An Anniversary to Die For (2 page)

“What?”

“I wondered why everyone was rushing to the back of the inn.”

“To see the Markses. They’ve been standing under that huge elm tree in the middle of the deck ever since they arrived. It’s almost as though they’re in a second receiving line.”

Susan nodded. “Jed and I didn’t have much of a chance to talk to them. They came early. In fact, a lot of our guests arrived just as the party began.”

Kathleen nodded. “This is a great place, but if you don’t arrive early, parking can be difficult.”

But Susan wasn’t interested in parking problems. “So I spend months and months arranging this party, and my guests are more interested in the Markses than in the Henshaws.”

“Well, Susan, it isn’t every day that you get to rub shoulders at the very same time with a woman who was just acquitted of attempted murder as well as with the man whom she supposedly tried to kill,” Kathleen continued. “And it doesn’t help that this is their very first public appearance since Ashley’s trial ended.”

TWO

^“
SUSAN, YOUR MOTHER’S LOOKING FOR YOU.”

“Thanks, Deb. Did she say what she needed?”

“Susan, your son just told the funniest story. . . .”

“I hope it was clean.”

“Wonderful party, Susan—as always.”

“Thanks, Ben.”

“Thirty years, Susan! Amazing!”

“I guess I have more stamina than anyone gave me credit for.” Susan smiled to show she was joking and continued through the crowd toward the elm tree. She wanted to see for herself what Kathleen had described as the Markses’ receiving line.

The Landing Inn, like many early Connecticut landmarks, was located on a river, and a large, multilevel deck extended from the back wall of the colonial building out over the rushing water. A half dozen trees grew up through holes in the decking, and Doug and Ashley were standing underneath the largest elm. Susan wondered if either of them knew it was known as the hanging tree. According to legend, a man had been hung from one of its strong branches after being convicted of murdering his wife. If they knew the story, it wasn’t bothering them. Ashley was smiling and chatting with one of Susan’s neighbors.

Susan, moving closer, heard Ashley’s signature phrase. “Well, I have to tell you . . .”

Ashley, Susan reflected, always had to tell someone something—frequently something no one wanted to hear. This time, apparently, Ashley was talking about herself. Susan, along with many people nearby, moved just a bit closer.

“From the very first, our lawyer assured me I’d be freed. He says the police department in Hancock should be sued for conducting such a sloppy investigation. Of course I knew I was completely innocent, so I didn’t worry. Not while I was in jail, at least. But just last night I woke up around three A.M. absolutely terrified.”

“Why?” The question was asked in a breathless voice.

“Because of what our lawyer said. Are we safe in our beds if our police department is completely incompetent? I mean, really!”

Whether the general murmuring that followed could be taken as general assent was arguable, but Susan spied someone on the edge of the group who certainly would not agree with what Ashley was saying. She walked over to Hancock’s handsome chief of police with her arms stretched out. “Brett, I didn’t see you come in!”

“That’s because I just got here a few minutes ago. We got lost on the way here,” Brett Fortesque explained, kissing Susan on the cheek. “Jed said you were upstairs primping—and I must say, whatever you did worked. You look wonderful. If you weren’t married already, I’d ask for your hand myself.”

“Wouldn’t Erika have something to say about that?” Brett had recently married Erika Deakin, an event that had thrilled all their friends.

“Only if she found out—which she’s not likely to do this week. She’s been working late in the city each night, and what with the trial keeping me busy, we haven’t been seeing very much of each other.”

Susan glanced over at the Markses. “I guess the results of the trial didn’t make you very happy,” she said quietly.

“Actually, I wasn’t surprised. I didn’t think there was a case there. Not that that makes me happy. Someone poisoned Doug Marks, and just because he didn’t die . . .” Brett stopped midsentence, and Susan realized he was looking over her shoulder at something. She turned and found herself face-to-face with the man they had been talking about. Doug Marks looked furious, his face so red that Susan wondered if he was in danger of having a heart attack or a stroke. She opened her mouth, realized she had no idea what to say, and shut it again.

“Don’t worry, Susan. This is your party, and I certainly wouldn’t ruin it by punching out this bastard in front of your guests.”

