Wed and Buried by Mary Daheim

Author:Mary Daheim [Mary Daheim]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780061755576
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2007-03-24T16:00:00+00:00

Saturday morning, Joe left for work while Judith was serving breakfast to her guests. Ordinarily, he would have been out of the house for at least half an hour before the eight-thirty dining room call. But this was a weekend, and Joe wasn’t inclined to push himself.

Neither he nor Judith had heard any news from their respective lookouts. Consequently, Judith had to assume that de Tourville and Tara hadn’t returned.

After her guests had left for the day, Judith felt at loose ends. She didn’t dare pester Renie, in case her cousin was still working. It was still drizzling, which meant working in the yard was off-limits. Trying to track down the lost lavender dress after nearly a week seemed hopeless. Checking in with the Rundbergs about the wedding bills was daunting. Aside from the usual cleanup, Judith had nothing to do. She wandered around the long living room, pausing to put in a couple of jigsaw puzzle pieces.

Her eye strayed to the chunky envelope that held Mike and Kristin’s wedding proofs. Maybe she should check some of her favorites now, before the honeymooners returned on Tuesday. Judith carried the packet over to one of the matching sofas and sat down.

There were at least two dozen photos that she felt she must keep. Some were at the rehearsal dinner, several were at the church, and most came from the reception. Judith smiled fondly at the shot of her son and his bride as they toasted each other over the family dining room table.

On a faintly wicked whim, she dialed Morris Mitchell’s number. To her surprise, the photographer himself answered.

“My weekend receptionist’s sick,” he said tersely. “She gets sick every time it rains. She should never have moved here from California.”

Briefly, Judith commiserated. “Say, Morris, could you send the bill to Kristin’s parents? They’re paying, and it seems silly that it should have to be forwarded through me.”

“You signed for it,” Morris pointed out, not unreasonably.

“Of course I did,” Judith agreed. “But it’s such a nuisance, and this way, you’ll get your money sooner. I’ll give you their address.”

After the photographer had taken down the address of the Rundberg wheat ranch, Judith posed a question. “On the night of the rehearsal dinner, did you see anything unusual on the roof of the Belmont Hotel?”

“The Belmont Hotel?” Morris echoed, sounding surprised. “Is that what’s next to the Naples? Hunh. Let me think. Why do you ask?”

Judith swallowed hard before offering her candid explanation. “Please don’t think I’m crazy, Morris, but the night of the rehearsal dinner, I saw Tara Novotny and Harley Davidson on the Belmont roof. Some people—such as my husband—don’t believe me. But they were there, still wearing their bridal gear from Mr. Artemis’s fashion show at I. Magnifique.”

“No kidding.” To Judith’s relief, Morris didn’t sound surprised. “And not long after that, Harley gets whacked in Mr. Artemis’s tux. You didn’t see that, did you?” The photographer seemed amused.

“No,” Judith admitted. “Did you see them?”

“Afraid not. I must have been shooting away from the windows.

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