by Meg Benjamin
Pete moved into the shade of Cal’s back wall, reaching out to lean one arm against the door frame. “Yeah, and those always work so well. If Amundson gets out, are you willing to take the risk that he’ll kill his wife this time?”
“Nobody’s letting Amundson out. He’ll be tucked away until you get back.” Evan’s voice crackled through his phone, not even trying for folksy anymore. “You want me to have Larkin call you so you can second-guess her from a thousand miles away?”
Pete started to tell Evan where he could put his phone and how long he could leave it there, then stopped. He was a thousand miles away. He couldn’t run the case if he wasn’t around to see what was happening.
He sighed. “No, Evan, let her alone. I think you’re making a mistake, but it’s your call.”
“That’s right.” Evan’s voice was soft but lethal. “It’s my call. You took off and left the case hanging. Now it’s up to us to make sure it doesn’t tank.”
Ah, yes, leave it to Evan to play the guilt card. Of course, in this case he was full of crap. “Come off it, Evan. I haven’t taken a vacation in two years. And before I left, I got everything lined up for you. If you screw this up, you’re doing it on your own.”
“Yeah, well, just because you’re not around, that doesn’t mean the office is going to hell. The rest of us can practice law too, Wonder Boy.” Evan’s voice rose. Pete could picture the clerks in the outer office leaning toward the door.
He stared out at the cedar-covered hills. The buzzards were circling again. Why did he feel that had some personal relevance? “Right now I’ve got a wedding to worry about, Evan. I’ll be back sometime next week.”
“Yeah—” Evan’s voice was heavy with sarcasm, “—somehow we’ll get along without you. You have yourself a real good time there.”
“I’ll talk to you later.” Pete disconnected.
He clipped the phone back onto his belt. Olive was gamboling around Cal’s backyard, chasing a butterfly. Docia’s cat was sitting on a fencepost regarding Olive with burning eyes, while Cal’s Chihuahua huddled at the back door.
Pete rubbed his chest. The burning sensation behind his breastbone was fierce. Acid reflux. Maybe he should take a pill. He stared down at the cell phone on his belt. The feeling of approaching doom was well-nigh overwhelming. After a moment, he picked his cell up again and punched in the office number.
“Hey, Pete!” At least Corinne, the administrative assistant, sounded glad to hear from him. “How’s the wedding?”
“Exhausting,” Pete lied. “Do you have Claire Larkin’s cell phone number handy, Corinne?”
“Sure, but I can patch you through if you want. She’s in the office right now.”
“No.” Pete gripped the cell tighter. “I’m in the middle of something. I’ll call her later, but I need her number.”
“Right.” Corinne sounded dubious, but a few moments later Pete entered Claire Larkin’s number into his address book. He probably wouldn’t call her.
Probably.
Right now, what he really needed to do was call Janie Dupree about the bachelor party.
Janie called Allie from the bookstore after Docia had gone off with Reba for their daily wedding confrontation. “Are we set for tonight?”
“Are we ever! You made sure we’ve got Lee’s back room, right? I don’t think some of this stuff should be seen by the average Brenner’s customer.” Allie giggled.
Janie didn’t think she’d ever heard Allie giggle before. Allie was usually more the belly-laugh type. “I thought we decided just to give her lingerie.”
“Well, there’s lingerie and there’s lingerie,” Allie temporized. “Some of this stuff is a little on the risqué side.”
Janie closed her eyes. Normally, Docia would have loved risqué lingerie. Currently, Janie had a hard time telling what Docia liked and didn’t like, besides The Wedding. That she definitely didn’t like. “Maybe I should look it over before we give it to her.”
“Oh, don’t be a nudge.” Allie giggled again. “This is Docia, remember?”
“Docia isn’t herself these days, Allie. Her sense of humor is a little shaky.” Not to mention the fact that just about everything that happened seemed to upset her.
Allie paused for a few moments. “Okay, you’ve got a point. I’ll check it all over myself and make sure there’s nothing that might set her off.”
“Thanks.” Janie plopped onto a stool behind the cash register. Already, she was exhausted and the day had hardly begun.
