Something Borrowed, Something Blue and Murder

by Patti Larsen

  Yesterday morning. I glanced down at my toes, the dainty shoes Daisy lent me perfectly skimming the skin beside the burn on the top of my foot, keeping pressure off the bandage. Something borrowed, she’d said.

  I glanced at the bed, toward the fawn pug watching me with her big, brown eyes, head in her paws. She perked when I looked her way, black velvet ears rising, a mewing yawn escaping her as her cinnamon bun tail wiggled.

  “What do you think, pug?” I turned slowly to get a good look at myself in the full-length, tri-fold mirror next to the tall window overlooking the backyard of the annex.

  Daisy hadn’t hesitated to evict guests. I had no idea what she did with them, clearing the honeymoon suite for me. I hadn’t even argued, not like me. Felt so weird to be here, to glance out the window and see the now tarped-over corpse of my home pretending to be a pending construction site waiting for the backhoes and the bulldozers and the dump trucks to unearth what remained of her bones and carry her away forever.

  “If you cry,” Mom said, appearing from behind me where she’d been sorting out my jewelry choices, “I’ll seriously smack you, Fiona Fleming.”

  I laughed, couldn’t help it, caught in a flood of emotion while she laughed in return and hugged me, her own eyes brimming.

  “Sorry, Mom,” I whispered, choked up. “I’ll try not to ruin my makeup before the pictures.”

  She sighed, shook her head. “Oh, Fee,” she said. “I just want you to be happy.” And burst into her own weeping.

  I hugged her, held her, or tried to. But she pulled away as the door opened, Daisy rushing through. Mom dashed at her tears while my bestie froze, her flowing crimson dress stunning on her voluptuous figure.

  “I’ll be right back.” Mom hurried from the room with a kiss for Day’s cheek while my best friend let her go.

  “She’ll be okay,” Daisy said, sounding way more mature than I felt in that moment. “We’re all just…” she glanced out the window, blushed, sighed. “No one knows that better than you.”

  “At least Mom’s getting her wish,” I said with a lip twist and not a hint of bitterness. “We’re having the wedding in the annex like she wanted all along.”

  Daisy’s soft smile was a clear precursor to her own tears. “I’d have rathered Petunia’s.” And then she started crying on me.

  Seriously. We had to get a grip already or this wedding was going to turn into something that felt more akin to a funeral.

  I went to the window and very firmly pulled the curtains, taking one last moment to look out over the fresh snow, the blue tarps, the empty skyline that had once been filled with a big, white house.

  “I can’t wait to get married,” I said, feeling my heart soften, my whole being shift. “Life goes on, Day. In the most amazing and unexpected ways.”

  She hugged me in turn and we rocked a bit, not letting each other go, whispering things that we’d meant to say for ages and ages and never had the chance. Things about love and acceptance and best friendness that would never die, never let us go or put distance between us again. No, I don’t remember everything I said. But the intimacy and the heartfelt connection?

  That I would cherish for the rest of my (very long) life.

  “The Christmas decorations are going to look perfect,” Daisy said. “The best time of year for a wedding.”

  I couldn’t have agreed more. Because marrying Crew? Any time was the best time.

  And then it hit me.

  I was marrying Crew today.

  Imagine that.

  I knew he fretted. There had been no sign of Peggy and Ruth, not since they tried to kill me. But I wasn’t worried, not anymore. I had so many people watching over me, over Petunia, even. The little pug had fully recovered from her second bout with the horrible women I’d have a reckoning with down the road. She’d been struck, knocked out, but again the dear Dr. Miller told me she’d be fine and she seemed so, as farty and snorty and sweet as ever.

  The door opened again, Vivian sweeping in. As she did, I caught sight of the towering form of Darius just outside in the hall. He nodded to me, hands clasped behind his back, wire in his ear and I caught myself grinning and shaking my head.

