by Liliana Hart
I didn’t even bother to ask how much they were being paid to close down their restaurant on a Friday night.
“What are we going to do?” I asked. “Whoever put that stupid open invitation in the paper has made a mess of things. We might have a thousand people show up.”
“Especially since word is spreading about the open bar. Your wedding might be a good time for that intervention TV show to make an appearance. I didn’t realize there were so many booze hounds in Whiskey Bayou.”
“We can print a retraction in the paper,” Kate said. “Or maybe we can use the park. It’s right across the street. We can get a couple of food and drink trucks and it can be like a street party for your wedding. Only none of them will get to see the actual wedding until you and Nick ride off for your honeymoon.”
“That’s a great idea except for the fact that it’s two degrees outside,” I said.
Kate shrugged. “Anyone will show up for free liquor.”
“We’re not paying for an open bar for the entire town. That’s insane.”
“A little cold isn’t going to stop the biggest party of the year,” she insisted. “Think of the long-term investment you’re making. It’s not just you anymore. You’ve got to think of Nick too. People are fickle. What if Nick decides to run for office one day and the only thing people remember about him is that he kicked them all out of his wedding after issuing an open invitation. The damage is already done. Use it to your advantage.”
Kate threw me off guard. Did Nick want to run for a political office one day? He’d never mentioned it. And I’d never asked. I always thought of him as being a cop forever, but maybe he had goals and dreams bigger than he’d ever shared with me.
“I think I need to make a phone call,” I said, and stepped off the platform to get my cell phone.
I moved into one of the private dressing areas and called Nick. I had no idea if he would be able to pick up or not, but it seemed like these were all decisions we should’ve been making together.
“Hey,” he said when he answered.
“Oh, good,” I said, spotting the little couch in the dressing room. “I didn’t know if you’d be able to answer.” I laid out flat because it was easier to do that than sit down in the dress.
“I’m sitting in the little waiting area downstairs. The weather’s getting bad and I didn’t want you to have to drive home.”
“Oh,” I said. And then I wanted to burst into tears because it was such a Nick thing to do. “Have you been waiting long?”
“Nah, I had a patrolman drop me off, though it took a while for the lady to buzz me in. Apparently, I’d just missed my mother. Thank God.”
“Yeah, about that…” I said.
“Do I want to hear this?”
“Probably not, but this falls under the whole two becoming one thing, so if I have to suffer, so do you.”
He laughed a little, and I could picture him settling into the chair and getting comfortable. Nick was a guy’s guy. He’d grown up in wealth with every advantage, and he was movie star handsome, but everyone got along with Nick. As long as they were on the right side of the law.
“Would you mind so much if we just left everything and everyone we know and move somewhere else?”
“Sounds good to me,” he said, sounding so exhausted and fed up it made my heart hurt. “We could buy a tiki hut bar on some island and sleep in a hammock. It’s not like we need the money.”
“Wow,” I said. “I take it the case isn’t going well. You’ve never entertained my fantasies before.”
“Excuse me?” he asked.
“I mean outside the bedroom,” I clarified.
“That’s better,” he said and sighed. “I’m just tired. These people are so dirty. I know they did it. But they’re so smug they’re never going to get caught because they can tie up things with lawyers and red tape. Sometimes I wonder if it’s worth it. You put one away and fifty more criminals sprout up in their place.”
“Of course it’s worth it,” I said. “Think of what it would be like without you. You’ll get whoever’s behind this because I know you. There’s a family lying in the morgue right now who deserve justice, and you won’t stop until they get it.”
He sighed again. “Yeah. What happened with my mother?”
“She tried to punch Aunt Scarlet, so Kate tased them both.”
He barked out a laugh and said, “Oh, I’m really glad I missed her. She was probably mad as a wet cat.”
“We told her Scarlet sucker-punched her and knocked her out. She was more upset because we’re having an Italian buffet for the wedding reception. She said she was going to wear overalls.”
“Good God,” he said. “I’ve never seen my mother in pants. Why are we talking on the phone instead of in person?”
“Because I’m wearing my wedding dress and you’re not supposed to see me in it. Are you planning to run for office?”
“Not today, he said.
I guessed that was as good of an answer as any. “I was actually calling to ask about the budget for this whole thing.”
“Spend what you need to,” he said. “You’ve got access to the accounts.”
“No, you don’t understand.” And then I explained about the open invitation in the paper and how our wedding had turned into a street party for Whiskey Bayou, complete with food trucks.
“I guess it could be worse,” he said. “The open invitation could’ve gone out in the Savannah Morning News. If all the excitement is over and you’ve bought a dress, let’s go home. Spend what you need to. We’re only doing this once.”
I disconnected and realized I was crying. How’d I get so lucky?
Chapter Seven
Tuesday
When I woke up the next morning Nick was already gone to work. I remember him kissing me on the cheek before he left and telling me to get more sleep.
There was a cup of coffee on the nightstand, and it was still warm, so I was guessing he hadn’t left too long ago. Our bedroom was a big space with large picture windows that looked out into the trees. The morning sunlight was hazy coming through the gray clouds, but the freezing drizzle hadn’t lasted long. Most of Savannah would be getting a late start this morning to let the sand and salt trucks clear areas, so I wasn’t in a hurry to get out of bed and head to the office.
