The Marriage at the Rue Morgue (A Rue and Lakeland Mystery) (27 page)

“Thank you, Rick. I will.”

I flipped my phone shut and looked around at the assembled family. Margie rushed in with tissues to dab around my eyes and absorb the tears that still threatened to run down my face and spoil my makeup. “There’s room at the inn!” I blurted out. I tried to explain more, but nothing I said made any sense, and Margie finally took away my phone and steered me to the kitchen door. Outside, she whistled sharply with two fingers, and Bryce materialized to take Nana’s arm and lead her away toward the flower garden.

Across the way, standing outside the garden, I saw Lance and the minister arranged at the end of an aisle of roses. The space was made for ceremonies, though we all speculated that the ceremonies in question were funerals, rather than weddings. A separate part of my mind, one that refused to focus on marriage, wondered whether we could hold a memorial for Art here, then nixed the idea because we would need to hold it at the sanctuary.

The rest of me seemed to be operating without that one part of my brain, which began compiling a list of people we still hadn’t called to tell about Art. I was sure Rick would take care of the people from Art’s personal life and the department secretary would cover the university. But that still left a huge number of professional contacts that Lance and I would be responsible for getting in touch with. And we needed to do it right away. Although Lance and I hadn’t discussed it, I thought we would have to delay our trip to Ecuador until the center’s future was more certain. Especially with a new enclosure.

A new enclosure. Art! No wonder he had been so secretive about the orangutans. That final piece fell into place for me, now that I was certain about his and Stan’s “big reveal.” No wonder he had delayed their delivery. If he thought they were safe, in good hands, and would soon have a place at his primate sanctuary, then Art would have taken the risk of leaving them where they were.

More than that, he would have gone down to the enclosure as soon as possible to get it ready for their arrival yesterday. He didn’t go out front at all. He went around to the side and probably tramped up around the mall. I wondered where the new enclosure was located.

“Noel?”

We were at the top of the garden, and my father was offering me his arm. Forty years old and my father was walking me down the aisle and “giving me away” to the man I’d been living with for a decade. As Dad and I linked arms, another part of my brain splintered off to wonder about marriage customs and rose garden weddings.

I barely saw my nieces start in with their mismatched groomsman partners, only had a few moments to feel guilty because I hadn’t said so much as hello to those groomsmen, who had come a long way especially for this ceremony. But Bryce and Poppy started off at a fast walk and the others followed quickly. Long before I had collected my scattered thoughts, the music changed and Dad tugged my arm gently.

Quickly, I leaned over to peck him on the cheek. “Thank you for the flowers,” I whispered. “They’re lovely.”

I could see the tents a few feet away, next to the rose garden. Those roses that weren’t lining my aisle filled yesterday’s hastily purchased centerpiece vases under the tent’s white canopy. Simple and old-fashioned, they suited the wedding the way Nana’s dress suited me.

“Are you ready?” he asked.

I nodded. But really, my mind was still scattered over half the countryside, planning a memorial service, mentally apologizing to the groomsmen for being out of touch, and wondering how brides in India balanced the amount of gold their families often loaded upon them by way of bridal attire.

As Dad and I started forward, I took mental note of my own ceremonial clothing. The dress was both old and borrowed, so that covered two old superstitions. My shoes were painfully new and already rubbing a raw spot on my heel to chastise me for failing to break them in ahead of time. And after she had finished braiding my hair, Margie had presented me with a pair of delicate sapphire earrings. I had feared I wouldn’t be able to get them through my holes, since I only wear earrings on occasion. It’s not wise to give primates anything shiny and inviting to snag, especially not something attached to your body. But my piercings had ultimately yielded to poking and opened enough to allow me something blue.

My father kissed my cheek and looped my arm through Lance’s as the minister said, “Dearly Beloved.”

Lance whispered, “Your dress is extraordinary. I shall remember to trust your mother on all such decisions in the future.”

“You mean you’ll let her pick your next wife’s dress?” I asked him
sotto voce.

“I mean I won’t complain when she decides to outfit you when we renew our vows every year from now until eternity.”

