The Battered Body, page 23
The tile-top table and six ladder-back chairs arrived by two. And though James only had to screw the legs to the table base, he also had to bake the candied pecans for the cake garnish, mix the frosting, and move the bouquet of yellow carnations he had sitting in the sink to a glass vase.
By the time the cake was cool, the kitchen table was set up and the flowers were arranged. James was quite pleased with himself when he overturned the Bundt pan and the golden cake dropped effortlessly onto a cranberry-colored cake plate. He spooned the frosting over the top and sides, enjoying how it slowly dripped down the crevices in the cake. Frowning at the puddle of icing pooling in the middle, he realized he’d probably poured on too much at once.
“Ah, well. I’m not exactly the Diva of Dough,” he said and meticulously placed the candied pralines in a ring around the top of the cake. He ate half a dozen while he worked, wondering how Paulette had stayed so slim while working with such tempting ingredients.
When Jane and Eliot arrived, James covered his son’s eyes with a dish towel blindfold and led him down to his bedroom.
“Something smells delicious!” Jane exclaimed as she walked behind them. “And it’s not the new paint either.”
“That’s my homemade dessert. As I mentioned on the phone this morning, Milla’s taking care of the rest of our dinner, so prepare yourself for a sumptuous feast. I thought we’d play with Eliot’s Legos until they get here. Milla bought so many blocks that Eliot will be able to build a whole city.”
Eliot stopped in his tracks, almost causing James to collide into him. “What are Legos?” he asked.
James directed a tsk tsk at Jane. “Has this child been raised by wolves?” He laid his hands lightly on Eliot’s shoulders and prodded him forward. “Come on, son. I believe a few monkeys are waiting to meet you.”
“This is the best room ever!” Eliot yelled when James removed the blindfold.
“Great,” Jane murmured and poked James playfully in the ribs. “His room at my house is going to be totally lame in comparison.”
“I wasn’t trying to make this a competition,” James apologized sincerely.
Jane poked him again, and he let loose an involuntary giggle. “I’m kidding, you big orangutan. This room is awesome! One of your supper club friends is the artist, right? Tell me about her.”
As the three of them settled on the floor and began to build Lego houses, James fondly reminisced about how he and the supper club members had first met. Naturally, this led to the subject of how the five of them got involved in their first murder investigation, and before he knew it. James was confiding to his ex-wife how hurt and angry he felt about Murphy’s book.
“I’d say this writer took poetic license to the extreme,” Jane said. “Why would she do something so cruel to Lucy’s character? Did the women dislike one another?” She handed Eliot a red square. The boy was so intent in his building that he paid no attention to his parents, humming songs under his breath as he constructed a tower of colorful blocks.
James spun the wheels of one of the Lego cars. “Murphy was always jealous of Lucy. You see, I, ah—”
“Let me guess. You dated them both?”
When James blushed, Jane laughed. “My, my! James Henry, the Casanova of Quincy’s Gap. And now?” Her voice turned serious, but her eyes still twinkled with mirth. “Who holds the key to your heart these days?”
“He does.” James pointed at their son. At that moment, the doorbell sounded. “Ready to meet your grandparents, Lego Master?” he asked Eliot and the boy mumbled “Sure” without bothering to halt construction.
James fully expected his father to exude a chilly attitude toward Jane, and at first, his demeanor was definitely frosty. But as the evening progressed and Jackson was able to witness what a fine mother she was, he thawed a little. He and Eliot liked each other right away. When Eliot asked Jackson if he should call him “Grandpa,” Jackson leaned down and whispered something in the little boy’s ear. Jackson winked and Eliot rewarded him with a smile before returning to his room. Eliot stayed there while his grandparents toured the house, but as soon as the adults were settled in the kitchen, the boy sidled up to Jackson and tugged on his shirt.
“My tower keeps falling over,” he complained. “Can you help me, Pop-Pop?”
That simple utterance was all it took. Jackson smiled and marched off to his grandson’s room to show him how to create solid building foundations.
