Wed, Read & Dead Read online

  “You’re right. I have to help.” I released a heavy sigh. “Or at least try to help.”

  “You’ll figure it out. You always have in the past.” He took my hand and caressed the inside of my wrist. “Plus, you won’t be alone. You’ll have Nana Jo and the girls. And me.”

  My breathing was becoming labored and I felt like I was drowning in his gaze. Thankfully, the waitress came with my order and broke the spell. Frank swore and I smiled.

  “Thank you.” I grabbed my order and leaned across and gave him a kiss. “Thank you for everything.” I hopped off the seat, put on my coat, and hurried out the door.

  Dawson had declined lunch because he had to be on campus in a couple of hours for class and football training. The rush of customers had died down, and Nana Jo and I were able to sit down at one of the bistro tables in the back and eat lunch.

  “I sent a message to the girls and they’re going to meet us here after we close,” Nana Jo said.

  “Great. I think we need to call Jenna too. After all, she is an attorney.”

  Nana Jo smiled. “I already did.”

  “What are we going to do about the wedding? I don’t know the first thing about caterers, photographers, florist, music.” My throat was getting tight and my heart started to race. “I’m not wearing a tablecloth if Jenna doesn’t have to wear one.”

  “Calm down. I talked to Dawson and we have a plan.” She smiled.

  “Dawson? Are you joking?”

  She shook her head. “Nope. He wants to help.”

  I started to protest, but Nana Jo held up two fingers. “We’ve got two weeks. I don’t think we can afford to turn down help from anyone.”

  “You’re right.”

  “Good, so tonight’s meeting will have a few more people than usual, but don’t worry. We’ll figure everything out.”

  * * *

  A few extra people she said. The stream of people piling into my back room felt like a small army. In addition to the normal Sleuthing Seniors book club members, Ruby Mae Stevenson, Dorothy Clark, Nana Jo, and Irma Starczewski, there were a host of others. Dawson, Jillian, and Emma were there representing the MISU front. Christopher and Zaq represented both the family and the Jesus and Mary University (JAMU) contingent. Also representing the home front was my sister, Jenna, and Mom. I struggled to classify where Frank Patterson fell in all this. He took off his winter coat. He was wearing a Market Street Mysteries T-shirt, and I fought back a smile. He declared his allegiance without saying a word. The room was extremely tight when you added in the people, plus all their winter weather wear—boots, hats, scarves, and overcoats. Without being asked, Jillian and Emma took everyone’s outerwear and put them in my office.

  I mouthed a thank-you as they passed.

  Dawson brought folding chairs up from the basement. It was a cozy fit, but we made it work.

  Nana Jo pulled out her iPad. “Let’s get this party started.” She looked around. “Now—”

  Harold Robertson walked in and stood for a few seconds and looked around. “Josephine, would you mind if I say a few words?”

  “Of course.” Nana Jo sat back down and waited.

  Harold stood facing everyone, hat in hand. “Josephine told me you would all be meeting here tonight and I asked if it would be okay if I said a few words.”

  Harold was a tall man with white hair and a white beard. In all of my previous interactions with him, he had been full of life. Tonight, the light had been snuffed out. He looked old and haggard.

  He cleared his throat. “You all know I was angry with that Lydia Lighthouse woman. She was a deceitful, conniving thief. She lied and stole and . . . well, she was rude to the sweetest, kindest, most gentle woman in the world.” He looked at my mom with goo-goo eyes.

  Mom looked teary and dabbed at her eyes.

  “Mr. Robertson, as a lawyer, I want to caution you to be careful what you say.” Jenna looked around. “Everyone here is a friend, but they could be subpoenaed and forced to reveal anything you say.”

  “Pshaw,” Nana Jo snorted. “Harold, you’re among friends here. Friends and family, and family sticks together, subpoena or no subpoena.”

  “Here. Here.” Dorothy smacked the table.

  “No court will make me talk. I’ll be d—”

  “Irma!” everyone shouted.

  Irma broke into a coughing fit.

  “Am I the only law-abiding citizen in this entire group?” Jenna looked serious, but her lips twitched.

  Harold forced a smile. “Thank you. Thank you all, but I don’t have anything to hide. I’ve told the police everything I’m telling you.”