“Say, we don’t have to ask her mom and her mother-in-law to come to this, do we?” Allie’s voice sounded slightly panicked all of a sudden.
Thinking of the lingerie they were probably going to be giving Docia, Janie could see her point. Showing that stuff to Cal’s mother might cause palpitations at the least. And Reba would undoubtedly get a snickering attack.
“No, this is a bachelorette party—strictly single bridesmaids only.”
“So no Sherice?”
Crap. Crap. Crap.
Janie sighed. “I guess we need to invite her since she’s a bridesmaid. I’ll call her. Maybe she’ll be busy.”
Allie chuckled at the other end of the line. “The sound you hear is me knocking wood. Talk to you later.”
Janie considered who might have Sherice Toleffson’s phone number. Docia, but she didn’t want to ask since it involved the sort-of-surprise bachelorette party. Cal would be able to get in touch with Lars, but he’d probably say something to Docia.
Pete.
Pete would definitely have Lars’s number, maybe even the number of their motel room. And if nothing else, Lars could give Sherice a message. Or not, depending on how he felt about it. Up to him, anyway.
Janie checked the numbers on her cell and then pressed the one for Pete.
His voice when he answered was clipped. “Yeah.”
“Pete?”
A moment’s pause, then he was back again. “Janie? Sorry, I didn’t recognize your number right off.”
“That’s okay. I need Sherice’s phone number. I thought maybe you might have it—or Lars’s.”
“I’ve got Lars’s number for sure, and the number in their motel room.”
Janie wrote the numbers down carefully, trying to think of something else to say to Pete that didn’t sound really dumb.
Say, that was some kiss last night, wasn’t it? And how ’bout them Longhorns?
“So why do you need Sherice?” Pete’s voice sounded slightly wary.
“I need to invite her to Docia’s bachelorette party. I forgot to do it yesterday.” Yesterday, of course, Sherice had been too busy absconding with Janie’s dream dress to pay attention to minor details like a party in the bride’s honor. And yesterday Janie wouldn’t have been capable of inviting her to a dogfight.
“Oh. That’s tonight?”
“Yes. At Brenner’s. Why?”
Pete chuckled. “Because we’re also doing the bachelor party tonight. At the Dew Drop. Can we visit back and forth or is this gender-specific? I could see a quick run to Brenner’s. Food at the Dew Drop doesn’t strike me as a transcendent experience.”
“Just avoid the pizza. If I were you I’d have Al Brosius send over some burgers from the Coffee Corral. And, no, you cannot visit us at Brenner’s. This party is strictly female.”
“Ah, something to dream about. Have fun.” Pete disconnected.
Janie looked down at the number she’d copied on her scratch pad. Oh well, no time like the present. She dialed the motel.
The phone rang several times before someone picked up. “What?” a sleepy female voice muttered.
Janie checked the clock. Ten-thirty. “Sherice?”
“This is Sherice Toleffson.” The voice sounded more awake now but fairly pissed. “Who’s this?”
“This is Janie Dupree, you know, Docia’s maid of honor?” Janie wasn’t sure why she’d slipped that in, but it suddenly felt good to say it.
“Yeah. So?”
&nb
sp; “So we’re having a bachelorette party for Docia tonight. Seven o’clock at Brenner’s restaurant. I wanted to invite you.” No, I didn’t. Not really. And Janie was pretty sure they both knew it.
“Which place is that? The dump on the corner?” Sherice yawned loudly.
“No.” Janie managed not to grit her teeth. “Brenner’s is a couple of blocks down from Docia’s bookstore. There’s a sign outside. You can’t miss it.”
Unfortunately. Although one could always hope.
“All right.” Sherice yawned again. “I’ll see if I can make it. Depends on what Lars has planned.”
“Lars has the bachelor’s party tonight,” Janie blurted. Why on earth was she making it easier for Sherice to come to her party?
There was a slight pause on the other end. Then Sherice came back again. “No shit. Well, like I said, I’ll see if I can make it.”
Janie heard the click of her hang-up and fought the urge to snarl. Just one of life’s trials.
Now all she had to do was find time to go to Allie’s bakery to make sure the lingerie for the party wasn’t going to send Docia over the edge.