I turned on the TV to check the weather and traffic while I drank my coffee. And then I made the mistake of looking at my phone. I had texts from Kate, Rosemarie, and Scarlet asking for me to call them the second I woke up. I ignored all of them and reached for my bag, pulling out my case files and laptop.
Working from home was looking like a better option by the minute.
I booted up the computer and loaded up the pictures I’d taken the day before of Matthew Martin and his dog. I was assuming his wife would be ecstatic that her husband was involved with a dog circus and not another woman. I typed up my report and then emailed everything over to Lucy.
My stomach rumbled uncomfortably, and I looked over at my empty coffee cup, trying to remember how old the cream was in the refrigerator. It had been a while since I’d been to the grocery store. I’d mostly been living out of the van or my office since Nick had been called away.
I noticed an email from Beverly Jennings with an attachment and clicked on it. She’d sent me all the personnel files I’d asked for and they were all labeled by name and date. I noticed the one that said Charles Whidbey and clicked on it. It seemed like a good place to start. He might not have had any trouble here, but that didn’t mean there couldn’t have been issues he didn’t remember from way in the past.
I read through his file quickly. There wasn’t a whole lot of information there. He’d been a pastor for more than twenty years, and had been associate pastor at two churches prior to moving to Whiskey Bayou. His college and seminary information were included along with professional references. No personal references listed. Maybe he’d always been a loner.
I typed his social security
number into our background check software to get some more personal information. He was born in1963 in St. Louis. Got a football scholarship to Nebraska. Went to seminary after graduation. Married shortly after.
“Hmm,” I said. He certainly didn’t have a wife now.
I read down a little farther and saw she’d been killed by a drunk driver several years after he’d taken his first job at a church in Kansas City.
“Oh, no,” I whispered, starting to tear up. And he’d never found anyone else after she’d died. He’d loved her too much. Still loved her. “That’s so sad. And beautiful.”
I sniffled and kept reading. After he’d left Kansas City he went to a small church in Silver Springs, just outside of Omaha, Nebraska, and he was there another ten years before he came to Whiskey Bayou.
I looked at the list of professional references he gave and decided my best bet for finding out anything was the church secretary, Tilda Sweeney. Women tended to have long memories and they gave the greatest details. I didn’t know if she was still the church secretary, but I called the number next to her name anyway.
It rang several times before a man picked up. His voice was gruff with a slight accent.
“Yes, I’m looking for Tilda Sweeney,” I said. “Is she available?”
The man was silent for several seconds before answering. “Tilda doesn’t live here anymore.”
“Does she still work at the church?” I asked.
“No.” And then he hung up.
“Alrighty then,” I said. “Rude man.”
I looked the church up online and wrote down the number they gave on the website. And then I looked at the staff directory. There was Tilda Sweeney’s picture at the very bottom. She was an older lady with mousy brown hair pulled back from her face, and she wore oval glasses. She looked exactly like I’d expect someone named Tilda Sweeney to look like.
I was about to dial the church number when my stomach rumbled again and my skin went clammy. I tossed the covers off and ran to the bathroom, and then quickly got rid of the contents of my stomach. Since there wasn’t all that much to get rid of it didn’t last long, so I crawled over to the sink so I could splash cold water on my face and brush my teeth.
I fell back into bed and pulled the covers up to my chin. I was worn out. I’d had a crazy few weeks—first with catching the Romeo Bandit at the nudist colony with Aunt Scarlet and Rosemarie, and then almost getting my liver surgically removed and waking up in a bathtub of ice. I really hadn’t taken the time to rest. And piling a wedding on top of everything only seemed to be making my body revolt. If I could make it through the week I’d have two weeks off in some tropical paradise for our honeymoon. I could hold out that long. Maybe.
I restacked my case files and grabbed my phone to make the call again, but it was then I saw a picture of Scarlet flash on the television screen and the phone fell out of my hand. It was a still shot of her in a convenience store a couple of weeks ago, swallowed up in her enormous fur coat and pointing a gun at a guy who was robbing the store. She’d actually shot the guy’s ear off to save the day, but the picture didn’t look good.
“In other news, the police are looking for Scarlet Holmes. They believe she can give them crucial information about the death of crime boss, Big Mo. Holmes and the victim were reported to have a personal relationship, and Holmes has been known to have a colorful past. She worked for the OSS and then CIA until her retirement. Several of her husbands were killed under mysterious circumstances. Her niece, Addison Holmes, is a private investigator for the McClean Detective Agency. If you know the location of this woman, police are asking you call the hotline number at the bottom of the screen.”
“Ohmigosh,” I said.
I picked up my phone and dialed Scarlet’s number. She answered on the first ring.
“Where have you been?” she hissed. “I’ve been texting for hours.”
“I’ve been sleeping. It’s icy outside.”
“Hogwash,” she said. “The roads are fine. Have you watched the news?”
