Being part of a sizable mansion, the kitchen accordingly consisted of two large divided sections. One was occupied by the catering crew in charge of all meals and refreshments for the wedding. About a dozen men and women in nicely starched white uniforms were packing up. All utensils and crockery, washed and dried, went into customized containers. There was a buzz among them, as they looked forward to putting everything away, clamber up onto their transport and head home, to share the news about the dead bride and groom. They’d yet to hear about the death of Dickinson, the spiky haired fellow, which would make it an even more exciting assignment to tell others about.
On the other side, the household staff were cleaning vegetables and cutting up fish, preparing to serve the guests who’d been held back after the events of the afternoon by Regalia and his police personnel. This was a somber group. These people were older and maintained a respectful tone of voice, discussing the death of Aarav and his wife amongst themselves in hushed tones. As the household staff, they’d known Aarav all his life and had been thunderstruck by the tragedy. They’d been looking forward to have him take over the day-to-day affairs of the household from his aging mother, their late employer’s widow.
A dull looking policeman walked into the kitchen and scanned the faces before him, his brows furrowed. Regalia walked in after him and saw the two groups of people in their respective corners.
‘Anyone look familiar?’
The policeman, who’d dashed into the kitchen and fetched the glass of water earlier, did another scan, appearing less hopeful the second time round. He shook his head.
Regalia observed the walls and corners of the kitchen and pointed.
‘Find Suraj the head waiter. Get him to access the security footage from those cameras – one, two and three (he pointed out each one). We can see who took the glass from you and came back with the water.’
The De Souzas were working on Dickinson when Regalia returned to the makeshift interrogation room. The glass and it’s contents had been secured. Jan was instructing the police photographer on the angles she wanted him to shoot. Her husband, on his hands and knees over Dickinson’s body, looked up at the Inspector.
‘He died of cardiac arrest. I can think of a few possible causes. I can also think of a couple of native poisons with this effect. We’ll take the body in and run the usual tests. It could be just plain luck for the killer that opportunity presented itself, or…’
‘Or what George?’
‘The sophistication of a hit like this indicates something else.’
Regalia looked at Jan and the blank-faced photographer, then back to Dickinson’s body, laid out on the floor, and finally, back to George’s round, scientific face.
‘You’re saying this could mean we have a hired killer on the property?’
George shrugged his shoulders and looked down at the body of the spiky haired fellow. He didn’t say anything in response. Too early to tell.
‘You both have got something for me from your examination of the bride and groom, yes?’
‘Yes we do,’ said Jan, remembering.
‘I was told that they were shot at close range when the lights had gone out while they were cutting the cake or eating it, that’s what I heard. Anything to contradict that?’
‘Shots were fired, that’s correct. But…’
Jan looked at George, a twinkle in her eyes as she let him explain the interesting part.
‘The bullets didn’t kill them.’
Regalia’s eyebrows rose and he thought he’d misheard.
‘Say again.’
‘The bullets were fired but it didn’t kill the couple.’
She didn’t hurry with the rest of what she wanted to say, but Regalia guessed it and a something like a smirk crossed his face,
‘It was the cake, wasn’t it?’
Jan’s look confirmed it.
‘How did the couple survive gunshots at close range? Were they wearing bulletproof vests under their wedding garments?’
Jan nodded. George, still hovering over Dickinson’s body, gave a look of confirmation.
‘If that’s true, then why use a gun if the cake was already spiked?’ Regalia wondered out loud, stepping aside as the photographer left the room, having been allowed to do so by Jan,
‘To make doubly sure?’
‘Or were there two parties attempting to kill the couple at the wedding?’
‘Has anyone else been eating the cake?’
‘No, Inspector. It’s untouched. The cake – pink and red, as you remember – was set aside as soon as the couple cut it, took their bites, playfully began to smudge each other with said cake before shots rang out. You know all the drama that took place since then.’
‘I’ve yet to get a clear picture on the drama, as you put it, since the people I’ve spoken to so far have been talking about other things.’
‘Or died.’
Regalia looked down, as did the De Cruzes, at Dickinson with spiky hair, lying perfectly still and composed.
‘Or died,’ said Regalia.
‘Inspector, we’ve got the stuff we need. Our vehicles are here. We’ll take the bodies with us – Aarav and Smyrna and this fellow here. Lab tests will happen later tonight. We will get back in touch as soon as we generate the reports tomorrow. Is there anything else you need?’
‘Can you guys squeeze in some DNA samples?’
‘How many people did you have in mind?’
‘Everyone.’ Here Regalia looked squarely at the Coroners before him, watching their reaction.
‘Why? Did we miss something?’ it was George.
‘No, you didn’t. But I’m afraid this whole drama hinges on who’s related to who.’
To be continued….
photo from unsplash.com by Edan Cohen