Chapter 32
THIRTY-TWO
The Primrose Ballroom had been transformed into its own winter wonderland, but an indoor one.
The chandeliers still hung from above, but they were turned off, the lighting replaced by old-fashioned incandescent bulbs that let off a soft glow as if moonlight had been bottled up for this very occasion.
Wisteria hung from white trellises suspended from the ceiling, and a plush white carpet now extended down an aisle created by the seating, and across the front of the room, where Anton waited with Joe Larson and Will Hurt—who seemed just as antsy as the last time I’d seen him.
The ballroom was filled with about four hundred guests, about half of whom had driven the fifteen minutes or so from Aubergine proper. Others had either checked into The Rose last night or were staying in the nearest big towns.
In the front row were Anton’s parents—Patty and Michael.
I hadn’t gotten a good look at Michael since his conversation with me and Charlie on Friday night.
According to the note I’d found, Todd was supposed to make a delivery to the man during this very ceremony, which certainly cast the groom’s father in a whole new light.
What had the Swansons planned? Some kind of art handoff during the ceremony?
The married couple sat side by side as if they belonged together. As I watched them, Michael put an arm around his estranged wife, who seemed to be more than willing to accept his affection in this time of grief over her much younger, much deader boyfriend. Relationships were certainly complicated.
“Can I see the feed?” I asked Deputy Wright, who’d had just enough time for her team to set up four black-and-white cameras around the periphery of the room. One was at the front, focused on the groom’s side.
Jill passed me the iPad streaming the camera feeds, and I let my eyes roam over the images, searching for anything out of place as well as the people that we were watching closely.
“Those are Anton’s parents, and that’s Charlotte Swanson,” I said, pointing to the far left of the third row. “Right next to…”
I was about to say right next to her cousin, Myrtis, but then I noticed that they were sitting several feet apart, with something between them.
“What is that?” I asked, trying to enlarge the feed unsuccessfully.
Charlie took the screen and froze the image momentarily so he could zoom in. “Looks like a really large briefcase.”
I almost wondered aloud what kind of person would bring a briefcase to a wedding, but then I knew. That must be the carrying case for the art. I told Jill and Charlie as much.
“But why would they be carrying it around in broad daylight?” I asked.
“Because no one expects an art heist at a wedding,” Jill answered, her tone flat without being mean.
The art itself was long gone. Today’s ceremony wasn’t about stealing—it was about passing the goods on to their buyer while everyone else toasted the happy couple.
I supposed that was true. “Okay, so can’t you go in there, open up the case, and bust them?”
I studied Jill and Charlie, trying to understand why they weren’t moving in already. I was pretty sure at this point they wouldn’t wait just to spare Lacy’s wedding.
“It’s too soon. We just don’t know what’s in that case,” Charlie answered.
“It could be empty, for all we know. And anyway, we don’t want to take someone down on theft charges if they’re actually a murderer.
We want them to pay the full penalty for their full crime.
So we need to see how this will play out.
I just thank God Lacy was okay for us to do this. ”
As soon as I’d realized that the real “Charlie” in “blame Charlie” was actually Charlotte Swanson, I’d wanted her taken into custody. She didn’t deserve the chance to get away—and I was a bit irritated with myself for taking so long to see her key role in this whole fiasco.
I’d been assuming that Charlotte was just a cousin, someone with a bit of sway but not much more than Bella Rivera or Myrtis Swanson.
But Charlotte had been the one who’d silenced Myrtis in the car on the way to the bachelorette party.
She’d been the one who’d chatted knowledgably with Aunt DeeDee about art.
She’d been the one that Will was afraid of.
She’d been the one to pull something like night-vision glasses from her hair and tuck them inside her bag of weapons, and I was certain, even though we were waiting to get her fingerprints, that she was the one who’d had someone make a security call to the sheriff while she’d waited in the trees of the estate, ready to pull the trigger.
Perhaps she’d planned to kill both Todd and Charlie, though I couldn’t dwell on such a thought. It was too heavy to consider.
Instead, Charlie and Jill had decided to keep a very close watch on her.
