“I don't know. Maybe they're just bored out here in the country and are hoping for something juicy to get their teeth into."
“There's really no reason to think it wasn't just an accidental fall, is there?" Jane said, then thought for a moment. "Although you were right about her being extraordinarily cautious about going up the stairs. She took them with baby steps. Maybe she was sleepwalking."
“Or maybe you were right when you told Iva they were just making sure," Shelley said. "The fact is, there's nothing we can do about what the police think. But the dresses have to be finished."
“The police wouldn't let me in her room to see how far along she was with the sewing," Jane said. "They said I'd have to wait another hour at least. I'm going to call Mel. He was going to come up here tomorrow anyway. I'd feel better about all this if he were here."
“You mean you'd know more because he's a detective and they'll tell him things."
“Same thing," Jane said.
“An elderly woman took a tumble down the stairs and you want me to come up there and butt in?" Mel said a little later.
Jane was almost whispering into the phone. "I'm not sure it was an accident, Mel, and the local people are acting like it's the Crime of the Century."
“That sounds like a little bit of an exaggeration," Mel said.
“Maybe a little. But Mel, I've invested four months of my life planning this damned wedding and—"
“Okay. I'm off today anyhow. But I'm just going to introduce myself to the local people. That's all. If they want to talk to me, fine. If not, I'm not going to interfere. How do you do this, Jane? It seems everywhere you go, there are dead bodies."
“It's certainly not deliberate," she said huffily. Then, because she was asking him a favor, softened it with, "I'd just like to see you a littler earlier than planned.”
Detective Mel VanDyne seemed to find this very funny.
The rest of the morning was too hectic for Jane to find time to brood, much as she would have liked to sit down with Shelley and puzzle out Mrs. Crossthwait's death. Larkspur managed to escape to fetch his flowers from the shop. Aunt Iva and Layla volunteered to whip together the last of the dressmaking jobs. Mrs. Crossthwait had made some remarkable progress during the evening before her death. There was little but hemming and putting on hooks and buttons to doand they both proclaimed themselves willing and able to do these jobs. The only holdup was trying to get into Mrs. Crossthwait's room.
Before the ambulance people were allowed to gather up the body, Mr. Willis's skivvy sneaked away from him, told the medical workers how ill she felt, and was tentatively diagnosed as possibly having an appendicitis attack. Jane thought Mr. Willis was going to have a stroke when he was told that he was losing her. Kitty and Eden reluctantly agreed to help out in the kitchen until he could find a replacement.
There was a lot of mean-spirited jockeying for possession of the one phone between him and everyone else who had calls to make. Both Iva and Marguerite seemed to have a wide circle of friends they felt honor bound to keep in touch with on a daily basis.
“It's unraveling," Jane nearly wept. "All my work, all my meticulous planning, and it's falling to bits."
“Nonsense!" Shelley said briskly. "These things happen in clumps. Nothing more will go wrong now. Bad things happen in threes, you know."
“Then why are we up to five or six?" Jane asked.
Shelley ignored the query. "You've already had all the bad luck and it'll be clear sailing from now on."
“You know you don't believe that," Jane said. "No, not really. But I thought you'd like to hear it. Soldier on, Jane. Just soldier on.”
The equipment rental people arrived as the two ambulances pulled out of the parking area — one with Mrs. Crossthwait, the other with the skivvy, who was now screaming with pain. The driver of the truck seemed seriously alarmed by this.
“It's nothing," Jane lied. "Just an appendicitis attack."
“Two of them?"
“No, just one," Jane said curtly, feeling that he might flee if informed that the other vehicle was transporting the body of another employee.
Jane was enormously pleased that there seemed to be no hitches with this stage of preparation. There were three men on the truck. Two immediately got busy hauling in a table to go in the side room where the bridal shower and bachelor party would be held. The tables and chairs for the main room wouldn't arrive until the morning of the wedding because there was nowhere to store them. The third man brought the folding chairs that were placed in the side room where the bridal shower and bachelor party would take place today. The chairs were wooden, painted a rich shade of ivory, and had real fabric seats and backs.
“Good choice, Jane," Shelley said, watching and nodding.
Jane was too weak with relief to reply. One thing, at least, was going right.
The rental people were providing the linens, plates, and silverware for these events as well. Mr. Willis had made the selection of these items,with Jane's approval. The rental company workers would come back and set up the main room the next morning, remain during the wedding ceremony itself, and be ready to whisk the chairs away as soon as the bridal party went outdoors for pictures and set up the buffet table and then hang around somewhere until it was all over and they could take everything away. It was expensive to have them hanging around for so long, but given the available space, there had been no alternative.
“See," Shelley said smugly. "I told you everything was going to work out from here on.”
Mr. Willis appeared at Jane's side, looking considerably less frazzled. "That Uncle Joe person has found me two local women who will come in and replace my help," he said. "But it's going to cost a little more."
“I don't care," Jane said. "Hire them."
“Better and better," Shelley said. "You deserve a break now that everything's back under control. There's somewhere I want you to go with me."
“Where's that?"
“Wanda's Bait and Party Shoppe. I can't miss the chance to see it.”
seven
They sought out Eden to show them the way. "Thank goodness! I'd like to get away from here for a while," she said. "The aunts are driving me bonkers."
“Speaking of the aunts," Jane said. "They were up to something late last night."
“What kind of something?" Eden asked, trying (and failing) to hide her surprise at the state of Jane's terrible old station wagon.
Jane caught the look. "I could afford something better," she said. "I just hate to shop. As for the aunts, I have no idea. I tapped on Iva's door to ask her something and there was a lot of rustling and whispering before she opened it a bare inch."
“A greedy scheme, no doubt," Eden said. "They're always trying to con somebody out of something. It never works. Never. But that doesn't discourage them. They're weird old things. Marguerite must have been quite a number when she was young. My dad says she was a stunningbeauty once, and had whole flocks of suitors. Dad's never admitted it, but I think he might have been one of them. But Iva never married."
“Why is that?" Shelley asked from the backseat of the station wagon as they turned onto the main road.
“I don't think she found one rich enough," Eden said. "That's just a guess though. She anticipated being very wealthy in her own right someday when their father, Oliver Wendell Thatcher, popped off. And she had Marguerite as a bad example."
“Bad example of what?" Jane asked.
“Getting taken to the cleaners by a man. Marguerite fell head over heels for an Englishman my dad always said reminded him of Bertie Wooster without the money. Rowe, his name was. Percival? Lancelot? Tristram? Something classic and silly. He claimed, in a convincingly bumbling way, to be the scion of an ancient British family. Very posh stuff for a snob like Marguerite. So she married him without checking this out thoroughly enough."
“How many of us do that!" Shelley said with a laugh.
“Marguerite should have. It turned out that he was the great-great nephew or second cousin three times removed of an 'honorable,' which I think is the lowest rank of the aristocracy, and that his line of the family had been fishmongers. Or maybe it was eel fishers. Something to do with slimy water creatures. By the time Marguerite fig‑ ured out why he kept dawdling about taking her to see the 'family estate' back in Merry Olde England, he'd spent nearly all her money. Marguerite went to O. W. for more and he said he'd only give her enough to get a divorce. Which she did."
“And she never remarried?" Shelley asked.
“Nope. Once was plenty. Turn right at the next corner, Jane. And Iva has never let poor old Marguerite forget her mistake."