Chapter 5
A small rotisserie chicken was waiting for me back home in the fridge, along with a bag of premade salad. After all the running around with Aunt Ina’s wedding preparations, I envisioned a quiet Thursday night. Relieved that Julien would leave it up to his staff to deal with my aunt’s “pastry aviary,” and satisfied that Shirley seemed to be all set with the idea of a fascinator in lieu of a hat, I was operating under the misguided perception I was home free. Unfortunately, I couldn’t have been more wrong.
As soon as I got in the door, the beeping of my answering machine greeted me. Aunt Ina! Did Julien call her as soon as I left the hotel to tell her I wasn’t up to the task of selecting pastry fillings? No, he made it clear he preferred to not deal with her either. And I seriously doubted Shirley would call her without first showing me the designs for fascinators. Besides, it was too soon. No one could sew that fast.
I wouldn’t be able to enjoy my meal with my aunt’s unanswered call hanging over my head. So I did the only logical thing. I gobbled down a Milky Way and called her back.
“Phee! Oh, Phee! Everything is spiraling all around me. Thank God for Louis. That man is a saint. At least we don’t have to worry about the music.”
We? What “we”? She’d better mean her and her future husband.
“He’s arranged for a string quartet that will play instrumentals from the classic composers.”
I began to relax and listen. At least she didn’t ask me to pick out the music, since I didn’t know the difference between Chopin and Brahms. Any of my high school music teachers would have been more than happy to attest to that.
“That’s great, Aunt Ina. So why are you so flustered?”
“I’m not flustered, I’m inundated. The sheer number of decisions and choices that have to be made would exhaust anyone. That’s why I called you. You can handle these kinds of things, Phee. You’ve got patience and composure. Normally I wouldn’t ask, but if I have to deal with those dreadful tent people one more time, my doctor will need to increase my blood pressure medicine. I swear my heart palpitates every time I think about them.”
The tent company. The dreadful tent company. I know where this is going. It’s like watching a train wreck and not being able to turn away.
“Can’t you hire another company? One that doesn’t upset you?”
My aunt let out a long, long sigh.
“Oh, Phee. You don’t know the half of it. This is the third tent company I’ve consigned. The third! I canceled contracts with the other two because they were unbearable.”
“Uh, um . . . It doesn’t sound like this one’s much better.”
“At this late date, I’m afraid it’s the only one available. So, will you handle it?”
“Handle it? Handle what?”
“Why, the arrangements, of course. I thought I made myself clear. I cannot allow those tent people to get me worked up into such a state I’ll be falling apart on my wedding day. All I need you to do, Phee, is to meet with them in order to decide on the exact location of the tent. Of course it will be in Petroglyph Plaza, but where? You have to take into account the horizon, the sunrise, the ruins. . . .”
“That’s all? Just pick a spot?”
“For the tent, yes. I’ve already selected the color—a nice chromatic shade of floral white. Then there’s the tables, the chairs.... I haven’t decided between bistro chairs and tables or the round ones. Forget those long rectangular tables. It’s a wedding, not a prison cafeteria.”
“Aunt Ina, how many people are coming?”
“A small number. Between sixty and seventy. Louis has many, many connections. Of course, I haven’t heard back from everyone yet.”
Seventy isn’t a small number and they probably don’t know how to respond to that wedding invitation!
“Are you sure there’s no one else who can help you with this? I’m sure my mothe—”
Before I could finish the word, Aunt Ina finished my thought. “Your mother has already agreed to work with the florist.”
“What? I thought you didn’t want her to get involved with the arrangements.”
“Oh, not with food or music. Goodness. We’d all wind up listening to the ‘Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy’ while we eat box lunches from the day-old bread store!”
Aunt Ina wasn’t far from wrong. My mother was known for her frugality, from reusing aluminum foil and napkins to refusing to use an appliance during peak hours, even if it meant staying up all night to do the laundry or the cooking.
“So, Aunt Ina, why is Mom working with the florist?”
“Oh. That. Time constraints. And temperament. I do not have the time to put up with those temperamental people at Budding Over. Your mother would be much better suited for that. Besides, the only thing she has to do is select the table arrangements and the flowers that will be strewn on the pathway from the Petroglyph Plaza to the wedding canopy. Oh, the canopy! I’m afraid you’ll have to deal with that as well. The tent people are in charge of the canopy.”
“Will the canopy need flowers?” I hoped she didn’t notice my voice cracking. It was bad enough having to juggle pastries, a hat, and now the tents, let alone work with my mother, should the canopy need flowers.
“Oh, no, no, no. The canopy will be covered in lace and ribbons.”
The tension in my shoulders started to ease up for a brief second. Then I realized I still wasn’t off the hook regarding the tents.