Milla had her turn with Eliot too. She told him to stand on a kitchen chair and then showed him how to use the hand blender to whip the potatoes. James cringed when he saw the flecks of white all over his clean countertops. Noticing his expression Milla said that all good cooks were messy.
“Am I cooking, Grandma?” Eliot shouted over the whir of the mixer.
“You are, darling! And you’re a natural!” Milla replied, her eyes shining.
The dinner was a success. Milla made a roast chicken with stuffing, green beans, mashed potatoes, and biscuits. Everything that wasn’t slathered in butter was drenched in brown gravy. James knew there’d be hell to pay when he got on the scale the next day, but he didn’t care.
He served his praline pecan cake with decaf coffee for the adults and a cold glass of milk for his son, and he was delighted by the compliments lavished on him by the two women.
“It’s fair passable,” Jackson grumbled when Milla demanded that he comment on his son’s culinary skills.
Eliot turned to James and repeated his grandfather’s statement word for word in the same grouchy tone. Everyone laughed.
“We’ve got a smart aleck at our table, eh?” Jackson asked, pleased to have a mimic.
All too soon, it was time for Jane and Eliot to leave. He gave his grandparents kisses on the cheek and approached James for his customary hug.
“You’re a good cake maker,” he whispered into James’s ear. He then snuggled against his chest for a moment before taking his mother’s hand. Once more, she carried him off into the night.
“Is this part ever going to get any easier?” James asked Milla after the Volvo disappeared from view.
“Probably not,” she said with a compassionate smile. “I’m gonna cry every time you leave our house.”
“You cry over toothpaste commercials, Mrs. Henry,” Jackson said. “Come on, get your coat on. It’s gonna snow. That damned dog next door has been howlin’ his head off since lunchtime.” He turned to James. “This is a good house, son. And your son is a fine boy. I’m gonna paint him tomorrow. My head’s stuffed with ideas.”
“That’s great, Pop!” James was thrilled to see the eager twitch of his father’s fingers.
As though embarrassed by his candidness, Jackson gestured toward the kitchen. “You’re gonna bring the rest of that cake home for us to eat, right? I’ll find a place to hide it so you won’t mess up your diet.”
“So you did like it?” James teased. “Yes, I’ll bring it. But I may have another piece. This is my last night sleeping in my old room, so I might need some comfort food.”
“Oh, don’t remind me!” Milla cried. “I feel like we’ll never see you again!”
James embraced her fondly and thought, Next time we have dinner, it won’t just be with me, it’ll be with half of Quincy’s Gap!
• • •
Jackson, or rather the dog living next door to the Henrys, had been right about the snow. It fell all night long, but in timid flakes that appeared to lack direction. All signs of precipitation had disappeared by the next morning, but on Tuesday afternoon, a much more determined front descended upon the Shenandoah Valley. A surreal pink sky preceded thick clouds and a cascade of vigorous flakes. When Wednesday dawned, the world was completely muffled in white.
“The weather is a nice complement to your parents’ party,” Mrs. Waxman said, arriving early for the evening shift. “The way the drifts have formed on the lawn—they almost look like piped icing, and the snow on the sidewalk is like a bridal veil.” She patted James on the arm. “Enough of my metaphors. You’d better get a move on. And don’t forget to save me a cupcake.”
James saluted his former middle school teacher and said, “Yes, ma’am!”
He took care driving to the church and was delighted to note that Lindy, Bennett, and Gillian’s cars were already in the parking lot. His friends were busy stomping their boots on the mat in the front hall when he entered.
“What have we here?” Lindy asked, helping him with his bags.
James poured out the contents of two other bags onto the buffet table in the fellowship hall. “I pretty much bought anything the store had that was white or remotely connected to weddings.”
Bennett held up a hundred-count bag of white balloons. “And who’s supposed to blow these suckers up?”
“I bought a little hand pump.” James clapped Bennett on the back. “Do you think you could make an arch over the far end of the hall? That’s where the wedding cupcakes will be. Three hundred balloons ought to do it.”
Spluttering, Bennett requested another job, but Gillian grabbed the hand pump from him and smiled. “You pump, I’ll tie. I have nimble fingers.”
