Love does not dominate; it cultivates.
—JOHANN WOLFGANG VON GOETHE
Vermont State Game Warden Troy Warner stood at the southern foot of the floating pontoon bridge spanning Sunset Lake. Bass season had opened this week, and there was good fishing here, especially for largemouth and smallmouth bass, as well as for yellow perch. They stocked trout, too, but those hoping to catch trout came earlier in the spring, when the water was cooler.
Troy was here checking fishing licenses and making sure that everyone was following the state’s fishing regulations. His search-and-rescue dog Susie Bear was here making friends and influencing people on behalf of the commonwealth. The lovable big black shaggy Newfoundland-retriever loved her job as canine ambassador and was now as always surrounded by admirers. Most of the people fishing off the bridge were families with children; this was an easy place for kids to learn how to cast their lines. Troy had been lucky so far. He hadn’t had to embarrass any parents in front of their kids by writing them up for anything. Everyone he’d talked to had produced their fishing licenses without incident and none of the licenses had expired. Susie Bear had given them all a lick and a bark and they’d gone on their way. A good day.
Troy loved Sunset Lake, one of the prettiest lakes in Rutland County, thanks to the clearest, cleanest water to be found in bodies of water here in Vermont. On a June afternoon like this one—sunny, cloudless, seventy degrees—he was glad to be a game warden in one of the world’s most beautiful places. Hell, he was glad to be a game warden most every day, no matter what the season or the weather. He was wondering how long he could get away with hanging out here checking fishing licenses and enjoying the fine day when he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He pulled it out to read the text from Captain Thrasher.
Meet me at the drive-in for lunch.
Troy told his boss he was on the way and whistled for Susie Bear. She raised her head in his direction, as if to say, “What? And disappoint all my fans?” He whistled again, and she lumbered down the wooden sidewalk that ran along the edge of the bridge toward him, plumed tail swishing.
“Lunch,” he told her, and she quickened her pace. “Lunch” was one of Susie Bear’s favorite words. Together they walked down to Troy’s truck, which he’d parked along the side of the road. They climbed into the Ford F-150 and rumbled down Route 65 toward Northshire and the Vermonter Drive-In.
By the time they rolled into the Vermonter’s crowded parking lot, the captain was already there.
He was standing to the left of the large garage-size window where customers lined up to order and collect their food. Thrasher had his back against the building, like a smart cop, so he could observe everyone.
He nodded at Troy and Susie Bear as they made their way through the cars and motorcycles and people to join him. The captain was wearing civvies—jeans and a custom-tailored blue-and-white-striped shirt—which meant that technically he was off the clock. But on his face was the same neutral expression he used at work, the one that gave nothing away, but saw everything. He paid no attention to the women sneaking peeks at him. Troy had never seen his boss acknowledge his looks and he figured he never would. They seemed to embarrass him more than anything. Standing there in front of the Vermonter, he looked more like a movie star on location than the leader of the Vermont Fish & Wildlife Department.
The captain stepped forward to greet them, giving the happy dog a good scratch on her barrel chest. “I’ve ordered for us. Lillian saved us a seat out back.”
They walked around behind the restaurant, slipping through the gate of the ten-foot-high privacy fence that surrounded the back portion of the property. Here, on about an acre of cleared land, Lillian grew all the herbs and vegetables she needed in her prized potager garden. The boxwood knot hedges and the raised beds had survived the fire and were now planted for summer harvest. Row upon row of seedlings lined the plots; bean poles and tomato teepee trellises were in place. The fruit trees that ran along the perimeter of the fence were in full leaf; some were still blooming. Susie Bear ran up and down and around along the gravel paths that weaved throughout the space, as if checking to make sure that all was thriving.
You’d never have known the garden had been threatened by fire not so long ago. That was the power of Mother Nature, thought Troy. He saw the same rebirth after every fire in the forest.
The man-made structures had needed more direct help. The old deck behind the diner was too damaged and had been replaced, as had the weathered picnic table. Troy and Thrasher sat down in the new wrought iron chairs at the new wrought iron dining table where a metal tent sign engraved with “Employees Only” marked the private dining area.
The back door of the restaurant opened and Lillian appeared holding a tray loaded with three paper plates and two milkshakes. She placed the milkshakes and two of the plates on the table. “Gyro sliders for you, Captain. Cheeseburger fully dressed for you, Troy.” She leaned down and deposited the third plate on the deck at Susie Bear’s feet. “Your lean hamburger with green beans. You can stop that drooling now.”
She straightened up and smiled. “So, let’s talk weddings.”
Troy took a big bite of his cheeseburger, filling his mouth; that way he didn’t have to talk. Weddings made him uncomfortable. Even more now that he was about to be a divorced man. All that talk about richer or poorer, better or worse, loving and honoring and cherishing until death do us part—the marital vows he’d taken to heart the day he’d married Madeline a lifetime ago.
Thrasher gave Troy a wry look before turning to Lillian. “I assume you mean the upcoming O’Sullivan/Renault nuptials.”
Lillian beamed. “Of course.”
“Wyetta and I will be there,” said the captain. “I’m surprised you’re not there yet.”
