Kate Kingsbury: Wedding Rows

George gazed up at Fiona with obvious admiration for a full second, then coughed and looked down at his notepad. “And you are?”

“Mrs. Fiona Farnsworth. I’m an old friend of the bride.”

George scribbled again. “Well now, if Captain Carbunkle didn’t invite the deceased, and Miss Pierce-or I should say Mrs. Carbunkle now-didn’t invite him, then who in blue blazes did invite him?”

“Maybe you should ask the other bridesmaid.” Fiona’s companion had stepped up behind her. “I understand they knew each other very well.”

Fiona stared at her escort. “Tess? How’d you know that?”

Malcolm’s smile was indulgent as he laid an arm across Fiona’s shoulders. “I heard them talking, my love. Actually, arguing would be a better word. The young lady was furious with him.”

His last remark had been directed at George, who was furiously scribbling on his notepad. “And you are?”

“Malcolm Ludwig, old chap. I’m engaged to be married to this lovely lady here.”

“Well, that’s two people already who didn’t like the bloke,” George muttered. “I’ll need to have the photographer’s address and phone number, and I’ll have a word with that young lady. What’s her name?”

“Tess Winterhalter,” Elizabeth answered him. “I understand she went down to the Tudor Arms with some of the other guests. I’m sure she’ll be back soon. If you like, you can come up to the manor later and talk to her. Her parents will be there, as well.”

Her concern was for the young girl, who would no doubt feel more secure in being questioned by the police if her parents were present.

George, however, murmured, “Good idea, your ladyship. I should like to question the young lady’s parents, anyhow, seeing as how the deceased was a friend of their daughter.”

“Does that mean we can all go home now?” Rita demanded peevishly.

“Not so fast,” George declared, as the ladies made a general movement to disperse. “I want to know if anyone saw anything unusual.”

“We saw Marge’s knickers,” Nellie said, with a wicked leer.

Marge gasped above the titters from the group. “You did not!”

George loudly cleared his throat. “I meant anything that might help in this ’orrible murder investigation.”

The faces sobered as silence fell over the crowd.

“I’m sure if anyone remembers anything he or she will let you know,” Elizabeth said. Addressing everyone in general, she added more loudly, “I’m sure we all want to find out who committed this terrible deed, do we not?”

A feeble chorus of agreement answered her and she turned back to George. “I’m leaving for the manor now, George. I assume you will wait for Dr. Sheridan. Shall we expect you later?”

“Thank you, m’m. Much obliged, I’m sure.” George touched the narrow brim of his helmet and tucked the notepad in his pocket. “In the meantime, I must ask everyone who attended the wedding and doesn’t live here to stay in Sitting Marsh until I’ve had a chance to question them.”

There were mutters of protest from some of the guests, and everyone started talking amongst themselves.

Feeling somewhat unsettled herself, Elizabeth led the way from the hall, followed by Earl, with George close behind. Furtive glances from some of the women were directed at them as they left. Well aware that speculation was rife in the village about her relationship with the major, Elizabeth was constantly on guard against fueling the gossip.

There were times, however, when she refused to sacrifice what little time she could scrounge with him, which is why she’d accepted his offer to drive her to the church in his Jeep. No matter what the villagers might make of that. In any case, riding with Earl was a little more elegant than sitting astride her motorcycle, which was her usual mode of transport.

Roaring up the hill in the Jeep toward the manor, she contemplated the disturbing events. If the stranger was indeed a friend of Tess’s and had been invited to the wedding by her, the poor child was in for a terrible shock when she heard the news.

Which brought up the question: if he was a friend of hers, why would she go to the Tudor Arms without him? Had they quarreled, as Malcolm had suggested? If so, things wouldn’t look too good for Tess.

“Well, at least they can’t blame this one on the three musketeers.”

Earl’s voice, raised to be heard above the roar of the engine, startled her. “I’d almost forgotten about them,” she called back. “Are you still having problems with them?”

“Three of our vehicles were disabled last weekend. Our guys had to walk back to base. I just wish I could get my hands on them. We have enough problems to deal with right now, without worrying about a bunch of hoodlums bent on mischief. If this keeps up someone’s going to get hurt.”

“Oh, dear.” Ever since Elizabeth had heard about the three masked men from London visiting American bases and damaging property to harass the American servicemen, she’d been worried that their mischief-making would escalate into real violence.

Or even that the Americans would retaliate with disastrous results. So far the skirmishes had caused little more than a few bruises. But there was a limit to the victims’ patience, especially when they were already dealing with unbelievable stress.

“I can’t believe they’re getting away with it,” Earl said, as they tore around the curve on the hill. “They’ve got the military hunting for them, as well as your constables. You’d think someone would be able to grab them.”

“Apparently they’re extremely adept at slipping the noose.” Thankful for the long twilight evenings, Elizabeth hung on grimly as the Jeep swayed from side to side. Riding at this speed was infinitely more dangerous in the dark, thanks to the blackout, which forbade lights on all vehicles and in all windows. “They’ve had a lot of practice.”

“Yeah, you’re right about that.” Earl straightened out the wheel. “So, any ideas who might have killed the wedding guest back there?”

“Hardly. We don’t even know why he was at the wedding.”

“Well, if the bridesmaid knew him, I guess her parents will know him, too.”

“That’s what I’m hoping.” Elizabeth frowned. The Winterhalters had left immediately after the cake had been cut, apparently taking her butler and housekeeper with them. She sincerely hoped that Martin was not the cause of their hasty departure. He was not used to attending social events and rarely left the manor these days. Though he had seemed quite well when she’d spoken to him.

Feeling uneasy, she was relieved when Earl pulled up to the steps with a scrunch of tires. “The night is still young,” she said, as he helped her climb out of the Jeep. “Would you like to join me in a glass of sherry?”

To her disappointment, he shook his head. “I’ve got some paperwork to catch up on, and I have to make a real early start in the morning. Rain check?”

She smiled at him. “Of course. Good night, then.”

He still had hold of her hand, and he held on to it for a moment longer before letting her go. “You’ll let me know if you get involved in this mess, right?”

“Don’t I always?”

“Not until you’re knee deep in trouble, as a rule.”

“I promise I’ll keep you informed.”

He lifted his hand and gently stroked her cheek. “I’m gonna hold you to that. Just watch your step, okay? Don’t go charging ahead until you know what you’re getting into.”

She covered his fingers with her own. “You worry too much.”

“Yeah, I guess I do. I just don’t want anything bad to happen to you. You’re my lucky charm, you know.”

He’d said the words lightly, but she knew, only too well, the significance behind them. Every time he took to the skies he was in far more danger than she could ever be. The chances of him coming back grew slimmer with each mission. Like so many others who flew into dire peril each day, he was convinced that as long as he had someone there waiting for him, he would survive.