by Laura Durham
The man gave a curt nod. “I’m Vinnie.”
Fern put his hands over his ears. “I didn’t hear anything. I don’t know your name.”
Vinnie gave Fern a curious look. “It seems you folks have got the wrong idea about me.”
“Oh really?” Kate asked, her flashlight stun gun still clutched in her hand. “Are you going to tell me you didn’t burst into our friend’s apartment looking for Jimmy?”
He shrugged. “No, but I wasn’t looking for him to whack him.”
Fern jumped at the word ‘whack’ but didn’t drop his hands from his ears.
“So we’re supposed to believe it was a social call?” Kate said. “You weren’t exactly friendly.”
“I’d just flown halfway across the country in economy class in the middle seat. What kind of mood would you be in?”
“Well, that explains it.” Fern lowered his hands. “I’d be homicidal myself.”
I shot Fern a look.
Vinnie pointed his gun at Kate. “This one didn’t give me a chance to explain before she lit me up.”
“That’s right,” Kate said pointing her stun gun right back at him. “And I’ll do it again.”
I let out a breath. “Can everyone lower the guns for a minute? It’s impossible to listen with a gun being waved in your face.”
“Fine.” Vinnie waited until Kate had lowered her arm before he put his gun back into the holster. “Happy?”
“That wouldn’t be the first word that would come to mind,” Fern muttered.
“So if we got it all wrong, why don’t you tell us why you flew across the country to chase after your uncle?” I said.
“Family looks out for family,” Vinnie said, looking over at his uncle. “And Uncle Jimmy, well he’s been getting confused for a while now. It wasn’t so bad when my aunt could watch out for him, but when she passed it got worse. He wanders off and forgets where he lives. Lately, he’s even been forgetting his own kids and is convinced someone is trying to kill him.”
I glanced over at Jimmy, who looked more confused than ever. “Are you telling me the family isn’t after him?”
Vinnie chuckled and shook his head. “Why would we be after him? Uncle Jimmy hasn’t done the books for over a decade. Anyway, the new boss is going legit, so we got nothing to hide.”
Jimmy scratched his head. “Frank’s boy isn’t after me?”
Vinnie put a hand on his uncle’s arm. “No, Uncle Jimmy. Everyone just wants you back home safe.”
I knew a good con man could pull the wool over anyone’s eyes, but Vinnie seemed to genuinely care about the old man. Dementia would certainly explain why Jimmy kept wandering off, and why he spontaneously decided to sing with the band. Suddenly, the old man’s confusion made sense.
“How do we know you aren’t making this up so you can waltz out of here with him?” Kate asked.
Vinnie reached into his breast pocket and produced a sheaf of folded papers. “Take a look yourself. His latest doctor’s report.”
I took the papers and unfolded them, scanning the text quickly. They seemed to come from a doctor at the University of Chicago Medical Center, and they did declare that one James Constantine Pinnello was suffering from advanced cortical dementia. Kate read over my shoulder and gave a tiny gasp.
“He was pretty convincing. He convinced our friend too.” I didn’t mention that he’d also convinced her to illegally procure forged documents on the dark web for him.
“Sometimes his made-up stories seem more real than the truth,” Vinnie said. “Trust me. I know.”
“But how did he find our friend and make his way across the country if all this is accurate?” Kate asked, waving a hand at the paper.
“He remembers the past like it was yesterday,” Vinnie said. “Never forgets a name if he knew them fifty years ago. He might not remember yours tomorrow, though.”
“That would make sense,” I said. “He knew our friend a long time ago.”
“And he still remembers how to do things like buy a plane ticket and call a taxi,” Vinnie explained. “Which is why we try to keep an eye on him, so he doesn’t drive to a house someone lived in thirty years ago.”
“Did you know Leelee has been in the same apartment building for over twenty years?” Jimmy asked.
Actually, I didn’t, although I knew it had been a long time.
“That explains it,” Fern said. “He kept track of her.”
Jimmy nodded. “We were always good friends.”
Vinnie patted his hand. “I hope my uncle didn’t disrupt the wedding too much. We’ll get out of your hair.”
“I don’t understand,” Jimmy said, looking at us then at his nephew. “I thought I was going to a wedding.”
A lump lodged in my throat, and I blinked hard a few times as I handed the papers back to Vinnie. “It looks like your family back in Chicago misses you.”
“But I was going to have wedding cake,” Jimmy said.
“I’ll get you cake in the airport,” Vinnie said.
Jimmy didn’t look convinced and folded his arms across his chest. “It’s rude to leave a wedding before the bride and groom cut the cake.”
“He’s got you there,” Fern said.
“Why don’t you both stay?” I said. “Richard already added one seat for dinner. I’m sure he can add another.”
“I can’t wait to see the look on his face when you tell him,” Kate muttered under her breath.
Vinnie raised an eyebrow at me. “You’ve got a bunch of cops looking for me. And I did leave police custody. I don’t expect the DC police look real kindly on that type of thing.”
Fern fluttered a hand at him. “Don’t you worry about that. Our Annabelle has an in with them since she’s engaged to their top detective.”
