by Gayle Trent
“All of them. As an administrative assistant, I was in a trusted position.”
Not wanting to be the only one not asking questions, Myra jumped in with one of her own. “Could you hack into people’s emails and things?”
I shook my head. “That would’ve been our technology people. The only computer I had access to was mine.”
“But you did have access to all the offices,” Ben mused.
“Over a year ago. And none of that matters now. I don’t even know if the same people are working there.”
“Maybe our guy number three doesn’t know that,” China said. “If Todd was desperate for money—which we suspect he must’ve been in order to cook up this wedding planner scheme—and if he was also trying to get back at you, he might’ve told guy number three that you still had access to the place, knew all the ins and outs, and maybe that you could even get into the safe or something.”
“There wasn’t a safe on the premises.” I turned to Ben. “You said Harlow had other cards in his wallet. What were they?”
“A tax service, a bank, a dry cleaner, a construction company, a cell phone rep—”
“Wait a second,” I said. “You said a construction company?”
“Yeah, why?”
“That could mean something. When the housing authority built new units, they’d accept bids from construction companies.”
Mark sat up a little straighter. “And if you were on the inside—or knew someone on the inside—you could get a look at those bids so a construction company could undercut the competition.”
“Right. I’ll text my friend to see if the CHA is accepting bids on any construction projects.” I got up and retrieved my phone from the kitchen.
“There’s another angle we should consider here,” said Ben. “The wedding planner might’ve killed Todd.”
“But then who killed the wedding planner?” Myra asked.
“Guy number three,” China chimed in from the ottoman. “My best bet is that Harlow and Todd were in cahoots. Guy number three killed them both. Now as to whether or not guy number three has left Brea Ridge or there’s still something here he’s after remains to be seen.”
At that moment, it was like the four other heads in the room were on a timed swivel—they all turned to look at me.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Late that afternoon, it was down to just Ben and me. I was glad. We were lounging together on the sofa when our stomachs started grumbling.
“How about I make us some sandwiches?” I asked.
“Sounds good to me. I’ll see if there are any good movies coming on.”
I grinned. “At this point, I’d even settle for a bad one.”
He kissed me. “I’ll see what I can do.”
I got up and went into the kitchen. I opened the refrigerator door and peered inside. “So what kind of sandwich would you like? We have ham, cheese, turkey, tuna, peanut butter—”
“Ham, please!”
I took out the ham, cheese, mayo, mustard, and pickles. I put all of that on the island and got the bread. Before I could get the bread out of the package, Mom and Violet came to the door.
“What a nice surprise!” And I really meant it.. I opened the door and gave them each a hug.
“Hello.” Mom’s voice being as stiff as a starched priest’s collar should have been my first clue that all was not hunky-dory. “I’ll go on into the living room and entertain Ben while you two talk.”
Seeing that Mom had given my ex-husband my address so that he could come here and declare his love for me, I doubted my fiancé would find her very entertaining. But I was still trying to give everyone the benefit of doubt.
Mom went on into the living room, and Violet sat down on one of the stools at the island.
“Where’s everyone else?” I asked.
“They went to dinner in Bristol.”
“That’s nice. Why didn’t you and Mom go?”
“She wasn’t feeling up to it.” Her mouth tightened.
Clue number two.
“Oh. Would you care for a sandwich?” I went to the cabinet to get out plates.
“No, thank you. Mom is devastated that you’re refusing to include her in your wedding.”
I turned from the cabinet and gave Vi an exaggerated blink. “Excuse me?”
“You’re letting Myra take over the wedding planning, and you aren’t including Mom at all.”
“Myra had already volunteered before Mom showed up, and Myra told her she could take part.” I took two plates from the cabinet and slammed them onto the island. The fact that neither of the plates cracked or chipped spoke volumes about their durability.
“Oh, well, gee thanks, Myra, for throwing Mom a bone,” said Violet.
“Look, the only reason Ben and I aren’t eloping at this point is because you said your children would be hurt if they weren’t included in my wedding. Here I thought you and Mom came to check on me. But, oh no! As usual, she’s only concerned about herself! I thought you were better than that.”
“Well, I’m so sorry that I take our mother’s feelings into consideration!”
“She certainly took yours into consideration when she encouraged Todd to come visit your children without asking you first, didn’t she?” I anchored my hands to my hips. If she wanted an argument, I was more than ready to give her one.
“That’s not fair.”
“No, it’s not! Nothing about this week has been fair!” I began to pace, not wanting to look at her sickeningly sweet face while I spouted off injustices. “First, my oven—the source of my livelihood—breaks. Then my formerly incarcerated ex-husband shows up inside my house! But things are just getting interesting. Said ex-husband winds up murdered in his hotel room, and I get hauled down to the morgue to identify the body. I find out that my wedding planner—to whom I gave most of my savings—was a con man working with Todd. And, last but certainly not least, I learn that the wedding planner is dead and that my life might be in danger too.” I whirled to face her. “Tell me where the fairness is in all that!”
She was sitting there on the stool, eyes wide and slack jawed. “Oh, Daphne, I didn’t know.” She got off the stool and held her arms open.
