you are helping?”
These last words were shouted, and David shoved his large frame out of his chair and faced Graham. His body was trembling and his hands were balled into fists. “You know what?” he hissed menacingly. “I don’t care what you think of me because I know that I’m innocent. I was with Claire all night. I have an alibi. Do you?” He turned to the rest of us and sneered threateningly. “Do any of you?”
A soft cry escaped from Megan, and David’s eyes landed on her. Strangely, upon seeing her pinched expression, his face blanched with regret. “Megan,” he said, his voice oddly constrained, “I am so sorry about... about all of this. If there is anything I can do... ”
“Anything
“From what you’ve... ” He stopped abruptly. “Megan, I know you’re... upset. But I’d like to help.”
“Help,” Megan scoffed. “Here’s an idea, David—how about you do the right thing? For once, why don’t you just do the right thing?”
“I—” David began.
“Leave it. I can’t deal with you now,” said Megan quietly.
“Megan?” began David.
Graham cut him off. “David! Shut the hell up! Can’t you see that every time you open your mouth you only make things worse?” Graham’s eyebrows were now standing straight out and I looked for a place to seek shelter. Before I could find one, the terrace doors swung open, letting in a chilly gust of rain and wind and Avery.
“It’s gone,” Avery gasped.
“What’s gone?” Elsie said.
“The necklace, Roni’s necklace. The one she was wearing last night. The one I gave her. It’s gone!”
We looked mutely at one another.
“Someone killed her for her necklace?” asked Elsie. Her voice held a tinge of hope. If Roni had been killed for the necklace, then the realm of potential suspects would widen considerably. Right now, it was decidedly claustrophobic.
Detective Grant stepped into view behind Avery. “We haven’t come to any conclusions yet,” he said, “but I’d like a guest list from last night’s reception.”
Elsie nodded and hurried off to the study.
“How much was that necklace worth?” asked Blythe.
“I just had it appraised for two hundred thousand dollars,” came the reply.
Someone gave a low whistle.
My sentiments exactly.
Chapter 12
Anything that begins “I don’t know how to tell you this” is never good news.
Still stunned by this latest development, we all heard the front door slam and Bridget’s voice carry into the living room. “Mom?” she yelled. “Dad?”
“We’re in here, honey,” Blythe responded.
Bridget rushed into the room and ran straight to her parents. Bridget and Colin were booked to go to Bermuda for their honeymoon and Bridget was clearly dressed for the trip. She was wearing neon yellow Bermuda shorts, a blue-and-green-striped tank top, lace-up espadrilles that added a solid three inches to her height, and what appeared to be a small frog on her right shoulder blade.
With a mother’s instinct, Blythe’s eyes homed in on the mark. It was a tattoo. Bridget had told me that she was planning on getting one. From the “Oh, shit,” expression on her face now, it was clear that she hadn’t planned on sharing this acquisition with Blythe. Colin saw Blythe’s expression and quickly draped his arm over Bridget’s shoulder, blocking the tattoo from view.
“We came as quickly as we could, Mrs. Matthews,” said Colin smoothly. “What’s going on?”
“It’s about Roni,” said Graham, his eyes darting to where Avery sat. “She’s dead. Murdered.”
Bridget let out an exclamation. It would have earned her few points with her new mother-in-law, but it managed to accurately sum up the general mood.
Graham nodded his head. “Exactly. Elizabeth found her this morning.” Bridget’s eyes flew to mine. I could see her thoughts taking shape and knew what she was going to say. The only problem was, I couldn’t stop her.
“
“I’m sorry,” interrupted Detective Grant, his voice ominous. “What are the odds about what?”
I winced. Bridget answered breathlessly, “Elizabeth found a body before. Last New Year’s... ” Belatedly, she saw the dark suspicion building in Detective Grant’s eyes. “Oh, I mean, Elizabeth had nothing to do with it, of course. She just happened to find the... um... body.”
Detective Grant turned and stared at me. For a long time. I tried to calm my shattered nerves by thinking of Detective Grant as a kind of modern-day singing detective, but it was no good. My nerves won out. Unfortunately, when I get nervous I tend to ramble. I did so now in rather spectacular fashion.
“That was different,” I said. “I mean, yes, I found a body. She’d been beaten, though, not stabbed. Not that any of that
Peter moved next to me and squeezed my hand—hard. With relief, I realized that I had finally stopped talking. “What Elizabeth is trying to say, Detective,” Peter said calmly, “is that she found a body this past New Year’s. There was a murder at her aunt’s inn and Elizabeth was instrumental in finding the killer. I can put you in touch with the detective in charge of the case, if you have any questions.”
Detective Grant’s cold eyes never left my face. “Oh, I’m going to have questions,” he said. “I can promise you that.”
From the corner of my eye, I noticed Chloe openly studying me. I didn’t need a translator to interpret the faintly raised eyebrows and the tiny line of confusion etched between them. She was wondering how Peter had ever gotten involved with someone like me. I quickly rearranged my face into an expression I hoped suggested fierce intelligence and a brilliant wit.
Elsie returned from the study clutching a thick sheaf of paper. “Here’s the list of wedding guests, Detective.” Seeing Bridget and Colin, she stopped. “Hello, dears. I didn’t hear you come in.” Kissing them both on the cheek, she sadly shook her head from side to side. “I see you’ve heard. It’s all very shocking. Detective Grant here.” She paused, raising a quizzical eyebrow. “I’m sorry, have you been introduced? Bridget, Colin, this is Detective Paul Grant. He’s been put in charge here. Detective Grant, this is my granddaughter Bridget and her husband, Colin Delaney.”
Bridget, Colin, and Detective Grant nodded at each other. “We were just talking,” Bridget said with an apologetic glance in my direction.
“Apparently, Roni’s necklace is missing. Detective Grant thinks it might be related to her mur... death,” Elsie said, with a sideways glance at Avery.
“I never said that, Mrs. Matthews,” protested Detective Grant, but Elsie wasn’t listening. Like Blythe, she had homed in on the mark on Bridget’s shoulder. “Is that a tattoo, Bridget?”
Bridget sighed and rolled her eyes. “Yes. Okay? I got a tattoo. It’s no big deal.”
Blythe stepped forward. “I knew it!” she said. Pushing her glasses firmly up on the bridge of her nose, she turned Bridget around and peered at the mark.
“Good God,” she said. “A tattoo. Why ever did you get a tattoo? And of a frog, no less.”
Bridget craned her neck, staring at her shoulder. “It’s not a frog,” she said defensively, roughly pulling back and facing Blythe. “It’s a shamrock.”
“It doesn’t look like a shamrock to me. It looks like a frog. Doesn’t it look like a frog?” Blythe asked,
