An Anniversary to Die For Page 2

  “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 A
lvena 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.

  “And, so I ask you all to raise your glasses and join me in congratulating the happiest married couple I know: Susan and Jed Henshaw.”

  Susan clinked glasses with Jed and Jerry, then sipped. There was a happy buzz in the room until someone cried out loudly.

  “Oh, my God, I’ve been poisoned!”

  THREE

  “JUST KIDDING.” DOUGLAS MARKS DIDN’T SPEAK LOUDLY, but his words were easy to hear in the now silent room.

  Susan, who had gasped along with most of her guests, found herself speechless.

  Fortunately, Jerry had no such affliction. “Good joke, Doug,” he called out. “Now back to that toast. To Susan and Jed—a couple who deserves more than one toast if anyone does.”

  “Jed and Susan. Jed and Susan.”

  Susan knew she didn’t imagine the relief in her guests’ voices now that things were back on schedule. She could have killed Doug Marks all by herself—she might just do that, in fact—but now it was time for dinner, and she was the hostess. “There’s a buffet laid out right down those stairs.” She pointed as she spoke. “And the band will be starting up in about an hour for anyone who is interested in dancing. And—”

  “And have a good time and thanks for coming, everyone. Now I don’t know about the etiquette in these things, but I think my good wife and I should get our dinner first. After all, we’ve been standing in the lobby greeting everyone while you all sucked up the best appetizers.” Jed pulled Susan away as their guests chuckled at his words. She smiled vaguely and followed him to the food.

  Kathleen grabbed her arm as they passed by. “The Markses are leaving. I was standing right behind them when Doug made that stupid joke, and I heard Ashley say that she just ‘couldn’t take any more.’ ”

  “She couldn’t take any more. . . .”

  “I know, Susan, and I can imagine how you feel; but they are leaving. This is a great party. Don’t let one stupid joke ruin it for you or your guests.”

  “You’re right. But when I get home tomorrow night the first thing I’m going to do is order a big fence put up between the Markses’ house and ours.”

  “I’m the new head of the zoning board, and I’ll make sure your request for a variance is approved immediately,” one of Susan’s friends offered as she walked by.

  “See, these are your friends. They all want you and Jed to have a sensational party,” Kathleen reminded her.

  “I know. And you know what? We really did miss most of the appetizers; I’m starving.”

  “Then let’s fill those plates, find the perfect table, and dig in,” Jed suggested enthusiastically.

  “Good idea,” Jerry agreed.

  “I married a genius,” Susan said.

  “And I married the most beautiful woman in this room.”

  Susan, deciding that this wasn’t the time to comment on Jed’s ability to lie convincingly, accepted the large dinner plate she was offered by an attentive waiter.

  Filling that plate with fabulous food kept her busy for the next ten minutes, and by the time the two couples were seated at a table with room for both of Susan’s parents as well as Jed’s mother and her date, the atmosphere in the inn had regained its festive air.

  “Nothing like an unlimited amount of champagne,” Susan’s father said, draining his flute.

  “Well, I can’t imagine what that awful man was thinking. Imagine making a joke like that,” Susan’s mother said, shaking her head at a waiter standing behind her husband with an open bottle, ready to refill his glass.

  “The man is an idiot,” Susan’s father said shortly, looking back over his shoulder and countermanding his wife’s orders. “Someone said he and that murdering wife of his had left the party. I sure hope that’s true.” He took a sip from his newly filled flute.

  “Well, I must agree with that,” Susan’s mother admitted.

  Kathleen jumped into the conversation. “I love your suit.”

  Kathleen had volunteered to make sure Susan’s parents had a nice time at the party, and Susan knew that she could depend on her to do just that. She turned her attention to Claire’s date. “I don’t believe we’ve met,” Susan said, realizing as the words came out of her mouth that her statement was not true. How could she have forgotten.

  “Kernel Jack. At your service, Mrs. Henshaw.” The grin on Jack Stokes’s face probably meant he was enjoying this lapse in Susan’s memory.

  “Of course. Just one of those . . . uh, senior moments,” she stammered, reaching for her glass. How could she ever have forgotten this man? A self-made multimillionaire, Jack had started out in corn—“just spell Kernel with a K, you sweet thing”—moved into real estate, and ended up in oil. He had told the story at least three times during dinner last Thanksgiving. Susan had fled into the kitchen, preferring cleaning up to listening to this bore. “It’s nice to see you again. And such a . . . a surprise.”