When I’d asked Lacy and her mother if they recalled Charlotte or Myrtis stepping out of the rehearsal dinner, they couldn’t remember, which was fair considering that there were fifty people there. They hadn’t even realized that Charlie or I had gone.
“You know what to do?” Charlie asked, all business now.
I repeated the plan back to him. “You’ll make a call to the prepaid phone during the candle lighting, and I’ll keep an eye on the groom’s side to see if anyone reaches for a phone.”
“It’s not definitive proof by a long shot, but it could confirm our other suspicions,” Charlie said.
“We just need to know we’re moving in the right direction,” Jill added, before moving on to the next step of the plan. “The Birkin bag is stationed behind the altar at the front.”
The American Cream painting had been expertly rolled and was sticking out of the top. I nodded, knowing what to do with them when the time came. “Now we hope for the best-case scenario.”
“Exactly,” Charlie said.
As a string quartet off to the side of the platform began to play, Charlie gave me a kiss and a light pat on the back while Jill offered a quick nod as if to remind me that I could do this.
Then, the two of them went into the permanent sound booth at the back corner of the room, trying to make themselves scarce until the right moment.
“Time to line up,” I told everyone as the bridal party descended from the Salon. A minute later I was getting into my place at the back of the line while the groomsmen stood on the stage next to Anton. With Charlie out, we were down a groomsman at the front, but the balance wouldn’t be too off.
After we were in place, I caught Lacy’s eye. She gave me a quick wink, reminding me that all of this was fine—or, at least, understandable.
“I get to have a wedding, and a stakeout, all in the same thirty minutes,” Lacy had said when we’d outlined the plan. I appreciated her efforts to hide any disappointment she might be feeling. “If you get a chance, tell Mr. Weathers I said thank you for coming—and for his help.”
“Will do.”
The ceremony proceeded beautifully from the flower girls to the wedding march.
I walked down the aisle, holding a bouquet of white roses laced with baby’s breath, trying to keep my eyes fixed straight ahead even though I knew there was a murderer in our midst. Despite what I knew was about to go down, my eyes welled as I watched Lacy come down the aisle on her father’s arm.
He was beaming proudly, even though he’d also been apprised of the changes to the day.
The music faded, and the opening benediction was given by an actual priest from Aunt DeeDee’s congregation, a woman who’d been willing to come and officiate last minute.
It almost felt like a normal wedding for the first few minutes as 1 Corinthians 13 was read by one of Lacy’s college friends, and a cello played as a soloist sang a soft version of the Beatles’ “All You Need Is Love.” I sniffed back the tears as Anton and Lacy said their vows and exchanged rings.
I could read the love in Lacy’s eyes and the adoration in Anton’s.
This was a truly beautiful union, even in these fraught circumstances.
When it came time for the wedded couple to light a single candle together, I took a deep breath, knowing that things were about to change.
My eyes roamed from the happy couple to the front rows of Anton’s side of the family, knowing Charlie would be calling the prepaid phone.
I hoped to see one of them flinch as if they’d been surprised by the call, but no one moved, except for an older gentleman who was snoring and suddenly woke himself up.
My eyes flicked to the back of the room, where I could just make out Charlie shaking his head in the sound booth.
The call was a no-go, which necessitated the next part of the plan.
While Lacy and Anton stood at the unity candle, I handed my bouquet to Savilla and stepped forward, gently taking the Birkin bag from behind the altar, where we’d had the wedding coordinator place it.
Whether because of the bag or because I was doing something unconventional, I felt every eye shift to me.
Mr. Weathers stepped out of his seat on the bride’s side at the end of a row, carrying a canvas stretcher and an empty frame in his arms. He’d happily agreed to get in on the action, if for no other reason than to contribute to restoring his beloved paintings to their rightful place.
I removed American Cream & The Original Rose from the Birkin bag and began to unroll it, sensing the hum of nervous energy in the room from those who had no idea what was happening—and particularly from the groom’s side, as they peered forward to see what in the world I was doing, especially with a piece of art their family had stolen.
“The bride’s and groom’s families have asked for a special symbol to commemorate the joining of their two families,” I said into a microphone near the altar.
Anton’s parents stared at me, while Lacy’s parents looked across the aisle and gave a polite nod as if this had all been discussed and agreed upon beforehand.