She didn't hesitate in the slightest. "Yes. Oh, yes," she said. Keeping his hand, she helped him stand and rewarded him with a kiss followed by a hug. "Yes," she said again, smiling.
"Oh, I almost forgot." He pulled a ring out of his breast pocket. "This was my mom's. It's nothing like the diamonds you already own, but it's a very special ring to me."
"It's lovely," she said, as he slipped it on her finger. "Lovely."
Marianne proudly pointed the ring in my direction, knowing it was something we females appreciate more than males. The ring was dainty, with a few small diamonds across the top of the band. The band itself was yellow gold, with what looked like platinum or white gold intertwined.
"Lovely," was what I said, echoing Marianne. It was the only word that fit.
"Uh, nice," said George. "Congratulations, Jeremiah," he said, holding out his hand. They did the manly shake, while I went to Marianne and hugged her, my eyes welling with tears.
"I know you haven't had time to discuss this, but when might the wedding be?" I really wanted an invitation, and hoped they'd send us one.
They looked at each other with love eyes--that look I noticed when we first met them.
"Now," Marianne said.
"As soon as possible," said Jeremiah. "At our age, there's no reason to wait."
"I don't want anything fancy. Just a very small wedding. And I agree with Jeremiah; there's no reason to wait."
"Oh, goody. We'll be here then."
Marianne hesitated, then asked, "None of my sisters will be here because they don't live nearby. Will you be my matron of honor, Sam?"
My "Yes" escaped my mouth before she had even finished asking the question.
"And, George," the sheriff said, "will you please stand up with me?"
"Uh, yeah," said George, shaking Jeremiah's hand again. But he didn't look as pleased as I thought he would. I reminded myself to ask him about that later.
"Okay," said Jeremiah. "That's set. We'll need a marriage license, and we can get one in Hollister. It's a little closer than Branson. There's no waiting period in Missouri, so we can do this whenever we want."
"How about tomorrow?" asked Marianne, still beaming and looking younger and younger as we sat there.
"We've got a lot going on here, but I think I can leave for an hour to get the license in the morning. George, will you please cover for me for an hour?"
"Sure," George answered, but he sure didn't look happy. "We're still waiting on the warrant to get all the chickens to let us see them as people. Until that happens, I'll just interview Chip, Bob Bob, and Jim Bob in the morning. And I'll have the Bobs show me IDs so I'll be sure to know who is who. Fool me twice, shame on me, and all that."
I smiled at that. It was just like George to be figuring out his detective approach in advance.
We went to bed soon afterward, and before we drifted off I decided to talk to George about his unhappiness. "You seem to be disappointed or upset about their engagement. That's not like you. What's wrong?"
He didn't answer right away, but finally said, "I really wanted to go to the Grand Canyon with you. That's all."
"I'm sorry," I said, and kissed him good night, wondering about what I considered a rather childish response to someone's happiness. This was totally unlike George. More like me, actually.
I thought Jeremiah might have spent the night, but couldn't be sure. It didn't matter to me anyway. I was already "living in sin" myself--or at least visiting regularly--and I didn't feel the need to judge two people who were getting married tomorrow.
George went to sleep rather quickly. I got up and sat in an overstuffed love seat in our bedroom, and by the light of the moon or the streetlight shining through the window, I told Clancy everything that had happened. She gasped when she heard about the foiled attack on me, and I assured her there was no harm done. But she hopped up onto the love seat beside me to offer me comfort. I also told her about Bob Bob, who was the faux Jim Bob, and about Chip who had a real head injury, which I hoped wasn't serious.
Clancy showed empathy toward Chip, but didn't evidence much of it for the Bobs. I understood because I felt the same way. Her therapy dog instincts were usually spot on, and I vowed to remember her feelings as we continued investigating.
The next morning we slept in a little and I woke up at 8 to the sound of a singing George in the shower. Pleased that he was no longer grumpy, I greeted him in way I knew made him happy.
