighbor, Moss? Come on, aren't you the least bit curious?”

“Curious, yes. But not enough to take time out from my job, wedding planning, and packing to move into our new house in less than a month. And that reminds me. I need to talk to you about which toilets to order.”

Her mouth dropped open. “I'm concerned about Torrie's murder, and your mind is in the toilet? Really, Dalton. What's happened to you?”

Marla had little time to think about the case on Monday, when she met her mother, Anita, and almost mother-in-law, Kate, to show them the facility at Queen Palm Country Club and review the menu. For the cocktail hour, she and Dalton had chosen a mixture of live stations manned by chefs, various hors d'oeuvres laid out buffet-style, and waitresses circulating with hot specialties. Maybe she'd gone overboard. She wanted their opinions.

“It's impressive as far as banquet halls go,” Kate said, as they walked through the parking lot after their appointment. “The view of the golf course is lovely, but I'm afraid the space for the cocktails will be cramped. It's too bad that other section is already booked.”

“I'm glad you cut out the turkey station,” Anita countered, raking her short, layered white hair. Her fingernails flashed with bright red polish, a color that would look garish on Kate. “That was totally unnecessary. I still think you could have negotiated a better price on the liquor.”

Although younger, Kate colored her hair an attractive auburn that complemented her fair complexion. Dalton's mother had liked how Marla feathered her hair about her face while on their cruise aboard the
Tropical Sun.
Kate had gotten her hairdresser in Maine to maintain the style.

“I told you cost wouldn't be an issue,” Kate said. “John and I are very willing to pitch in.”

“Actually,” Anita retorted, “the kids could use any money saved for more important things, like better window treatments in their new house. All they get are those standard white blinds. Drapes are so much more insulating.”

Yeah, as well as being dust magnets.

“Thanks for your generous offer, Kate, but you've got your own investment in a condo to consider.” Marla dug out her car keys from her purse.

“You're right, but we're still willing to contribute.” Kate rustled in her handbag for a tissue and wiped her face. “Whew. Is it always this hot in November? Maybe we should stay in Maine until December next year.”

Marla unlocked the car doors and slid into her seat. “We're supposed to get a cold front tonight. That counts as our change of seasons. It should be refreshingly drier in the morning.”

“How is your house hunting going?” Anita asked Kate. She sat on the passenger side, while Kate folded into the rear.

“I like the condo we're renting,” Kate said, “but it's too expensive to buy, especially with all the other bargains out there. We're taking our time. Insurance is the other issue. Homeowners policies in South Florida are wickedly expensive.”

“Tell me about it.” Marla started the engine. Soon she'd be paying insurance on two places—her townhouse, which she hoped to rent out, plus their new residence. Not to mention property taxes. Ma was right. She should pare back the wedding costs to save money for future expenses.

“What's next on the list?” Kate fastened her seat belt as Marla drove toward the exit.

“The florist. I want to show you his sample arrangements.” This was the first day she'd been able to get both of the elder women together. Previously, she'd made the rounds with Dalton to sign the contracts and make their basic choices. “Then we'll go to the bridal shop to look at dresses.”

“I hope you're not looking for anything too extravagant,” Anita commented. “Gowns can be awfully expensive.”

“I know. There's one I like, but I want your opinion on it before I decide.”

“You'll look lovely in white,” Kate said dreamily.

Anita clucked her tongue. “Ivory goes better with your complexion.”

Uh, oh.
Marla sensed another argument brewing. “Kate, I wonder if your real estate agent knows Kevin Rhodes, Jill's cousin? Or are you still using that woman from Tampa?”

On their recent cruise, Kate and her husband, John, had met a Realtor with connections in the art world. Dalton's retired father hoped to exhibit his stained-glass designs at shows around the country, a plan that didn't earn Kate's enthusiasm.

“We're working with someone local now. I can ask her. Why? Does it have anything to do with that bride's sister who died at the wedding?”

Keeping her eyes on the road, Marla nodded. “Remember how I told you that Jill and Torrie co-owned a piece of commercial property? Kevin is trying to find them a new tenant.”

“Did Jill inherit her sister's share?” Anita cast an innocent glance in Marla's direction.

Marla smiled inwardly. Anita rarely encouraged her crime solving, usually warning her against getting involved. However, Ma wasn't about to let Kate monopolize her daughter's attention.

“I don't know if Torrie had a will or what it says. I haven't spoken to Jill since her wedding. Now that it's Monday, I presume she and Arnie are back to work, unless she's taking time off. Scott's the one who will be making funeral arrangements after his wife's body is released, although Jill might have offered to help him.”

It sounded so horrible to speak of a person she'd known that way. Poor Torrie. She hadn't warranted such a brutal death, no matter how badly she'd provoked someone.

“Why do you want information on Jill's cousin?” Anita persisted. “Do you think Kevin has a motive?”

“I just thought I'd ask, since Kate is consulting real estate agents in town. Kevin might have a reputation, that's all. If I heard anything useful, I'd pass it on to Jill or Detective Brody.”

“Could Torrie's death be related to this property issue?”

“Ver vaist?”
Marla replied in Yiddish. “Who knows? Torrie earned her share of enemies.” She glanced at her watch. “Bless my bones, it's after twelve. We'd better grab a bite to eat. I'm supposed to meet the painter at four-thirty in our day spa.”

“Speaking of painters,” Kate said in a bright tone, “Dalton needs you to pick a color.”

“I told him we're going to the florist today to make a final decision.”

“No, he means for the toilets in your new house. Dalton says the plumber is waiting for your selection.”

“Toilets? I should have known.”
Don't tell me I'm marrying Hardware Harry.
“I'll call him later, along with everyone else on my list.” Her cell phone rang, and she answered.

“Marla? It's Jill. We have to talk.”

Jill came rushing up to Marla on Tuesday in the middle of a furniture delivery at her spa. They hadn't been able to touch base again the day before, no matter how hard Marla tried to free herself. Dalton's mom had insisted on taking the family out to dinner, and Ma's boyfriend, Roger, had joined them. Marla winced when she recalled John's taciturn silence during the meal and Roger's boisterous bellows.

“What's the matter?” she asked Jill, distracted by the furniture mover who brought in a desk shaped like a lima bean. She had chosen wood furniture so the reception area would feel like someone's living room, inducing a comfortable, homey ambiance. A credenza would hold a coffeemaker and a plate of pastries from Arnie's Bagel Busters restaurant next door. The whole idea was to give guests a pleasant experience so they'd want to return.

“It's Scott.” Jill grimaced. She wore her long blond hair in a ponytail, jeans and a sweater for the cooler weather, and ankle-high boots. “My sister isn't even in her grave yet, and he's bugging me to sell our property.”

Marla motioned to a sofa, letting her aesthetician direct the delivery guy. Facing Jill, she took a seat in an armchair. The smell of fresh paint entered her nose. Their massage rooms were on the painter's agenda today.

“Who owns Torrie's share now?” she said.

“He does, the jerk. Torrie and I were on the deed as tenants-in-common, meaning we can leave our share to our heirs. Apparently, Torrie has a will naming Scott.”

“Have you seen it?”

“No. Scott says Uncle Eddy has the original.”

“Isn't Eddy a real estate attorney?”

“He handles family stuff sometimes. What am I going to do?”