“Don’t I know it.” Bennett smiled at her affectionately.
James left them to their project and began to thumbtack glittering snowflakes, silver wedding bells, and cutouts of white doves hanging from curly white ribbon onto the ceiling tiles. His hands shook a little as he worked, and a feeling of anxiety began to swell inside his chest.
Would the killer attend their celebration? Would the supper club members be able to conceal the fact that their eyes would be scanning each and every face in the crowd in search of the dangerous stranger? Would Russ DuPont wear a disguise or wait in the janitor’s closet for a chance to ambush Chloe?
Perhaps this party is a grave mistake, James thought worriedly. We’re being so arrogant—playing with Chloe’s life this way.
James was just hanging the last pair of doves when the Fitzgerald twins breezed in carrying a stereo system and two sets of speakers. After renting the hall and paying for a weekend getaway to Asheville, James didn’t have enough funds to hire a disc jockey, but Francis and Scott assured him they owned enough CDs to keep the party going all night.
“Let’s hope it’s not that much fun. We all have to work tomorrow,” James had told them earlier that day. He had then showed them the printout of Russ DuPont’s photograph, which Lucy had acquired from the sheriff’s department in Natchez. “Be on the lookout for this guy. He probably murdered Paulette and Chase, and he may try to harm Chloe tonight. We’re going to need every pair of eyes, so memorize this face.”
The twins had studied the photograph for a long time. “He doesn’t look like a killer,” Scott had said.
“That makes him even more dangerous. Dark blond hair, blue eyes, about six feet tall,” Francis read from Lucy’s notes. “He won’t stand out in a crowd.”
James stared at the young man’s face for the hundredth time. “He’d better stand out tonight. Someone’s life may depend on it.”
The twins hooked up the stereo and Lucy arrived with Deputy Truett in tow. He was to come to the party as a guest, but a guest carrying a concealed gun. Lucy was armed and was carrying a police radio in her purse, just in case she needed to alert Sheriff Huckabee or Deputy Donovan. Huckabee was already camped out in the church office, which would serve as the law enforcement command center for the duration of the party. Donovan was in charge of outdoor surveillance. James relished the idea of Keith Donovan, his nemesis since junior high, sitting on the cold gray leather of his black Camaro, drinking cupfuls of noodle soup and coffee in an effort to keep warm while the rest of them enjoyed a bountiful feast.
Surveying the room, James felt his anxiety ebb a little. It looked like a winter wonderland. With the glossy white balloon arch, the glittering silver and white cutouts twirling from the ceiling on satin strings, the ivory tablecloths, and the white amaryllis centerpieces, the room glowed with enchantment. For a moment, James wished Jane and Eliot were attending, but he didn’t want his ex-wife and son within miles of Russ DuPont, and though Jane’s voice had been fraught with worry when he explained the situation to her on the phone, he promised he wouldn’t do anything foolish.
“I’m a father now,” he’d said to Jane. “Eliot is my number-one priority. Trust me. I want nothing more than to be with my son. And with you too, of course.”
“Helloooo!” Lindy snapped her fingers in front of his face. “You’re daydreaming, James!”
Gillian opened her arms wide and twirled around, her batik skirt opening outward like a flower with rainbow petals. “And why not? This place looks like a dream! And those cupcakes Willow made! Divine! Come see.”
The trio walked over to the dessert table and gazed at the rows of luscious cupcakes. Each confection had been frosted with an inch of creamy vanilla hazelnut icing topped by a white chocolate heart.
“Try one of the hearts,” Willow said as she placed a petite wedding cake in the center of the cupcakes. She gestured at a bowl of white chocolate hearts. “I thought we might sell them at Quincy’s Whimsies.” James plucked a candy from the bowl and popped it into his mouth. The buttery chocolate melted on his tongue. “It’s heavenly!”
All of the supper club members helped themselves to candy hearts. As they showered Willow with compliments, the first guests began to filter into the room. No one came empty-handed. People either carried a wedding gift or a tray of food, and it didn’t take long for James to experience a bout of nervousness.
