Wearing a dark-green silk dressing gown emblazoned with a large red-and-yellow fire-breathing dragon, Paula Van Dusen entered her daughter’s room without knocking, as she always did. She took in the lump of bedclothes in the center of the queen-sized bed, then crossed to the other side of the room and pulled the cord to open the curtains. Sunlight poured in through the east-facing mullioned windows, casting a pattern of bright diamond shapes across the carpet. Paula glanced down the long drive and then turned her attention to the untidy mountain of rumpled bedding, which seemed to be groaning in protest.
“Up you get, Belinda darling,” she said. “In case you’ve forgotten, it’s your wedding day.” The bedclothes shifted, and the sleep-swollen face of her daughter emerged. Belinda rubbed her eyes and squinted at her mother. She swallowed a couple of times, then licked her dry lips and reached for the glass of water on her bedside table. Her mother stood there, arms folded, and waited.
Belinda yawned. “What time is it?”
“Almost seven thirty.”
Belinda let out a long, slow breath, picked at the bedclothes, and then met her mother’s eyes.
“What is it, Belinda? What’s the matter?” her mother asked.
“Promise you won’t be mad, but I don’t think there’s going to be a wedding. We had a huge fight last night, and I told him I wouldn’t marry him . . .”
“If he were the last man on earth,” finished her mother. “Yes, well, people say things like that, don’t they? But they don’t mean it.”
Belinda threw back the bedclothes, lifted her long legs over the side of the bed, and stood up. “Well, I meant it. I’m not going to marry him, and that’s all there is to it.”
She took a few steps in the direction of her bathroom as her mother called out after her. “Something must have happened to make you change your mind. You were so happy last night. I’m trying hard here not to be judgmental, Belinda. We’ll discuss this when you come out.”
“There’s nothing to discuss,” said Belinda. “I don’t want to talk about it. I told him it was over and that I’m calling off the wedding, and that’s all there is to it.”
“That is not all there is to it,” her mother shouted to the closed bathroom door. “He must have done or said something, and when you come out of there, you’re going to tell me what’s going on.” The only response: the toilet flushing, followed a moment later by the distinctive sound of running water. Belinda’s message from the shower was perfectly clear; for now, at least, the conversation was at an end.
At that moment, someone knocked twice on the bedroom door, and without waiting for a response, a young woman in gray slacks with a bright-pink T-shirt stuck her head around the door.
“What is it, Alex?” demanded Paula.
“Mrs. Van Dusen, I was sent to tell you that the police are on their way, and there’s a young man downstairs who wants to speak to you. Says it’s urgent.”
With a backward glance in the direction of the bathroom, Paula left the room, closing the door behind her. She followed the young woman downstairs to the great hall, where Aaron stood just inside the front door.
“Sorry to bother you,” he began.
“Yes, yes, what is it? What’s happening?”
“Charlotte sent me to tell you that while we were looking for the donkey head that went missing last night, we found a, well, I’m not sure how to say this, but we found a dead body in your garden.”
“You found a what?”
Before he could reply, the sound of footsteps behind him signaled the arrival of the police.
“It’s all right, Aaron,” said Ray, entering the hall. “Mrs. Van Dusen, we’ve been called out because a body’s been found in your garden. We’re on our way out there now, but I must ask you not to leave the house, and please don’t let anyone else leave, either.”
“But who is it?” demanded Paula.
“We don’t know yet, but as soon as we have more information, we’ll be back to talk with you.”
Mrs. Van Dusen watched him leave and then turned to Aaron.
“Did you see the body? Do you know who it is? What can you tell me? I need to know.”
Aaron shook his head. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Van Dusen. I don’t know who it is. He was wearing . . .”
“So it is a man, then?”
“Yes, sorry, it’s a man.”
“And you were saying that he was wearing . . . what? What was he wearing?”
Aaron decided it wasn’t up to him to tell her about the donkey’s head and racked his brain for something else.
“Well, he might have been wearing Gucci loafers. We found one nearby. Black. You know, just the classic loafer.” The color drained from Mrs. Van Dusen’s face as she opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out.
