The Case Of The Vainshed Groom

Dawn was perched on the edge of a chair, her hands clenched in her lap and her feet pressed together on the floor. The Elk River robe swaddled her slim shoulders and the hem pooled around her feet, making her look smaller than she was. Her calm was an illusion. Her big, blue eyes spoke loudly of her pain and fear. For one of the few times in his life, words eluded him.

“I called Janine,” she said.

His mouth fell open.

“I had to call someone.”

He dropped onto a chair. “Why my sister?”

“You’d rather I’d called the Colonel? Janine is bringing clothing for you.” Her chin quivered and her eyes glistened. “I didn’t tell her anything. I didn’t know what to tell her. Should I call the police? What shall I tell them?”

“I don’t know.” He closed his eyes, not looking forward to confronting Janine. She was almost as hardheaded as the Colonel.

“There must be a reasonable explanation.”

Her quavering voice threatened to break his heart. He didn’t see anything reasonable about any of this. He fingered the half-dollar sized tender bump on the back of his head. He couldn’t figure out how an injury so minor could have knocked him out. Or given him a headache that had temporarily felt like the world’s worst hangover. Since he hadn’t drunk a drop of alcohol last night, it made no sense whatsoever.

“Everything has a reasonable explanation,” she said. “With a bit of thought and applied logic, an answer can be found for any mystery.”

Her determined efforts to make sense out of senselessness made his heart ache. “Did you and Quent argue last night? Stefan told me there was some kind of disturbance at the reception.”

She played with her wedding ring. “We didn’t argue. He became a trifle upset when Connie brought Desdemona Hunter to the reception. Her photographer upset Quentin.”

“Desdemona…The name is familiar.”

“She writes the ‘Party Patter’ column in the newspaper. Society news. Quentin didn’t want any reporters covering the wedding. But he wasn’t angry with me. I know he wasn’t. He was perfectly happy when we came to the cabin. He—he carried me over the threshold.” She pressed a fist to her mouth. “I was…intoxicated. Everyone was making toasts. Quentin and I had champagne here, and it proved the final straw. I fell asleep.” She looked away. “I passed out.”

Ross frowned at a champagne bottle on a table. He’d seen the newlyweds leave the lodge last night. Dawn hadn’t been acting as if she were drunk. He went to the table and picked up the champagne bottle. It was nearly full. He checked waste baskets. No other bottles. His nape prickled. “You left the lodge around ten.”

“How do you know that?”

“I told you, I was out front helping Stefan with the parking. You didn’t look drunk to me.”

“I was.” Hot color flushed her cheeks and she hunched over, hugging her elbows. “I must have been. The last thing I remember is drinking a glass of champagne. I slept in my wedding dress!”

Ross made an effort to ignore the implication that Dawn and Quent hadn’t consummated their wedding vows. Knowing Quent hadn’t made love to her pleased him too much. But seeing Dawn upset and near panic didn’t please him in the least, so he lifted the champagne bottle to the light, searching for clues.

A knock on the door startled him. He nearly dropped the bottle. Dawn leapt to her feet, shifting her gaze wildly between him and the bed. He recalled vividly the sight of her small, perfect body hovering over him and the feel of her silky skin. Despite his grogginess, he’d been ready and willing to make love to her, and would have if she hadn’t turned on the light.

“Be cool,” he said.

She patted her head. Her hair was damp. “What am I going to say?”

The knocking turned insistent.

“It’s Janine.” He hoped. At the moment he wouldn’t be surprised if Quent, playing a sick game of outraged husband, burst into the cabin.

Before he could suggest she get dressed, Dawn answered the door. Clutching an armload of clothing, his sister stood on the porch. Barely acknowledging Dawn, Janine swept inside and deposited the clothes on the bed. Ross recognized his jeans, a T-shirt and his tuxedo.

Janine turned on him. “What the heck are you pulling now, Ross? What are you doing here? Why was your tux in the bushes? You’ve pulled some bonehead stunts before, but this beats all. Do you have any idea what the Colonel is going to say? And what about Mom?”