  Jenna rolled her eyes. “Ugh. I wish you hadn’t done that.”

  “But I’m innocent.”

  “That may be, but the prisons in this country are full of innocent men and women,” Nana Jo said.

  “Well, they’re full of men and women who claim to be innocent,” Jenna said. “But, you really should have legal counsel.”

  “Couldn’t you represent him?” Mom asked.

  “Well, I—”

  Harold held up a hand. “I couldn’t ask that of you. I don’t want to tarnish your good name. In fact, I came here, primarily, to tell you all I think it would be best if I separated myself a bit . . .” He glanced at my mom. “It won’t be good to be associated with someone accused of murder.”

  “Are you joking?” Nana Jo laughed. “Buddy, where have you been for the past six months?”

  “That was different. You were all protecting your family.” Harold shuffled his feet.

  “Not all family is related by blood.” Dawson smiled.

  Harold shook his head. “I could never ask . . .”

  Jenna smiled. “You didn’t ask. I’m volunteering. That is, if you want me.”

  Harold bowed. “I would be honored.”

  Jenna walked over to Harold and gave him a hug. “It’s what families do.”

  I wiped away tears, and I wasn’t the only one.

  Nana Jo stood. “All right, all right, enough of that. Now, we need to get this meeting started because I have a date.” She sat down and pulled out her iPad. “We have a lot of things that need to be taken care of. So, let’s get some of those things out of the way first.”

  Harold sat down next to my mom and they gazed in each other’s eyes and held hands like giddy schoolchildren.

  “First, we have a wedding happening in less than two weeks.” She looked at Jenna.

  “Nana Jo asked me to find out what arrangements were confirmed and which ones were left.” She pulled out a notepad and put on a pair of reading glasses. “I called the River Bend Auditorium, and, while Lydia Lighthouse called to reserve the facility, she never actually paid the deposit.”

  “What? She told us she gave them a five-thousand-dollar deposit,” I said.

  “Yep. Lydia promised a lot of things. I talked to the florist, the ice sculptor, the caterer and none of them had been paid.”

  “But I gave her the money,” Mom whispered.

  “I know, and she cashed the check. She just never got around to making the deposits.”

  “So, what does that mean?” Mom asked.

  “It means she stole our money.” Harold looked red-faced and furious.

  “That sums it up pretty well.” Jenna removed her glasses. “I’ll try to recover the money, but that will take time.”

  “No use crying over spilled milk.” Nana Jo looked around the table. “That’s why I invited Jillian and Emma. Jenna will be representing Harold and handling any legal problems. Sam and I will need to focus all of our time and attention on figuring out who killed Lydia Lighthouse. We’re not going to have time to coordinate a wedding too. Jillian and Emma just started winter break and have generously agreed to delay their trips home and to help coordinate a small wedding.”

  Everyone turned to stare at Jillian and Emma. Both had an air of excitement.

  Emma turned to Mom. “That is, if it’s okay with you?”

 
Mom nodded. “Of course, dear. Thank you both so much.” She hugged them.

  “Great. Also, Dawson, baker extraordinaire, has agreed to create your wedding cake.”

  Dawson leaned over to Mom. “I’ll understand if you’d rather have a professional do the cake. It’s just that all of the bakeries I called said they’d need more than two weeks to do a wedding cake. They’re booked up for the holidays. You’d have to get a plain cake, nothing custom.” He looked genuinely concerned. “I know you had your heart set on a cake from the Avenue, but the pastry chef there said you would have had to put your order in a week ago.”

  Mom got up and hugged Dawson. “I would love to have you make my wedding cake. I’m sure it will be delicious.”

  Dawson blushed.

  “I called Reverend Timmons and he will, of course, officiate the wedding at the church. So, now, we just need a venue for the reception.” Nana Jo looked pointedly at Frank.

  He stood up. “I’d like to volunteer my restaurant. It’s not fancy and can only hold about two hundred people comfortably between both levels, but if we close the restaurant for a private party and rearrange the tables, I think it’ll work.” He smiled. “Of course, I will cater the food and alcohol.”

  I rushed over and kissed him. When we came up for air, I whispered, “Thank you.”

