To Brie or Not to Brie (37 page)

“She attacked Giacomo; they struggled.”

“A shot was fired. Iris grabbed a container of ice cream—”

“—and wham! What about the gun?” Rebecca asked.

“It went flying. Iris retrieved it and the cash Giacomo had on him, and she ran.”

“Why wouldn’t she tell Urso it was an accident?” Rebecca said.

“She isn’t blameless in this. She demanded money for information.”

“That’s extortion.”

“Right. She had no concern about Jacky’s welfare. And she kept the money.”

“The bank could verify the amount of the deposit,” Rebecca said.

“I’ll bet she only deposited the check Meredith gave her, and she’s sitting on the
rest of the cash. I’ll bet it’s in that tote she carries around.” Along with the wig.

Rebecca glanced at her watch. “Golly Moses, we’ve got to get cracking. Guests will
be coming soon. We should change clothes but, first, we have to call Urso.”

The screen door leading to the kitchen squeaked open. Iris yelled, “Charlotte, where
are you?” She sounded panicked. Her high heels clacked as she crossed the kitchen
floor. “My scissors broke.” She appeared at the refrigerator doorway, rummaging through
her tote bag. “Do you have a pair?” She looked up.

Before I could stop myself, I glanced at my wrists. Then at the ice cream container.

Iris looked between Rebecca and me, and then her face pinched with fear. She knew
we knew. She pulled the refrigerator door shut.

“You told us you burned your wrists on a hot pot while boiling eggs for your orchids,”
I said.

“You don’t understand.”

“You lied. You killed Giacomo Capriotti with the vat of ice cream.”

“It was an accident. He pulled a gun on me. I defended myself.”

“You stole the hundred thousand he was carrying.”

“He owed me. He promised. But he was a mean, vicious man.”

The words to the song “Babylon” came to me: “Sleep with the devil and then you must
pay.”

“Look, let me leave town,” Iris pleaded. “I’ll never hurt anyone again. You know I
won’t.”

I shook my head.

“There’s so much good I can do with that money, Charlotte. Think about the possibilities.
I can donate to the Providence Women’s Shelter. I’ll give half to Jacky and her baby.”

“I’m sorry, Iris. You have to turn yourself in.”

“No. I won’t do it.” She reached into the tote bag and withdrew a gun—an all-black
Beretta, not gray and black like Vinnie’s; it had to be Giacomo’s weapon. She aimed
it at me.
Dang.
Why hadn’t I searched the darned tote when I had caught Rocket cozying up to it?
Because I hadn’t suspected Iris, that’s why.

“Charlotte, do something,” Rebecca cried.

“No, don’t do anything, Charlotte,” Iris ordered. “Don’t move. Do not even breathe
or I’ll shoot. I won’t let you ruin things for my daughter and me.”

“Please, Iris, if you turn yourself in, I’m sure the court will be lenient, given
the circumstances.”

“Stop being so darned optimistic. It’s a royal pain.” Iris backed toward the exit.
“I’m sorry, but I’ll have to lock you in.” With her left hand, she groped for the
refrigerator door handle. She missed it and pivoted to gain focus.

Having a second to act, I lifted the container of Brie blueberry ice cream from the
refrigerator shelf, swung it like a bowling ball, and released it. The vat hit the
floor and hurtled toward Iris. It nailed her in the back of the legs. She let out
an
oof
, pitched forward, and hit the refrigerator door with her forehead. At the same time,
the gun flew from her grip; it skidded beneath a refrigerator shelf. I raced forward
and threw myself at Iris. We tumbled to the floor. She flailed, but I was stronger.
A skinny florist was no match for a cheese monger.

Rebecca dropped to her knees and reached beneath the shelves. She rose triumphantly
with the Beretta in hand. “Got it.”

“Good,” I said. “Now get help.”

Urso, looking smart in his brown Sunday suit, entered the ranch through the front
door. Rebecca edged in behind him. I met them in the foyer with Iris in tow. Mentally
beaten, she wasn’t struggling at all. Urso pushed his tongue against the inside of
his cheek as if he was trying to figure out what to say. I countered with a glare.
How could he fault my actions? Rebecca and I had been trapped in the refrigerator
with a killer. If I hadn’t launched the ice cream container, Iris would have escaped,
and Matthew and Meredith’s wedding would have been ruined—not to mention that Rebecca
and I might have ended up with frostbite…or worse. How long could we have lasted in
a locked walk-in refrigerator? The caterer wouldn’t have opened the door for at least
an hour.