  Crew hadn’t been too happy about his appearance at the annex this morning. How the big bodyguard informed me—while ignoring Crew completely—that Malcolm had sent him to protect me at all costs and that for the duration of said employment his life would end before I was ever put in harm’s way again.

  Well now. How about them apples?

  I had put my foot down when he’d tried to guard me from inside the honeymoon suite, however. While I felt a bit guilty about making him stand in the hall, he seemed happy to be there, so I did my best to get used to the fact my godparents were as protective as my real ones.

  Could I blame them?

  “Here, let me.” Vivian was at my side, adjusting one of my straps that had started to slide for the fifteenth time since I put the dress on. She circled behind me, a pin in her hand, and while I stood there and tried not to breathe she did something that I’m sure was a model’s secret and, a moment later the strap was behaving perfectly.

  “Thank you,” I said.

  Vivian’s hands settled briefly, gently on my shoulders, her blue eyes clear and open. We hadn’t talked about the morning of the fire, of her hug and her terror and our reconnection. We didn’t have to, not yet. But we would.

  “Fee,” she said. “You’re welcome.”

  Daisy didn’t seem jealous, bless her, and it wasn’t about that. I hoped she knew. Instead, she squealed at the sight of the shoes. “They fit!”

  “Day, they’re perfect.” I smiled at them both. “It’s all perfect. I couldn’t have asked for a more amazing everything.”

  Vivian winked. “Including that delicious fiancé of yours.” She laughed then, the first time I’d heard her laugh in a long time, and never with me. Like she’d let go of some great weight holding her back and was suddenly the woman she’d always meant to be. “You know, I was so damned mad at you when you moved home.” She booped my nose. “I knew the second Crew set eyes on you I didn’t stand a chance.”

  Whoa. “What?” She was gorgeous. Always had been. She was a freaking model.

  But Vivian shrugged her delicate shoulders inside her pale green Grace Fiore and leaned in to kiss my cheek.

  “Not a chance,” she said. “He’s perfect for you, Fee. I’m so happy you found each other.”

  Lingering sorrow. And determination to make sure Vivian found her own happily ever after.

  Vivian glanced at the drawn curtains, faint frown soft and sad. “Will you rebuild?” She looked shocked at herself then, shook her head as if to stop me from thinking about Petunia’s, but I smiled, feeling better myself for all.

  “I don’t know,” I said, recalling that self-same conversation I had with Crew last night, in his living room, cuddled on the couch while Liz texted every ten minutes to remind us I had to leave before midnight. The brat. “We’ll see.” It felt… wrong to replace the house. And we still had the annex, the Carriage House. Who knew what the future had in store? “Maybe a fresh start is a better idea.” Like letting Mom and Daisy have this place while I chose to follow the path I’d always wanted.

  Fiona Fleming, private eye. Had a fun ring to it.

  Vivian left then with another hug for me, whispered thanks though I had no idea what she was thanking me for. Inviting her to the wedding? Maybe. But it felt like more than that.

  She and I were due for a heart-to-heart and I actually couldn’t wait.

  Daisy beamed at me, squeezing me hard before letting me go, her gray eyes sparkling.

  “Everything is ready,” she said. “Emile even had some of his favorite champagne flown in just for the dinner. And he had some chocolates sent, too. Your mother loves them.” She laughed then, fluttering her hands at me. “I’m sorry, I’m thinking about him far too much.”

  “No such thing.” I kissed her softly. “You deserve to be happy,
Day.”

  Tears again. Sheesh. Both of us, this time. Mom was going to kill me.

  My phone chimed and I took the distraction with gratitude, dabbing at the corner of my eyes with a tissue. The tears dried instantly, further shock at the source of the email making me gape and, in a surge of relief, absorb the message with eager excitement.