“Are you okay?” Aaron asked.
“Yes, yes, I’m fine. I . . .” She turned toward the stairs, glanced upstairs, then turned her attention back to Aaron.
“Look, you wait here, and I’ll ring for someone to bring you some coffee. And for Charlotte, too, if she’s coming in. Is she coming in? And breakfast if you want it. Are you hungry? There’s plenty of food.”
She turned to the young woman who hovered nearby.
“Alex, show this young gentleman into the sitting room, and then organize some coffee and breakfast for him. No, wait, for everybody. I must go and speak to my daughter.”
It wasn’t until she was halfway up the stairs that she realized she was still in her dressing gown. Pulling it a little tighter around her body, she bounded up the remaining steps and hurried down the hall to Belinda’s room.
The door was open slightly, and Belinda was seated in her window seat, wrapped in a white terry cloth bathrobe with her legs tucked under her, checking her phone. She looked up with a puzzled look on her face when her mother entered. She was about to say something when her mother held up a hand, and reading the look on her face, Belinda stood up.
“You look awful, Mom,” she said. “What’s happened?”
“Belinda, have you spoken to Adrian this morning?”
“No. I’ve been trying to reach him to see what he wants to do about today. If he wants to go ahead with the wedding or not.”
“But I thought you’d decided there isn’t going to be a wedding.”
“Oh, I don’t know what I want,” she moaned.
“Well, listen to me. Something bad’s happened. Very bad. The best thing would be if we each got dressed and went downstairs. The police are here, and they’re going to want to talk to us.”
“The police? Here? What do they want? Has there been an accident?”
“I’m sorry, my darling. Apparently a body’s been found in the garden. A man’s body. Nobody’s told me for sure, but you should prepare yourself for some bad news. It could be Adrian.”
“Adrian? Dead? In our garden? Are you kidding me? What happened?”
“I don’t know. Look, just get dressed, come downstairs, and we’ll have some coffee and wait for the police to tell us what happened. The only detail I’ve been told is that he—whoever he is, was—had on Gucci loafers.”
Belinda let out a long, low wail.
“That’s not exactly the kind of reaction I would have expected. I thought you’d decided not to marry him.”
“Well, yes, but just because I don’t want to marry him doesn’t mean I wanted him dead.”
“No, of course it doesn’t. Well, the thing is we mustn’t jump to conclusions. We’d better wait to see what the police tell us. After all, we don’t know for sure. It might not be him.” She took a step toward the door and then, her hand resting on the knob, said, “About the wedding. I’d better get Phyllis to start making calls.”
Her daughter gave her an uncomprehending look.
“Phone calls,” said Paula. “We’ve got to let people know the wedding’s off. If that is Adrian out there”—she paused until the howling died down—“the wedding’s definitely off. But if it isn’t Adrian, it’ll be impossible to have a wedding in the garden with the police out there. We could move it indoors, I suppose, if you did want to go ahead with it. What do you think? Do you know what you want?”
“I don’t know,” whined Belinda. “I don’t know what to do. What do you think I should do?”
“Well, if you’re not sure you want to marry him, we’d better call it off, for today at least. You don’t want to marry someone you’re not sure about. Let’s see. We’ll donate as much as we can to charity. The flowers can go to hospitals and seniors’ homes. The catering to the county soup kitchens. God knows what will happen to the cake.”
Belinda let out another howl.
“Maybe the acting company would like the cake. On second thought, we could ask the cake design lady if she knows another bride who might like to have it. Some poor girl who couldn’t begin to afford a cake that cost over a thousand dollars.”
“Mom! How can you talk about the cake when Adrian could be lying out there dead?”
“Sorry, darling, you’re right. I was being completely insensitive. It’s just that my mind is racing, and I’m trying to work out what to do.”
*
Aaron and Charlotte sat silently in the same sitting room where Aaron had conducted the bridesmaids’ consultation just a few weeks before. With Rupert curled up at her feet, Charlotte flipped idly through a magazine while Aaron thumbed through his phone.