“We’ve got to keep this hush-hush,” I said.

“Miss Isherwood.” Urso produced a pair of handcuffs. “I am placing you under arrest.”

Iris thrust her arms forward. “My daughter had nothing to do with it.”

“I believe her,” I said.

Urso shot me a look.

“Can you take her out the way you came?” I said. “Out of sight from any of the guests
or help. If Meredith gets wind of it, she’ll freak. She’ll cancel the whole affair.
Tyanne’s reputation will be ruined. Grandmère will be furious with me.”

“I’ll do my best,” Urso said.

“Will you be able to go to the precinct and get back in time for the wedding?” Rebecca
asked.

“Miss Zook, I think there are more important matters right now.”

“Not to Matthew and Meredith. They’ll wonder.”

Urso smirked. “I think they’ll wonder the moment they don’t see their floral consultant.”

“I’ll cover that end,” I said. I couldn’t suggest that Iris suffered from food poisoning;
the mention of poison would put everyone on edge. Maybe I would take a page from both
Edy and Anabelle’s lives—Iris needed to visit a sick parent. “By the way, Iris, you
did a good job on the flowers.”

“Big deal,” she said. “I don’t think they’ll have a need for my skills in jail.”

* * *

Just when it was time for me to take my seat, I saw Jordan, looking as handsome as
ever in a gray pin-striped suit. My gown rustled as I ran to him.

“You look fabulous,” he said.

“So do you.” I pecked his cheek, grabbed his hand, and we walked down the white carpet
to the tune of the Beatles’ “Here, There, and Everywhere.”

As we sat in the front row beside Grandmère and Pépère, Jordan leaned in. “Now, are
you going to tell me what’s going on?”

Channeling Scarlet O’Hara, I batted my eyelashes. “Whatever could you mean?”

“Urso arrived late. Iris is missing. And you have minor burns on your wrists.”

“Why, you astound me with your powers of observation, sir.”

“Charlotte,” he said, dragging out my name.

“Okay, fine.” In a hushed voice, I related the whole tale. He whistled. I batted his
leg. The moment I finished, the wedding procession began. Talk about timing.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, the pastor held out his hands and said, “By the power vested
in me by the state of Ohio, I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

Matthew and Meredith turned toward each other, kissed tenderly, and faced the crowd.

“Guests and family, I present to you Mr. and Mrs. Matthew Bessette.”

The string quartet played “All You Need Is Love,” and Tyanne signaled the young man
in the white suit to unlatch the birdcage. Indigo Buntings flew from their confinement
and spiraled into the air. At the same time, the twins swooped to Matthew and Meredith
and threw their arms around them. Guests applauded. I squeezed Jordan’s hand and peeked
at Sylvie, who sat beyond Jordan and was properly dressed, for once, in a sea blue
frock that scooped low in front, but not too low. Mouth pursed, she patted her palms
together politely. I was pleased that she had shown restraint—no ladybugs or other
surprises—which was a marvel and, no doubt, a challenge worthy of the mighty Hercules.

Matthew and Meredith, each holding one of the twins’ hands, strolled down the white
carpet. At the end of the rows of chairs, they turned right and headed back to the
gazebo where they would receive guests. Grandmère and Pépère followed, and then Meredith’s
parents and Matthew’s parents. All were grinning. None knew what had gone down in
the Harvest Moon Ranch’s kitchen.

* * *

Following the ceremony, Grandmère said, “Charlotte, Jordan,
venez ici
.” She stood with Pépère and the twins at one end of the buffet table.

We joined them, and Jordan openly admired the caterer’s bountiful, multilevel display.
Atop each high point stood a blue and white floral bouquet set in a handblown, handkerchief-shaped
crystal vase.

“You have outdone yourself with the menu,” Grandmère said.

“Thank you, but the caterer did all the work.”

