“There's no helping her, I'm afraid," Jane said.
“She's dead?" Iva screeched. "Someone has died here just before dear Livvy's wedding?”
Wedding, Jane thought. Dresses. Somebody would have to finish the dresses! Then she felt guilty. The poor old woman was dead and all Iva and Jane were thinking of was the wedding. Still, she had to ask. "Do either of you sew well?"
“I do," Iva said.
Mr. Willis, in a shocking red silk dressing gown, nearly knocked the old women down as he careened through the door. "What is it! Not a fire!”
Jane left Iva and Marguerite to explain the situation to him while she went to open the door to the ambulance. She could see Uncle Joe sprinting out from the woods. He could really move when necessary, she thought sourly.
The two men and a woman from the ambulance rushed past her and a tall, blond Viking of a police officer followed. Eden, Layla, and Kitty had joined the knot of people at the door to the bedroom hallway. Shelley and Larkspur stood with Jane at the front door. In a few minutes, the police officer joined them and introduced himself as John Smith.
“A likely story," Larkspur said with a nervous laugh.
Officer Smith ignored him. "Who's in charge here?" he asked.
“I guess I am," Jane said. "This is the early contingent of a wedding party and I'm the planner." She gave him her name and home address.
“And did you find the body?"
“No, I did," Larkspur said.
“And you are—?"
“The florist. Larkspur."
“A likely story," Officer Smith said without a trace of a smile. "And you put in the call for us?"
“Yes. I was up early. Couldn't sleep. I put some coffee on, then came in here while I waited because I wanted to consider putting flowers on the stairs. I saw her—" He shuddered.
“Did you touch the body?"
“No. Oh, no! I could tell she was dead, and even if she hadn't been, I wouldn't have known what to do.”
Officer Smith turned back to Jane. "Who is the woman?”
Jane gave Mrs. Crossthwait's name and agreed to supply him with an address and phone number. To all other questions — next of kin, age, and such — Jane had no answers.
“Do any of you have any reason to suspect foul play?" the officer asked.
“No, of course not!" Jane said. "She was old and not very steady on her feet and she must have come down the stairs overnight and lost her footing. The stairs are very slippery, as you can see.”
Officer Smith made a note of her comments.
Shelley cleared her throat meaningfully. "I don't mean to be an alarmist or troublemaker, but—"
“You are—?" Smith asked.
“Shelley Nowack. I live next door to Jane and came along to help with the wedding. I just wanted to mention that I watched Mrs. Crossthwait go up the stairs twice yesterday and she was extremely wary and cautious. She held onto the banister with both hands and took each step very slowly. I can't imagine her just skipping lightly down the stairs in the dark. I didn't see a flashlight anywhere near her and the power was out overnight.”
Officer Smith made more notes.
Shelley said, "Jane, don't you have something to contribute?”
Jane sighed. "Okay, okay. I came out here late last night because the front door had blown open. When I started to return, I saw someone at that end of the room. Well, I didn't see them, exactly. But somebody was there and shined a flashlightin my eyes for a second, then wouldn't answer when I asked who was there."
“And what did you do then?" Smith asked.
“I picked my way through the dark to my room. Shelley and I came back here with a flashlight, but there wasn't anybody in here. We went to bed," Jane said. "I assumed somebody couldn't sleep. Was maybe coming down to the kitchen to get a glass of milk or something, and just didn't feel like talking to me."
“When was this?" Officer Smith asked.
Shelley and Jane glanced at each other. "I didn't look at my watch," Jane said, "but it must have been about ten-thirty."
“And there wasn't a body on the steps then?" the officer inquired.
“Of course not!" Jane said.
“But there might have been another reason for somebody to be roaming around in here," Shelley said, urging Jane along. "The pictures. Remember?"
“Oh, yes. When we came back out here with a flashlight, the pictures on that wall were miss- ing—”
“
They all turned to look where she was pointing. The pictures were all back in place.
Without a word, Smith went back to the other end of the room and talked briefly with the ambulance attendants. They had been getting ready to put Mrs. Crossthwait on a stretcher, but now sat down on a couple of nearby chairs while Smith used a mobile phone.
“Now we've done it," Jane said. "This guy is going to think somebody bumped her off and we'll have police all over the place."
“Police at the Wedding," Shelley said. "Isn't that the title of a book?"
“Police at the Funeral. Allingham," Jane said, preoccupied. "Nobody had any reason to harm her. Except me, maybe. And I certainly wouldn't have shoved her down the stairs. At least not before she finished the dresses."
“It's out of our hands," Larkspur said. "Always better to be honest, you know. Even if it is a nuisance. I wonder if I can go now. I've got to get back to the city and get the flowers."
“I wouldn't ask for a while yet," Shelley said.
The police were very thorough. A photographer showed up and took pictures of Mrs. Crossthwait's body, the stairs, the stair rails, and the upper landing from every possible angle. A severe-looking middle-aged woman turned up with a fingerprint kit and coated the banister with dust and took prints of everybody else. Nobody regarded this with favor and Iva threw a full-blown fit, but ended up having her fingerprints taken anyway. Another police officer arrived and began questioning everyone.
The power had been restored, and Mr. Willis, doing a real loaves and fishes act, managed to prepare breakfast for everyone, guests and law officers as well.
“What are all these dreadful people doing here?" Iva complained. "You'd think it was a murder or something."
“I think they're just being overenthusiastic about assuring themselves it wasn't," Jane said as soothingly as she could manage.