I put my outstretched arm between us. “Don’t you dare touch me. I’ve been through the week from hell, you come over here to bless me out for not begging Mom to be my wedding planner, and now you want to hug and make up? Forget it. Get out of my house.”
Tears spilled onto Violet’s cheeks, and I turned away.
“I didn’t know about the wedding planner working with Todd. Or that he was found murdered,” she said. “Daphne, please—”
“You heard me. I’d like for you to leave.” I went down the hall to the bedroom and slammed the door behind me.
A few minutes later, Ben came and lay down on the bed beside me. “Are you all right?”
I shook my head. He gathered me into his arms and held me while I wept.
* * *
Ben was still holding me when I awoke the next morning. We were both fully dressed, with the exception of our shoes. I gently disentangled myself and went to take a shower.
When I returned to the bedroom, he was just starting to stir. I sat on the edge of the bed, brushed his wavy hair away from his face, and kissed his forehead. His eyes opened.
I smiled. “Good morning.”
“No fair. You’re already sweet-smelling and dressed, and I look and feel like something somebody scraped off the bottom of his shoe.”
“Didn’t you hear my rant about fairness last night?” I laughed softly. “I imagine you’re starving. I know I am.”
“Tell you what. I’ll go home, let Sally out, take a shower, and come take you to breakfast.”
“I can make you a better deal than that. You go do all that, and I’ll have breakfast ready when you get back.”
He grinned. “That does sound like the better deal. I’ll take it.”
“And, hey, bring Sally back with you.”
“You
sure?”
“Positive,” I said. “She and Sparrow have to start getting along sometime.”
* * *
I fed Sparrow and explained to her that Ben would be returning with Sally. “I know you’re not crazy about her, but you’ll get used to her. And she’ll get used to you. You’re family now.”
She didn’t look up from her food. Was she merely eating, or was she ignoring me? Or both?
Knowing Sparrow, it was probably both. She typically did ignore me unless she was hungry or wanted to go outside. Lately, she had been humoring me by coming and rubbing against my legs in a just-here-to-say-hi gesture on occasion. It wasn’t much. But given the fact that Sparrow had been a stray and had practically come with the house, I’d take what I could get.
I was on my way to wash my hands when the phone rang. It was Bonnie.
“Hey, girl,” she said when I answered. “Sorry I didn’t get back to you yesterday afternoon. I was swamped. So what’s up?”
“I was wondering if CHA is currently accepting any construction bids.”
She giggled. “Are you going into construction now?”
“No.” I debated on how much to tell her. I decided I didn’t have time to give her the full story, so I merely told her that I knew someone in construction and knew that CHA was often taking bids on new projects.
“Well, as a matter of fact, we are. So tell your friend to go on the website and get all the particulars on submitting a bid.”
“Thanks. I’ll do that.”
“So how’s the wedding coming along? Are you nervous?”
“You have no idea,” I said. “I have finally started working on the wedding cake though.”
“I’m sure it’ll be beautiful and it’ll taste good too.”
I told her about the alternating chocolate and vanilla pound cake layers.
“And the dress? No, wait!” She stopped me before I could launch into a description. “Don’t tell me. I want to be surprised. I’m so excited!”
“Me too. And I can hardly wait to see you. It seems like it’s been forever.”
“I know. Did you invite anybody else from work?”
“No, I didn’t. You’re the only person I’ve stayed in touch with.”
“Aw, I’m special,” she said. “That’s so sweet. I haven’t said anything to anyone else here because I didn’t want to step on anyone’s toes if you hadn’t invited them.”
She knew as well as I did that when the fiasco surrounding Todd’s trial started, I was fair game for everyone—even my coworkers. Everyone wanted to talk with me about what it was like being shot at by my own husband, what I’d done to incur his wrath, what he’d been like prior to that evening, what it felt like to have your personal life splashed all over the local newspapers. Bonnie had been the only true friend I’d had in Tennessee during that whole situation.
We got ready to end our conversation, and she said she’d see me at the church next week.
“Whoa. Next week.”
She giggled again. “Did that just dawn on you?”
“Yeah, I guess it did.”
“Well, you try not to stress too much, and I’ll look forward to seeing you then.”
I ended the call and wondered about the church. When I’d sent out the invitations, I’d been certain I could book the church in plenty of time. But what if Myra hadn’t been able to get it? I’d better call her and make sure.
A groggy Myra answered the phone. “’Lo?”
“Good morning. Did I wake you?”
“Humph. No, I’m awake.” She yawned. “What’s wrong?”
“My friend Bonnie from Tennessee called and mentioned the church. I just wanted to make sure we did get the church booked for next Saturday.”
“We didn’t.”
“What?” My grip on the phone tightened.
“We’re having the wedding in Belinda Fremont’s garden.” She yawned again. “She called and offered it last night. It’ll be beautiful.”
“Yes. Yes, it will. But what about all the guests with invitations telling them to go to the church?”
“We’ll phone them. And put a sign on the church. I’ll call you back in just a little while.”