I wasn’t sure Reese would like to hear that Fern thought I had an “in” with the police department, but I knew I could explain things to him. “I think I can smooth that over.”
Vinnie cracked a smile for the first time since we’d been talking. “It would make him easier to deal with. Lately, he gets real upset when he doesn’t get his way.”
Kate elbowed me and whispered, “If that’s a symptom, have we considered that Richard may have dementia?”
“Let’s get you both downstairs and seated while I talk to my fiancé,” I said, motioning for Vinnie and Jimmy to follow me.
“You look familiar,” Jimmy said as he fell in step with Fern. “Have we met?”
Fern patted his hand. “I performed the ceremony, sweetie.”
Jimmy took in his white suit and fedora. “You’re a Catholic priest?”
Fern giggled. “Not by a long shot. I’m a hairdresser.”
Jimmy furrowed his brow. This was doing nothing for the old man’s confusion.
“Do you think they’ll let me sing again?” Jimmy finally asked Fern.
“I don’t see why not,” Fern said. “Leatrice isn’t a real stickler for things being by the book.”
I led the way downstairs, where we met Reese and his brother on their way up. My fiancé did a double take and one hand went instinctively to the gun that wasn’t on his hip.
I held up both hands. “Whoa. It’s not what you think, and I can explain everything.”
Reese looked from Vinnie to Jimmy to me. “Why do I have a feeling this is going to be a doozy?”
The front door flew open, and Buster and Mack strode in with a dark-haired man held snugly between them. “Look who we found waiting in a rented car down the block.”
“They pulled me out of the car and tackled me,” the man said, a stunned expression on his face I hoped wasn’t a result of being tackled too hard.
“Only because you ran,” Mack said.
The man looked between the two burly florists. “Who wouldn’t?”
“Is this your associate?” Reese asked Vinnie.
“This is Carmine,” Vinnie said. “Our new accountant. I brought him with me because Jimmy trained him, so they know each other
real well. The more familiar faces, the better.”
Mack and Buster relaxed their grip and exchanged a worried look over the man’s disheveled hair.
“We apprehended an accountant?” Mack said.
“Why are the wedding florists pulling people out of cars?” Reese asked, his gaze boring into me. “I could have sworn I said that I didn’t want the bridal party to get involved.”
Kate slipped her stun gun behind her back. “Then you’re not going to like this explanation very much.”
Chapter 17
“I did not see this coming,” Kate said, her eyes on the dance floor.
“You mean you didn’t think our eighty-something-year-old bride would have a father-daughter dance?” I asked as Jimmy the Pencil spun Leatrice out and back in to the sounds of Frank Sinatra’s “The Way You Look Tonight.”
Fern leaned over from his seat further down the table. “Who knew accountants could dance so well?”
Reese draped his arm across the back of my chair. “The addition of a father-daughter dance is the least surprising part of this entire day.”
“You can say that again,” Richard said, poking his head over Reese. “I still can’t believe you made me add four seats to the head table. We’re packed in here like sardines.”
I glanced down the long oval table tightly ringed with clear reception chairs, the tall palm fronds rising high enough off the table that I could see clearly underneath them. We’d planned for fourteen of us around Leatrice and Sidney Allen’s table, but Leatrice had insisted on adding Jimmy, Carmine, and Vinnie, and then Kate had insisted with equal passion on adding Daniel next to her.
Richard had thrown a modified hissy fit—shortened only because of the heat and his relief that dinner service wouldn’t be interrupted by gunfire—but had finally relented. So now my eyes went from Kate to Daniel, who looked cozier than seemed appropriate, to Fern, who’d removed his black fedora, to Buster and Mack with baby Merry in a booster seat with Prue on the other side. Detective Hobbes sat next to Alexandra, and he seemed as surprised as anyone to have the sexy cake baker nuzzled up to him. We’d put the three mobsters next to Hobbes, with the theory that he could keep an eye on them just in case. Looking at the detective’s dazed expression made me realize we hadn’t thought that through. Luckily, Alexandra and Hobbes were too distracted to notice that, on the other side of Jimmy the Pencil, Hermès sat in a booster seat between PJ and Richard. Leatrice’s and Sidney Allen’s chairs between Richard and Reese were empty since both were on the dance floor—Leatrice spinning around with Jimmy and Sidney Allen waiting anxiously to cut in. Aside from the few empty chairs, we were shoulder to shoulder, not that anyone seemed to mind.
“How was your first experience as a best man?” I asked, snuggling closer to Reese.
“A lot more dramatic than I expected, although I guess I should have known that one of your weddings wouldn’t be a walk in the park.”
“I’ll have you know that, despite all the craziness, the reception has been perfectly on time.” I elbowed him playfully. “But, seriously, thanks for being so understanding and for dropping the charges against Vinnie.”
“We should be grateful he didn’t press charges against Kate since she did stun him.”
“I guess you’re right. Should we call the wedding a success? No shots were fired, and no one was arrested.”
Reese rapped the edge of the table with his knuckles. “Knock on wood. We still have an hour to go.”
“As far as I’m concerned,” Richard said, leaning over the empty seats between him and Reese, “it’s all downhill from here. Entrée is cleared, and the only thing left on the schedule is the cake cutting, which has little to do with my kitchen.”