I tried to refocus and concentrate on the wedding, but my distraction level only elevated. To my left, Bryce fidgeted in his tuxedo, then reached around to scratch his butt in front of everyone. Poppy saw it and started to snicker. I knew Marguerite must be squirming.
Sorry, Margie,
I thought at her.
I’m with Poppy. At least he’s scratching the back and not the front.

We had planned an extremely short wedding, with most of the evening to be devoted to the reception. Lance and I were much more invested in celebration than ceremony. Before I knew it, the minister indicated that we should face each other and exchange vows. He handed me Lance’s ring and said, “Repeat after me.”

I did so, but I didn’t even really know what I was saying. My voice was on autopilot while my eyes studied my parents’ street. Beyond the rows of parked vehicles, a sleek black car turned down the lane. It was hard to tell from a distance, but it
looked
like Stan Oeschle’s car.

Then I slid the ring on Lance’s finger and Lance repeated the same set of motions, unaware that bad news was driving our way behind his back. Because it
was
Stan’s car. It crept between the lines of parked cars, its driver significantly less deft than Deputy Greene. Gert Oeschle should have been with her husband at the hospital. If she wasn’t, he was dead. Simple. And if she was at the hospital, then who was driving her car? Natasha? She should be at the hospital, too. Bad news either way.

As the car finally pulled off the street and added itself to the lines in the opposite lawn, the minister said, “I now pronounce you husband and wife.” Then Lance’s face filled my vision, and he kissed me. It was a kiss like the one he had delivered yesterday morning at the sanctuary. His lips pulled at my schismed mind, uniting me in a way the whole ceremony had not done.

He swept me backwards, and I leaned into his arm, and we kissed and kissed again. I heard nervous titters from the audience, and Poppy’s snicker progressed into a laugh. I suspected most of them believed a middle-aged couple like us should restrain ourselves to a less ostentatious display. If Margie had been squirming before, she must be writhing now. Her own wedding kiss had been a chaste peck, which was appropriate for a couple who had put a chess king and queen on their wedding cake. But my old-fashioned dress didn’t indicate an old-fashioned attitude about romance. Finally, I righted myself, and Lance helped me regain my balance. If I had retained doubts about getting married, that kiss would have eradicated them.

I pulled him close to me, and we held each other a while longer. While I breathed in the warm smell of his cologne, the laughter faded in the audience. “Honey,” I breathed into his neck, “Art built the enclosure.”

“What?”

“I talked to Rick right before I came out. That’s what he’s been trying to call to tell us. That hasn’t all been mall construction we’ve been hearing.”

“We were right? Are you telling me we have a place to put these orangutans?”

“Rick’s words exactly. He’s already talked to Christian.”

Lance pulled back and kissed me again, even less chastely than before, if that was possible. He laughed out loud and turned to face outward with one arm around me. “That’s the best news I could have imagined,” he said.

Gert or whoever had driven her car did not appear in the field. Someone who had heard Lance whispered to her neighbor, “Is she pregnant? At her age?”

I withheld my own laughter. Considering Lucy, I thought,
No, but pretty soon, with any luck, I’ll be finding out whether it’s a girl or a boy.

I scanned the yard. I could see the car, but I couldn’t tell if anyone had gotten out of it. So the person was either sitting there doing nothing or else already out and walking over, hidden by the house. On an impulse, I cleared my throat. The groomsmen and bridesmaids, who were supposed to fall in behind Lance and me for the recessional, all stepped back. I scanned the audience, then made eye contact with my sister. “Marguerite, could you come here a minute?”

She eyed me skeptically, but bound by the tradition of obeying the bride’s wishes (as long as the bride wasn’t delaying her own wedding), she joined us. I turned her around to face everyone and looped our arms together.

“First of all, I wanted to apologize for making you all wait so long,” I began. “I’m sure you have heard what a stressful couple of days we’ve had.” I felt Marguerite’s shoulders tense. This was beginning to sound like a speech, and speeches were supposed to be saved for the reception. I squeezed her gently. “I know it’s getting late, and some of you will have to go before dark.” Margie relaxed. If I was doing this for the benefit of the older generation, then she could understand it completely. Whatever it was.