Gosh, who knew weddings were so much fun?
Janie didn’t decorate the room they’d reserved at Brenner’s. As she glanced at the massive fireplace in front of her, she wondered if she should have. Were bachelorette parties like showers? They’d wanted to give Docia a shower, but she’d told them she’d throw them all out of the wedding if they did. Apparently, she’d seen some Web site that had shower suggestions, and the games they’d described had made her hyperventilate.
The bachelorette party was as close to a shower as they’d been able to come, and the only way they’d gotten Docia to agree to letting them do it was to promise her lots of alcohol and no doilies.
Once upon a time, Docia had taken things like shower games in stride—or at least with a healthy snicker. These days, she’d forgotten how.
Now Janie gazed around the room again and decided she’d made her first mistake. It was the same room where Reba had hosted the Toleffson-Kent get-together a few nights before. The five of them were going to be dwarfed by the fireplace alone. A few silver bows and a little white netting wouldn’t have helped.
“Lee?” She turned toward Lee Contreras as he brought in a tray of appetizers. “Could we maybe switch to a table out in the restaurant? There are only five of us.”
Lee grinned. “Honey, I figure y’all are going to be carrying on in a manner guaranteed to shock the blue hairs from the tour buses. We need to preserve their innocence. This way you get to be as bawdy as you want to be. And Ken and I can join in the fun when we have a spare minute.”
“Oh. Okay.” Janie bit her lip as she surveyed the room again.
Happy. This was supposed to be a happy occasion.
Lee’s grin dimmed slightly. “What’s the matter, sweetheart? Wedding of the century not proceeding as planned? Don’t tell me I need to have a talk with the bridegroom? Or the bride?”
Janie managed to push the corners of her mouth up into something that might pass as a smile. “Nobody needs to tell Cal anything. He’s a rock. And if you try to talk to Docia, she’s liable to take your head off. On the other hand, if you could tell the fates to lay off for a couple of days, I’d appreciate it.”
Lee stretched an arm around her shoulders, giving her a brotherly hug. “Listen, sweetheart, let Ken and me pamper all of you for the evening, okay? Don’t worry about anything. If I know you, everybody has you doing their dirty work and listening to their problems. Forget all of that for now. You just drink your wine and relax.”
Drink your wine. Right. “Sorry.” She sighed. “Club soda only for me. I’m the designated driver.”
Lee pursed his lips at her. “Oh, Lord, why am I not surprised?” He left, shaking his head.
Janie surveyed the room once more, wishing she’d at least found a naughty centerpiece of some kind. But these days who knew? A salacious centerpiece might have had Docia in tears.
Oh well. Janie sighed again. She hadn’t had a chance to check Allie’s gifts before she headed for the restaurant, but she could always hope that Docia’s sense of humor had returned or that Allie’s innate taste had prevailed.
Or she could take the cautious route and batten down the hatches.
Docia, Allie and Bethany arrived in a group, Docia sandwiched between the other two as if they were guards to make sure she couldn’t escape.
“Y’all sit down and start on the appetizers.” Allie grinned. “I’ve got stuff to bring in from the van.”
Docia squinted at the tapas Lee had set out on the table. “I’m not in the mood for mussels. Does he have any shrimp?”
“Let me get you a glass of wine.” Janie started toward the bottles Ken had left on the side table.
“It’s not champagne, is it? If anybody gives me another freakin’ glass of champagne, I swear I’ll throw up.”
Okay, Docia’s sense of humor was apparently still missing.
Allie bustled back with several gift bags. “Still snarling, are we? I’ve seen hysterical brides, Docia, and a couple of true Brideszillas, but you’re the first morose one I’ve ever run into. Give me a glass of whatever you’re pouring there.”
Janie poured three glasses of viognier and handed them around. “You’re not drinking?” Allie asked.
“Designated driver.” Janie grinned at her a little sourly. “Somebody has to make sure you party hearty types get home.”
Docia took a sip. “Not bad. And I’m not morose. If I were morose, I’d have killed several people by now.”
