Murder With Peacocks(99)

"I think we're all a little in shock." "And I feel so guilty."

Michael started.

"Guilty? Why?" he asked. "You didn't have anything to do with his death."

"No. But I keep thinking I ought to be feeling grief. Or empathizing with his family. Or concentrating on what the sheriff might need to know. And instead, all I can think about is getting this over with so we can start getting the wedding back on track. Do you have any idea how hard it is going to be to find a minister less than twenty-four hours before the ceremony?"

"Don't scratch your arms," Michael advised. "You'll only make your blisters worse."

It was clear that by the time the sheriff was finished with all of us and we could go home, it would be late.

In fact, it was already too late to call anyone. So I collared Mother, Mrs. Brewster, and Mrs. Fenniman. We compiled a list of possible substitute ministers. Mother and Mrs. Fenniman thought of most of the names, of course. I coaxed Michael into helping me look up their addresses and numbers in the phone book. Mother and Mrs. Fenniman even had very definite--and I hoped accurate--ideas of how early we dared call each minister without offending. Since Mother and Mrs. Fenniman knew most of them, they ranked the names, divided up the calling list according to who was best acquainted with each potential victim, and agreed to meet at our house at 6:00 A.m.





Saturday, July 23.



Samantha's wedding day.



I dragged myself up at five-thirty to help with the minister search. We got Mother installed in her study and Mrs. Fenniman in the living room with the Brewsters' cellular phone. I transcribed their notes on to our master list, kept strong coffee flowing, and started cooking breakfast to keep from biting my nails.

Samantha and Mrs. Brewster came over about eight.

"The bad news is that they're nearly through the original list and haven't found anyone yet," I reported, pouring coffee for them, although I wondered if I shouldn't have made it decaf, given the obvious state of their nerves. Or iced tea; apparently the weather gremlins wanted Samantha's wedding day to be at least as hot as Eileen's and were getting an early start. "The good news is that the few ministers we've been able to reach have suggested another couple of dozen, and there are a few more in the phone book that we could just call blind."

"We'll have to cancel the wedding," Samantha said, tight-lipped. It was only about the hundredth time she'd said that since we found Reverend Pugh. If I hadn't known better, I'd have thought she wanted to cancel the wedding.

"Oh, no, dear," Mother said, coming in to refill her coffee cup and nibble on the fruit I had laid out. "You could always have the wedding at home. If we run out of ministers, there's always Cousin Kate. She's a justice of the peace; she could perform the ceremony. And it would be no trouble, since she's coming to the wedding anyway." I could see a look of panic cross Samantha's face. Cousin Kate is five feet tall and twice my weight. She has a hogcaller's voice, and what my mother tactfully refers to as an earthy sense of humor. She'd been known to boom out no-nonsense advice about the procreative side of matrimony in the middle of the ceremony. I could just see her officiating at Rob and Samantha's wedding, but I suppressed the grin that the thought provoked. Apparently Samantha had met Cousin Kate as well.

"Oh, I couldn't ask that. Not when she's been invited as a guest. It would be an imposition. Besides," she said, warming to the topic, "I'm sure she would perform a lovely ceremony, but it just wouldn't really feel like a wedding to me if it wasn't in church."

"I understand, dear," Mother said. "I'm sure we'll find someone. I just wanted you to know that there's really no reason to worry. You'd better run along home before Rob comes down and sees you. I know you young folks think that's a silly superstition, but it never hurts to be careful." She finished filling a plate with fruit--including all of the strawberries I'd set out--and drifted back to her study. Samantha, gauging more accurately than Mother the likelihood of Rob rising before ten, stayed around to eat a hearty breakfast--including the rest of the strawberries we had in the house.

Michael arrived about nine o'clock, walking Spike.

"I was just going to take off to pick up Mrs. Tranh and the ladies," he said, peering through the screen door. "I thought I should come by to make sure there hadn't been any changes in plan."

"We don't have a minister yet if that's what you mean," I said. "But we have a justice of the peace on call, and if we reach the drop-dead point and have to relocate the ceremony to the Brewsters' lawn, we'll track you down either at the shop or at the parish hall as soon as we know."