Shadow Waltz by Amy Patricia Meade Page B

know? These are things we need to find out before we can even discuss Michael Barnwell’s innocence or guilt.”
    â€œI agree,” Creighton concurred. “But don’t be surprised if our findings don’t point to Barnwell’s innocence.”
    â€œI know I may be wrong, just as I know that what I’m about to say doesn’t make much sense,” Marjorie acknowledged. “However, my intuition tells me that there’s more going on here than meets the eye.”
    â€œFar be it for me to second-guess your intuition, darling. I learned that lesson months ago. With that said, where should we start o ur investigation?”
    â€œVeronica’s friend, I think. If Mrs. Sullivan is right, Michael Barnwell might not have been the only man, um,” she slid a self-conscious glance in Mrs. Patterson’s direction, “um, taking Veronica to the movies.”
    â€œYes, I seem to think Veronica’s had her popcorn buttered before,” Creighton cracked.
    Marjorie piped in, “And perhaps at a few different theaters.”
    â€œIf so, someone other than Michael Barnwell could have had a motive for the crime.”
    â€œAnd who more likely to know than Veronica’s best friend? Close female friends tell each other everything,” Marjorie asserted.
    â€œSpeaking of female friends, Marjorie,” Mrs. Patterson seized the opportunity to change topic. “You don’t have any close female friends to speak of. Who were you thinking of naming as your maid of honor?”
    â€œI hadn’t really thought of that,” Marjorie confessed. “Do I need one? Can’t Creighton and I be the only ones at the altar?”
    â€œThat’s a good idea,” Creighton agreed. “Truth be told, I can’t think of anyone to ask as my best man either.”
    â€œBut it looks so nice to have another couple at your side,” Mrs. Patterson insisted. “A girl in a pretty summer dress and a handsome man in a suit would round things out nicely, especially in pictures.”
    â€œWhy do I have a feeling that you’ve something, or more precisely, someone in mind?” Marjorie asked, suspicious of where this conversation was about to lead.
    â€œActually I do. Sharon and Robert are your age and they’re friends … of sorts.”
    â€œA little too friendly, Mrs. P.,” Creighton quipped. “Marjorie was engaged to Jameson just a few short months ago and the Schutts were trying to coax me into taking Sharon off their hands. Don’t you think it’s rather in bad form to ask a former … what’s the term?”
    â€œSweetheart?” Marjorie offered.
    â€œIn the case of Jameson, yes. As far as Sharon goes, I was thinking more along the lines of ‘captor,’” Creighton explained. “But, whatever you want to call it, I’m not sure it’s in the best of taste to ask them to witness our nuptials.”
    â€œI agree,” Marjorie chimed in. “Even if we were to ask them, I highly doubt they’d accept.”
    â€œI don’t know about that,” Mrs. Patterson opined. “And it may go far in mending fences.”
    â€œOh no,” Creighton uttered in dismay. “Mrs. P., what did you do? You already asked Sharon and Jameson, didn’t you?”
    â€œNo,” the elderly woman answered artlessly. “I did, however, mention it to Louise Schutt.”
    â€œMrs. Schutt!” Marjorie nearly screamed. “She hates me! Sharon hates me too, for that matter. Always did, but even more so now that I’m marrying Creighton.”
    â€œTrust me, darling. I’m not exactly on their hit parade either,” Creighton interjected.
    â€œActually, Marjorie, Louise seemed rather sympathetic toward you,” Mrs. Patterson shrugged as if the concept was foreign to her as well. “I didn’t get all the details, but apparently she’s under the impression that