“Oh, I will be,” said Lillian. “I’m a bridesmaid. Along with Mercy and Patience’s sister Prudence Fleury. Grace, of course, is the matron of honor.”
“I hear Grace is running the show.” The captain attacked his first gyro slider as elegantly as a wildcat.
“Well, you know Grace.” Lillian sat down across from Troy. “The woman can’t help herself. At least she has good taste. I won’t be decked out in some lime-green tulle monstrosity.”
The captain shrugged.
“You men have it easy. Just put on a decent suit and call it a day.”
Troy frowned. He wasn’t sure he had a suit decent enough to accompany Mercy to a wedding. Much less meet the indomitable Grace O’Sullivan Carr’s standards of formal dress. Thrasher would no doubt appear at the wedding looking even more impressive than he did now at leisure, even more impressive than he did in his perfectly pressed uniform at work. Like Idris Elba at the Oscars impressive. Troy would be lucky to pull off looking like Idris Elba’s bodyguard.
Lillian leaned toward Troy. “I can’t believe that Patience is finally going to marry Claude.”
“You don’t approve?”
“Of course I approve. You know I love Claude. She should have married him years ago. Let’s just hope your Mercy isn’t as stubborn as her grandmother.”
Troy flushed. He knew everyone expected him to ask Mercy to marry him, now that his divorce was imminent. Even Lillian, whose own husband had abandoned her when her children were small. She’d never remarried, but she loved pairing up other people, and took credit for introducing a number of happy couples. He didn’t understand this compulsion of hers, considering her history. “I’m not even divorced yet,” he said. As far as he knew, she wasn’t divorced yet either.
“Marriage is basic training for the heart,” said Thrasher. “The wedding is just the family shaking your hand as they welcome you into the fold.”
Troy didn’t know what to say to that.
“You won’t have that excuse for long,” said Lillian, ignoring the captain completely. “I understand that you’ll be a free man by midnight.”
That was true, at least according to his attorney, thought Troy. He hoped that not all of Northshire knew the exact timing. Bad enough that the whole town was waiting for his divorce to be final.
She smiled at him. “You know I’m always available.”
Lillian was a justice of the peace who performed wedding ceremonies and an ordained minister who filled in at the pulpit whenever a local pastor took ill. She also sat on virtually every committee of every nonprofit organization in the county. Given all her civic duties, he sometimes wondered how she had time to run the Vermonter.
“Are you conducting this ceremony?” asked Thrasher.
“Co-conducting. Claude’s brother is a priest. So we’ll do it together.”
Troy felt sorry for the priest. Weddings made women a little crazy. This one promised to be a spectacle of the worst kind, what with Grace O’Sullivan Carr in charge. Surely she hadn’t convinced Patience to wear a dress with a train worthy of a royal wedding. This was Vermont, not Buckingham Palace. Two veterinarians tying the knot, not two aristocrats uniting a kingdom.
The captain pulled his vibrating cell from his pocket. “I have to take this.” He stepped away from the table, leaving Troy with Lillian.
“What duty has Grace tasked you with?” She turned her full attention to Troy.
“I’m just the plus-one.”
“You don’t really believe that, do you?”
He grinned. “The way I see it, being Mercy’s plus-one is job enough.”
“I’d have to agree with Troy.” Captain Thrasher was back. “Mercy always seems to find trouble. Or maybe trouble finds her. And today is no exception.”
“Sir?”
“What do you mean?” asked Lillian.
“That suit will have to wait,” he told Troy. “There’s been a murder in Windsor County.”
“The Lady’s Slipper Inn?” Lillian shook her head. “I don’t believe it. It’s a five-star venue.”
“The crime scene is a barn at a goat farm not far from where Patience and Claude are getting married.” The captain nodded at Troy. “Guess who found the body.”
Troy sprang to his feet. “Are they all right?”
“Mercy and Elvis are fine. But you better get up there.”
“Yes, sir. I was going up there tomorrow anyway.”
“I’ll smooth it over with Harrington,” said Thrasher. “Just in case the wedding excuse doesn’t fly.”
“What does this have to do with the wedding?” asked Lillian.
“Maybe nothing,” said the captain.
“Nothing can stop this wedding.” She looked from Troy to Thrasher. “Patience must be beside herself. Grace is going to hit the roof. Poor Mercy.”
Not good, thought Troy. Mercy and her mother were like oil and water at the best of times. “Susie Bear and I are on the way.”
“With any luck, you’ll beat Dr. Darling and the Crime Scene Search Team there.”
“Get going, Warden Warner.” Lillian wrapped what was left of his burger in a napkin and gave it to him. “Your plus-one duty starts now.”
Troy took his lunch in one hand and his milkshake in the other and headed for the gate. “Come on, Susie Bear.” The big dog shuffled alongside him happily. She knew they were going to work.
“Keep me informed,” Thrasher called after him.
“Me too,” yelled Lillian.
The sooner he and Susie Bear got to Windsor County, the better, thought Troy. Weddings were a nightmare even when there were no complications.
And murder was the worst kind of complication.