  “Wow. If I’d known this was the way to your heart, I’d have volunteered a lot sooner.”

  “Thank you, Frank.” Harold stood and offered his hand. “I can’t possibly allow you to do all of that for free.”

  Frank shook his head, and Harold persisted.

  “You two can work out the details later. We have a lot to get to.” Nana Jo looked at her iPad.

  The two men shook again, and I took the opportunity to return to my seat.

  Dorothy Clark pulled out her cell phone and started texting. She was uncharacteristically distracted.

  “Now, I think that takes care of most of the wedding arrangements, but if you have questions, please see Jillian or Emma.” She looked around the table. Her gaze landed on Christopher and Zaq. “Christopher and Zaq have agreed to help out during Christmas break at the store so Sam and I are free to investigate.”

  I walked over and hugged my nephews. Neither were huge mystery fans, although they’d spent quite a bit of time helping out in the bookstore and were each finding authors they enjoyed. Christopher really enjoyed reading Dark Reservations by John Fortunato. Zaq, a technology guru, was actually enjoying John Sandford’s Kidd books, which featured a computer-whiz-for-hire. I would need to get them something special for Christmas. When the twins were small, shopping for birthdays and Christmas was easy. I took their lists to the nearest toy store. As they got older, their toys became more expensive and revolved around electronics and video games. At twenty, they weren’t willing to wear clothes selected by any of the women in their lives and were most satisfied with money or gift cards. Maybe I could see if Emma could help me identify something for Zaq. Christopher was in between girlfriends, so I might have to use some of my own detective skills to find out something he would like.

  Nana Jo interrupted my daydreams. “Sam, are you listening?”

  Clearly, I wasn’t, because I was still standing, staring vacantly, but I sat down and turned my attention to the meeting.

  Nana Jo looked at everyone. “It’s only been a few hours since we learned of Lydia Lighthouse’s murder, so I don’t know if anyone has had time to get their sources working to find out any information or not. I’m having dinner with Freddie in . . .” She looked at her watch. “In an hour. He’s got his son, Mark, looking into whatever the state police can find and I hope to have more to report tomorrow.” She swiped her iPad. “I did a little research on Lydia Lighthouse on the Internet.”

  “Anything useful?” I asked.

  “Her website is pure BS. She presents herself as a Southern belle who has dedicated her life to making brides’ dreams come true. Pure fiction. However, the good stuff is what I found on one of those service review sites.”

  “You mean like those sites where you rate service companies?” Dorothy asked.

  Nana Jo nodded. “Yep. Lydia Lighthouse has an average rating of two point one on Service Reviews R Us.”

  “Is that bad?” I asked.

  “It is when it’s on a scale of one to ten,” Nana Jo said.

  Frank whistled.

  “One reviewer compared Lydia Lighthouse to Hitler.” Nana Jo scrolled down until she found the entry. “ ‘Obviously, Lydia Lighthouse learned her social skills from Mein Kampf. She and Hitler share a lot of the same personality traits. I heard from a friend Lydia Lighthouse had a reputation as a pit bull. However, as the bride, I never expected the dog would attack me. Nothing I wanted was considered. Not only did I not get the flowers, cake, photographer, or venue I wanted, I didn’t even get to wear the dress I wanted. My fiancé and I are simple people, and we wanted a simple wedding. Barbecue and cowboy hats with sunflowers were my dream. Lydia’s response when I told her my ideas: just because you’re common trailer trash doesn’t mean you have to let the world know it.’ ”

  “Wow!” Christopher said. “Why didn’t they fire her?”

  Nana Jo scrolled down. “Oh, she tells us.” She scrolled until she found the selection. “‘Why didn’t I fire her you ask? Because Lydia Lighthouse requires you to sign a contract agreeing to pay her whether you have the wedding or not. The wedding was beautiful, but it wasn’t what I wanted, and I felt like a guest at my own wedding. Given a choice between working with Lydia Lighthouse and spending the night in a rat-infested cellar, I’ll take the rats.’ ”

  “That’s exactly what she did to us.” Mom looked at Harold, who patted her hand.

  Ruby Mae Stevenson put aside the pink fluffy baby blanket she was knitting and raised her hand. “Can you give us the names of some of the other people associated with Lydia? If we can’t find out anything on her, maybe we can find out something about the others.”

