Murder of the Bride by C. S. Challinor Page B

shortly,” he said. With that, he left the morose trio in the kitchen and joined the bulk of the guests by the front door.
    Two green-clad paramedics entered the hall with a stretcher and, directed by the solicitor, disappeared into the living room.
    â€œHas anyone else been taken ill?” he asked Roger Litton, whose red polka-dot bow tie added to the surreal montage of the proceedings.
    â€œNot so far. Diana told me the vicar hasn’t come round yet. I teach Home Ec, you know. Food left out on a buffet table is prone to contamination. I’m thinking the lad who was carving the roast beef might not have kept his hands scrupulously clean.”
    â€œHe was wearing white gloves.”
    â€œWas he? I never noticed that. In that case, it was most likely the curried prawns.”
    â€œThat does seem to be the consensus,” Rex told him.
    â€œRex!” Helen grabbed his arm. “Where were you?”
    â€œTalking to the caterers. This outbreak isn’t good news for them.” Especially if anyone died.
    Rex fervently prayed that would not be the case. He’d had the feeling since looking out Helen’s window that morning something might go wrong on the young couple’s wedding day. How wrong, he had yet to determine.

Witch’s Brew
    â€œWitch … potions,” Polly mumbled as, tightly wrapped in a blanket, medics propelled her to the waiting ambulance on a clattering gurney. “Witch, potions …,” her voice trailed off indistinctly.
    â€œI suppose that is another theory,” Roger Litton, the home economics teacher, remarked. “Though highly unlikely. Poor girl, but she’ll be all right once they get her to the hospital. They can pump out her stomach or whatever it is they do.”
    â€œWhat’s she going on about witches for?” Reggie asked. “This whole thing is creeping me out.”
    â€œShe’s delirious,” Meredith told her boyfriend. “Hasn’t a clue what she’s saying.”
    â€œImagine coming down poorly like that on your wedding day,” Mabel said, wringing her hands and watching as Polly was lifted into the bay of the ambulance beneath the flickering red wash of lights. “Fortunately, Timmy seems to be all right now.”
    Uncle Bobby followed the second gurney carrying Victoria. “Can I go with you?” he asked a medic.
    â€œNo room, mate. Got to fit the vicar in. You can follow in your car if you like.”
    Rex watched while the medics went briskly about their business. When all three patients were loaded into the ambulance, he caught up with the crew as they were getting ready to leave and asked what might have caused such a violent reaction.
    â€œNausea, vomiting, and upset stomach,” said one. “Best guess—acute case of food poisoning. Maybe some iffy mayonnaise. Did it come on fast?”
    â€œWithin an hour and a half or so of the buffet being served. Can you test for arsenic?”
    â€œArsenic? Got proof ?”
    â€œI prosecuted a case of homicidal poisoning involving arsenic once. Exact same symptoms. Just a thought . . .”
    â€œHear that, Fred?” the medic addressed his colleague. “I’ll inform ER,” he told Rex.
    The driver slammed shut the back doors of the ambulance, muttering “bloody lawyers.”
    â€œMr. Carter,” Rex said. “I think we should gather everyone together at the first opportunity and see if we can pinpoint the source of the poisoning. Time may be of the essence.”
    â€œI heard you mention arsenic.” The shock of events seemed to have sobered the solicitor up considerably.
    â€œI think we should keep that under wraps for now so as to avoid more panic. We need to remind everyone not to touch or ingest anything.”
    â€œI was on my way to the hospital.”
    â€œI know, but I’m only a guest here, and a second-hand guest at that. You are the logical person to represent the