Later, showered and fully dressed, we went downstairs to find the place empty. George found a note on the kitchen counter indicating that the county clerk's office opened at 8 and the happy couple would be back around 8:30 or 9. After the "Love, Marianne," the post-script said, "There are muffins warming in the oven, and the coffee is made."
We quickly enjoyed our breakfast, let both dogs outside for a few minutes, then headed back to the motel. Now that I was a deputy, I decided to take Clancy with me. I guess power went to my head, but I honestly thought Clancy might be a help to me as she had been on other cases.
However, we'd no sooner gotten to the motel when George's cell phone rang. His end of the conversation went something like this, "Sure thing. Do we have time to change? Okay. See you."
To me, he said, "They're back already. They have a judge in tow and want to get married at the old church outside of town. We have about fifteen minutes to change and get out there. They'll meet us at the house."
I know I squealed. That's how happy I was. Returning to the house, I gave Marianne an out-of-proportion hug and ran upstairs, followed by Clancy and George. After our door was closed, I opened it again to yell, "Can the dogs come? I promise Clancy knows how to behave, and I think Fifi does too." I thought, How forward am I? When will I ever learn to keep my mouth shut?
And just as I began to apologize, Marianne yelled back, "What a lovely idea!"
Score one for dog lovers.
George looked in the mirror, sprucing himself up a bit. He said, "What do you think about a comb-over? I'm really thin on top."
I panicked. How could I tell him that no woman in the world thinks a comb over is sexy? Not one. So I just said it. "Honey, you are a handsome man. But I must tell you that not one woman in the world thinks a comb over looks good, let alone looks sexy. Not one woman. This is something we talk about when we go to the bathroom in groups. We much prefer baldness." I turned him around so he looked at me instead of the mirror. "You are gorgeous. If your hair falls out, so be it. It will not diminish your sexiness or your attractiveness to me. I love your perfect head." And with that, I stood on my tiptoes and pulled his head downward so I could kiss the top of it.
He smiled, and then kissed me in the magical way he has. And I knew the comb over crisis was averted.
Downstairs, Jeremiah introduced us to a man dressed in a black suit with a gray beard, and explained his presence by saying, "Judge Corcoran lives in Hollister and is a retired circuit court judge. He's originally from Crackertown, so he's an old friend." The judge was a man of few words, which allowed the rest of us to climb in the sheriff's county SUV without delay.
"We're going to a small church outside of town. I'm sure you've never seen it," Marianne said. "It's not used anymore, but Jeremiah has a key to it, just to ensure that there's no vandalism. Not that anyone would vandalize around here."
I kept my mouth shut, but wanted to say, "No vandalizing, but murder and mayhem are okay?"
We were surprised when we got there to find an honor guard of Bobs, Wilma, Luigi, Barclay, and Chip waiting to greet us. Wilma had the good sense to blush when the sheriff stared at her. "I couldn't help myself. Everyone is so happy for you two and wanted to be here. Hope you're not mad."
"How can I be mad?" Jeremiah said. "This is the happiest day of my life. I'm honored that you all wanted to share it with us." I expected him to add, "...even you, Barclay," but he didn't.
As we walked over to the church I looked at George and noticed he seemed a little agitated. "What's wrong, honey?"
>
"Nothing," he said. And that's what I expected him to say.
"Are you sure?"
And at that he smiled and took my hand. "Today's a wonderful day."
My stupid thoughts took me to, Maybe he doesn't like weddings. Maybe he doesn't like marriage. Maybe he'll never want to get married.
I did my best to get rid of such negativity. I ended up thinking that he might just have something on his mind, or maybe I'd just misinterpreted his mood. It could happen.
Looking around though, my good mood couldn't be quashed. I adored weddings, and this was going to be a sweet one. A small group of people and every one of them wished the couple well. At least I thought so.
I wasn't prepared for the surprise that awaited us when we opened the church doors. The small place was full of chickens, and they were clucking the wedding march, but not particularly well. I knew I'd entered Bizarro World. I also knew this could ruin everything. But when I looked at Marianne she was smiling the smile of a delighted bride.
Marianne looked at Jeremiah and said, "There has never been and never will be a wedding quite like this."
