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thing’ as in murder?” She straightened and faced me. “Carnegie, Mercedes’ death was horrible and shocking. We all feel that. But you know damn well that she and I weren’t close friends, and I won’t be a hypocrite about this. I’ve got four hundred people and almost a hundred grand tied up in this wedding. Now, can I postpone or not?”
“Sure you can. But you’ll lose your deposits and plane tickets, and probably your first-choice photographer and band. These folks are booked up pretty far ahead. The special-event policy covers things like vendors failing to deliver, or your reception being cancelled because of bad weather. It doesn’t cover postponing out of respect for someone’s death.”
“That’s what I figured.” She nodded thoughtfully and stepped out of her bicycle shorts. I have really got to hit the gym more often, I thought. Like, twice a day.
“Does Paul want to postpone?”
“Yes and no,” said Elizabeth. “He thinks it’s kind of coldblooded to keep going, though of course he’s clueless about the cost of rescheduling. The main thing is, he doesn’t want to disappoint Enid.”
“That’s the great-aunt?”
“Yeah. Nasty old bitch.”
I must have looked startled, because she added, “Just because someone’s nearly a hundred doesn’t mean they’re doddering and sweet. Enid’s sharp as a tack and she hates me! But Paul’s lined up a nurse to drive her down from Vancouver and stay with her through the whole wedding, and apparently that’s all she’s talked about for months— how she’s going to live to see her darling boy on his wedding day. Hand me a towel?”
I complied, and she dug out some travel-size soap and shampoo from her knapsack.
“Well, that’s it, then. I can’t get my money back, so Auntie Enid gets her heart’s desire. I’ll be ready in a minute if you want to wait in Paul’s office.”
After the newsroom and the locker room, Paul’s office was refreshingly ordinary, with piles of file folders on the desk and credenza and a rain-streaked window looking out at the mushrooming condos of Belltown. He was still on the phone, but he waved me to a chair at the little conference table wedged in the corner. As I laid out the wedding paperwork, I took a long discreet look at him. What did hard-charging Elizabeth see in soft-spoken, sweet-tempered Paul? Good looks, certainly, and a keen mind, and a shared enthusiasm for long-distance bicycle races. But as time went by, would he chafe against her bossy ways, or would she find a safe harbor in his easygoing calm? Weddings are wonderful, but marriages are utterly mysterious.
Elizabeth joined us just as Paul hung up the phone, flushed and fresh from her shower. They kissed in the easy, happily-sated manner of two people who are getting absolutely all the sex they want, and we got down to business. I asked them how they wanted to proceed, Paul talked about his great-aunt, and Elizabeth made a gracious show of pressing on for Enid’s sake without mentioning her nonrefundable deposits.
So we went ahead and reviewed the buffet menu, the flower arrangements, and the band’s playlist, almost as if nothing had happened. Almost.
“I talked to Corinne again,” said Elizabeth. “She says she’s feeling OK and she’ll be at the dress fitting. Good thing, too. She’s put on weight lately.”
“Did she tell you what happened on the pier?” I asked.
“You mean that somebody pushed her in? Yeah, she’s telling everybody.”
“But you don’t believe her.”
“I don’t know what to believe. People were drinking, but they weren’t drunk, except maybe Corinne herself. So who would do that?” Elizabeth raked her hands through her hair, helping it dry. “I’m thinking maybe she stumbled and fell in, and then when she heard about Mercedes she got carried away with the thrill of being at a crime scene. She used to pull this kind of shit back in college.”
“Take it easy on Corinne,” said Paul, ever the kind heart. “She’s still upset about that guy Boris. That’s probably why she’s eating so much.”
His beloved, ever the cynic, shrugged. “Whatever. Angela is convinced that she’s lying, but Patty is really rattled. She thinks there’s a stalker around. Either way, Corinne’s getting on my nerves. I made her sign a nondisclosure about the wedding, but she keeps asking if she can’t write just one little article.”
“Paul,” I said, to change the subject, “I don’t want to be pessimistic, but have you thought about who you’re going to want as best man if Tommy’s still in the hospital?”
“I’m sure your brother