  Sorry to be absent, Pamela Shard wrote. I left voluntarily, to hang out with my favorite brother. Wait a second. She hated her brother. Sarah Shard’s father and Pamela weren’t friends, they were estranged. Which told me that this was, in fact, Pamela writing to me and that she wanted me to know it was her. Big sigh of relief as I read on. Don’t worry about me. I’ve dealt with worse. Though I’m digging and I’ll be in touch. It’s a deeper chasm than I expected, Fee, and I’ve given up more than I expected to see this through. Did that mean she’d broken up with Aundrea? I’d had zero contact with Alicia, Jared or his mother in simply ages. The only way I’d known Pamela was missing was thanks to Sarah back in September. Months without word. I should have been angry, but instead I just nodded at the phone and finished the email. I’ll be in touch when I have what I need. Closer than ever. Take care, happy wedding day and be safe. I honestly believe they’ll stop at nothing to protect themselves over whatever it is she’s hiding.

  Pamela signed off on it, and that was all. I glanced up at Daisy while the door opened and Dad entered, looking pretty darned amazing in his tuxedo and small red rose in the button hole of his jacket.

  “Ladies,” he said in that deep, gravel voice I knew so well. “If you don’t mind, Day, I’d like a minute with Fee before we go downstairs.”

  My bestie crossed immediately to Dad and kissed his cheek before waving at me and leaving, closing the door softly behind her, leaving me alone with my father.

  ***

  Chapter Thirty Nine

  Weird how we both stood there a long moment in awkward silence, him just staring at me, while I reached for something to say, before landing on the obvious.

  “Pamela,” I blurted, holding up my phone. “She’s okay.”

  I was expecting at least some small acknowledgment but the wave of relief that passed over his face surprised me. Dad joined me, read the email, handed back the phone with a grin.

  “Leave it to Pam,” he said. And tossed the cell to the bed beside Petunia who sniffed it like it didn’t matter one little bit to her.

  And, I guess, in that moment, it didn’t.

  Dad sat down on one side of her, pushing my phone away, pulling me down on the other side, holding my hands in his. He was silent a long moment, cleared his throat, tried to speak. Stopped. Tried again. All the while not meeting my eyes, his face turning red, throat working.

  I finally leaned in and hugged him and he embraced me back, the familiar comfort of his arms enough to make me cry.

  Sorry, Mom.

  When Dad gently detached himself, he wiped at tears on his face, accepting the tissue I handed him. “I love you, kid,” he managed. “So much. And that man of yours. You really are perfect for each other. I knew it the moment I met him, that the two of you would be together someday. Wanted to knock your heads on occasion for being so stubborn. But it’s made you stronger, the time you took, the way you stood up to him, and him to you.” Dad nodded while I sat still and listened. “Your mother and I are so proud of you, Fiona. Of everything you’ve ever done. You are as strong and beautiful and amazing as we could ever have dreamed of and I hope you know how important you are to us.”

  Dad and emotional outbursts? Yeah, this was a very special occasion. Before I could say anything, make a comment, ruin the moment, he reached into the inside pocket of his tux and drew out a small something he handed to me.

  “Your Grandmother Iris would have loved for you to have this,” he said. “Considering you already have two more. I spotted them in the music box when you showed us the evidence.” He shrugged as I opened my hand and looked down at the butterfly hairpin there. “She always wore them. I kept this one from the funeral, couldn’t bear to bury it with her.”

  I’d thought the pieces were costume when I’d first examined them. The one I’d found in the box from the nursing home had been a bit tarnished, seen better days. And the other in the music box I’d never really taken a close look at. But with the bright light of day, I realized the tiny gems in the hairpiece were real. Diamonds and sapphires in the wings of butterflies.

  So beautiful.

  I went to the music box, sitting on the side table, and gathered the other two, joining Dad again and handing them to him. “Would you help me?”

  He swallowed, hands shaking, but nodded and proceeded to thread the hairpins into my updo, gentle and slow, and when I stood to look at the finished result, the three butterflies in a triangle near my right temple, I smiled.

  “Something old,” I said.

  The dress was my something new, of course. And now, in the hairclips, I also had my blue.

