Wedding Rows Read Online Free PDF Page A

Priscilla left.”
    George nodded. “Thank you, m’m.” He looked at Neville. “You said you heard Mr. Muggins arguing with the deceased?”
    “I didn’t hear them. I saw them.” Neville gestured toward the kitchen. “I was dancing by the door and I saw the photographer shake his fist in the victim’s face and I could tell he was worked up about something.”
    “When was this, then?”
    “It was before they cut the cake and made all those speeches. I know that, because I was dancing with Marge at the time.”
    Everyone looked at Marge, who blushed and giggled like a young girl.
    The sight reminded Elizabeth of the way Violet looked in Charlie Gibbons’s arms. Elizabeth looked around for her, but she was nowhere to be seen. “Has anyone seen Violet and Martin?” she asked, interrupting whatever George was saying.
    He frowned in disapproval but waited for someone to answer her.
    “I think they went home with the Winterhalters,” Nellie offered. “They were riding in that big black motorcar.”
    “Lucky buggers,” Marge Gunther muttered. “We all have to walk home.”
    “Well, it’s not as far as the Manor House, is it,” Nellie said.
    George loudly cleared his throat. “If I may have your attention, would someone please tell me who invited the deceased to the wedding and what his name is?”
    “Well I should think,” Elizabeth said mildly, “that if Wally didn’t know him, he couldn’t have invited him, so he must be a friend of Priscilla’s.”
    “No,” a voice declared from the back of the group. “Prissy didn’t invite him either.” Priscilla’s flamboyant schoolfriend pushed to the front of the group. “She never set eyes on him until today.”
    George gazed up at Fiona with obvious admiration for a full second, then coughed and looked down at his notepad. “And you are?”
    “Mrs. Fiona Farnsworth. I’m an old friend of the bride.”
    George scribbled again. “Well now, if Captain Carbunkle didn’t invite the deceased, and Miss Pierce—or I should say Mrs. Carbunkle now—didn’t invite him, then who in blue blazes did invite him?”
    “Maybe you should ask the other bridesmaid.” Fiona’s companion had stepped up behind her. “I understand they knew each other very well.”
    Fiona stared at her escort. “Tess? How’d you know that?”
    Malcolm’s smile was indulgent as he laid an arm across Fiona’s shoulders. “I heard them talking, my love. Actually, arguing would be a better word. The young lady was furious with him.”
    His last remark had been directed at George, who was furiously scribbling on his notepad. “And you are?”
    “Malcolm Ludwig, old chap. I’m engaged to be married to this lovely lady here.”
    “Well, that’s two people already who didn’t like the bloke,” George muttered. “I’ll need to have the photographer’s address and phone number, and I’ll have a word with that young lady. What’s her name?”
    “Tess Winterhalter,” Elizabeth answered him. “I understand she went down to the Tudor Arms with some of the other guests. I’m sure she’ll be back soon. If you like, you can come up to the manor later and talk to her. Her parents will be there, as well.”
    Her concern was for the young girl, who would no doubt feel more secure in being questioned by the police if her parents were present.
    George, however, murmured, “Good idea, your ladyship. I should like to question the young lady’s parents, anyhow, seeing as how the deceased was a friend of their daughter.”
    “Does that mean we can all go home now?” Rita demanded peevishly.
    “Not so fast,” George declared, as the ladies made a general movement to disperse. “I want to know if anyone saw anything unusual.”
    “We saw Marge’s knickers,” Nellie said, with a wicked leer.
    Marge gasped above the titters from the group. “You did not!”
    George loudly cleared his throat. “I meant anything that might help in this ’orrible murder investigation.”
    The faces