Murder Had a Little Lamb (9 page)

“Not yet,” I replied calmly. I rolled my eyes at Sunny, who thanks to Dorothy’s inability to modulate her voice could undoubtedly hear every word my mother-in-law-to-be said.

“It’s been three days since it happened,” Dorothy pointed out. “That’s seventy-two hours. Isn’t there some saying in the crime business that if the murderer isn’t caught within the first forty-eight hours, he’s not likely to be caught at all?”

“You’d know better than I would,” I said dryly. “You clearly watch more crime shows than I do.” I grabbed a piece of scrap paper, scribbled, “Ring the doorbell!” and thrust it at Sunny.

“The clock is ticking, Jessica!” Dorothy exclaimed. I could picture her making that annoying gesture of tapping her wrist with her finger. “I understand there were articles in the newspaper about Nathaniel’s murder Sunday, Monday, and today. Some idiot reporter insists on splashing our family business all over
Newsday
.”

And to think that idiot reporter was just here, I thought grimly.

Still, at least Forrester had offered to help me with the investigation—a fact I wasn’t ready to share with Nick’s mother.

“I’m working on it,” I assured her.

“How
are you working on it?” Dorothy demanded. “Have you been to Nathaniel’s house yet?”

“His house?” I repeated. “But I thought you said the best place to learn about Nathaniel’s life was the Worth School. In fact, I volunteered—”

“Of course that’s important. But don’t you think you should also go into his place of residence and see what you can find?”

Right, I thought crossly. It’s that simple. Especially when Anthony Falcone would undoubtedly be thrilled to catch me in the act of breaking and entering.

“At any rate,” Dorothy continued, “I think you owe me a full accounting of your time. I need to know everything you’re doing—”

Ding-dong
.

“Oh, dear, the doorbell is ringing,” I told Dorothy, meanwhile giving Sunny a thumbs-up. “I’m afraid I have to run.”

“Call me back as soon as you can!” Dorothy insisted. “If I don’t hear from you, I’ll give you a buzz back. I really—”

I hung up.

“Thanks,” I said to Sunny, once again wondering how I’d ever let myself get involved in all this in the first place.

I was still pondering that question as I turned back to our matching pair of laptops. Within five minutes, Sunny had sold me on the new program. We were talking about making the switch when the doorbell rang again. Only this time, it was for real.

“Hello, Betty,” I greeted my friend and landlady as I flung open the door.

She was not alone. Tucked under one arm, football-style, was Frederick, the darling wire-haired dachshund that Winston had brought to their relationship. Betty’s stepdog, as I liked to think of him.

As usual, the energetic fawn-and-tan fur ball was beside himself with glee over paying a social call. He craned his neck toward me eagerly, meanwhile wagging his tail so hard that his entire body wriggled beneath Betty’s iron grip. His eyes were bright, his wet nose pulsed wildly, and he made throaty noises that made it clear he was experiencing an almost intolerable amount of joy.

Of course, it wasn’t only me he was happy to see. I knew the real root of his uncontrollable ecstasy was his reunion with Max and Lou, the other two-thirds of a triumvirate that often seemed like the canine version of the Three Stooges. My two doggies had zoomed over to the front door as soon as they realized their beloved playmate had come to call, and at the moment were both doing their darnedest to get to him by knocking over the only thing standing in their way—which would be me.

“I see you’re busy,” Betty said, glancing inside as she bent down and released her crazed captive. Frederick, lacking his owner’s social skills, immediately vaulted himself through the doorway and joined Max and Lou in the most enthusiastic sniff-and-romp fest this side of the Rockies.

“Nothing that can’t be interrupted,” I assured her, moving over to let her in.

“In that case …” Once Betty was inside, she smiled at my trusty assistant. “Hello, Sunny. I thought that was your car parked outside.”

“Hi, Betty!” Sunny said with a little wave. “Nice to see you again!”

“Nice to see you—and nice to see both of you, too!” Betty leaned over to give Max and Lou a warm greeting. They were only too happy to take a moment out of their rhapsodic cavorting with Frederick to say hello back.

“This isn’t an actual visit,” she said once she stood up. “It’s more like an invitation. You haven’t started making dinner yet, have you, Jessica?”

