“What happened?” Nick says.
Feather’s eyes widen. “Have you not heard? The bride’s friend, Merritt, drowned. The maid of honor. I thought that was why you had questions.”
“No, right, it is, I do,” Nick says. Her disarray is throwing him off his stride. “I meant, what happened last night? You were part of the group that sat out under the tent drinking rum, correct?”
“Mount Gay Black Barrel,” Feather says. “Out of Barbados. You know, I’ve been to the estate where it’s made. I love the stuff.”
“Who exactly was sitting at the table with you?” Nick asks.
“Tag, Thomas, myself, and Merritt,” Feather says. Then she adds gravely, “The deceased.”
“So you say you just met Merritt last night,” Nick says. “How did that come about?”
“It came about the way those things do at a party,” Feather says. “I noticed her right away. She was pretty and stylish and she had natural confidence. I love confidence.” Feather beams at Nick. “You have natural confidence. I can see it. It’s a very attractive trait in a man.”
“So you noticed her from afar,” Nick says. “Were you properly introduced?”
“Not until later,” Feather says. “Much later, in fact—after the party was over.”
Nick makes a note and nods. He senses Feather needs only the slightest encouragement to keep talking.
“I was desperately seeking another drink. The young kids went into town—bride, groom, best man, Thomas—but no one thought to invite old Feather, and I just wasn’t ready to go back to my inn. I tried to wrangle a bottle of booze out of the catering help but that didn’t work, so I went on a hunt.”
“A hunt,” Nick says.
“I was stealthy,” Feather says. “Because I knew if Greer saw me, she would put me right into a taxi.”
“Oh, really?”
“Greer doesn’t like me, doesn’t approve of me. She’s old money, landed gentry, grew up on a manor called Swallowcroft, went to Wycombe Abbey, all of that. And she suspects I’m after her hubby. Ha!” Feather hoots. “He’s way, way too old for me.”
Nick needs a verbal leash for this woman so she doesn’t go wandering off, although he makes a note: Greer suspected Feather + Tag??? “Back to how you met Merritt…”
“So I was sneaking around a bit, tiptoeing, dodging behind bushes, harder than it looks because of motion-detector lighting. I figured if I could get to the pool house, I would find alcohol.” Feather taps a finger against her temple. “Clever bit of sleuthing on my part there. Anyway, I stumbled across the maid of honor sitting in Greer’s rose garden. She was crying.”
“Crying?”
“I asked if she was all right. Yes, she said. Then I asked if there was anything I could do. No, she said. I was surprised because I’d pegged her for naturally confident and then there she was, like a little girl on the playground whose friends had all forsaken her. So I asked if she wanted to join in my caper.”
“Caper,” Nick says.
“Hunting for booze in the pool house,” Feather says. “And she said yes and came with me.”
“Then what?” Nick says.
“We opened the gate, we selected a couple of chaise longues, I slid the glass doors to the pool house open, and voilà—full bar! I made a couple of Grey Goose and tonics and brought them out. Merritt said she didn’t want hers, her stomach was feeling funny, and that was just fine by me. I had them both.”
“Did Merritt stay with you?” Nick asks.
“Yes, she stayed. We talked. Turned out we had a lot in common.”
“Did you?”
“We were both involved with married men,” Feather says. “I mean, what are the chances of that?”
Not so slim, Nick wants to say, but he needs to tread carefully here. Feather seems to be genuine but he has been at this long enough to suspect it might be an act.
“Did Merritt say anything about the man she was involved with?” he asks.
“Only that he was married,” Feather says. “And was apparently a real bastard. Pursued her, pursued her, pursued her… then dropped her like a hot potato. Won’t leave his wife, no way, nohow. And I’ll tell you, that all sounded much too familiar.”
“But Merritt didn’t say who the man was?”
“She didn’t tell and neither did I,” Feather says. “We were there to commiserate, not confess.”
“Did she say if the man she was seeing was at the wedding?” Nick asks.
“At the… no. She lives in Manhattan. Why would… are you thinking she was seeing a married man at the wedding and he was the one who killed her?”
Nick needs to redirect. “What happened when you left the pool house?”
“We decided to walk back to the main house,” Feather says. “And we happened across Tag and Thomas and their bottle of Black Barrel.”
“Did they seem surprised to see you two?” Nick asks.
Feather tilts her head. “Did they? I don’t remember. Tag asked if we were up for a nightcap. We said yes.”
“So you’re sitting around under the tent drinking rum and what happens?” Nick asks.