  I turned back to Dad and held out my hands, the weird awkwardness between us vanished. He stood, took my fingers in his firm grasp and bent to kiss my cheek.

  “Are you ready, kid?” His eyes glistened with more tears but he looked happy.

  I nodded, reaching up to cup his cheek in one hand before linking my arm through his offered elbow. “So ready.”

  Mom appeared as if summoned, her makeup pristine, to give me the once over and assure herself all was well. I laughed, light-hearted, felt like I was floating when she finally let me leave the room, glide past Darius who smiled and blushed and waved a little when I patted his cheek on the way by. I might as well have been suspended on some kind of cloud for all the control gravity had over me, the steps under my feet barely registering, Dad guiding me at a slow and measured pace I settled into, knowing I was beaming.

  Petunia hopped down beside me, grunting when she reached the floor, the pretty red tutu Daisy had made for her wiggling around her little waist in a frilly circle of ridiculousness. Made me laugh all over again, catching the attention of the gathering in the main sitting room, including the stunning man at the far end, standing next to Dr. Aberstock.

  And then the music started, right? I think. Maybe? Because Daisy was walking down the aisle with flowers in her hands, and Petunia followed her and people were smiling and taking pictures but I don’t remember really because the floating feeling continued and I think, without Mom on one side and Dad on the other I might actually have drifted away.

  It took forever and no time at all to reach him. When I was pulled to a halt I almost protested before Dr. Aberstock laughed and asked some question I’m sure was important to the ceremony but was just keeping me from those blue eyes and that amazing smile and those broad shoulders. His lips and hands and the arms that could embrace me and make everything go away.

  So, here’s how the rest of that went. Whirlwind, yada, question, nodding, more questions, say something, Fee, love.

  Vows. I wrote them. Fumbled through them. While his made my heart ache and sing and want to leap out of me and land at his feet for him, forever.

  “Fiona Fleming,” he said, simply and with adoration and the kind of love that never ends, “I wouldn’t change a thing.”

  And then, the best part. “Fiona Marie Fleming,” Dr. Aberstock said with points of pink on his cherub cheeks and a massive smile splitting his Santa beard. “Will you take Crew Michael Turner to be your husband?”

  I didn’t need to think, to breathe, to hesitate even a moment.

  “I do.”

  ***

  ###

  Coming soon! Book Thirteen (the final!)

  of the Fiona Fleming Cozy Mysteries

  www.pattilarsen.com

  ***

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  Author’s Notes

  It’s not my fault.r />
  Please, please don’t send me hate mail about Petunia’s. This is not my fault. I repeat: this is NOT my fault.

  Blame Fee. It’s been all her all along. I know, there are those of you who don’t believe me. But it’s the truth and even though I argued with her, pleaded at one point, to save Petunia’s, that’s not how the story goes.

  So. No hate mail. Thank you.

  We have one book left in this series and I started outlining it months ago, piecing together all the threads and trails and mysteries Fee’s been dropping on me since I met her. From the mystery box in her garden left by her Grandmother Iris to the broken music box at the bank to the doubloon, the map pieces, Siobhan and Malcolm, Fiona Doyle, Blackstone and the Pattersons. The death of Victor French.

  The hairpins…

  Oh dear. Foreshadowing. Or not. We’ll see.

  I’m excited to finish this series. It’s been a little over two years in the making, book one published in January of 2017. And while I had a bit of a slow year last year, I’ve stayed tied to Fee all along and I can’t wait to share with you the final installment in this, her first series.

  Yes, her first, in case you missed it. The second (titled for now Fleming Investigations) will be likely next year as I have two new projects I’ll be working on in the coming months. One is a cozy paranormal series about a young mortician turned coroner who discovers she’s the heir to a supernatural gate called the Covenant of All Hallow. And the other, still in the cozy genre, based on our very own Alice Moore and Denver Hatch from none other than the cutest town in America, as they wander the continent debunking paranormal events and stumble on murders of their own. Which means a few guest appearances from characters you know and love.