“I just saw it,” I said. “Why are you avoiding the police? Just go in and talk with them and get this over with. They just want to ask you a few questions.”
“That’s just what they tell you,” she said. “What am I, stupid? They get you in their clutches and then they pull out your teeth. It’s just like the war.”
I raised my brow at that. “They’re not going to pull out your teeth. That’s illegal. Just tell them you don’t know anything and then play the old lady card. You’ll be out of there in a few minutes.”
“You sure don’t know a lot, girl. They’d have eaten you for breakfast during my day. Just remember that it’s always more fun to torture than to be tortured.”
“Right,” I said. “Good advice. Here’s my good advice to you—hiding from the police is never a good idea.”
“Oh, really? What about the Gestapo? Lots of people hid from them.”
I sighed and rubbed at the headache brewing behind my eyes. “Fine,” I said. “Where are you? At your hotel?”
“Hell, no. I’m on the move. I’ve got a new I.D. and a new look. No one will look twice at me. I need a ride. Can you come pick me up?”
The best thing I could do would be to take her to the police station, but she was just a little old lady, and she’d obviously been traumatized by something in her past. I couldn’t just leave her there.
“Where are you?”
“Your mother’s house,” she said.
That was surprising. “She let you stay there?”
“She doesn’t know I’m here. Phoebe told me last night that your mom and Vince left for his lake house before the weather started getting bad. It was real easy to break in. They don’t even have a security system.”
“One of the perks of living in a small town.”
“Stupid if you ask me. There’s criminals everywhere.”
“Obviously,” I said. “I’ll be there in about an hour. Stay put.”
“10-4,” she said. “I’m going to take a nap. I’ve been up for hours. Bring me something for breakfast.”
She hung up, and I shoved everything back into my bag. I’d call the church about Pastor Charles later. I grabbed my phone, got out of bed, and headed to the bathroom. I turned on the water to as hot as it would go and stripped down to nothing. Then my phone rang. It was Rosemarie.
“Good news,” she said. “I talked to Gerald Mobley. He’s in charge of parks and recreation. He thought it was a great idea to have a town wedding reception. I just have to sign a bunch of permits for the food trucks and alcohol. But since basically the whole town will be there everyone is mostly willing to let it pass if not all the t’s are crossed and i’s are dotted, if you get my drift.”
“You bribed them with free alcohol?” I asked.
“Yep, and it worked like a charm. I need a favor,” she said.
“Anything,” I told her. As much work as she was doing on this wedding I would’ve given her my kidney if she needed it.
“Can you give me a ride? My car doesn’t do so well on icy roads.”
I think what she meant to say was that she didn’t drive so well on icy roads. If she’d thought about what she’d said at all she would’ve realized that Black Betty wasn’t exactly known for hugging the roads on tight curves.
“Sure,” I said. “I’ve got to pick up Aunt Scarlet anyway, so I’ll swing by your place.”
“Great, and maybe we can swing by the cake place,” she said. “I talked to the lady and she said she’s actually got a wedding cancellation for Friday, but you have to use the designs the bride and groom already picked because she’s already made the patterns. But you do get to choose the flavor. She’s got little samples of the cakes you can try.”
“That was my favorite part of almost getting married last time. I’ll be there in an hour. I’ve still got to shower. And I have to get work done today. I’m never going to finish these cases before Friday.”
“Not a problem. We�
��re a great team. We’ll have all those cases done before the end of the day.”
I wondered if she actually believed that. I hung up and had one foot in the shower when phone rang again. I sighed and just took it into the shower with me. I propped it in the corner shelf.
“Are you in a car wash?” Savage asked.
“Shower.”
“Thanks for the image,” he said. “Ready to get to work today?”
“I don’t need a babysitter,” I said. “And I’ve got Rosemarie and Aunt Scarlet for the day, so the van is going to be a little full.”
“You’re right. Hate to miss it, but my calendar just filled up. I finished the background check and sent it to your email, and I’ve got some calls out about your priest. Something weird going on there. I’ll give you a call when I’ve got something solid.”
He hung up and I lathered my hair, grateful I’d whacked it all off. It was a heck of a lot easier to maintain. I was rinsing all the shampoo out when the phone rang again.
“Come on,” I growled, but then felt guilty because it was Kate.
“Did you see the news this morning?” she asked. “If not, don’t turn on the TV.”
“I saw it,” I said. “Good plug for the agency.”
“We don’t need a plug. We’ve got more business than we can handle. And now we have a bunch of looney tunes trying to hire you. I thought Lucy was going to toss a can of tear gas into the lobby and make a run for it. Anyway, what are you going to do about Scarlet?”
“Nothing much I can do. They only want to ask her a few questions. She’s not under arrest. And she doesn’t want to be found. She’s a private kind of person.”
“Uh huh,” Kate said. “Especially when she shot that guy’s ear off and tossed a Molotov cocktail into Big Mo’s bedroom.”
“No one can prove that,” I said. “I’ve got to go. I’m getting a late start.”
“Join the club. I’m still sitting in traffic. Don’t come downtown if you don’t have to.”
“I’ve got to go taste cake later.”
“That was my favorite part of your last wedding.”