Ross backed away from the finger Janine shook in his face. Even though she was two years younger than he, Janine had always acted older. Strong-willed, ambitious, and outspoken, she was their father’s daughter. He wished they were twelve and ten years old again so he could sit on her and make her shut up.

“Pardon me, Janine,” Dawn said. She stood rigidly, holding the neck closed on her robe. “Janine!”

His sister tossed her mane of thick brown hair and gave a start as if just now noticing Dawn.

“Quentin is missing. Ross and I are the victims of a crime.”

“Crime? What kind of crime?”

Ross grabbed his clothing and made a hasty escape into the bathroom. While he dressed in the jeans and T-shirt, he frowned at his tuxedo. Pine straw and bits of bark clung to the black fabric. He frowned, too, at Dawn’s rumpled wedding dress, which hung on a hook on the bathroom door. Someone knocking him out, stripping him naked, tossing his clothing into the bushes then putting him in bed with the bride was too twisted for one of Dawn’s hoped-for reasonable explanations. An explanation existed, but he doubted if it would be reasonable or pleasant.

When he emerged from the bathroom Janine had calmed down considerably. She gave him a suspicious glance, but continued listening to Dawn explain what had happened.

Dawn passed a hand wearily over her eyes. “I want to deny it, but I can’t. Quentin has been kidnapped.”

Janine twisted a strand of hair around her fingers. “You claim you saw a prowler, Ross. Why didn’t you call the Colonel?”

Stung by her skepticism, he said, “I didn’t have a phone.”

“Don’t be a smart aleck.”

“I didn’t have time to call in the SWAT team. It was after one o’clock in the morning when I saw someone headed for the Honeymoon Hideaway. I thought I saw him peeking in the windows. For all I knew it was a pervert checking out the newlyweds. Should I have left him there while I ran back to the lodge?”

Janine reversed the twisting of her hair. “Let me see your head. Dawn says you’re injured.”

He sat so she could examine the back of his skull. Her ministrations weren’t nearly as gentle as Dawn’s had been. “Ow! Watch it.” He pushed her hand away.

“That’s not much of a bump.” Janine grasped his chin, forcing his face up. She peered critically into his eyes. “You look okay to me.”

“Ever consider nursing, Ninny? You’d be a natural.”

“Don’t call me Ninny,” she murmured absently, twisting her hair again.

“Ross was knocked unconscious. I can vouch for that much,” Dawn said. “You haven’t seen Quentin at the lodge?”

Dawn’s hopeful note tugged at him. If Janine hadn’t been here, he’d give in to his urge to offer Dawn a shoulder to cry on.

“I haven’t seen him.” Janine glanced at her wristwatch. “The dining room isn’t open yet. He wasn’t in the lobby drinking coffee, either. I just can’t believe he’s been kidnapped. Is there a ransom note?”

Dawn hung her head. Her shoulders hitched.

Ross stepped between them and gave his sister a pointed look. “Dawn, get dressed. We’ll figure this out.”

As if her joints were made of wood, Dawn gathered clothing from the closet and dresser drawers. When she entered the bathroom and closed the door, Ross turned on his sister.

“Ease up. Can’t you see how upset she is?”

Her blue-gray eyes flashed. “I’m starting to catch on to why.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Don’t play stupid.” She poked the center of his chest with a rigid finger. “Everybody saw how lovey-dovey the pair of you were last week. Did Quentin catch you playing patty-cake with his blushing bride?”

“Keep your voice down.”

She lowered her voice, but her temper seemed to increase. “Maybe it’s a big joke to you hitting on every woman you meet, but she was engaged. Quentin found out you’d been having an affair with his fiancée, didn’t he?”

Only Janine, who generally spoke first and did damage control later, would have had the guts to say that. But if she said it, then others would be thinking it. His pride was stung. Sister or not, she had no right to accuse him of acting like a creep. “You’re lucky you’re a girl. I’d deck you—”

“Go ahead!” She put up her fists.