  Nana Jo nodded. “Good idea.” She looked at me. “Sam, do you remember the names of the other people we met yesterday?”

  I shook my head.

  However, Mom surprised me by raising her hand tentatively. “I know their names.” She looked around like a timid bird about to fly out of its cage. “I wrote them down so I could tell Harold.” She opened her purse and pulled out a napkin. “I didn’t have any paper, so I used this napkin. The caterer’s name was Rudy Blakemore.”

  “He runs a restaurant called Rudy’s Place,” Frank said.

  “Do you know him?” Nana Jo asked.

  Frank winked. “Not yet, but I think Sam and I should go check them out.”

  “Good.” Nana Jo typed into her iPad. “Who else?”

  “The ice sculptor was Maxwell Dubois.”

  “I’ve heard of him,” Ruby Mae said. “He’s in a band.”

  “The florist was Felicity Abrams of Felicity’s Florals,” Mom said.

  “Felicity Abrams has a shop near my sister’s art gallery.” Dorothy typed on her phone. “I’ll tackle her tomorrow. Oh, and I was texting my sister and I think I’ve found a photographer for the wedding. He’s great. He just had a showing at her gallery last week.” She texted like one of the high school students I used to teach. “He’s free and . . . yes. He can do the pictures.” She texted and then looked up from her phone with a smile.

  “Thank you.” Mom smiled and looked as though she would cry.

  “No, thank you.” Dorothy winked. “Now we can discuss the details over dinner and drinks. He’s a real hottie.”

  “Is that everyone?” Nana Jo looked at my mom, who nodded.

  “What about her assistant?” I asked.

  “Yeah, mousy girl. Now, what was her name?” Nana Jo tapped the table. “April . . . Jones.” She typed on her iPad.

  We wrote the name down.

  “Anything else?” Nana Jo looked around.

  I raised my hand. “I think we need to consider everyone.” I looked at Harold.


  My mother gasped. “Sam, you can’t honestly believe Harold . . .”

  Harold colored and he looked choked up, but he held up a hand. “It’s okay. I agree with Sam. You shouldn’t rule anyone out.”

  “That’s not what I mean. I certainly don’t believe you killed Lydia.”

  “Well, I should hope not.” Mom dabbed at her eyes.

  “What are you getting at, Sam?” Nana Jo asked.

  “It’s just that no one here really knew Lydia except . . .”

  Harold nodded. “Except my brother and sister-in-law, you mean?”

  I nodded.

  “Sam’s right. If it weren’t for them, she wouldn’t have ever darkened our door.” Nana Jo looked at Harold. “I’m afraid we’ll have to put them on the list.”

  “I certainly understand.” He swallowed hard and nodded. “Oscar and Margaret Robertson.”

  We all wrote the names down.

  “Anything else?” Nana Jo looked at me.

  I shook my head.

  “Good. I need to get ready for my date. Let’s get busy sleuthing.”

  Chapter 8

  “I’m hungry. Let’s stop and get something to eat on the way home.” Zaq helped Emma on with her coat.

  “Perhaps you would permit Harold and me to take you all out to dinner. We could discuss arrangements,” Mom generously offered.

  “Certainly, I have a few ideas I’d love to discuss with you,” Jillian said.

  Emma opened her book bag. “I have tons of bridal magazines. Maybe we can get some ideas about the things you’d like.”

  Mom nodded enthusiastically. “I’d love that.”

  “I have to get back to the restaurant, but if you’re interested in eating at the café, I can get your ideas for food while I work.” Frank looked at me. “Wanna join us?”

  I shook my head. “As exciting as planning my mom’s wedding sounds, I think I’ll pass.”

  I hugged Emma and Jillian. “Whatever you do, please steer her away from bubble gum pink and tartan plaid.”

  They looked confused but crossed their hearts.

  The wedding planners all left. Jenna promised to drop the girls off at the retirement village and Freddie arrived and whisked Nana Jo away, just as I finished taking the dogs out. The building was quiet at last. A light snow was falling outside, and my loft felt warm and cozy. The conditions were perfect for a trip to the British countryside.