“Nope,” I assured her.

“I know this is short notice,” Betty went on, “but I wondered if you and Nick would like to join Winston and me for dinner this evening. Sunny, you’re certainly invited to join us as well, if you’d like.”

“Thanks, Betty, but I’ve got other plans,” Sunny replied. “Maybe next time.”

“I’d love to have dinner with you and Winston,” I said. “Nick’s not home yet, but I’m sure he’ll be on board. What time should we come over?”

The prospect of dinner with Betty and Winston instantly banished the visions of spring rolls and Garlic Triple Crown that had been dancing in my head. While I truly love good food, I love spending time with good friends even more.

I wasn’t the least bit surprised that Nick felt the same way.

•   •   •

“It was thoughtful of Betty and Winston to invite us over,” Nick commented later that evening as the two of us strolled across the lawn to the Big House. “We’re lucky to have them as our next-door neighbors.”

I’d come to that conclusion myself a long time ago. Years earlier, in fact, pretty much as soon as I’d met my new landlady. And my first impression had been exactly right. Not only had she turned into the great friend I’d anticipated; she was also a tremendous role model.

Betty Vandervoort was one of the few people I’d met along the way who’d actually had the courage to take a stab at her lifelong dream. When she was still very young, she bought herself a one-way bus ticket to New York City, investing an entire summer’s earnings from waitressing at the Paper Plate Diner in Altoona, Pennsylvania. It wasn’t long before she’d taken Broadway by storm, dancing in musicals like
South Pacific
and
Oklahoma!

Somewhere along the line, she’d also fallen in love with a man named Charles Vandervoort, who she’d considered the love of her life. Sadly, he’d been taken from her all too soon. Still, her first husband had left her comfortable enough to lead a fabulous life, meeting fascinating people and traveling around the world and eventually landing on this estate in the idyllic community of Joshua’s Hollow.

As for her husband of just a few weeks, Winston Farnsworth, he was a relative newcomer on the scene. Their paths had first crossed when I was investigating the polo player’s murder—around the same time I met Forrester Sloan. In their case, so many sparks had
flown from the moment they met that I’d wondered if I should start carrying a fire extinguisher in my purse.

“Come in!” Betty welcomed us both as she flung open the front door.

Even though I’d expected a casual evening, as soon as we stepped inside I saw that Betty had gone all out. Her dining room table, long enough to seat fourteen, was beautifully set with her best china and crystal—at least, four seats at one end of it. In the middle of the table was a huge bouquet of yellow roses. It was framed by two matching candelabras, each with six yellow tapers that flickered in the darkened room.

“All this for us?” I asked as we all took our seats at the table.

“Betty insisted,” Winston said in a jovial voice colored by a lovely English accent as he poured the wine. “She wanted to use her best things for her best friends, and I don’t blame her.”

I glanced at Nick and gave a little shrug. “I feel like this is a special occasion.”

“Actually, I wanted it to be at least a little bit special,” Betty said as she arranged a cream-colored linen napkin in her lap. “There’s a reason I wanted the chance to sit down and chat with the two of you.”

My ears pricked up like Max’s and Lou’s when somebody says the words “ball,” “out,” or “ride.”

Still, it wasn’t necessarily a good thing. Something about the way she said those words gave me the uncomfortable feeling that whatever she had to tell us was going to make me a lot less happy than my dogs were whenever they had a chance to play, romp, or travel.

“I know how anxious the two of you must be to reschedule your wedding,” Betty went on. “And Winston and I would like to offer you our house and gardens, for whatever date you choose.”

“Thanks, Betty!” Nick exclaimed. “Wow, that’s really generous of you.” Turning to me, he said, “Isn’t that great?”

Before I had a chance to force words through a mouth that was suddenly extremely dry, Betty said, “I realize I should have offered the first time around. But before I had a chance, Jessica was so excited about having found the perfect spot on the North Fork. Besides, I figured the two of you wouldn’t want your wedding to be so similar to ours.”

“Your wedding was spectacular,” Nick commented.

Winston reached across the table and took Betty’s hand. “We thought so, too. The same goes for the weeks and months that have followed.”

Betty gave his hand a squeeze, then said, “But given what happened at your first wedding, I thought I’d at least extend the offer. It’s completely up to you whether or not you want to accept.”

