Murder With Peacocks(36)

"How nice of him," Mother purred.

"Good grief," Pam said.

Dad snorted.

"And I see no reason why he should be loitering around underfoot, getting in everyone's way," I continued. "He could make himself useful. He's a cabinetmaker; he should feel right at home with a saw. Have him cut up the tree."

"He could come with me up to the farm," Dad said. "They've promised me a load of manure if I help haul off a few more truckloads of rocks. Barry's a big lad; he should be able to handle the rocks."

"What a good idea," I said. "Barry spends a lot of time at the farm with Steven and Eileen. I'm sure he'd love one of your manure trips." Perhaps we could also take Barry on all the little expeditions we'd dreamed up to help run poor Mrs. Grover out of town. Waste not, want not.

"By the way, Dad," I added, "remind them about the peacocks."





Monday, June 13



"Eileen will be choosing a gown this week," I announced over breakfast to Mother and Mrs. Fenniman--who had dropped by shortly after dawn to borrow some sugar and had now been discussing redecorating schemes with Mother for several hours.

"That's nice, dear," Mother said. "Does she know that?"

"She will soon," I replied. "I am picking her up at five minutes to nine. We will drive in to Be-Stitched and stay there until she selects something. If she hasn't decided by lunchtime, I will go out for pizza. If she hasn't decided by closing time, we will do the same thing Tuesday if necessary, and Wednesday, and Thursday. If by noon Friday she hasn't picked anything, I will select whatever Michael tells me can be most easily completed between now and mid-July, and she will have to live with it."

"This I gotta see!" chortled Mrs. Fenniman.

"Eileen is so fortunate to have you taking care of things," Mother remarked. "Perhaps Mrs. Fenniman and I could help. We could try to gently influence her toward some gowns that would be appropriate and flattering."

"With no hoops!" Mrs. Fenniman snorted.

I considered the offer. Logically speaking, one would assume that having more people involved would prolong rather than streamline things. But Mother could not only talk anyone into anything, she could probably make Eileen think it was her own idea. The trick was to get Mother properly motivated. I needed a mother determined to help Eileen reach a quick decision, not a bored mother finding entertainment by helping Eileen dither for the rest of the week.

"If you wouldn't mind, that would be a help. Perhaps the problem is that Eileen doesn't quite trust my advice on clothing, but of course with you two there that wouldn't be a problem. And it would save time in the long run. As soon as I've gotten a decision from Eileen, I can really concentrate on getting the rest of your invitations out and running all those errands you need for the redecorating."

I was afraid I'd been a little too obvious, but they fell for it. It only took me ten minutes to put on my shoes and find my car keys, but when I went outside they were standing impatiently by the car in their full summer shopping regalia (including hats), and had begun jotting down a list of criteria for Eileen's dress. I felt encouraged that the first item was "No hoops!"

"We've all come to help Eileen decide on her dress," I announced to Michael as the parade filed into the shop. Mother and Mrs. Fenniman settled on either side of Eileen on the sofa in the front window and dived efficiently into their task.

"I'm not holding my breath," Michael said, too quietly for the others to hear.

"Have faith," I muttered back. "The end is in sight. I've pretended to Mother that I'll have absolutely no time to work on her wedding till Eileen's gown is chosen. Five bucks says she has a decision by lunchtime."

"No bet," Michael said, laughing.

By eleven-thirty, I was beginning to be glad we hadn't wagered. I wouldn't exactly say Mother and Mrs. Fenniman had been unhelpful. They'd talked Eileen out of a number of truly horrible dresses, usually with graphic descriptions of how awful Eileen would look in them. But we didn't really seem any closer to a decision.

"Perhaps it's time to order in lunch," I said.

"Good idea," Michael said, and strolled over to the counter to pick up the phone book.

"They have lovely salads and pastries at the River Cafe," Mother said brightly. "It's just two blocks down."

"Do they do carryout?" I asked. "We're not leaving till Eileen makes a decision."

"I suppose they might, but you can't carry out a nice pot of tea. Why don't we just--"

"Tea?" Michael said. "I'll be happy to make some tea. Mom and the ladies have quite a selection. Earl Grey, jasmine, Lapsang souchong, gunpowder, chamomile, Constant Comment, plain old Lipton tea bags ..."