Murder on the Bride’s Side

Chapter 23

Running over to her recumbent body, I was dimly aware that I was screaming. I hoped Colin and Bridget could hear me, but my voice sounded like it was originating from the end of a long tunnel. I came to a skidding halt over Megan’s body and knelt beside her. Blood streamed down her face and onto the grass. There was a large gash from her forehead almost to her crown. A heavy black flashlight lay on the ground next to her. Numb with terror, I frantically felt for a pulse and went weak with relief when I felt a faint and thready one. Just then, I saw a flash of movement out of the corner of my eye. A dark figure darted furtively across the back lawn in jeans and a black shirt. I couldn’t make out many details, but I saw the black ski mask over the face.

Before I knew what I was doing, I was bounding across the lawn in full pursuit. The grass was slick from rain and I discovered quickly that bunny slippers do not provide much, if any, traction, but I wasn’t going to let the bastard who attacked Megan get away without a fight. Luckily, her attacker appeared even more unsteady than I was, and soon I was within arm’s reach. With a burst of speed, I hurled myself at the runner’s waist and the two of us fell to the ground. I had the upper hand for a moment, the element of surprise being on my side. But with an embarrassingly easy shove, I was flung off. I had a brief sensation of weightlessness as I soared through the air before I crashed back down to the ground in an ignominious heap. The jolt of the landing knocked the wind out of me and I desperately sucked at the air. Flopping on the ground like a fish out of water, I was helpless as my attacker jumped up and took flight. But after only three or four steps a quick-moving blur to my right tackled the form. To my surprise, I realized that the blur was Peter. This time the figure wasn’t able to toss aside its attacker, especially after Colin joined the fray.

Writhing in pain, the dark figure let loose a stream of obscenities that left me with no doubt as to its identity. Even before Peter ripped off the black ski mask, I already knew it would be David’s face underneath.

Colin and Peter managed to drag David back to the house, although it wasn’t an easy task. David is not only a big man, but he was also drunk, and the alcohol surging through his blood gave him added vigor. I ran back to where Megan lay; Bridget joined me a second later. Together, we gently carried her to the house. The fact I kept tripping on my slippers’ bunny ears didn’t help matters.

We lay Megan on the living room couch. She was terribly pale but, thankfully, conscious. The house was suddenly alive with activity. Julia, who had been visiting Avery, let out a small scream when she saw Megan. Hovering over her with anxious desperation, she knelt beside the couch, her face ashen, and gently cradled Megan’s battered head in the palms of her hands. Time seemed to slow for me and I realized that my earlier deduction had been right, after all. Megan was the key to all of this. It had been about her all along. It explained everything—the source of the mysterious thump, the key, and the note. The realization and its implications almost made me throw up.

In the distance, I heard sirens screaming toward the house, and for the first time since I’d arrived I hoped that they brought Detective Grant with them.

Peter and Colin shoved the struggling David into a chair and stood over him with the fireplace poker while Elsie ran to the kitchen for something to secure David with. Claire stared aghast at her husband, uttering only one anguished word: “Why?”

“Goddamn you, Claire, you stupid idiot, get me out of here. Tell these morons to let me go,” he screamed at her.

“Shut up, David,” Bridget said, her voice furious. “You can’t bully her anymore. We’ve got you. You’re done.” Elsie returned to the room and tossed a roll of duct tape to Colin.

“Sorry,” she said with an apologetic shrug, “it’s all I could find.”

“It’ll do,” Colin replied, and immediately knelt behind David and secured him roughly to his chair.

David struggled against the tightening bonds, all the while staring at us with wild eyes. “What are you talking about?” he sputtered.

Bridget looked at him with disgust. “What are we talking about?” she repeated sarcastically. “How about murder? You killed Roni. And now you tried to kill Megan! Why?”

David’s eyes widened in panic. “You think I killed Roni? I didn’t kill Roni!” Seeing our disbelieving expressions, he continued. “Okay, I... I took her necklace, yes, I admit it, but that’s all!” He shut his eyes, trying to pull a coherent narrative out of his alcohol-soaked brain. “She was already dead, don’t you see? She was dead and she owed me money. She promised me that money!” He looked wildly about for a sign that we either understood or believed him. He found none. “I went downstairs to make myself a drink. That’s when I found her dead and... I... took the necklace. I figured she owed me. But then Megan said she saw someone on the terrace. She said that I could make it right. I figured she meant the necklace! She wanted the necklace!”

I struggled to understand David’s rambling story. Looking over at Megan, I saw that she had revived enough to respond. With Julia pressing a large towel to her bleeding head, Megan whispered, “You’re crazy! I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“But you have to,” David pleaded. “You said that if I could figure out how to help you, you’d listen to me.”

“You’re crazy!”

