I noticed, L.T.,” said Reed.
“Same here,” said Binchy.
Bogomil said, “A lot of them are intoxicated, so we could let them sober up and try again.”
Milo said, “In a perfect world, great idea, Alicia. But we’ve already kept them here for a while and picking people out because they’re tipsy is subjective and risky. We’ve got I.D.’s on everyone plus tags on the cars, will match that to the invitation list. Someone looks iffy, we’ll find them.”
Bogomil said, “Maybe the interesting list is folks who weren’t invited. Like the killer and the victim.”
Reed said, “You get snubbed so you strangle your date?”
“I know it sounds crazy, Moe, but people go psycho over weddings. Both my sisters morphed into evil space creatures and it caught on like a virus, everyone turned scary.” She smiled. “Even me for a few seconds.”
Binchy said, “You’ve got a point, Alicia. And maybe it was more than just a snub. What if it was a serious rejection? Like an ex of the groom. Or the bride.”
“They both deny anything like that but it’s an interesting thought, Sean,” said Milo. “That said, this isn’t the time to ask about it. They’re not going on a honeymoon so I’ll let them be and follow up in a few days. Alex, any psychological reason not to close this down right now?”
I said, “At the risk of adding to the buzzkill, I’d let most of the guests go but hold on to the staff, the woman who discovered the body, and the immediate family for a second go-round. Why no honeymoon?”
Alicia said, “His work, some sort of accounting thing. They’ve got a Maui trip planned for the summer. My group included the bridesmaids so I tried to encourage some girl talk. Leanza—the one who found the body—was in my section, too. That’s her, the chunky redhead in the grayish-tan silk thing. She started off freaked out, had a couple Martinis and loosened up. So, yeah, she’s a good candidate for follow-up. Why hold on to the family, Dr. Delaware?”
“Destroying a wedding has a personal feel.” I picked a piece of paper from the floor. Printed account of the wedding procession. “This should help.”
Milo took it and scanned. “Who’s got the family?”
Reed said, “Me. Time to deliver the good news.”
CHAPTER
4
Binchy went to corral the staff, Alicia beelined for Leanza Cardell, and Reed headed for a table just left of the dance floor where the family waited.
The chosen few; standby travelers watching morosely as everyone around them boarded the flight to freedom.
I took a look at the printed list. Flimsy white paper, computer-generated italics.
Marilee and Stuart Mastro, sister and brother-in-law of the groom.
Amanda Burdette, sister of the groom.
The groom accompanied by his parents,
Sandra and Wilbur Burdette.
A bevy of bridesmaids. No ushers.
Then, in a darker, twice-as-large font:
The bride, accompanied by her parents,
Corinne and Dennis Rapfogel.
No kids meant no flower girl or ring bearer. Two sibs for the groom, none for the bride.
A woman everyone called Baby.
The only child.
* * *
—
Leanza Cardell was added to the family table, where no one greeted her. She brought a Martini glass with her, unpinned her red hair, shook it out, and turned her chair to face the stage.
Milo said, “We’ll be taking people two at a time, any voluntee—”
“We’re the bride’s parents, we’ll go first.” A thin brunette around fifty stood and tugged at her dress. Everyone at the table stared at her, including her husband. She said, “Let’s go, Denny.”
Gold-chunk cuff links glinted as the father of the bride got to his feet, suppressing a burp. He followed his wife several paces behind, sat down leaving a chair between them.
Corinne Rapfogel was her daughter grown to sinewy middle age. The dress was a body-conscious black tulip. Spray-tanned and Botoxed as smooth as a freshly laundered bedsheet, she sported a diamond-and-gold mesh choker, four-inch gold hoop earrings, and a flower tattoo on her right wrist. Eyes under architecturally sculpted eyebrows were dark and guarded.
Some women seek mates who remind them of their fathers. If looks meant anything, Baby hadn’t. “Denny” Rapfogel was bald, broad, and heavyset with a ruddy, meaty face that might’ve taken some college football punishment.
He said, “Helluva thing on a day like this. When Cor and I tied the knot, we had a nice ceremony, nothing crazy happened. But that’s how it was back in the Jurassic era.”
Corinne said, “You’re making it sound ancient. Thirty-one years ago.”
“Feels like ten minutes.”
His wife nudged his arm. “Aww.”
Denny Rapfogel winked at us. “Ten minutes with