“Doug, I—”

“Not that I wouldn’t like to. How anyone could possibly think that my wife would want to kill me . . .”

Susan tried again. “Doug, I—”

But this time Brett interrupted her. “Mr. Marks, as you say, this is Susan and Jed’s moment. If you have anything to say to me, perhaps we should find someplace more private.”

“I wouldn’t even consider going off with you to someplace more private. In fact, until you find the person who is trying to kill me, I will not leave my wife’s side.” This last was said loudly enough to draw the attention of most of the people around them, and for a few minutes it was quiet enough to hear the river rushing over the rocks below. Then everyone jumped back into the conversation at the same time. Doug glared at Brett, actually spun on his heel, and stomped off.

Brett watched him go, then turned his attention to Susan, a concerned expression on his face. “I’m so sorry. Perhaps I shouldn’t have come.”

“Don’t be silly,” she answered, suddenly annoyed with the entire situation. “You and Erika have been our good friends for years. Doug and Ashley must have known you’d be here. If they were uncomfortable about meeting you under these circumstances, they could have stayed at home.” Susan smiled at her guests and moved toward a quiet corner of the deck. Brett followed, picking two glasses of champagne off a waiter’s tray on the way.

“I had to invite them—after all, they’re our next-door neighbors—but I never thought they’d actually be here,” Susan continued, accepting one of the glasses he carried. “Frankly, I was surprised the trial ended so quickly.”

“Don’t tell anyone I said so, but our new DA really screwed this one up,” Brett said. “He built the case against Ashley Marks on conjecture and wishful thinking. It was a kindness that Judge Hill didn’t throw it out on the first day in court.”

“Does that mean you’re going to start the investigation again?”

“It never stopped completely. But that’s not something we want everyone to know.” Brett glanced around, and Susan wondered briefly who among her guests he suspected of attempted murder. “But let’s change the subject. If Erika finds me talking business to you at this party, she’ll kill me. You and I can talk tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow! But I—”

“There you are, Brett. Hogging the hostess.” Erika appeared at her husband’s side, a big smile on her face. “Susan, you look wonderful. I love that dress.”

“Erika, I’m so glad you’re here. Here.” Susan plucked the untouched glass of champagne from Brett’s grasp and handed it over to his bride. “And I love your outfit,” she added. “As always.”

Erika was wearing a slim olive green silk sheath with crystals portraying a burst of fireworks edging up the left side. “Thanks. I bought it in Paris.”

“And I win the award for sensitive husband for going shopping with my wife on our honeymoon,” Brett said, slipping his arm around Erika’s shoulder.

“He came into the store for about three minutes, then headed for the nearest bistro, where he drank wine and chatted up the waitresses,” Erika explained, hugging him back.

“Untrue. I drank café au lait and accepted condolences from waiters who were well aware of my wife’s occupation.”

“You two really sound like an old married couple,” Susan said.

“In fact, it’s our anniversary, too,” Erika said. “We were married one month ago today.”

“That deserves a toast.” Susan lifted her glass to the couple. “Much as I’d like to talk, I think I’d better circulate.”

“Tomorrow—” Brett began.

“That’s what I started to tell you. Jed and I are spending the night here at the inn,” Susan explained. “We won’t be home until late.”

“Don’t worry. I won’t come over without calling. Well, look who’s coming. I didn’t know the Hallards were in town.”

“We wouldn’t miss this party for the world. Hello, Susan.” Dan Hallard folded her in a warm bear hug. “My gorgeous wife is around here somewhere. I think she wanted to get the latest dirt on the couple who bought our house.”

Dan and Martha Hallard had lived next door to the Henshaws for decades. Dan, a doctor, had delivered Susan’s second child. They’d moved to Arizona over a year ago, and Susan hadn’t seen them since they left. Indirectly, Susan realized, they had caused this commotion at her party: If the Hallards had stayed in Hancock, they wouldn’t have sold their home to the Markses. And then Ashley—or whoever—would have poisoned Doug in another location.

But Dan, never a man one would describe as pithy, was still speaking. “. . . can’t tell you I was surprised when I heard. The man struck me as a Milquetoast when we met. He didn’t even bargain over the price of the house.”

Susan nodded. “I remember Martha telling me about that.”