“Okay, Myra. Thank you.”
“No prob, sweetie.” She hung up. I was sure she had every intention of going back to sleep, and I was sorry I had awakened her in the first place.
I decided to make Ben some chocolate chip pancakes. As I got out the ingredients, I thought I should probably call Violet. Then I decided to wait until after breakfast. I felt that I owed her an apology for asking her to leave, but I was still stinging over the fact that she’d come to scold me for making our mother feel left out of the wedding plans.
I pinched the bridge of my nose. My mother was unbelievable. Not only had she thought I was being too hard on Todd when I’d divorced him from prison—she’d wanted me to drop the charges against him. But the charges had been filed by the state, and I’d had no control over them. Then she’d actually spoken with him over the phone and had given him my address! And she’d wanted him to spend time with her grandchildren—the ones he’d largely ignored for the majority of their lives? What was wrong with her?
The poor pancake batter bore the brunt of my frustration.
Ben returned with Sally as I was flipping the pancakes. He had the dog on a leash, and I was glad because otherwise she’d have jumped up on me and might’ve gotten too close to the stove.
“Wow. Those smell so good.” He leaned against the counter. “What do you say Sally and I go get back in bed, and you bring us breakfast there?”
“I’d say dream on.”
He laughed. “I’m glad to see you’re feeling better this morning.”
I didn’t mention the fact that I’d already beaten the pancake batter into oblivion. “Well, I still need to call Violet and apologize for throwing her out of the house last night, but, hey, we’re getting married at the Fremont mansion.”
“We’re what?”
I nodded. “I spoke with Myra, and Belinda Fremont has offered her garden to us as a wedding spot.”
“But I thought we were getting married at the church.”
“That’s what I thought. And that’s what our guests think.” I grinned. “At this point, I’ve stopped questioning everything. I don’t care when, where, or whether or not we have flowers. I just want to become Mrs. Ben Jacobs.”
“And so you shall.”
If I live to see next Saturday.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
It was a peaceful day. While Ben did some work on his laptop in the living room, I worked on the carved dog cake.
It was nice knowing he was there. I’d told him there was no need for him to “babysit” me. But he’d said Neil could hold down the fort for one more day—he was going to be managing the office while we were on our honeymoon.
Ben hadn’t told me yet where we were going. He wanted it to be a surprise. That was probably a good thing. Had he left it up to me to plan the honeymoon, we’d probably wind up in a tent in my backyard given my luck with the wedding planner fiasco.
I’d started with the cake board. I covered it with a light blue gumpaste and then put a couple of white lines on the board to make it appear that the dog was sitting on a tiled floor.
I used cakes baked in two glass bowls—a four-cup and a two-cup—to make the dog’s body. Once I got the two cakes put together and sufficiently carved to look like a dog’s body, I transferred the cake to the cake board. I was covering the cakes in buttercream when Violet arrived. I stopped what I was doing, washed my hands, and answered the door.
Violet didn’t come right on into the kitchen as she normally would have. “I came to apologize. Again. I’m sorry for yesterday.”
I stepped onto the carport and hugged her. “I’m sorry too. Come on in.” I looked past her to where she’d parked her car. “Are you alone?”
“Yes. Mom, Dad, Aunt Nancy, and Uncle Hal went home last night. They said they�
��d be back in a few days.” She came on inside. “Of course, the kids are at day camp, so I’m getting ready to go into the office for a bit.”
Violet was a real estate agent. In fact, she’d sold me my house.
“And Jason is at work,” she continued.
There was still an awkward tension between us.
“I should never have asked you to leave yesterday,” I said.
“No. You had every right to kick me out.”
I winced at her choice of words. I mean, they were accurate but still painful. “I was just upset.”
“I know. And I would’ve been too. Mom did step over the line in talking to Todd. I’d already taken that up with her, so I didn’t beleaguer the point last night. Still, I didn’t know about the wedding planner being in league with Todd.”
“It’s okay. It’s like I told Ben last night: at this point, I don’t even care about the wedding planning portion of the ceremony. I just want to marry him and get on with our lives.”
“Here, here!” Ben called from the living room.
Violet laughed and stepped around the corner to say hello to him.
It was then that Neil arrived. He knocked on the door, causing Sally to come loping into the kitchen.
“Hi, Neil,” I said opening the door. “Have you met Sally?”
“I haven’t had the pleasure.” He didn’t pet the dog. “I’m on my lunch break, and I wanted to run something by Ben.”
“Sure.” I led him into the living room.
“Hey, Neil.” Ben closed his laptop. “What’s up?”
“What’s up with you? Is that work you’re doing?”
He shrugged. “Just trying to stay busy and keep out of Daphne’s way. She has an important cake to deliver tomorrow.”
“Oh. Well, I just want you to know that I have everything under control at the paper, so there’s no need for you to stress over work.”
“That’s an excellent point,” said Violet. “You don’t need to be stressing about work either, Daph.”
“Work is probably the only thing I’m not stressing over at this point.”
“And I’ve always used work as one way to relax.” Ben winked at me.