“Who are these people?” he asked his friends.
“Students from Milla’s Fix ’n Freeze classes,” Lindy answered. “Lucy was in charge of drumming up volunteers to supply food, and she had the brilliant idea of inviting a bunch of guests who also happened to be darned good cooks.”
“You’re amazing!” James told Lucy, and she flushed with pleasure.
He walked over to the far side of the room and introduced himself to the dozen people arranging dishes on the buffet table. Reading the placards positioned in front of each warming tray, James was astonished by the assortment of gourmet food Milla’s students had created. There was apple- and cranberry-stuffed pork loin, maple-glazed salmon, medallions of beef in a cognac cream sauce, lemon dill tilapia, cornbread-stuffed portobellos, spinach tortellini and roasted tomatoes in pesto, and chicken breasts in a sauce of white wine.
As James moved down the line, making a mental checklist of which entrées to choose, more unfamiliar people appeared around the table. Men and women of all ages unveiled platters of sides, including risotto cakes, squash medley, wasabi whipped potatoes, wild rice pilaf, and glazed carrots.
Megan and Amelia Flowers placed bread baskets of Asiago cheese muffins in the center of each dining table and added an enormous platter of wedding-bell cookies to the dessert table.
All was ready.
James looked around the room and found Chloe and Aunt Wheezie standing by the drinks area. Willy, the jovial owner of the Custard Cottage, had volunteered to make virgin and champagne-spiked punch. Despite the chill in the evening air, folks were lined up to accept glasses of punch, and Willy’s jolly booming laugh echoed through the large room.
Suddenly, the lights blinked on and off three times—Bennett’s signal that Milla and Jackson had pulled into the parking lot.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Lindy asked at the last moment. “Your folks aren’t exactly young. What if we give them a heart attack?”
“If anyone’s going to get hurt, it’ll be me,” James joked, momentarily forgetting about Chloe. “Pop detests surprises. He’s coming here as a dutiful new husband accompanying his wife to what he believes is her first choir practice. Instead of listening to the sweet melodies of a dozen singers, Pop’s about to be set upon by seventy-five partygoers. Considering he cast off his hermitlike existence fairly recently, I don’t expect him to be thankful.” He glanced at Lindy’s pink face, which was aglow with excitement. “Luis is coming, right?”
She nodded. “He has to ditch the PTA ladies first, but he’ll be here.”
As soon as she finished speaking, Bennett flicked the lights again and the murmurs of the crowd abruptly ceased. In the silence, the dual footsteps of Milla and Jackson striding down the tile-floor hallway caused James’s heart to race. His eyes swept across the guests, but everyone’s faces matched Lindy’s. All the expressions were the same—that of jubilant anticipation. Even the undercover deputies, Lucy and Glenn, had their gazes fixed on the closed door leading from the fellowship hall to the corridor. And then, it eased open.
“Surprise!” came the deafening, unified shout. Jackson’s jaw dropped and Milla’s hands flew to her heart.
James rushed forward to grab her by her free arm in case she fainted, but Milla merely repeated “oh my, oh my, oh my,” while Jackson looked as though he might hurl himself through the closest window.
“What have you done, James Henry?” Milla asked when she’d caught her breath.
“It wasn’t me,” James protested. “A few of your friends wanted to throw you a wedding reception.” Avoiding his father’s desiccating stare, James leaned toward Milla and whispered, “You sped up your wedding plans for Eliot’s sake, so the least this son could do was to ensure you celebrated properly.”
Milla threw her arms around his neck and kissed him on the cheek. “And where’s my darling grandson?”
James squirmed. “I didn’t want him to come.”
“Oh.” Milla’s eyes grew round. “You don’t want him around Chloe and Wheezie in case that young man . . .” She too trailed off, and at that awkward moment, Scott and Francis hit a play button on their stereo and the Crystals belted out “Going to the Chapel.” Most of the guests immediately began to sing along.
James turned to his father. “I know this isn’t your idea of fun, Pop, but it’s just dinner and dessert. After that, you can go back home.”
