Murder With Peacocks(76)

And of course, there was the depressing task of recruiting a suitable usher to replace Scotty. After much discussion of the candidates, Samantha dragged in Rob to rubberstamp her choice: someone named Ian who, although apparently not a close personal friend of either of the principals, was tall, dark, and handsome enough to please the bridesmaids and well connected enough to suit Samantha and her mother.





Thursday, July 14



The next casualty--not, fortunately, a fatality--was from Eileen's wedding party.

"Oh, Meg, my nephew Brian has the measles!" she wailed.

"Well, so much for a ring bearer," I said.

"Oh, Meg, we have to have a ring bearer," Eileen said. "The costume is so darling, and I don't want poor Caitlin to have to walk down the aisle alone." Caitlin, I suspected, would rather prefer to have the limelight all to herself, but I doubted Eileen would see this.

"Don't you have any other little boy cousins?" I asked.

"There's little Petey, but he's only two."

"No way. What about Eric? I think he'll fit the costume."

"Oh, that would be perfect, Meg!" Eileen enthused, and hung up reassured.

Now all I had to do was talk Eric into it. I ended up having to promise to take him and several of his friends to ride the roller coasters at the nearest amusement park as a bribe. Dad was so touched by this show of auntly devotion that he offered to foot the bill. No one else volunteered a damned thing.

"By the way, Dad," I said, "one more thing."

"I have to run, Meg," he said. "I have to talk to the medical examiner."

"Fine. I'll tell you later about Jake scattering Great-Aunt Sophy in the river, and Samantha sneaking out of her house late at night with someone other than Rob, and what Rob's been doing instead of studying for the bar exam."

That got his attention. He listened intently as I gave him a dramatic account of everything I'd witnessed while skulking about the neighborhood.

"How odd," he muttered, when I was finished.

"My words exactly."

"This doesn't add up at all," he said. He wandered off, looking very puzzled.

"Well, don't bother telling me anything," I said to his departing back. "It's not as if I've contributed anything to this investigation."

He didn't seem to hear me. The hell with it. Let Dad detect; I had to go over to the Donleavys' to keep Steven and Eileen from getting up to anything. Like changing the theme of the wedding at the last minute.

Like everyone else in town, I kept looking over my shoulder, watching for sinister figures lurking in the shadows. And seeing them; although so far all the reports of prowlers had turned out to be plainclothes state police scouting the neighborhood.





Friday, July 15



Michael and the ladies managed to get Eric's outfit ready for Friday evening's wedding rehearsal. We'd decided to hold it in partial costume, so everyone could get used to some of the unusual gear they'd be wearing. The bridesmaids adapted easily to the trains, but it took a while for the men to learn to walk without tripping over the swords.

"What do you think?" Michael asked, as we surveyed the bridal party.

"I think most of these men ought to have known better than to agree to wear tights. And arming them was another mistake," I added watching two of the ushers draw their supposedly ornamental swords and strike what I'm sure they thought were dashing fencing poses.

"Let's go and straighten them out," Michael said. "The same thing happens whenever we do a period play with weapons. Everyone starts thinking he's Zorro."

"Oh, give it a few minutes," I said, as one overzealous usher narrowly missed skewering the beastly Barry in a particularly painful place. "Maybe his aim will improve."

I glanced at Michael, who was leaning elegantly against a tree trunk and watching the ushers' antics with lofty amusement. I sternly suppressed the distracting mental picture of how much better he would look in tights than any of the ushers.

Or, for that matter, in the elaborate Renaissance priest's costume he'd modeled for us in the shop. Like Michael, Father Pete was inspired by the costume to do a little swashing and buckling. Unfortunately, aside from his height, he bore no resemblance at all to Michael. He was only a little on the pudgy side, but his round, fair, freckled face, and thinning sandy hair looking distinctly incongruous atop the elegant sophistication of his costume. Ah, well.

The rehearsal went about as well as could be expected, which meant it fell slightly short of being an unmitigated disaster.

"A bad dress rehearsal makes a good performance," Michael remarked to anyone who fretted.

"It damn well better," I muttered through gritted teeth. Having Barry hovering over me was not helping my mood. Or having to listen to Eric gloating over the payment he was getting for his bit part as ring bearer.