“I won’t go into the particulars,” I said, “But I will say this. You may have heard that an orangutan was abandoned at the primate sanctuary where Lance and I work. It was actually a
pair
of orangutans. Before we got here today, Lance and I participated in the safe capture of one of those animals. And a few minutes ago, I learned that we have an enclosure suitable for housing them.” The audience made appropriate sounds. These were our friends and family, after all. They knew how dear we held the sanctuary. Some of them were volunteers. Trudy and Darnell would have been in their number if they hadn’t been taking care of the apes now.

I heard an old woman’s voice say, “That explains what was happening at the Grocery to Go today.”

“Because we have been so distracted,” I continued, “not only yesterday and today, but ever since we got engaged really, other people have had to do most of the work for this wedding. A lot of professionals have put their effort into things like the food and the cake. Mama and Nana sewed my gown. You’ll see Daddy’s flowers in the middle of your tables under the tents.” Marguerite had figured out where I was going, and she had started wiggling, trying to escape to one side. I clutched her elbow with my own and held her still.

“But the vast majority of the work to make this ceremony a success came from the woman standing with me. Margie, you were working from Cleveland with almost no idea what I really wanted, and you made everything perfect. Thank you.”

I let go, and Marguerite turned to face me. “Thank
you,
” she said. And when she didn’t say anything else, I realized she was about to cry.

Beyond her, beyond the house, the door of the familiar black car finally opened, and Gert Oeschle got out. Bad news, then. Surely the worst.

I pulled Margie in between Lance and me. We all hooked arms, then walked down the aisle together.

At the end of the aisle, I stood aside and let the rest of the wedding party stream past us. Then I tugged Lance and Marguerite around the edges and back around to the front, where we needed to pose for a few pictures. Lance and I had stressed that we only wanted to take a few formal shots. Mostly, we wanted informal photographs to commemorate our marriage.

“Do you see her?” I asked Marguerite, pointing to Gert’s lurching body. By the way she was walking, this was hitting her very hard, and I wasn’t at all sure she should be driving. I briefly explained the situation to my sister. “Can you do me a favor?”

“Yeah,” she said. She knew what I wanted.

“Come over for two family photos, then catch Gert up and get her settled somewhere. See who is taking care of her granddaughter.” Surely even a teenager needed someone for the death of a grandparent. “Find out who can come get Gert. If she wants to come over to the reception and cry her eyes out, it’s fine with me, but don’t let her go driving off again in that state. I don’t know how she got parked without hitting anybody, and I don’t want her to get herself killed getting out again.”

We all hurried up front to pose. A woman in a wine-red dress lingered in the audience, as did a dark-haired girl who looked around Rachel’s age. The red dress likely belonged to Xian’s wife (when had he gotten married? How did I know that? Was she a girlfriend? Friend? No, I was pretty sure they were married). And the young woman was almost certainly Lisa. It was unlikely they knew another living soul here. They were planning to sit through the photos so they could go in with their dates.

Marguerite might have the market on long-term planning cornered, but I can roll with almost any developing situation and adapt quickly. I scanned the exiting guests and spotted Chesley’s wife, Annie. Ches was a grad school buddy, one who we stayed in closer touch with than Xian, who now lived in New York. Annie knew all of our school friends and had plenty of people to sit with. I waved a little and caught Annie’s eye.

“Stay a minute for pictures?” I called out.

“Sure!” she called back to me. Then she said something to the three women she was with, who I belatedly realized were my own dear friends Hannah, Mina, and Jan, and they headed into the tent without her.

“Lance, get your brother.”

Lance asked, “Are you sure?”

“I thought you weren’t taking many pictures,” Marguerite said.

“I’m not,” I told her. I nodded to Lance. “I realized I want to do one with the wedding party, one with family, and one with spouses and partners.”

Behind me, Rachel made a strangled sound, sort of a cross between a gasp and a laugh.

To my right, Margie said, “Oh Noel, why do you have to
encourage
this. High school kids are still in that uncertain stage. This could all go away next month for all we know.”