Murder of the Bride Read Online Free PDF Page B

women’s conversation.
    â€œI love Polly’s gown,” Jasmina said. “Antique lace. Must have cost a fortune.”
    â€œAnd your dress is simply gorgeous,” Helen complimented.
    â€œOh, thanks.” Jasmina giggled and sipped her champagne.
    â€œAre you a designer?”
    â€œOh, no. I’m in media. Clothes are just a hobby.” Another giggly squeal. “And you?”
    â€œStudent advisor at Clive’s school.” Helen glanced at her ex as though surprised he had not mentioned this fact to Jasmina.
    â€œOh—right,” Jasmina said. “And that’s how you know Polly …,” she ventured.
    â€œYes, I got to know Polly during her teenage years. And, to some extent, Timmy. Timmy was Clive’s pupil.”
    Jasmina gazed adoringly at Clive as though mathematics was the sexiest subject ever, and gave his arm a playful tweak. “Thanks to you, he became an accountant.”
    A pleased flush crept over Clive’s bland face. “Oh, I don’t know that I can take all the credit,” he said, obviously ready to do just that.
    â€œFunny to see them both grown up and married,” Helen remarked, waggling her fingers at the newlyweds across the room. “Timmy has perked up. Probably glad to get the wedding ceremony out of the way.”
    â€œI know!” Jasmina said. “He was so nervous, he kept asking the vicar to repeat the prompts.”
    Rex asked Clive if he would like another beer and when Clive declined, went off to get one for himself, hoping to find an interesting guest to talk to. Preferably someone who knew something about Tom Newcombe, their hostess’s conspicuously absent husband. He decided the sister, the garrulous aunt from Wales, might be a good start.

Family Skeletons
    â€œSo Gwen turned up in time to catch the bridal bouquet,” Rex remarked to Bobby Carter, who was standing at the drinks table waiting for the bartender to finish serving a guest.
    â€œBetter late than never, I suppose. Mr. Graves, isn’t it? What’s your poison?” Carter relayed Rex’s order to the bartender and requested another scotch for himself. “Have you visited Newcombe Court before?” he asked.
    â€œNo, never had the pleasure. Meredith, one of Polly’s friends, was telling us a bit about its history on the drive over.”
    â€œIt does have some historical interest,” Carter acknowledged as they moved away from the bar with their drinks. “The National Trust would be very interested in acquiring it. They’d probably tear down the wings and restore it to its original glory. There used to be a moat and drawbridge, but the moat was filled when the wings were built. The dungeon is now used as a wine cellar. Mr. Newcombe liked his plonk. A bit too much, actually. There was also a jousting enclosure where the orchard and meadow now stand beyond the south wall. Old Cornelius Newcombe, the first owner, was something of a military buff. Victoria removed the weap- ons from the hall and from the stairwell to the battlements, which she prefers to call a widow’s walk. It was all too masculine for her taste.”
    â€œHave you known Mrs. Newcombe long?”
    â€œSince she and Thomas were married. I’m the family solicitor.”
    â€œIs Mr. Newcombe deceased?” Rex didn’t let on that he had been privy to the conversation between Carter and Victoria outside the church.
    â€œWe don’t know. That’s the devil of it. Victoria could have procured a divorce in all this time, but she was afraid if he came back, she might lose Newcombe Court. Without knowing what happened to him, the legal situation regarding this property is somewhat vague, especially as he has a living sister.”
    â€œWhat, ehm, were the circumstances of his disappearance, if I might ask?” Aunt Gwen had not been able to elucidate on this point, telling Rex only that her brother had seemed unhappy and