“Jess?” Nick asked, turning to me once again.

“I—I don’t know what to say,” I stuttered. “Can we think about it?” Not wanting to hurt Betty and Winston’s feelings, I quickly added, “It’s not that I’m not grateful. It’s just that—well, I guess I’m still reeling from Saturday.”

“Of course you are!” Betty agreed.

“It’s only been a few days,” Winston added.

“And it was so disruptive!” Betty cried. “Imagine,
the police making everyone at your wedding wait around while they took down all their names and addresses. I know they didn’t really suspect any of them, but still …”

“You’d think with all the progress they’ve made with forensics they’d be able to catch the killer in no time,” Winston grumbled. “That’s how it always works on the telly. But now the papers are saying it’ll take days to see if they can find a match for the prints they found on the knife, assuming the killer left any …”

“Take your time, Jessica,” Betty said soothingly. “My offer stands. Just let me know what the two of you decide.”

I’m not normally claustrophobic, but I was starting to feel as if I was in one of those horror movies in which the walls of the room start closing in on someone.

So I was extremely grateful when Winston changed the subject by booming, “Now, who needs more wine?”

•   •   •

“That was thoughtful of Betty and Winston, wasn’t it?” Nick asked as the two of us strolled across the lawn, back to the cottage, following the exact same route we’d taken two hours earlier.

“Very nice,” I said stiffly.

“And now that they’ve brought up the subject of planning a redo wedding,” he continued, “we should probably start thinking about the details—like picking a date.”

We’d reached the front door by then. As soon as I unlocked it and stepped inside, Max and Lou exploded into their usual welcome dance, snorting and sneezing and skittering around the wooden floor and generally acting as if Nick and I had just circumnavigated the globe instead of stepping out for a couple of hours to have dinner a hundred feet away.

“Hey, Maxi-Max! Hello, Louie-Lou.” I lavished what I believed was an appropriate amount of love and attention on them, then let them out.

“So what about it, Jess?” Nick asked, turning to me as I watched my Westie and my Dalmatian race across the lawn in a state of ecstasy.

“What about
what?”
I replied nervously.

“Picking a new date.” His voice was tinged with irritation as he added, “For our wedding?”

Maybe it was because I suddenly found myself inside a small enclosed space after being outside in the fresh air, but for the second time that evening I felt as if the walls were closing in on me.

“But I thought we’d agreed at Betty’s that it was too soon,” I said. “Besides, I’ve been totally distracted by this murder investigation your mother got me involved in. In fact, I just found out today that Cousin Nathaniel had a really close friend at the school—a count, no less—and I really need to—”

“Am I imagining things or are you trying to change the subject?” Nick asked, the same edge still in his voice.

“I’m doing no such thing!” I replied indignantly, sinking into a chair. “It’s just that I realize that I haven’t been keeping you updated on everything I’ve
been finding out about your poor deceased relative. Dorothy, either. I should probably call her back. I didn’t have a chance before, but this is probably a good time to—”

“Jessie!” Nick interrupted. “You’re doing it again! Actually, it’s more like you’re doing it
still
. I’m trying to pick a date for us to finally get married, and you suddenly have to make a phone call!”

“Sorry.” I hung my head like Lou when he’s been caught gnawing on something that wasn’t meant to be a chew toy, like my good shoes or one of Nick’s law books. “Look, you’re so much better at organizing this kind of thing than I am. Why don’t you just pick a date and I’ll adjust my schedule to make sure it fits?”

“Because picking a date to get married strikes me as something both members of the couple should do together,” he said dryly.

“Okay, then let’s get out a calendar.”

Even though I’m generally a pretty energetic person, for some reason the idea of getting up out of my chair seemed overwhelming. “Or we could do it tomorrow, if that’s better for you. It’s been a long day for both of us, and—”

“You know what? Just forget it!” Nick stomped across the room, toward the bedroom. “Sometimes I wonder if we’re ever going to get married!”

“But I already walked down the aisle once!” I called after him. “I had on the long white dress and—and the uncomfortable shoes and the bouquet and everything else that goes along with being a bride! Can I help it if some crazy person chose that particular
time and place to murder someone—a member of
your
family, I might add?”