  “You didn’t think I’d forget your kind invitation last November now, did you?”

  “My invitation?”

  “Yes, Susan,” Claire said. “You remember how we were all talking after dinner, and you said you had talked Jed into agreeing to give this party. And when Jack said he’d never known anyone married for thirty years . . .”

  “To the same person, Claire honey. I said I’d never known anyone married to the same person for thirty years. I’ve known people to be married for forever, but not to the same person. Most of my friends are more interested in . . . ah . . . variety.”

  “When Jack was talking about that you . . . or Jed . . . said he must come to your party next summer. Don’t you remember?”

  It was a party, so Susan didn’t blurt out the truth: that any invitation to this man would have been issued out of politeness, not from any true desire to have him here tonight—and any semisensitive person would have realized that. And she certainly had not sent him an invitation. But she had excellent manners. “I’m just glad you could make it.” She smiled at Kernel Jack.

  “Wouldn’t have missed your party for the world.”

  “I thought you were here to see me,” Claire jumped in.

  “Why, honey, I’m not here just to see you. I’m courting. Never go to a wedding or an anniversary party with someone you’re not courting. That’s my motto.”

  Susan looked up from her foie gras, noted the embarrassed expression on Claire’s face, and smiled. Could her strong-willed, independent mother-in-law have met her match here? She started to speak when a familiar arm slipped around her shoulder.

  “Great party, Mom! I haven’t seen most of these people since my wedding.”

  Susan smiled up at her daughter. Chrissy, always a gorgeous young woman, was glowing. “You could come home more often, you know.”

  “I know, but I’m so busy at the gallery six days a week, and I don’t want to miss my evening classes. And Stephen studies all the time. He thinks he’ll be able to get his MBA a semester early. He’s already getting job offers.”

  “Chrissy, that’s wonderful! Are any of them in New York?”

  Her daughter laughed. “Oh, Mother. You never give up, do you? We’ll talk tomorrow. I have lots of news.” And, gracefully, Chrissy floated away, waving to an acquaintance somewhere else in the room.

  Susan looked over at her husband. “Has anyone
seen Chad?”

  “Yes, he was standing by the bar set up on the deck. I don’t think he was as interested in the alcohol as in the attractive young woman tending bar,” Jed added quickly.

  “Ah, to be young and single,” Jerry said. “Susan, this food is sensational. How come you never told us about this place?”

  “To tell the truth, we hadn’t been here for thirty years. I don’t know why,” Jed answered for his wife.

  “I suppose we spend so much time at the Hancock Inn that we don’t search out other inns.” Susan turned to her husband. “Did you see Charles during the toast?” she asked, referring to the owner of the Hancock Inn.

  “Yes, he looked like he was having a sensational time. He’s with one of the best-looking women in the room.”

  “She’s beautiful. I didn’t catch her name when he introduced us, but she looks familiar.”

  “She works for him. She’s probably served us a hundred times and we didn’t even notice her.”

  “Just shows what a low-cut dress will do for you.”

  “Guess so. Uh-oh, it looks like Constance Twigg is heading over here. I hope nothing’s wrong.”

  But Constance had a smile on her face. “Mr. and Mrs. Henshaw, I don’t mean to interrupt your evening, but I wanted to make absolutely sure everything is to your satisfaction.”

  “Everything is a lot better than satisfactory,” Jed answered. “Everything is wonderful. I don’t know about our guests, but I’m having a sensational time.”

  “A man should enjoy his second honeymoon,” Constance Twigg said and then blushed.

  From behind her came a twitter. Alvena peered around her sister, eyebrows raised above pale blue eyes, a blush on her wrinkled face. “Oh, Constance, the things you say.”

  Constance stood up even straighter. “Don’t be silly, Alvena. I was speaking of the party, of course.”

  Jed stood up and took the situation in hand. “In fact, I’m having a wonderful time. The food is delicious, and the inn is beautiful.”

  “Oh, well then you can just write that very thing on our guest satisfaction survey. You’ll find a copy in your room. We do depend on our guests to help us improve our service. And we love getting compliments,” Alvena said, smiling happily.