“So no chef walkouts this time?” I asked.
“No, thank heavens. Chefs can be so melodramatic.” Richard fanned himself with one hand. “You have no idea what it’s like to work with that level of hysteria.”
Reese raised an eyebrow at me, but neither of us responded. I reached for my champagne flute and took a sip, waving back to Leatrice with my other hand as she spun around the dance floor.
“It’s time for everyone to join the bride and groom on the dance floor,” the bandleader announced as they shifted into another classic ballad.
Reese held out his hand. “Shall we?”
Even though it felt strange to be walking onto the dance floor instead of standing off to the side holding a wedding day timeline, I took his hand and followed him.
We weren’t the only ones joining Leatrice and Sidney Allen as the band sang “It Had To Be You.” I spotted Kate pulling Daniel behind her, and Alexandra and Hobbes swaying so close there was no daylight between them. Buster danced with Prue while Mack was right beside them with baby Merry.
“Isn’t this the best day ever?” Leatrice called to me as Sidney Allen twirled her past us.
I laughed. If the bride and groom were happy, I guessed I could count it as a success.
“So you never told me what it was like being a bridesmaid,” Reese said as we moved across the floor.
“Odd,” I admitted. “It feels strange to be a guest. I’m so used to being on the other side of things that even dancing with you like this feels bizarre.”
“So has being a wedding planner ruined weddings for you forever?”
“I wouldn’t say ruined, but my perspective is definitely different. To the rest of the world, a wedding means booze and dancing and getting dressed up. To me, it means forgetting to eat for ten hours, wearing flats with gel inserts so I’m not limping the next day, and fending off drunk groomsmen.”
“Is that why you’re not excited about planning our wedding?”
I looked up at him and nearly tripped over his feet. “Who told you I wasn’t excited?”
“Babe.” He smoothed a loose strand of hair off my forehead. “No one had to tell me. You haven’t wanted to set a date, and you get a panicky look on your face every time I mention it.”
“What panicky look—?” I started to say.
He pointed at me. “That one. Like you’re looking for someplace to run and hide.”
I clamped my mouth shut. He knew me too well. I did want to run off and hide or at least change the subject.
“If our wedding isn’t going to be fun for you, we can elope,” he said. “I don’t need the traditional wedding if it’s going to make you miserable.”
I pressed my head against his chest, the warmth and solidness of him making me feel better. I also didn’t want Reese to see that I was about to cry. Not because I was overwhelmed by the idea of being a bride, but because I was overwhelmed that he’d do anything to make me happy. Kate was right. I needed to marry this guy fast.
The music changed and the tempo picked up. I saw Fern dash across the dance floor and cut in on Leatrice and Sidney Allen.
“They’re playing our song,” he said as he took Leatrice by the hand.
“Is that ‘Dancing Queen’ by Abba?” I asked, recognizing the opening of the song.
“I’m surprised a jazz band knows it,” Reese said.
I eyed Fern as he jubilantly danced with Leatrice, twirling and dipping her. “I suspect this might have been planned ahead of time.”
“I thought Fern was the anti-planning planner.”
“Not when it comes to having a showcase dance with the bride,” I said. “I’m just glad he didn’t change into a bell bottom jumpsuit for it.”
“When in Rome,” Reese said, spinning me away from him and back in.
I laughed as I braced one hand against his chest. “Since when can you dance disco?”
He winked at me as he did a passable imitation of John Travolta in Saturday Night Fever. “I’m full of surprises, babe.”
I noticed Jimmy the Pencil dancing with one of the cigarette girls, and Vinnie cutting in on a flustered Hobbes. Richard and PJ spun past us holding Hermès between them, his tiny pink tongue hanging happily from his mouth. For the first time all day, I felt totall
y happy.
“You know what?” I said, looking up at my fiancé. “We should have a wedding. And not an elopement. A real wedding with a bridal party and dancing and all the craziness.”
“Are you sure?”
I nodded. “Positive. Weddings are about being with the people you love when you say ‘I Do’ to the person you love most. And I can’t imagine getting married without all of my crazy friends. Mobsters not included.”
Reese grinned and looked around the dance floor. “It would be sad to miss all this.” His face became serious. “You don’t think Fern will want a spotlight dance with you, do you?”
“What do you think?” I asked. “You’ll be lucky if he doesn’t want one with you.”
Reese shook his head. “Maybe you were right about eloping.”
“You know you love them,” I said.
Reese’s mouth twitched up into a smile. “You’re right. As crazy as they all are, they’re a part of you, and I love every single bit of you.”
“You say that now,” I told him, standing on my tiptoes to give him a quick kiss. “But you haven’t met my mother.”
* * *
deadringer.lauradurham.com
Also by Laura Durham
Read the entire Annabelle Archer Series in order:
Better Off Wed
For Better Or Hearse
Dead Ringer
Review To A Kill
Death On The Aisle
Night of the Living Wed
Eat, Prey, Love
Groomed For Murder
Wed or Alive
To Love and To Perish
Marry & Bright
The Truffle with Weddings
Irish Aisles are Smiling
Godfather of Bride
* * *
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