Murder on the Bride’s Side

the ancient magnolia trees that lined the stately drive was the shattered remains of David’s car.

Detective Grant got there first. He reached into the driver’s side of the wreck, and after a minute, pulled back. Seeing our expectant faces, he slowly shook his head.

Beside me, Claire moaned and covered her face. Detective Grant walked back to us.

“Is he dead?” Elsie asked in a strained whisper.

“I’m afraid so,” Detective Grant said.

Her face a mask of sadness, Elsie wrapped her arms around Claire. “I’m so sorry, Claire,” she murmured. Claire nodded mutely.

I looked at Detective Grant. I had to ask him the question, but at the same time I dreaded it. “What about Roni’s murder?” I said.

Detective Grant studied me thoughtfully. “Well... ”

Claire raised her tear-stained face from Elsie’s shoulder. “It was David, of course,” she said, after an uncertain glance in my direction. Turning to Detective Grant, she said, “They were having an affair, you know. David and Roni. But then Roni tried to double-cross him.” Her voice grew stronger as she continued her story. “She wanted Avery to sell the business so she could run off with yet another man. When David found out, he was furious. David has”—she squeezed her eyes shut—“had a terrible temper.”

“Claire—” I began, but she interrupted me.

“No, Elizabeth,” she said with a firm shake of her head. “David killed Roni. He tried to kill Megan, too. We all saw that. He’s a killer!”

Detective Grant’s cell phone rang and we all fell silent. “Yes, sir,” he said. “Well, sir, we may have made some progress, actually.” He glanced at Claire and she nodded. “I think we have our murderer,” he said.

Claire looked at me, her red-rimmed eyes pleading. “Please,” she said in a low whisper. “It’s all over now.”

I’m not sure how long after that Detective Grant left. Time seemed to take on a different quality for me. At times, it flew by in lighting-fast spurts; at others it dragged with maddening slowness. Like now.

It was well past midnight. Peter sat next to me on the terrace—the back, not the side. Idly, I wondered if I’d ever be able to sit in that area of the terrace again. Neither of us had spoken for what seemed a long while, but maybe that’s just because my perspective was so screwed up.

“So,” Peter finally said.

“So,” I agreed.

After a beat, I asked, “How did you happen to be here, anyway?”

“Colin and Bridget called and invited me over for a drink.” Suddenly, I understood their interest in getting me to join them as well.

“What are you going to do now?” Peter asked.

“I’ll stay for the funerals, and then I’m going to the Cape. I’ve got some vacation time I can use. This whole weekend has thrown me, I guess. A lot of things that I thought were solid, were unalterable facts, just got thrown out the window. I think I need some time to sort through everything.”

After a long silence, Peter said, “Well, I’m leaving next week for London. I’ll be gone for at least three months. When I come back, maybe we can get together or something... ” He trailed off.

Just don’t be engaged, I prayed. I wanted to tell him that I still wanted him to come to the Cape with me, but somehow the words wouldn’t come out. The fact of Chloe—the fact that he hadn’t told me about her—raised every red flag in my head. The awkward, fat girl inside me still had too strong a pull. I heard her familiar taunt of “Yeah, right, like he’s going to stick with you when he could have Chloe,” and stayed silent.

After another minute, Peter stood up to go.

Later in the day, Megan came home from the hospital. She’d suffered a slight concussion and needed a tremendous amount of stitches, but she was going to be all right. Julia and Avery sat with her; every once in a while one or the other would reach over to touch her as if to reassure themselves that she was really there. Harry stayed near them, an expression of calm on his drawn face as he watched Avery and Julia together. He’d had a rough couple of days, I thought. I hoped now that he would be able to find some peace.

Bridget and Colin had booked another flight to Bermuda. They were scheduled to leave immediately after the funerals and were obviously excited to finally start their honeymoon. Blythe and Graham both offered them last- minute advice, advice I could tell Bridget had every intention of ignoring.

Claire and Elsie sat in the two hearthside chairs. Between them a fire danced happily inside the grate. I noticed that while they spoke very little, there seemed to be a quiet understanding between them that I couldn’t ever remember having seen before.

I leaned back in my chair. So was this it, then? Roni is killed and David is posthumously judged to be the murderer and the Matthewses experience some peace. I looked around wondering how long it would be before Elsie returned to dictating everyone’s lives and they were all grumbling in frustrated protest. For now, though, they were a family unit once again—and for me, that would have to be enough.

Roni’s funeral was held the next day. It was a subdued affair, just as Avery wanted. David was buried the day after. By Claire’s request, it was also a quiet remembrance. Detective Grant attended both funerals. At each, he nodded gravely at me but said nothing.

The next day, I packed to leave for the Cape. Bridget and Colin had left early that morning. All that was left was for me to say good-bye to the rest of the family. Standing in the driveway, Blythe and Graham said good-bye, making me promise to come and visit them again very soon. Elsie’s good-bye was more meaningful. Giving me a long hug, she said, “Thanks again for everything, kiddo. You were amazing.” After searching my face carefully, she said, “You gave us back our family. And for that I can never thank you enough.”

I nodded, unsure what to say. Claire stepped forward next. She wasn’t wearing a headband and her bangs were pushed over to one side. It was a tiny change, but I hoped it was the first of many. Pulling me into a tight embrace, she said, “Thanks, Elizabeth. Thanks for everything. We’ll be fine now.”

Megan, Julia, and Avery were next. I was relieved to see that Megan seemed to be handling the traumatic events of the last few days quite well. I suspected that Julia’s calming influence and professional expertise had much to do with that.

Harry was last to say good-bye. Grabbing my hand with a flourish, he said, “Ah, Elizabeth, parting is such sweet sorrow.”

Giving him a level look, I said, “And a rose by any other word would smell as sweet.”

Confusion crossed his face. “Don’t you mean, ‘A rose by any other name ’?”

“No.”

Something in his expression changed. “You always were smarter than me.”

Before I could answer, he pulled me close. Wrapping his arms around me, he whispered into my ear, “Thank you, Elizabeth. Thank you... well, for everything. I’ve always known you were special, but I don’t think I knew exactly how special until this weekend. I missed my chance with you. Don’t make the same mistake and miss your chance with Peter.”

“Good-bye, Harry,” I said, turning away before I started to cry.

He leaned forward and placed a chaste kiss on my forehead. There was nothing else to be said. I got into my car and headed for the Cape.

Chapter 24

The truth is rarely pure and never simple.

—OSCAR WILDE