I pressed my fingers against my eyes. Some of what David was saying did have a familiar ring to it. I tried to remember why. Then it came to me. After trying to pin Roni’s murder on Harry, David had told Megan that he was sorry for her mother’s death and asked her if there was anything he could do. Megan’s response echoed in my head. “Anything you can do? Just what do you think you can do, David? From what I’ve seen , you’ve done quite enough!”

I struggled to remember the rest of the conversation. David had pressed her, obviously trying to win her over. What had he said? “I know you’re upset. But I’d like to help.”

And then Megan had responded. “Help. Here’s an idea, David—how about you do the right thing? For once, why don’t you just do the right thing?”

On a certain level, it made sense, especially to someone as drunk as David. He had taken the necklace and then panicked when he thought that Megan had seen him on the terrace. His exchange with Megan had left him with the impression that she would keep her mouth shut about what she’d seen if he only gave her the necklace.

“You put the necklace in my bureau,” I said suddenly.

David glanced at me and nodded. “I thought it was Megan’s bureau. It was what she wanted me to do!”

“I didn’t want you to do anything! I don’t understand what you’re talking about!” Megan protested faintly, then fell back against the cushion as the effort caused a fresh spasm of pain. Julia gently stroked her cheek and tried to calm her.

“But you do!” countered David with a pathetic whine. “You have to!”

More of the puzzle fell into place. “You were in the hallway earlier, weren’t you, David?” I asked. “You heard me tell Megan that she had to go to the police. You were afraid that she was going to tell Detective Grant that it was you she saw that night on the terrace.”

David’s glance slid away from mine. “I didn’t kill Roni,” he said, his lips pulled into a petulant pout.

I heard the front door slam open and the sound of rapid footsteps. Detective Grant burst into the room and took in the scene before him, from Megan on the couch to David taped to a chair. Two paramedics rushed in behind him and immediately made their way to Megan. Within minutes, they had removed her from the room and were on their way to the hospital. Julia and Avery followed, anguish etched on both faces.

Detective Grant eyed David with abhorrence. “Enjoy attacking young girls, do you, Mr. Cook?”

“It’s not my fault,” David retorted. Turning a loathing eye on me, he said, “If you hadn’t found the necklace, none of this would have happened. She would have kept quiet if she’d had the necklace!”

Looking into his bleary, unfocused eyes, I realized that he was so drunk that basic logic was beyond his grasp. With a sob, Claire buried her head in her hands. “I can’t believe you did this, David. You tried to kill Megan! What kind of a monster are you?”

“Oh, shut up,” came his illogical reply. “She’s fine, isn’t she?”

A fresh burst of tears came from Claire and she looked away.

Detective Grant stepped forward. “David Cook, I’m arresting you for the murder of Roni Matthews and the attack on Megan Matthews.”

David thrashed wildly upon hearing these words. “I didn’t kill her!” he screamed. “I didn’t!” With a sudden burst of strength, he broke free of the tape. Grabbing the chair, he flung it at us. It caught Detective Grant square in the chest and he fell back with a crash. In a flash, David sprang out of the room, onto the terrace, and disappeared from sight.

Pulling himself to his feet, Detective Grant darted after him. The rest of us followed. As we reached the terrace, we saw Detective Grant round the corner of the house and head for the front lawn. I sprinted after them and had just reached the front steps when I saw David’s car charge down the driveway. Detective Grant ran for his car, yanking open the driver’s-side door. His ignition had roared to life when another, louder sound took its place—the sound of crunching metal. Running down the driveway, I saw the source. Wrapped around the base of one of the ancient magnolia trees that lined the stately drive was the shattered remains of David’s car.

Detective Grant got there first. He reached into the driver’s side of the wreck, and after a minute, pulled back. Seeing our expectant faces, he slowly shook his head.

Beside me, Claire moaned and covered her face. Detective Grant walked back to us.

“Is he dead?” Elsie asked in a strained whisper.

“I’m afraid so,” Detective Grant said.

Her face a mask of sadness, Elsie wrapped her arms around Claire. “I’m so sorry, Claire,” she murmured. Claire nodded mutely.

I looked at Detective Grant. I had to ask him the question, but at the same time I dreaded it. “What about Roni’s murder?” I said.

Detective Grant studied me thoughtfully. “Well... ”

Claire raised her tear-stained face from Elsie’s shoulder. “It was David, of course,” she said, after an uncertain glance in my direction. Turning to Detective Grant, she said, “They were having an affair, you know. David and Roni. But then Roni tried to double-cross him.” Her voice grew stronger as she continued her story. “She wanted Avery to sell the business so she could run off with yet another man. When David found out, he was furious. David has”—she squeezed her eyes shut—“had a terrible temper.”

“Claire—” I began, but she interrupted me.

“No, Elizabeth,” she said with a firm shake of her head. “David killed Roni. He tried to kill Megan, too. We all saw that. He’s a killer!”

Detective Grant’s cell phone rang and we all fell silent. “Yes, sir,” he said. “Well, sir, we may have made some progress, actually.” He glanced at Claire and she nodded. “I think we have our murderer,” he said.