“Well, what now?” Aaron asked.
Charlotte shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess we wait for someone to come and tell us what’s going to happen. I have no idea what this will mean for the wedding. But I don’t really feel like leaving. I want to stick around and see what happens. Don’t you?”
Aaron shrugged. “Not really.” He yawned. “We’ll hear all about it soon enough. To be honest, I’m not feeling great. Finding that body kind of shook me up. If we’re not needed here, I’d like to go home.”
He perked up as Phyllis entered bearing a large tray, which she set down on the table, indicating that Charlotte and Aaron should help themselves to coffee, freshly baked carrot muffins, and sliced strawberries.
“Have you heard anything?” Charlotte asked her. “Is there any news about . . .”
“The last I heard, the police said everyone is to stay put for now.” Aaron got up and helped himself to a muffin, then held up the coffeepot and shot Charlotte an inquiring look. She nodded, and he poured two cups as Phyllis made a point of frowning at Rupert.
“What about the bridesmaids?” he asked Phyllis, holding out a cup of coffee to Charlotte. “I was supposed to help them with their dresses.”
“Well, I don’t know anything about that,” she said. “At this point, it looks like Mrs. Van Dusen’s cancelled the wedding. We’re trying to reach everyone to let them know, and that’s really all I’ve been told,” said Phyllis. Once again, she cast a disapproving look in Rupert’s direction. He returned her gaze with expressive brown eyes and wiggled his bottom. “I’m not sure what Mrs. Van Dusen will think about that dog in here.” She turned her attention back to Charlotte. “I guess it’s best if you wait in here. I have to get back upstairs. Nobody’s really sure what’s happening. This is all uncharted water for us, as you can imagine.”
“Yes, I certainly can,” said Charlotte.
At the sound of approaching footsteps, Phyllis took a step backward out of the room and glanced down the hallway.
“Oh, Belinda, it’s you. I’ll bring another cup.”
“Don’t bother.” Dressed in her simple uniform of black trousers and a crisp white shirt with pearl stud earrings, Belinda swept into the room, followed by her mother, just as the doorbell rang.
Phyllis rushed off to answer it, and a moment later she ushered in Ray Nicholson. He glanced at Charlotte and then cleared his throat and addressed Belinda.
“Miss Van Dusen, I’m afraid we might have some bad news for you. A body was discovered on the property this morning that we have reason to believe could be your fiancé. The medical examiner has arrived, but it would be helpful if you could help us establish the identity of the deceased.”
Belinda threw her head back and let out a long “Ooh.” She then glared at Ray. “I seriously hope you’re not asking me to go out there and . . . no way!”
“Absolutely not!” said Paula. “What are you thinking?”
“No, no,” said Ray. “I’m sorry. I didn’t explain myself very well. I know this has been a most unpleasant shock for you. We could start by your telling me what your fiancé was wearing the last time you saw him. But the medical examiner’s office will need someone to formally identify the body. We wondered if you have his parents’ contact details, because we need to notify them, and perhaps someone from his family—his father, maybe—would be willing to do the identification.”
“Well, yes, of course. Except they don’t exactly live nearby. They live in Toronto. They weren’t able to attend the wedding, unfortunately, because his grandmother is very ill and not expected to live. They wanted to come, of course, but they couldn’t leave her.”
“I see. Well, the team of detectives from Albany will be here soon to take over, so we’ll leave the details up to them, and they’ll decide next steps.” He glanced at the table. “Is there any coffee left?”
“I’ll send for more,” said Paula. She pulled out her phone and typed a few lines. Then, just as she was about to slip her phone back in her pocket, she caught sight of a figure standing in the hallway and sank into the nearest chair.
“What’s going on?” asked the tall man framed in the doorway.
Paula Van Dusen’s eyes widened, and she raised a hand to cover her mouth.
Belinda let out a little shriek.
“Adrian! Oh, Adrian!” She ran across the room, threw her arms around him, and sobbed into his chest. “Oh, my God! We thought you were dead!”