While you were waiting, did you happen to notice anyone who shouldnt have been there?
There were just the people youd expect. The florists, the minister. The wedding party.
Names?
There was me. My daughter Wendy. The best man I dont remember his name. My ex-husband, George, and his latest wife.
Latest.
She sniffed. Daniella. His fourth so far.
What about your husband?
She paused. Edward was delayed. His plane was two hours late leaving Chicago.
So he hadnt even reached town yet?
No. But he planned to attend the reception.
Again, Sam glanced around the room, at the antiques. The view. May I ask what your husband does for a living, Mrs. Warrenton?
Hes president of Ridley-Warrenton.
The logging company?
Thats right.
That explained the house and the Mercedes, thought Sam. Ridley-Warrenton was one of the largest landowners in northern Maine. Their forest products, from raw lumber to fine paper, were shipped around the world.
His next question was unavoidable. Mrs. Warrenton, he asked, does your husband have any enemies?
Her response surprised him. She laughed. Anyone with money has enemies, Detective.
Can you name anyone in particular?
Youd have to ask Edward.
I will, said Sam, rising to his feet. As soon as your husbands back in town, could you have him give me a call?
My husbands a busy man.
So am I, maam, he answered. With a curt nod, he turned and left the house.
In the driveway, he sat in his Taurus for a moment, gazing up at the mansion. It was, without a doubt, one of the most impressive homes hed ever been in. Not that he was all that familiar with mansions. Samuel Navarro was the son of a Boston cop who was himself the son of a Boston cop. At the age of twelve, hed moved to Portland with his newly widowed mother. Nothing came easy for them, a fact of life which his mother resignedly accepted.
Sam had not been so accepting. His adolescence consisted of five long years of rebellion. Fistfights in the school yard. Sneaking cigarettes in the bathroom. Loitering with the rough-and-tumble crowd that hung out in Monument Square. Thered been no mansions in his childhood.
He started the car and drove away. The investigation was just beginning; he and Gillis had a long night ahead of them. There was still the minister to interview, as well as the florist, the best man, the matron of honor, and the groom.
Most of all, the groom.
Dr. Robert Bledsoe, after all, was the one whod called off the wedding. His decision, by accident or design, had saved the lives of dozens of people. That struck Sam as just a little bit too fortunate. Had Bledsoe received some kind of warning? Had he been the intended target?
Was that the real reason hed left his bride at the altar?
Nina Cormiers image came vividly back to mind. Hers wasnt a face hed be likely to forget. It was more than just those big brown eyes, that kissable mouth. It was her pride that impressed him the most. The sort of pride that kept her chin up, her jaw squared, even as the tears were falling. For that he admired her. No whining, no self-pity. The woman had been humiliated, abandoned, and almost blown to smithereens. Yet shed had enough spunk left to give Sam an occasional what-for. He found that both irritating and amusing. For a woman whod probably grown up with everything handed to her on a silver platter, she was a tough little survivor.
Today shed been handed a heaping dish of crow, and shed eaten it just fine, thank you. Without a whimper.
Surprising, surprising woman.
He could hardly wait to hear what Dr. Robert Bledsoe had to say about her.
IT WAS AFTER five oclock when Nina finally emerged from her mothers guest bedroom. Calm, composed, she was now wearing jeans and a T-shirt. Shed left her wedding dress hanging in the closet; she didnt even want to look at it again. Too many bad memories had attached themselves like burrs to the fabric.
Downstairs she found her mother sitting alone in the living room, nursing a highball. Detective Navarro was gone. Lydia raised the drink to her lips, and by the clinking of ice cubes in the glass, Nina could tell that Lydias hands were shaking.
Mother? said Nina.
At the sound of her daughters voice, Lydias head jerked up. You startled me.
I think Ill be leaving now. Are you all right?
Yes. Yes, of course. Lydia gave a shudder. Then she added, almost as an afterthought, How about you?
Ill be okay. I just need some time. Away from Robert.
Mother and daughter looked at each other for a moment, neither one speaking, neither one knowing what to say. This was the way things had always been between them. Nina had grown up hungry for affection. Her mother had always been too self-absorbed to grant it. And this was the result: the silence of two women who scarcely knew or understood each other. The distance between them couldnt be measured by years, but by universes.
Nina watched her mother take another deep swallow of her drink. How did it go? she asked. With you and that detective?
Lydia shrugged. Whats there to say? He asked questions, I answered them.
Did he tell you anything? About who might have done it?