Claire looked at me, her red-rimmed eyes pleading. “Please,” she said in a low whisper. “It’s all over now.”

I’m not sure how long after that Detective Grant left. Time seemed to take on a different quality for me. At times, it flew by in lighting-fast spurts; at others it dragged with maddening slowness. Like now.

It was well past midnight. Peter sat next to me on the terrace—the back, not the side. Idly, I wondered if I’d ever be able to sit in that area of the terrace again. Neither of us had spoken for what seemed a long while, but maybe that’s just because my perspective was so screwed up.

“So,” Peter finally said.

“So,” I agreed.

After a beat, I asked, “How did you happen to be here, anyway?”

“Colin and Bridget called and invited me over for a drink.” Suddenly, I understood their interest in getting me to join them as well.

“What are you going to do now?” Peter asked.

“I’ll stay for the funerals, and then I’m going to the Cape. I’ve got some vacation time I can use. This whole weekend has thrown me, I guess. A lot of things that I thought were solid, were unalterable facts, just got thrown out the window. I think I need some time to sort through everything.”

After a long silence, Peter said, “Well, I’m leaving next week for London. I’ll be gone for at least three months. When I come back, maybe we can get together or something... ” He trailed off.

Just don’t be engaged, I prayed. I wanted to tell him that I still wanted him to come to the Cape with me, but somehow the words wouldn’t come out. The fact of Chloe—the fact that he hadn’t told me about her—raised every red flag in my head. The awkward, fat girl inside me still had too strong a pull. I heard her familiar taunt of “Yeah, right, like he’s going to stick with you when he could have Chloe,” and stayed silent.

After another minute, Peter stood up to go.

Later in the day, Megan came home from the hospital. She’d suffered a slight concussion and needed a tremendous amount of stitches, but she was going to be all right. Julia and Avery sat with her; every once in a while one or the other would reach over to touch her as if to reassure themselves that she was really there. Harry stayed near them, an expression of calm on his drawn face as he watched Avery and Julia together. He’d had a rough couple of days, I thought. I hoped now that he would be able to find some peace.

Bridget and Colin had booked another flight to Bermuda. They were scheduled to leave immediately after the funerals and were obviously excited to finally start their honeymoon. Blythe and Graham both offered them last-minute advice, advice I could tell Bridget had every intention of ignoring.

Claire and Elsie sat in the two hearthside chairs. Between them a fire danced happily inside the grate. I noticed that while they spoke very little, there seemed to be a quiet understanding between them that I couldn’t ever remember having seen before.

I leaned back in my chair. So was this it, then? Roni is killed and David is posthumously judged to be the murderer and the Matthewses experience some peace. I looked around wondering how long it would be before Elsie returned to dictating everyone’s lives and they were all grumbling in frustrated protest. For now, though, they were a family unit once again—and for me, that would have to be enough.

Roni’s funeral was held the next day. It was a subdued affair, just as Avery wanted. David was buried the day after. By Claire’s request, it was also a quiet remembrance. Detective Grant attended both funerals. At each, he nodded gravely at me but said nothing.

The next day, I packed to leave for the Cape. Bridget and Colin had left early that morning. All that was left was for me to say good-bye to the rest of the family. Standing in the driveway, Blythe and Graham said good-bye, making me promise to come and visit them again very soon. Elsie’s good-bye was more meaningful. Giving me a long hug, she said, “Thanks again for everything, kiddo. You were amazing.” After searching my face carefully, she said, “You gave us back our family. And for that I can never thank you enough.”

I nodded, unsure what to say. Claire stepped forward next. She wasn’t wearing a headband and her bangs were pushed over to one side. It was a tiny change, but I hoped it was the first of many. Pulling me into a tight embrace, she said, “Thanks, Elizabeth. Thanks for everything. We’ll be fine now.”

Megan, Julia, and Avery were next. I was relieved to see that Megan seemed to be handling the traumatic events of the last few days quite well. I suspected that Julia’s calming influence and professional expertise had much to do with that.

Harry was last to say good-bye. Grabbing my hand with a flourish, he said, “Ah, Elizabeth, parting is such sweet sorrow.”

Giving him a level look, I said, “And a rose by any other word would smell as sweet.”

Confusion crossed his face. “Don’t you mean, ‘A rose by any other name ’?”

“No.”

Something in his expression changed. “You always were smarter than me.”

Before I could answer, he pulled me close. Wrapping his arms around me, he whispered into my ear, “Thank you, Elizabeth. Thank you... well, for everything. I’ve always known you were special, but I don’t think I knew exactly how special until this weekend. I missed my chance with you. Don’t make the same mistake and miss your chance with Peter.”

“Good-bye, Harry,” I said, turning away before I started to cry.

He leaned forward and placed a chaste kiss on my forehead. There was nothing else to be said. I got into my car and headed for the Cape.