Murder With Peacocks(40)

I spent most of the rest of the day in futile attempts to track down Steven's footloose ushers. And the priest, Eileen's cousin, who reacted to the news that Eileen wanted him in costume with suspicious enthusiasm. He offered to mail me a book with pictures of period clerical garb. Another would-be thespian. But he was the one bright spot in an otherwise ghastly afternoon. By dinnertime I was in an utterly rotten mood, incapable of uttering a civil word. Fortunately I wasn't required to; Dad had come to dinner and monopolized the conversation with a complete rundown of his theories on Mrs. Grover's death. As long as I kept an eye on him so I could dodge flying food whenever he gesticulated too energetically with his fork, I could wallow in my lugubrious mood to my heart's content. I wallowed.

"Anyway, I'm going up to Richmond next week to see the chief medical examiner," Dad said finally, as he picked up his coffee and headed out to the porch. Sighs of relief from those family and friends present whose appetites were depressed even by euphemistic discussions of forensic evidence. "I'll see that we get some straight answers or I'll raise a ruckus they'll never forget."

"Oh, dear," Mother murmured.

Dad's voice floated back from the porch. "Yes, sirree, I'm going to go over the evidence and insist that they come right out and declare this a probable homicide, so the sheriff will take the investigation seriously."

"I hope your father won't really cause a scene," Mother said. "That would be so mortifying."

"Don't be silly," I said. "You know perfectly well that half an hour after Dad storms in there, he and the ME will be down at the nearest bar having a few too many beers and repeating all their old med school stories."

"They went to med school together?" Jake asked in surprise.

"No," I said. "Same med school, several decades apart."

"But med school stories don't change much," Pam added. "Especially the pranks. Like singing ninety-nine bottles of formaldehyde on a wall, ninety-nine--"

"Pam," Mother chided.

"Or putting a stray cadaver in--"

"Meg!" Mother and Rob said together. Pam and I collapsed in giggles. Jake shuddered and looked, not for the first time, as if he were having serious second thoughts about the upcoming wedding. At least I hoped so.

Out on the porch, I could hear Dad expounding his plans for a trip to the medical examiner to someone. I peeked through the curtains, saw that Dad's audience was a rather weary-looking Barry, and decided that I would go to bed early with a mystery book.





Wednesday, June 15



I spent most of Wednesday visiting the various hired guns involved in Eileen's wedding to tell them about the Renaissance theme. Like Eileen's cousin, the caterer was suspiciously enthusiastic. He was losing sight of the practical, financial side of things. I laid down the law and made a mental note to keep an eye on him. The florist was quite rational, so I suppose he shared my notion that flowers were flowers. The newly booked photographer seemed to find it all hilarious, until I broached the idea of putting him in costume, which he seemed to find unreasonable and insulting. I decided to give him twenty-four hours to come around before starting to look for another photographer. Eileen was paying him for this, after all. Eileen was inexplicably adamant on having the photographer in costume. It seemed idiotic to me: he would be taking pictures, not appearing in them, and even the most spectacular costume couldn't hide the camera, film, lights, and other glaring anachronisms. Ah, well; mine not to reason why. I headed for the peace and quiet of home.

Michael was walking Spike past our yard as I drove up, and came over to say hello.

"I hate to bring up business," I said, "but have you and the ladies figured how you're going to manage Eileen's gowns and the doublets? Without throwing your entire summer's schedule off?"

"It kept them pretty busy yesterday, but they gave me the list of materials they needed this morning, and I've already called in the order. They'll be starting tomorrow. We'll manage."

"That's a relief."

"And the beastly Barry's measurements have been duly entered into the files," Michael said. "It took us rather a while, as expected."

"His absence was duly noted and much appreciated."

"How was your day?" he asked, shifting Spike's leash to the hand farther from me.

"I only managed to tick off three items from my list. But that's life."

"I'll come with you, if you don't mind," Michael said. "I had something I wanted to ask you."

"If you're willing to risk being shanghaied by Mother to talk about upholstery, be my guest."

"Doesn't look as if there's anyone home at your house," Michael said, falling into step beside me. "Only the porch light is on."