Sisters! Not doubting for a moment she’d love a chance to pop him on the nose, Ross clamped his hands on his hips. “Dawn and I aren’t having an affair.”

“Then why did Quentin leave?”

He glanced at the bathroom door. Grasping Janine by the shoulder, he lowered his head until their faces were only inches apart. “Think what you want about me, but don’t you dare say a single word about Dawn. I’m not taking that from you or anybody. Got it?”

“What am I supposed to think? I know what I—”

“Shut up and listen to me. Quent lied to me. He—”

“Lied about what?”

“About her. He told me their marriage was a business deal. Merging two households for tax purposes. A marriage-of-convenience kind of thing. He made her sound like a dried-up old lady, always keeping a sharp eye on the bottom line.”

She began twisting her hair again. “Why would he say that? Every time I spoke to Dawn about the wedding arrangements I got the impression she was madly in love with him.”

He shrugged, growing irritable with confusion. “It was none of my business why they got married. She never said much about Quent, and I didn’t have anything to say about him, either. We never discussed their relationship.”

Janine took a step backward. Her eyes widened. “You actually care about her.”

“I care about a lot of people.” As a dyed-in-the-wool feminist, his sister delighted in ragging him about his Neanderthal attitudes toward women. Usually he delighted in egging her on and teasing her with his false machismo. Her accusing manner now made him realize she actually believed at least some of his self-generated reputation.

“You really care about her.”

“We’re friends, nothing more.”

“Look me straight in the eye,” she ordered. “And tell me you aren’t having an affair with her.”

“I wouldn’t lie about her.”

“You lie to the Colonel all the time.”

“That’s different. He enjoys being disappointed in me. I’m just making him happy.”

“Ross…”

He looked her squarely in the eyes. “Dawn and I aren’t having an affair.”

Janine crossed her arms. “So why did Quentin leave?”

He wished he knew.

Chapter Four

The Duke clan gathered in the resort’s main office. Shunted off to the side, Dawn watched the family. The noise astonished her.

Elise Duke, looking too blond, elegant and young to have four adult children, hovered like an anxious hummingbird around Ross. She poked and prodded his head and peered into his eyes. In the universal maternal gesture, she pressed the back of her hand against his forehead. “Are you dizzy? Seeing double? Do you have a headache?”

The Colonel posted himself in front of the door. Shoulders back, chin up, he glowered at his son. “State the facts again,” he ordered. “No embellishments. I want to know what you were doing in the honeymoon cabin.”

Behind the desk, Janine sat on her chair. Arms crossed, she shifted her gaze between her brother and father. “He doesn’t have a concussion, Mom,” she said. “Go ahead, call his bluff. Call the paramedics.”

On either side of the desk, Megan and Kara Duke traded stories about Ross as a teenager. Megan said, “Remember when he got caught skinny-dipping?”

Kara laughed and added, “Three girls! What were their names? Debbie Parsons—”

“Not Parsons,” Megan interrupted. “She was Janine’s friend. It was Debbie Calloway. Remember? She started dying her hair in the sixth grade.”

In the middle of all this chaos Ross appeared resigned, as if this sort of fracas were business as usual. How this family functioned when everyone talked at once and nobody paid any attention to anyone else baffled Dawn. In her family communication had been simple: Father had spoken, Dawn and Mother had listened.

A wan, cold sensation gave her gooseflesh and she rubbed her arms. Except the chill came not from the room temperature, but from deep within her soul. Now that the initial shock of Quentin’s disappearance had passed, she felt numb. Witnessing this crew in a free-for-all did nothing to clear her confusion or ease her fear.

She stepped away from a filing cabinet, clearing her throat with a loud, “Ahem.”

“If you saw a prowler,” the Colonel continued grilling Ross, “on the walkway, which is well-lighted, why can’t you describe him? ‘Some guy’ is not a description.”

“Pardon me,” Dawn said.