He smiled down on her and agreed. But he added, "Thank God."
I relaxed, knowing everything was going to be okay.
They both marched up the aisle with the judge, with Fifi in attendance. George, Clancy, and I followed close behind. As I held George's hand, I couldn't help but wish that this would be us someday. With his current attitude, however, I didn't hold out much hope.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The service itself was short and lovely. The bride and groom hadn't had time to write out formal vows, but they spoke from their hearts. Marianne looked beautiful in a cream lace dress with a pillbox hat. Jeremiah wore his dress uniform, and I'd never seen him look so handsome. I cried when they were pronounced husband and wife. I think even George had wet eyes, which engendered hope within me. Clancy was attentive to the ceremony but leaned against me when I cried.
Jeremiah and Marianne looked both ecstatic and content. It seemed they'd found their happy ever after. We all applauded. Some of the claps were muffled since they were made with chickens clapping their wings, but it worked.
Bells began pealing and I thought it was the perfect end to the ceremony.
But the bells stopped abruptly, followed by some thuds coming from above, and a loud, "Oof!" Immediately we heard a yell, "Don't worry. I'm fine. The poison ivy broke my fall."
We all ran around the corner of the church to find a Bob lying on a bed of poison ivy. He wasn't scratching yet, but probably soon would be, unless he were one of the lucky few who had no allergy to the poisonous plant. He was cradling his arm however. All I could think of was, I wonder which Bob this is, so I asked, "Who are you?"
"I'm your friend, Bob Bob. Can't you tell us apart yet? You knew it was me earlier. Help me up."
George and Jeremiah leaned over to grab him, and I wondered why the other Bobs weren't helping. They watched, along with the cast of chickens.
When Bob Bob stood, he continued to hold his arm, but didn't complain.
Jeremiah said, "What in the world happened?"
"Well," Bob Bob explained, "you know the stairs to the steeple are blocked because they aren't safe, so I used a ladder to get to the roof, and then climbed up the steeple to ring the bells."
He didn't even have to say what happened next, but he did. "I hung on the outside of the steeple because the floor in the belfry is rotten. I thought I could ring the bells and then climb back down. But as you see, it didn't quite work out that way."
I started laughing. Couldn't help myself. Marianne quickly followed. Then George and Jeremiah, and soon a cacophony of voices and clucks joined in.
While this was happening, Wilma came over and said, "Let me check out your arm." She felt around his forearm, elbow, and upper arm and said, "Nothing appears to be broken, but let's get an x-ray just to be sure." She escorted him to her truck, and we could hear her saying, "What in the world were you doing up there? You already may have a head injury. You could have done irreparable damage."
I laughed quietly, thinking that Bob Bob's brain probably couldn't stand much more damage. Originally I'd thought he was the smart one, but Jim Bob seemed to have the brains. If he could run a chicken convention, he had to have some smarts.
Wilma put Bob Bob and Chip in the back seat of her truck, and took off for the funeral home.
Joe Bob, or at least one of the Bobs, offered to give the judge a ride back to Hollister, and Jeremiah gratefully accepted. I thought it would have been hard for him to drive anyway, since his eyes were locked on Marianne's. It certainly looked like true love.
I looked over at George, but he didn't seem as caught up in the romance. He was talking to the judge. Probably about the warrant. Since the judge was retired I didn't hold out much hope that he could help, but this was hard to predict.
Thinking about predictions, I reflected that this situation was weird. This was the first murder where my vibes weren't going crazy. I felt something around Jim Bob and something else around Luigi. However, I had no proof that either one of them was involved in the murder or the attacks on Bob Bob and Chip. And the Bobs seemed to be really close, so I doubted Jim Bob would hurt Bob Bob--after all, they were identical twins. But maybe they weren't as close as my brothers and sisters were. Appearances could be deceiving. I decided to keep my eyes open even more than before.
I looked down at Clancy, who was sitting calmly next to where I stood. I didn't feel any negative vibes, but then again I didn't feel much of anything coming from her. I wondered if it was harder for us to read each other when there was a crowd. I reminded myself to check out the theory later.