“How are they as neighbors?”

The first word that popped into Susan’s head was
annoying
. But she had been well brought up. “They’re fine. But we miss you all so much,” she added quickly.

Dan Hallard hadn’t spent over thirty years treating women without learning how to recognize a polite lie— and how to respond. “Really? I was afraid Ashley Marks would be a real pain in the ass. In fact, the very first thing Martha and I said when we read about her arrest was that she had struck us more like a victim than a murderer. We thought she might be one of those people who seem to go through life collecting enemies.”

“You read about the case in a paper in Arizona?” Brett asked.

“We keep up our subscription to the
Hancock Herald
. It arrives a few days late, but we read it from cover to cover.”

“Dan, it almost sounds as though you’re homesick,” Susan said, glad to find an opportunity to change the subject.

“We miss good friends like you and Jed, but we don’t miss shoveling snow seven months of the year. In fact, my dear, I’ve played golf every single week since we left Connecticut.”

“Sounds good to me,” Jed said, joining the group.

“Why don’t you come on out for a visit one of these days? You and Susan have an open invitation.”

“Maybe we will,” Jed answered. “But right now—”

“We should circulate,” Susan finished his sentence.

“No, we should go stand in front of the fireplace. There’s going to be a toast, remember?”

“Not until it’s time for dinner,” Susan protested. “Jed, you know that! We must have gone over the schedule at least a dozen times.”

“Didn’t I buy you a very expensive antique Rolex for your birthday a few years ago?”

“Yes, and I love it.”

“So why aren’t you wearing it?”

“Well, the dress is silver and the watch is gold, and I wanted to wear the diamond bracelet you gave me this year and it’s set in platinum, so . . . What time is it?” Susan asked, suddenly realizing why her husband was paying an unusual amount of attention to her wardrobe.

“Eight-ten.”

“Why didn’t you tell me? We’re ten minutes behind schedule!”

“I just told you.”

“Jed, we don’t have time to stand around talking. We’re late!” Susan grabbed her husband’s hand and pulled him away.

Her mother was waiting for them by the fireplace, Susan having made the mistake of reviewing the schedule with all the members of her family. “Susan, the kitchen staff is waiting to lay out the meal. . . .”

“I know, Mother. We’re—”

“And I must say your choice of appetizers was very nice, but just a bit rich, don’t you think, dear?”

Susan decided this was no time to discuss diet. “Where is Jerry? He’s supposed to be here to give the toast.”

“I’m right behind you.” Jerry Gordon, Kathleen’s husband and Jed’s best friend, tapped Susan on the shoulder.

“And . . . ?”

“And the waiters have made sure everyone has a full glass of champagne. Here’s a glass for Jed. Now put smiles on your faces and prepare to graciously accept numerous compliments.” Jerry grabbed a large copper cowbell from over the fireplace and shook it energetically. All those guests who didn’t spill their drinks when startled by the resulting clanking were now ready to toast the happy couple.

Susan had no memory of much of her wedding service. All she actually remembered was looking over the minister’s shoulder at the large bouquet of summer flowers on the church organ. Now, as Jerry spoke, she found her attention wandering around the room to the smiling crowd. But not everyone was smiling.

The Twigg sisters were standing at the top of the stairs, almost identical scowls on their faces. But they weren’t guests; they had many responsibilities, Susan reminded herself, hoping nothing disastrous had happened in the kitchen.

Alvena and Constance Twigg owned the Landing Inn. It had been in their family for decades, and Susan remembered Alvena from their first visit to the inn thirty years ago. It had been Alvena who had guided them to their room and who had, unnecessarily, Susan thought, shown them around, turning back the bedspread and explaining how the plumbing worked. Alvena had been younger then, of course, but her long hair was still the same flaming shade of red. As Susan watched, Alvena whispered something to her sister and began to giggle, and Constance merely smiled. Susan decided all was well and turned her attention back to Jerry’s speech.

Jerry’s audience had erupted into laughter. Susan smiled, hoping he had said nothing to embarrass her, and applauded along with the group. Perhaps she’d better listen more carefully. She didn’t want to miss the toast. Her timing was perfect. Jerry paused, took a deep breath, and held his glass up in the air.