“
Ne sois pas si modeste
,” she said.

“I’m not being modest.”

She petted my cheek. “So like your father. Will you dine with us?”

“Please do, Aunt Charlotte,” Clair said. “We’re sitting at the table near Meredith’s
and Daddy’s table. See our sweaters on the chairs?”

“Closest to the hill,” Amy pointed.

Meredith and Matthew sat at the wedding couple’s table with their backs to the valley
so they could face their guests. Meredith hadn’t cared for a formal sit-down dinner.
She wanted everyone to feel free to move about.

“We’ve taken the whole table. Mum is sitting with us, too.”

“Mum particularly liked the heart-shaped corkscrew and wine stopper table gifts,”
Amy said.

“Only after we told her we picked them out,” Clair added.

I eyed my grandmother. She smiled. “We do what we must on a special day,
non?
”

“We do, indeed.”

“Lead the way,
mes petites-filles.
” Pépère nudged the twins.

As my grandmother moved along the buffet, filling her
plate with Dorset Drum cheese, the goat cheese crostini, and ricotta-stuffed mushrooms,
she turned to Jordan and winked. “It is nice to see your sister enjoying herself.”

Jacky was already seated at one of the dining tables. Hugo nestled beside her, feeding
her tidbits from his plate.

“They are in love,
n’est-ce pas
?” Grandmère asked. “He does not take his eyes off of her.”

“I’m not sure about Jacky,” Jordan said, “but Hugo has asked Jacky to star in his
next film. Right now, I think he’s assessing the angles of her face that he likes
best.”

I tilted my head. “Really?”

Jordan grinned. “Kid you not.”

I placed a couple of radicchio marmalade turnovers on my plate, my mouth watering
in expectation.

Grandmère said, “She will leave Providence?”

Jordan shrugged. “Her life is her own now that her husband is dead.”

Grandmère scanned the rest of the wedding guests. “Our little Rebecca looks delicious.”

Rebecca had changed into a dandelion yellow dress with cap sleeves and a pair of buff
sandals. Her hunky Hawaiian fiancé had returned from his jaunt with his folks and,
to show his devotion, had dressed in a buff suit, white shirt, and dandelion yellow
tie. They stood beside the gazebo beaming at one another.

“On the other hand,
chérie
, our Chief Urso looks
très désolé.
”

Urso had delivered Iris to jail and made it back to the wedding in the nick of time,
but he did look distressed.

“Hello, Chief Urso.” Grandmère waved to him. She nudged me. “Talk to him. Cheer him
up.”

Far be it from me to tell her I was most likely the reason he was out of sorts.

Urso joined us and nodded greetings to everyone.

I sidled to him and whispered, “So?”

“So, what?”

“Iris?”

“She’s remorseful and giving her entire statement to Deputy Rodham.”

“And her daughter?”

“She swears that her daughter has no knowledge of anything she did. The girl is innocent.”

“Could her mother’s plea of guilty affect her chance of getting into college?”

Urso shook his head. “I doubt it. A child should not be measured by the integrity,
or lack thereof, of a parent. By the way, I meant to tell you that I heard from Capriotti’s
estate lawyer. Jacky is sole inheritor. No foundation. No Vinnie. The estate is large.”

The string quartet stopped, and Tyanne clicked a spoon against a crystal glass. “Yoo-hoo,
everyone. Welcome. Do you have champagne?”

“I don’t,” Amy said.

I grinned. “Your father brought some natural almond soda for you. Set your plates
on the table and hurry to the wine bar for a glass.”

As the twins scurried off, a waiter carrying a tray of wine flutes filled with Veuve
Clicquot brut champagne toured through the guests. I selected five glasses, two for
my grandparents and the remainder for Jordan, Urso, and me.

When everyone held a glass, Tyanne said, “Charlotte, I believe you have a toast prepared.”

My mother had embroidered and framed an old Irish blessing, which hung in my bedroom.
The words were etched on my brain. As everyone drew silent, tears pressed at the backs
of my eyes. I raised my glass of champagne and said, “May God be with you and bless
you. May you see your children’s children. May you be poor in misfortune, rich in
blessings. May you know nothing but happiness from this day forward.”