“The great Konigsburg wedding massacre,” Bethany mused. “The Merchants Association could probably create another festival centering around the occasion or at least a couple of wine dinners. Konigsburg loves gore.”
“Don’t you dare make lemonade out of my lemons,” Docia grumbled, the corners of her mouth edging up into an unwilling smile.
“Come on, toots, live a little.” Allie handed her a small plate. “Try this one. Looks like Lee’s baked goat cheese.”
Docia nibbled on a tapa, closing her eyes. “God, I love Lee Contreras. Too bad he’s not available! Ken would probably kill me if I tried to lure him away.”
Janie helped herself to a mussel with a little pale green cilantro mayonnaise. Her shoulders relaxed marginally—maybe things would work out after all.
Beside her, she heard Docia’s quick intake of breath. “What’s she doing here?”
Janie glanced toward the doorway. Sherice Toleffson stood surveying the room with the same air of boredom she’d shown when she’d first set foot in the Dew Drop. She wore a purple jersey dress that looked like she’d had to be sewn into it.
Janie started to wave, then stopped herself. The four of them weren’t exactly a crowd, for Pete’s sake. “Hi, Sherice. Come join us.”
Sherice moved briskly into the room. Apparently, she didn’t bother to undulate when no men were present.
“Why is she here?” Docia muttered.
“Because she’s a bridesmaid who’s going to be your sister-in-law,” Janie muttered back.
“Would you like some wine?” Bethany asked politely. “We’ve got viognier and syrah right now.”
Sherice extended her lower lip slightly. “No margaritas?”
“They don’t have that kind of liquor license,” Janie explained. “But the wine is terrific. The syrah comes from one of the local wineries.”
Sherice shrugged. “I don’t like wine. Give me some of that white, I guess.”
“Oh yes,” Docia murmured, “this is going to be loads of fun.”
Chapter Eleven
Pete stood outside the Dew Drop, staring down at the cell phone in his hand. The bachelor party was already in full swing. He needed to get in there. Really.
He sighed and pressed Claire Larkin’s number.
It took her a few rings to pick up, probably because she didn’t recognize the number he was calling from. “Hi, Claire,”
he said after her tentative “Hello”, “it’s Pete Toleffson.”
“Oh. Mr. Toleffson. Hi.” Claire’s voice sounded slightly strangled. Pete had a sudden mental image of her seated at her desk in the office—tall, thin, likely to disappear in a crowd. Not his first choice for a future prosecutor.
“I just wanted to check in with you on the Amundson case, see if you had any questions.” Pete managed to keep his voice genial. No big deal here, Claire. Just checking in.
“The Amundson case.” Claire paused long enough to make Pete believe she didn’t exactly remember which Amundson case he was talking about. “Oh. The spousal abuse. No—no questions really.”
Pete rubbed his chest absently, willing the pain behind his breastbone to go away. “Well, if anything comes up—any problems—you can always reach me at this number. Any time.”
This time Claire’s voice sounded slightly wary. “Okay. I’ll keep that in mind.”
Pete closed his eyes. Great. Now she thought he was coming on to her. “Okay, well, good luck with it.”
“Thank you,” Claire said in a still-wary voice and hung up.
Pete clipped the cell back to his belt and popped an antacid. Not that it would do much good—his acid reflux ate antacids for lunch.
The guys were already halfway through the first pitcher of beer when Pete got back to the table, along with a couple of bowls of pretzels. He hadn’t really thought about food since he’d talked to Janie. What did they usually eat at bachelor parties? In the past, he’d been too drunk to notice. He tried to remember what they’d had at Lars’s party, but he’d been so numb with shock over Lars’s bride that he couldn’t recall too many details.
Now he studied the frozen pizza Ingstrom had plopped on the bar for his inspection. Somehow, it didn’t look like it would feed the multitudes. “Can I bring hamburgers in?”
Ingstrom shrugged. “Sure. There’s a McDonald’s down on the highway.”
Right. Well, serving fast food at the bachelor party would certainly go along with the train wreck aspect of The Wedding so far. Pete tried to remember the name of the place Janie had recommended, then grabbed his cell again.
Janie picked up after a couple of rings, her voice slightly incredulous. “Pete?”
