A Groom With a View by Jill Churchill

admitted. "But that's not your fault. It's because the only thing they all have in common is poor Livvy. If you'd put on the exact same shower for Eden, for instance, it would have been fun because she has a personality. What were the little foil packages Livvy was carrying around?"
    “Compacts. Really lovely things and the only decision Livvy seemed to have a strong opinion about," Jane said. "They're bridesmaid gifts. Real gold with Livvy and Dwayne's names and the date of the wedding beautifully engraved on the back. They must have cost her the earth."
    “What a lovely memento," Shelley said. "At least she has good taste. Oh, that's bad of me. She's such a nice, Milquetoast sort of girl. I just want to give her a transfusion of spunk.”
    Jane nodded. "I'd like to like her, too. I think everyone would. What's not to like? But she's a mannequin with a complex computer system that instructs her to talk and move and act with propriety, but no sparkle."
    “What's all that noise outside?" Shelley asked.
    "The groom and his friends, I assume," Jane
    said as she and Shelley hauled themselves out of
    their comfortable chairs and went to check. The
    young men were playing touch football. Except for their size, they were indistinguishable from a bunch of fifteen-year-olds, although their language was a bit cleaner. Not much, though.
    Somebody, perhaps the lethargic Uncle Joe, had dragged out a couple of lawn chairs and set them by the main door. Whether this was their destination for some reason, or they were just in transit, Jane couldn't guess. But Jane pulled one of them in front of the door. "Sit down, Shelley. If any of the bride's party needs me, they'll be able to spot us here."
    “Sure you wouldn't really rather sit a little farther away? Like somewhere in Seattle?" Shelley asked.
    As they got situated, Mel and Officer John Smith emerged from the woods. They had old Uncle Joe walking between them. It was impossible to hear the conversation they were attempting to have with him, but not hard to guess the gist. Mel or the local police officer would speak. Uncle Joe would instantly shrug incomprehension. Joe's part consisted entirely of hands outspread in ignorance, negative shakes of the head, glares, and halfhearted attempts to shake the other two men off.
    “He knows something about this," Jane said. "What makes you think that?" Shelley asked, staring at the small group.
    “Because he's pretending to know nothing. Nobody knows nothing."
    “You can say that because you don't know my cousin Alfred.”
    Jane laughed. "Shelley, if somebody asks you something and you haven't got the answer, don't you at least pause and consider whether you might have some bit of information, no matter how trivial?"
    “Yes, I guess so. But I'm not a cranky old recluse who isn't enjoying having his turf invaded."
    “That's the point," Jane said. "It is his turf. In his view, anyway. He's apparently lived here, quite alone most of the time, for years. And for all his crabbing around, acting too feeble to be of any use, I think he knows every stick of furniture in the dark."
    “You think he was one of the people roaming around last night during the storm?"
    “I'd bet anything on it," Jane said. "And I'll bet he saw or heard things he's keeping to himself. That's why he's so vehemently denying any knowledge of what's going on here to Mel and Officer Smith. He doesn't seem to even like having family around. Imagine how he feels about The Law invading.”
    The cat Jane had met up with the night before came strolling around the corner and sat down to evaluate them for a long moment before taking a really serious stretch and then jumping on Jane's lap. She scritched him behind his ears.
    Shelley was staring toward, but not at, the football game. She was thinking so hard, Jane could almost hear the gears grinding. Finally Shelley said, with uncharacteristic timidity, "Jane, I know this is nuts, but everybody seems to know something about this