Murder on the Bride’s Side

Seeing Detective Grant’s ominous expression, Claire hesitated. “What’s going on?” she asked.

“Mrs. Matthews’s necklace has been recovered,” Detective Grant answered.

“What!” cried David. “How?”

“It was found in Ms. Parker’s bureau,” came the answer.

Claire and David turned to me, their faces wearing identical expressions of shock. “In Elizabeth’s bureau?” David said. “But... ”

“But why would Elizabeth have it?” Claire finished, her eyes wide.

“That’s what I propose to find out,” said Detective Grant calmly. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, I’d like to speak to Ms. Parker in private.” Turning to Elsie, he said, “May I use your study again, Mrs. Matthews?”

Elsie answered him with a curt nod. Crossing the room to me, she laid a hand on my shoulder. “Elizabeth, dear,” she said in a low voice, “you know you have our full support. I don’t know how Roni’s necklace ended up in your room, but don’t worry. No one could possibly think you had anything to do with this.” Looking into her face, I wished I shared her confidence. Peter gave my arm a reassuring squeeze as I silently followed Detective Grant into the study.

As before, I settled into the leather chair opposite the desk. Leaning against its heavy mahogany frame, Detective Grant opened his notebook and looked at me, his gray eyes inscrutable. He said nothing.

I refused to act intimidated. I forced myself to think of him in tap shoes dancing like Gene Kelly and singing “Gotta dance, gottaaaa dance!” Strangely enough, it helped calm my nerves. “I was under the impression that you wanted to speak to me,” I said.

He tipped his head in tacit acknowledgment. “So, you found the necklace,” he said. It wasn’t a question.

“Actually, Bridget found the necklace.”

“Yes, but it was found in your bureau. Any idea how it got there?”

“None,” I said, sticking out my chin. “As I said before, I had nothing to do with this awful incident. And neither did Harry. No one here did. I don’t know why you insist on looking at the Matthews family. Roni obviously received a note from someone staying at the Jefferson! Plus there was the key! Can’t you find out registration information from the key?”

“No.” Detective Grant said. “Whoever used the room checked out. Once checkout is complete the keys are useless; they contain no personal information.”

“But nevertheless, it still proves someone outside the family killed Roni!”

“Ah, yes, your all-too-pat outsider theory.”

“It’s not my theory!”

“Isn’t it?”

“That note isn’t a theory!”

“No,” he said with a smile that made me uneasy, “I definitely wouldn’t call it that .”

I pressed on, deciding it was best not to ask what he meant. “And what about the phone call I overheard? Have you forgotten that? Now, there’s someone you might want to track down. For all you know, the call could have come from the Jefferson!”

“Actually, I did look into the call. And while several calls came into Mrs. Matthews’s cell phone from the Jefferson, they were all of a duration of five seconds or less. The call you overheard was from a ‘gentleman’—and I use that term loosely—in New York by the name of Jimmy Michaels. From what I have been able to learn, he and the late Mrs. Matthews were indeed romantically involved.”

“Well, there you have it!” I cried excitedly. “It’s not as if New York is on the other side of the world. Who’s to say that this Jimmy Michaels didn’t come down here to confront Roni and booked himself a room at the Jefferson?”

“I say he didn’t.”

“You say? How do you know?”

“Because Mr. Michaels has an alibi for the time of the murder. He was with his wife.”

I considered this news and quickly dismissed it. “So what? Lots of wives lie to protect their husbands. She probably didn’t know that he and Roni were lovers.”

“Oh, I’m fairly certain that she did not know that fact. However, I’m still inclined to believe the young woman.”

“And why is that?”

“Because she was giving birth to their fifth child at the time in question and Mr. Michaels was at her side the whole time playing the role of the devoted husband.”

I made a noise.

Detective Grant nodded. “Yes, I would tend to agree with you there. But the fact remains that he has an alibi. I’m sorry, but with your discovery of the necklace it’s clear the ‘outsider theory’ is nothing more than someone’s clever diversion. Unless, of course, you are proposing that the murderer, overcome with remorse, snuck back into the house and planted the necklace in your bureau.”

Put that way, I had to admit it did sound kind of stupid.

“But there was a note and a key. Both from the Jefferson,” I argued stubbornly.

“True,” he conceded. “Someone, perhaps, who wanted us to believe that this crime was committed by someone outside the family.”

I shook my head in denial at this scenario, but on a certain level, I knew what he was saying had to be the truth.

“Are you sure there’s nothing else you want to tell me?” he asked in an oddly gentle voice. “You wouldn’t be the first person to try and help out after the fact, you know.”

“What are you suggesting?”

“I’m not suggesting anything. I just know from experience that strange things happen in a murder investigation.”

Was he kidding? Did he really think I was somehow involved? All of my pent-up emotions of the last few hours boiled over. I was still reeling from the horror of finding Roni’s body, my frustration at the line of inquiry the police were taking, and my dread of Peter’s apparent infatuation with Chloe.

“This is absurd!” I said, roughly pushing myself out of the chair. “I didn’t take the damn necklace and I most certainly did not kill Roni!” Stomping up and down the width of the study, I jabbed the air with my finger as I rattled off my grievances. “I don’t know who did kill her or why the damn thing landed in my drawer, but I will not be made someone’s patsy! For Christ’s sake, I barely knew the woman! Yes, she was horrible to Megan and Harry, and probably to Avery, as well. I didn’t like her. But that doesn’t mean any of them killed her, and it certainly doesn’t mean I killed her!”

Other than a slight tensing of his broad shoulders when I burst out of my chair, Detective Grant did not move. He merely watched me, his hooded eyes alert and appraising.

More than ever, he resembled a boxer sizing up his opponent.

“While you may not have known her very well, you do know this family quite well. In fact, some might even consider you a part of this family.”

“What the hell does that have to do with anything?” I snapped. I knew I wasn’t making any points with him by losing my temper, but I couldn’t stop. My mind had rejected Elinor as a role model; it had instead chosen Marianne.

“It means that you might want to do them a favor, perhaps? Get rid of the thorn in their side for them. Stranger things have happened, you know,” he added conversationally. “Sometimes, people just snap.”

That stopped me. I froze, letting his words sink in. Blindly, I reached out and grabbed the back of the chair. Easing myself into it, I attempted to undo the damage of my outburst.

“Some people may snap and kill someone,” I said with as much dignity as I could muster, which, granted, was precious little, “but I am not one of those people. I just snap and then usually make an ass of myself.”

I thought I saw a ghost of a smile at this admission, but I couldn’t be sure. A loud electronic peal broke the silence. Detective Grant looked down at his cell phone and grimaced at the readout. Looking at me, he said, “Excuse me, I need to take this.”

Flipping open the phone, he turned his back to me. “Grant here,” he said.