“So all I have to do is pick a spot for the tent and finalize the tables and chairs?”
“That’s all. And don’t let Jake or Everett Felton tell you they cannot acquire a floral white tent and matching canopy.”
“Jake and Everett Felton?”
“Yes. The owners of Feltons’ Pavilions, Tents, and Awnings. They’re located in Phoenix. Here’s the number. I’ll hold on while you get a pencil.”
I wrote down the number and told my aunt this was positively the last thing I could help with, regarding the wedding. “My boss just took on a major case and I’m afraid I’m going to be spending a great deal of time in the office. It’s not only the accounting I handle. I also do the contracts, the billing, payroll, and all sorts of related tasks.”
“I thought you had an office secretary.”
“Oh, we do. Augusta. Nice lady from Wisconsin. Grew up on a dairy farm. But she’s only part-time and handles the daily receptionist stuff, the ordering, and some correspondence.”
“I see. So, what’s this major case?”
“Well, we’re not supposed to talk about details, but it has something to do with that man who was found dead on those river rocks at Grandview Golf Course.”
“Yes, my Louis knew of the victim. Is that the right word? Is he a victim? Anyway, this Theodore Sizemore was quite wealthy. Some sort of investor and restauranteur. Lived in Sun City West on Millionaire’s Row.”
“Millionaire’s Row? I’ve never heard of it.”
“That’s not an official name. It’s a nickname for those million-dollar houses near the country club. That poor, poor man. No one deserves to die all sprawled out on a bed of rocks waiting for the coyotes or javelina to get them. And you know what? My Louis had a premonition about it. There was supposed to be some sort of golf tournament that day and Louis was all set to go watch it. Then, for some reason, he said he had a bad feeling about it and decided to stay home.”
“Uh-huh.” I wanted to get off the phone, but Aunt Ina kept going on and on.
“My Louis was right. Something bad did happen. You know, Phee, I’m fortunate to be marrying a man who has not only one foot in the physical world but the other in the psychic one as well.”
At the mere mention of the word “psychic,” I dredged up all sorts of visions from my last experience with one—Vivian Knowlton from the show Psychic Divas. She was as much a psychic as I was a brain surgeon. I didn’t say anything to Aunt Ina, but something about this wasn’t right. And I was no psychic.
The next morning I hashed this over with Nate as we both made our usual coffees before opening the office door.
“So, let me get this straight.” He tossed the empty K-cup into the trash. “You think your future uncle might have had something to do with the deceased? Theodore Sizemore?”
“Well, I wouldn’t go so far as to make an outright accusation. . . .”
“That’s a good thing, because you have no evidence whatsoever.”
“Come on, Nate. Hear me out. My future uncle Louis might have been involved with this guy. My aunt didn’t come right out and say it, but something seems fishy to me. Aunt Ina wasn’t left in poverty when Uncle Harm passed away, but she was never a wealthy woman. Sure, she has the pension and his life insurance, but that isn’t a fortune. Now all of a sudden she has money to blow as if she won the lottery. Seriously. You can’t believe what this wedding is going to cost.”
Next thing I knew, I was babbling on and on about the one-of-a-kind pastry birds, the fancy French restaurant and chromatic tent colors, pausing between breaths to reiterate my concern about Louis’s relationship with the deceased. The very wealthy deceased. Nate looked at me as if I’d stepped off a spaceship.
“Yeah, Phee. I can see where this is going. Still, it doesn’t reek of foul play. I mean, her fiancé might be reaping the benefits of good financial planning and some strong investments. Where did you say he worked?”
“That’s just it. Aunt Ina wasn’t too specific, only that he’s a saxophone player who performed on cruise ships with a number of different bands over the years. Believe it or not, the guy only retired a year ago. Um . . . look, Nate, I wouldn’t ask you this if I thought I was letting my imagination get the best of me, but could you run a background check on the guy? Find out if he had any business dealings with Theodore Sizemore?”
“Frankly, I’m surprised it took you this long to ask. Yeah, for you, kiddo, I’ll do it. What’s his name?”
“Louis Melinsky. Age seventy-six. Married three times, according to my mother. And there’s one more thing.”
“What’s that?”
“I don’t think Louis Melinsky is his real name. I paid fourteen ninety-five to We Verify and ran a background check late last night. All it gave me was recent information and assurance that he didn’t have a criminal background. No arrests. Nothing. Shouldn’t a report have more than that?”
Nate started to laugh. “You got the one-size-fits-all version.”
“I’m sorry. I should have asked you first, but I couldn’t get to sleep and thought I could find out where his money was coming from.”
“Okay, okay. Don’t sweat it. I’ll see what I can do.”
Just then the phone rang and I went to get it. “Thanks, Nate. I owe you.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll put it on your tab.”