“Why?”
“Why would she want me to see, to have the details? It doesn’t give her any advantage. But it gives me one.”
He gestured to her when the server brought out the wine, chatted with her—an older woman this time—about her new granddaughter.
“Give us a few more minutes, will you, Dana?”
“You bet—but take my word, the lobster risotto is tops tonight.”
When she left them, Trey didn’t miss a beat. “Did you do sketches?”
“Yes.”
“I want to see them. And you’ve made a good point. I don’t see any benefit to her letting you see what she did, or how she did it.”
“How’s murky,” she said, but Trey shook his head.
“You’re an eyewitness, and you see and remember details. So I’m saying you’re right. Why would she want a witness? Do you want the risotto?”
“I really do.”
“That works. I want crab cakes.”
Once they’d ordered, he slid right back in. “I think it’s Astrid.”
“Why Astrid?”
“She’s the first. She was there, obviously, from the start. And since we accept she’s been in the manor since, she’d have seen the rest. She’s a witness, too.”
“That’s logical—in this illogical situation.” And it helped, so much, to have someone who could be logical, someone she trusted, to talk through it all.
“One of the details? I don’t think Agatha was in love with Owen Poole. Not like crazy, deeply. And she struck me as … I don’t think she was a particularly nice woman. More just a snob. I think he cared about her, but same goes—not the snob. He seemed warmer somehow. But I think it was what they called a good match, if you follow.”
“He remarried, under two years later. Pretty sure it was less than two.”
“About a year and a half—I checked. And he and his wife, Moira, had six kids and nearly five decades together. I don’t know if that matters, but apparently second brides aren’t in the danger zone.”
“One a generation.”
“Which means me. Or I guess any bride of my generation who gets married in, or lives in, the manor. It has to be there because Dobbs is stuck there, too. After my mother left Sunday? I went out to play fetch with Yoda. He’s getting the hang of it. The shadow I’ve seen, at the library window? I waved. It waved back.”
Because it made him laugh, she grinned.
“And right after? Hester started slamming the windows in the Gold Room. Very pissy. I gave her the middle finger salute.”
The way he looked at her, in just that moment, had her heart doing a slow roll.
“You’re one in a million, cutie.”
“I don’t know about that, but I know how to get pissy right back.”
When Dana served the mains, Sonya looked at her plate, then up at Dana. “I can tell you were right.”
“Never wrong.” She winked and left them alone.
“Tell me about the wedding. The one that didn’t end with a dead bride.”
“Please don’t make me. Fill me in on your weekend instead.”
“What’s one thing—no, two,” Sonya amended. “Two things that stick out, then we’ll close the door on your weekend adventure and move to mine.”
“The bride’s uncle Jerry got shit-faced, jumped onstage with the band, and belted out AC/DC’s ‘You Shook Me All Night Long.’”
He waited a beat.
“While stripping. They managed to stop him before he lost his pants—there were children present—but it was close.”
As she laughed, he tried some of her risotto.
“And for the second, I found the best man and the bride’s brother in an extremely compromising situation in the men’s room.”
“You walked in on them?”
“Lock the door, man.” He pressed his fingers to his eyes. “Use a stall. Rent a room. Before I could back out, they told me to congratulate them. They’re engaged.”
“Aw. Did you?”
“Congratulate them? Yeah, while my retinas were bleeding because I’d seen entirely too much of both of them, things I can never unsee. I said congratulations and got the hell out of there.”
“I hope those crazy kids make it. Your family has exciting weddings. I wish I’d been there.”
He studied her over a sip of wine. “You actually mean that. I worry about you.”
“I like weddings. They’re full of color and drama and joy.”