thirty-four

“This is a pip of a wedding,” Charlotte remarked. “I can’t wait for the bride and groom to get here. We need to get this party underway!”

Francine and Jonathan, Charlotte, Mary Ruth, Joy and Roy, and Alice and Larry sat at a table in the Crown Room of the Schrier Building in Brownsburg. The men were dressed in suits, and the ladies were dressed in either skirts with jackets or long evening gowns. The June wedding, just a few months after they’d solved the murder of Camille Ledfelter, was being held in the same place the mystery started. It seemed fitting somehow. Camille’s death had been mourned, but the community had been purged of wrongdoing in the name of righteousness, and now it was time to move forward.

Francine nudged Mary Ruth, whom she was sitting next to. “Toby looks very handsome as the best man.”

“I’m just glad that he’s no longer looking to be a male stripper,” she said. “Cass made it a condition that Eric sell the revue, even though she wanted to marry him as much as he wanted to marry her. I still find it a surprise that he never resented her in later life for having relations with him.”

Joy perched on the edge of her seat, always anxious to share information when she knew something the others didn’t. “When I did a post interview followup for Channel Six, he told me it was as much him as it was her back in high school. That’s why there was never any blame. He had real feelings for her. He was hurt when she cut off the relationship. I’m surprised he carried the torch for her all those years.”

“Could we not talk about this?” Alice asked in her nasally voice. “It makes me feel creepy just thinking about it. And I wasn’t even here for it!”

“Be glad you and Larry were out seeing one of Jake’s races,” Francine advised. “It wasn’t that pretty.”

Charlotte perked up her ears. “What’s that song?”

Francine had earlier figured out that the music being played by the DJ as they awaited the arrival of the wedding party was karaoke versions of songs the Royal Buckingham Male Revue used to dance to.

“Tripper’s doing a great job with the vocals,” Mary Ruth said. “Who knew he’d turn out to be so talented?”

“That’s the guy who wanted to be a stripper?” Alice asked, wrinkling her nose at the idea. “He doesn’t look like a stripper.”

Francine smiled. “What he lacked in ability he made up with enthusiasm and persistence. But he does have a dreamy voice.”

“I’ll say,” Charlotte said. “Joy’s feature on him ended up on Good Morning America and netted him a try out for The Voice. He could be the next Josh Kaufman!” Charlotte referred to another Indianapolis area resident who’d grabbed the top spot on the vocal talent reality show.

Joy beamed when Charlotte mentioned her role in helping rehabilitate Tripper. “He’s working hard at keeping this new career going. And his clothes on,” she added. They laughed. Roy took her hand in his and kissed it.

Francine noted that Joy and Roy looked very much in love. They had snuggled close throughout the ceremony and kept exchanging meaningful glances at key points. Joy had confided to her that she and Roy had discussed marriage and she expected he would propose any day now. She intended to go for it when Cass tossed the bouquet, even though she’d be the oldest one competing for it. Probably by a lot of years.

Francine surveyed the room. The new Council members who’d replaced Vince Papadopolous and Camille Ledfelter were there with their spouses. Fuzzy Carter was in jail and would be for a long time. Two of his victims had come forward and testified that he’d molested them when they were underage. The charges against Cass were reduced because she had tried to keep the two older women from getting killed. Eric had texted her from the parking lot of the funeral home to ask what had happened, and when he found out, he had persuaded her not to be a part of it. That was why Cass had suggested moving the ladies to her house instead of going to the cemetery. And her shooting Vince in the hand was to prevent him from doing any more harm.

The Royal Buckingham troupe had been sold and moved out of town, and Eric had taken over Jacqueline Consulting. Camille may have made the company a big success through blackmail, but there were legitimate sources of income in there, too, and Eric was focused on that. He’d been persuaded it was more stable than starting a male dance club site in Brownsburg. This idea was pushed as hard as anyone by his fiancé, who didn’t appreciate others seeing him nearly naked.

Jonathan stood up and held out his hand to Francine. “Shall we dance?”

There were few people on the dance floor. Francine thought more people should be dancing to the fine vocals Tripper was providing. He was singing “Love is a Many Splendored Thing,” a song that meant something to the two of them. “I would love to dance,” she said.

“How is the effort going to re-create Formula No. 58?” he asked once he’d whisked her away from their table of friends. “You’ve been working on it intently for a number of days now.”

“Not so good.” She could hear the regret in her own voice. “I know it’s not right because the pale blue color doesn’t appear. I don’t think there’s a substitute for the ‘second spring,’ wherever it might be.”

“I was there last weekend checking on the retreat house and did some more searching. I swear we’ve been over every inch of the property. But with three hundred and some odd acres, it’s quite possible we’ve overlooked it.”

“Or it doesn’t exist.”

“Or it might be on an adjacent property,” Jonathan said, moving her around the floor. “Or somewhere else in the county.”

“In other words, a needle in a haystack.” Francine sighed. “We need a clue.”

“Well, you seem to find clues every time you come across a mystery. You and Charlotte.”

“We do, don’t we?”

“Speaking of the formula, you’ve managed to achieve your top bucket list item, haven’t you? Save a Life All by Myself.” He hugged her close.

“I could argue I didn’t do it by myself, that I used a formula I can’t even reproduce or replace. But that would be pulling a Charlotte. I still want to recreate Doc Wheat’s cure, but I feel like I’ve accomplished my number one item.”

Jonathan looked over at Tripper. “I’d say you’ve saved more than one life.”

She winked at him. “Saving Tripper was a bonus.”

“How about Joy? Wasn’t going to a strip club on her list?”

Since more couples were now on the small dance floor, she leaned in close. “She checked off Go to a Male Strip Club when Tripper pulled off his clothes at the bingo and then fell on her. It wasn’t technically a strip club, but it did the trick.”

Joy danced by them with Roy Stockton. She was beaming, and his eyes were fixed on her. Since his head wasn’t covered with his usual Stetson, Francine could see the wispiness of his white hair. It looked almost like Joy had been mussing it with her hands. Maybe she has. “Joy’s also checked off her number five, which was simply listed as Romance!”

“Roy seems to be a good match.”

They finished their dance and Tripper asked everyone to return to their seats. Once the room was settled, he pointed them toward the main entrance to the room, where Eric and Cass were now standing. He introduced them, and they bounded into the room arm in arm, smiling broadly.

How remarkable, Francine thought. Their love started off in such a wrong way and they’ve had to deal with so many tragedies, but somehow they’ve come through it.

Of course, it helped that only a few people knew the truth. Those closest to it—like Fuzzy and Myra and Vince—had no choice but
to accept it, because revealing the truth would open themselves up to more scrutiny than they could handle. Especially Vince, since
he was already in jail for Camille’s murder. As for the Summer Ridge Bridge Club, they would keep the secret. Everyone else would have to accept that Eric had moved back to town and fallen for an older woman.

Time heals, she thought.

Then the music started up, Tripper sang “Can’t Take My Eyes off You,” and Eric and Cass danced their first dance together.

They used the Frankie Valli version, and no one took any clothes off.

Yet.

the end