Kate Kingsbury: Wedding Rows

Elizabeth gave him a tired smile. “It did go rather well, in spite of the upset over the missing knife.” She frowned. “I must ask Rita if anyone found it. It means a great deal to her. I should hate to think someone stole it.”

“Well, at least the bride and groom didn’t know anything about it. They were too wrapped up in each other. Lucky stiffs.”

Elizabeth smiled. “They were rather precious, weren’t they. But then that’s the way it should be for two people in love.”

“Amen to that,” Earl said softly.

The gleam in his eyes unsettled her and she looked away, pretending to scan the room. Most of the guests had left, including all three Winterhalters, Daphne, Rodney, and Tess. Polly and Sadie were nowhere to be seen, and had most likely joined some of the other guests who had earlier announced their intention of continuing the celebrations at the Tudor Arms.

The band, whose members seemed determined to outlast everyone in the room, reached a crashing finale to the song they were playing. A smattering of applause echoed hollowly in the near empty hall. Elizabeth was about to suggest it was time to leave when an ear-splitting shriek rebounded among the rafters of the high ceiling.

“What the heck was that?” Earl stared in the direction of the kitchen, from where the scream had erupted.

Elizabeth was already on her feet and heading for the source of the commotion. The door flew open as she reached it and Florrie stumbled out into the hall, her hand over her mouth. “Ooh,” she moaned, “I’m going to be sick.”

Nellie appeared in the doorway and stared wide-eyed at Elizabeth.

“What’s happened?” Elizabeth demanded, prepared for the worst.

She felt a chill when Nellie said in an odd, matter-of-fact voice, “They found the wedding cake knife, your ladyship.”

Something told her she wasn’t going to like the answer, but she asked anyway. “Where was it?”

“It’s in the basement.” Nellie’s voice rose to an unnatural high pitch. “It’s sticking out the chest of a dead bloke.”

“I’ll call the constables,” Earl said, as Elizabeth headed across the kitchen between the yellow vinyl-covered tables to the cellar door.

“Oh, would you?” Elizabeth waved her thanks. “There’s a telephone box across the street. Or ask the vicar if you may use his telephone. I think he’s gone home.”

Close to the cellar, Bessie leaned against the wall, her face chalk white. Oh, don’t go down there, m’m,” she mumbled, when Elizabeth reached her. “It’s such an ’orrible sight, it is.”

“I just want to take a look.” Elizabeth sent a glance of apprehension at the steps leading to the cellar. “Who is it? Did you recognize him?”

“One of the wedding guests, m’m. I don’t know his name.” Bessie mopped her brow with her apron. “I don’t know what’s been going on here, ’onest, I don’t. I thought it strange when we couldn’t find the key to the door. Locked it were, and I know it weren’t locked when we got here. I put the confetti down there so’s no one would get to it before Wally and Priscilla left but then when I went to get it the door was locked and we couldn’t find the key and we were all so upset about not being able to get the confetti but Mrs. Crumm had the brilliant idea to tear up some of the decorations into pieces to make it look like confetti and we all got busy on that and I never gave the key another thought until Florrie found it just now in the jug of milk and…”

She paused for breath, giving Elizabeth a chance to ask, “You found the key where?”

“In a jug of milk, m’m. Well, actually, the jug were empty. Florrie was going to wash it out and she heard something rattling and there was the key. Of course, by then it was too late, wasn’t it. Wally and Priscilla had already gone. I should have known then that something was going on.”

“So you were the one to find the body?”

Bessie swept a stray lock of gray hair back from her eyes. “Yes, m’m. I went down there to get the confetti, you see, so’s I could take it back to the shop and get me money back, seeing as how we didn’t use it an’ all. That’s when I saw-.” She gulped, and tears filled her eyes. “It was so awful, m’m. There he was, just lying there with Mrs. Crumm’s fancy knife sticking out his chest and all covered in blood, it were. I wouldn’t let no one else go down there.”

Elizabeth patted the woman’s shoulder. “There, there, Bessie. Pull yourself together. Why don’t you get yourself a nice cup of tea or perhaps some of that delicious scrumpy. I’m sure you’ll feel better in no time.”

“Thank you, m’m. I think I will.”

To Elizabeth’s relief, Bessie hurried off and disappeared behind the little knot of women gathered in the doorway. Rita, as usual, was ordering everyone to be calm, while sounding somewhat hysterical herself.

“Perhaps it would be better if everyone would wait in the main hall,” Elizabeth called out. “The constable will be here soon and he’ll take care of everything. Meanwhile you can get on with the cleaning up. I’m sure you all want to get home as soon as possible.”

Obviously annoyed at having matters taken out of her hands, Rita sent her a haughty look, but nevertheless shepherded her flock out of the kitchen, just as Earl squeezed past them to come back in.

“I’m so glad to see you,” Elizabeth said, as he strode toward her. “I really wasn’t looking forward to going down there by myself.”

“Why do you need to go down there at all?” he demanded when he reached her. “The P.C. will be here any minute.” She made a face at him and he shrugged. “Right. Stupid question. OK, let’s go. But I’m going first.”

Nervous about what might be waiting for her down there, she was only too happy to follow him down the stairs.

The body lay crumpled at the bottom of the steps. Trying not to notice the knife sticking out from the blood soaked jacket, Elizabeth said unsteadily, “It’s the man we saw earlier. Remember? I pointed him out. I was wondering who he was.”

Earl grunted. “Well, at least it’s not anyone you know. That’s got to be a relief.”

“Yes, I suppose it is.” Elizabeth frowned, then crouched down to touch the floor with her fingers. “Confetti,” she murmured, as she stared at the tiny pieces of colored paper. “Bessie must have dropped it when she saw the body-” She broke off as a gruff voice spoke from the head of the steps.

“’Ere, ’ere! Wot’s going on down there, then?”

Elizabeth shaded her eyes against the harsh light of the bare lightbulb. “Oh, there you are, George. I’m afraid we’ve had a bit of bother down here. You had better come and take a look.”

George ducked his head so that his helmet cleared the door frame. “Is that you, your ladyship? Not interfering with the evidence, I trust?”

“Of course not, George. You know better than that.”

“Who’s that with you, then?” George demanded as he clumped down the steps.

“It’s me, Constable.” Earl lifted his hand in a salute.

“Ho, yes, Major Monroe,” George muttered, managing to make the name sound like a contagious disease. “Might have known it were you.”

Elizabeth decided to ignore the subtle disapproval behind the words. “The major and I were trying to identify the victim. I don’t suppose you know who he is, George?”

The constable reached the bottom of the steps, peered at the victim, shoved his helmet further back on his head with his thumb, and frowned. “Looks like he’s been stabbed,” he remarked.

“Amazing deduction,” Earl murmured.

Elizabeth dug him in the ribs with her elbow and was rewarded by a faint, “Oof!”