When at last they pulled up in front of her mothers house, Nina was barely holding herself together. She didnt wait for Sam to circle around and open her door. She pushed it open herself and scrambled out in a sloppy tangle of wedding gown. By the time he walked up the front steps, she was already leaning desperately on the doorbell, silently begging her mother to let her in before she fell apart completely.
The door swung open. Lydia, still elegantly coiffed and gowned, stood staring at her dishevelled daughter. Nina? Oh, my poor Nina. She opened her arms.
Automatically Nina fell into her mothers embrace. So hungry was she for a hug, she didnt immediately register the fact that Lydia had drawn back to avoid wrinkling her green silk dress. But she did register her mothers first question.
Have you heard from Robert yet?
Nina stiffened. Oh please, she thought. Please dont do this to me.
Im sure this can all be worked out, said Lydia. If youd just sit down with Robert and have an honest discussion about whats bothering him
Nina pulled away. Im not going to sit down with Robert, she said. And as for an honest discussion, Im not sure we ever had one.
Now, darling, its natural to be angry
But arent you angry, Mother? Cant you be angry for me?
Well, yes. But I cant see tossing Robert aside just because
The sudden clearing of a male throat made Lydia glance up at Sam, who was standing outside the doorway.
Im Detective Navarro, Portland Police, he said.
Youre Mrs. Cormier?
The names now Warrenton. Lydia frowned at him.
What is this all about? What do the police have to do with this?
There was an incident at the church, maam. Were investigating.
An incident?
The church was bombed.
Lydia stared at him. Youre not serious.
Im very serious. It went off at 2:40 this afternoon. Luckily no one was hurt. But if the wedding had been held
Lydia paled to a sickly white. She took a step back, her voice failing her.
Mrs. Warrenton, said Sam, I need to ask you a few questions.
Nina didnt stay to listen. She had heard too many questions already. She climbed upstairs to the spare bedroom, where she had left her suitcase the suitcase shed packed for St. John Island. Inside were her bathing suits and sundresses and tanning lotion. Everything shed thought she needed for a week in paradise.
She took off the wedding dress and carefully draped it over an armchair where it lay white and lifeless. Useless. She looked at the contents of her suitcase, at the broken dreams packed neatly between layers of tissue paper. Thats when the last vestiges of control failed her. Dressed only in her underwear, she sat down on the bed. Alone, in silence, she finally allowed the grief to sweep over her.
And she wept.
LYDIA WARRENTON was nothing like her daughter. Sam had seen it the moment the older woman opened the front door. Flawlessly made up, elegantly coiffed, her slender frame shown to full advantage by the green gown, Lydia looked like no mother of the bride hed ever seen. There was a physical resemblance, of course. Both Lydia and Nina had the same black hair, the same dark, thickly lashed eyes. But while Nina had a softness about her, a vulnerability, Lydia was standoffish, as though surrounded by some protective force field that would zap anyone who ventured too close. She was definitely a looker, not only thin but also rich, judging by the room he was now standing in.
The house was a veritable museum of antiques. He had noticed a Mercedes parked in the driveway. And the living room, into which hed just been ushered, had a spectacular ocean view. A million-dollar view. Lydia sat down primly on a brocade sofa and motioned him toward a wing chair. The needlepoint fabric was so pristine-looking he had the urge to inspect his clothes before sinking onto the cushion.
A bomb, murmured Lydia, shaking her head. I just cant believe it. Who would bomb a church?
Its not the first bombing weve had in town.
She looked at him, bewildered. You mean the warehouse? The one last week? I read that had something to do with organized crime.
That was the theory.
This was a church. How can they possibly be connected?
We dont see the link either, Mrs. Warrenton. Were trying to find out if there is one. Maybe you can help us. Do you know of any reason someone would want to bomb the Good Shepherd Church?
I know nothing about that church. Its not one I attend. It was my daughters choice to get married there.
You sound as if you dont approve.
She shrugged. Nina has her own odd way of doing things. Id have chosen a moreestablished institution. And a longer guest list. But thats Nina. She wanted to keep it small and simple.
Simple was definitely not Lydia Warrentons style, thought Sam, gazing around the room.
Simple was definitely not Lydia Warrentons style, thought Sam, gazing around the room.
So to answer your question, Detective, I cant think of any reason to bomb Good Shepherd.
What time did you leave the church?
A little after two. When it became apparent there wasnt anything I could do for Nina.