“Nobody hit you. You tripped and banged your head,” Janine said. “This whole story is fishy. Come clean, Ross. What really happened?”

Noticing a telephone book atop the filing cabinet, Dawn picked it up. Weighing it and her intended action, she decided desperate times called for desperate measures. She whomped the book against the filing cabinet. The resulting bang shut every mouth and turned every eye toward her. Embarrassed, but determined, she replaced the telephone book where she’d found it.

“Pardon me.” She straightened her shoulders. “My husband has been kidnapped. I appreciate very much the way everyone helped me search the grounds for him. As you all can see, he is definitely missing. I should call the police now.”

The Colonel harrumphed. The three sisters exchanged sheepish glances. Elise hurried forward and grasped Dawn’s arm, urging her to sit. Ross gave her a look of unmistakable approval, so warm and focused that for a moment she forgot her situation. Everything centered on his slight smile.

“I agree your husband is MIA,” the Colonel said. “But I do not agree he has been kidnapped. His vehicle is no longer parked in the POV lot. That suggests he is AWOL.”

“Speak English, dear.” Elise patted Dawn’s arm. “Your acronyms are confusing her.”

But Dawn understood the Colonel. Everyone believed Quentin had left on his own. “My car is missing, too.” Her cheeks flushed. At Quentin’s insistence, she had purchased the brand new Lincoln Mark VIII only three weeks ago as an early birthday present for him. It was his car rather than hers, but to have it stolen, leaving her stranded, added insult to injury. “If my husband left of his own volition, he could not have taken both cars.”

“She has you there, Colonel,” Ross said. “Call the sheriff. Let him figure it out.”

“You are not given permission to speak.”

Ross half rose from the chair. Muscles tightened in his jaw and his smile turned thin and tight. The Colonel tensed and his hands curled into fists. The enmity between father and son turned the air electric. Fearing she was about to see them start swinging at each other, Dawn pressed a hand to her mouth.

Ross glanced at her. He dropped back onto the chair.

For a moment the Colonel looked disappointed that Ross refused to fight. “Logistically, given the scenario you present, Mrs. Bayliss, I do not see how it is possible for kidnappers to have accomplished their mission.”

“But we’ll call the sheriff anyway.” Janine picked up the telephone. “This is way too strange, Colonel. Let the sheriff figure it out.” Glaring at her brother as she dialed, she muttered, “If you need to come clean, you’d better do it before the cops arrive.”

Elise took Dawn’s hand. “Come to my office, dear. I have a couch. You can put your feet up. Megan, bring us some coffee.” She looked to her husband again and spoke in a calm, somewhat dreamy voice. “Dear, perhaps it might be a good idea to take one more look around.”

The couple exchanged a significant look, fraught with meaning. Dawn supposed the Dukes were as her parents had been, gifted with a type of mental telepathy developed over many years of marriage. A catch gripped her throat. She and Quentin might never have the chance to develop the art of reading each other’s minds.

Numbly, she allowed Elise to escort her out of the business office, down the hall to the small office where Elise organized receptions, parties and conferences for the resort guests.

“Do forgive my family, dear,” Elise said. “Despite the Colonel’s insistence on strict discipline, my children tend to be willful.” She sounded proud of them for it.

“They are…energetic.” At Elise’s urging, she sat on a camelback love seat.

Ross entered the office and joined Dawn on the love seat. “You’ve got a knack for crowd control. I’m impressed.”

“Uh, dear, perhaps you should leave Mrs. Bayliss alone.”

“Dawn needs me.”

She did need him and that was reason enough to keep as far away from him as possible. She’d come within seconds of committing adultery with him—intentional or not. Having him so near now reminded her of caressing his body and kissing him, and of the fun they’d had last week. The walks in the forest, the countless times he’d reduced her to helpless laughter with his silly tall tales…and how gazing into his eyes made her soul sing, as if with bells. If Quentin had left on his own, then he knew of her attraction to Ross. Accepting Ross’s support now would do little toward soothing Quentin’s jealousy.

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