Marianne had invited a few of us to come over to her home for a luncheon. Apparently Mary Bob often helped her out when she had large parties, so she was there making lunch.
"She's never done this alone before," Marianne said, "but because things happened so fast, this was my only option."
"I'm sure it will be fine," I answered. "Besides, there are only a few people coming over, right?"
"You could have knocked me over with a feather" is a cliché that became very apt as we drove up toward Marianne's house. The word must have spread, because there were even more chickens scattered over her front lawn than had been at the church. Clucking abounded, and I was appalled. However, once again Marianne decided to be flexible.
"Well," she said, when she stopped laughing, "I hope Mary Bob has made plenty of food."
Jeremiah didn't look quite as happy. In fact, he was scratching his arm vigorously when he said, "Damn chickens."
"Honey, it's okay. I have plenty of room, and the day is lovely. People can sit on the porch or the patio to eat. Everything will be fine."
"I know, darlin'," he said, but he kept scratching.
"Are you allergic to poison ivy?" I asked him.
"Yeah," said Jeremiah and George at the same time.
I turned and noticed George scratching his hand and forearm.
"Oh, my," was all Marianne said.
A muffled laugh was all I could manage. However, I quickly made the effort to act more mature and asked Marianne if she had calamine lotion.
"Sorry, I don't," she said. "I've never been allergic to poison plants and haven't had the need of it."
I called Wilma at the clinic, who said she had plenty of the lotion at her place, and told us to come right over.
I drove with Marianne and Clancy in the front seat with me, and the miserable guys in the back. Luckily, the trip was short. Wilma took a look at the guys, confirmed they had the same affliction that Bob Bob had, and told them to take a hot shower, then a cold one.
"It may be an old wives' tale, but that's what I was taught to do. The hot can get rid of the some of the oil left on the body and the cold shower is soothing." She directed Jeremiah to go upstairs and George to go to the basement. Both levels had usable showers. I wondered how George would feel about showering where dead peop
le were examined, and thought he probably wouldn't care since he'd been a cop for so long. He was a lot more used to gross things than I was.
Wilma was already treating Bob Bob, but I heard her say, "You can put the rest of the lotion on yourself. You seem to enjoy this a little too much." If she hadn't have been a doctor, I imagined she would have said, "Ewww!"
Bob Bob seemed reluctant, but took the cotton pads loaded with calamine lotion and rubbed them on his body. Chip, in an adjacent bed, smiling in spite of his head trauma, seemed to be enjoying Bob Bob's discomfort.
"I called your wife," Wilma said to Chip. "She's in Hollister shopping, so I told her there's no hurry and that you were fine."
Chip just nodded.
I sat on a chair in between the two beds, with Clancy relaxed at my feet. Marianne sat across the room, still in her bridal outfit. I turned toward Chip, attempting to ignore Bob Bob's contortions behind me as he tried to reach his bottom. Finally I couldn't stand it and had to say to Bob Bob, "You know you didn't have to put calamine lotion all over your body. Only where the plant touched, or maybe where your hands touched. You are putting it everywhere." I almost gagged as I said it.
"I don't remember where my hands touched and want to be safe."
I'd had enough of thinking about Bob Bob and once again turned to Chip.
"So, do you have any ideas about who might have hit you over the head?" I asked Chip.
"As I said before, I didn't see or hear a thing. One minute I was standing there, and the next I was lying on the floor talking to you while I was coming out of a fog. I wish I knew. I didn't think I had any enemies."
"Anything strange come to mind?" I continued asking, even though I didn't expect him to give me any help.
"Nope."
"What about a while before? The time leading up to the attack?"
"Nope," he said again. "Bob Bob, who I thought was Jim Bob, made a phone call. He stepped out of the hallway to talk--into the room where he was found. But that wasn't weird or anything. He talked for just a minute, then came back out. We were just jawin'; you know how people do. He asked me to watch the place while he went to the bathroom. That's really all I remember."
Will You Marry Me? (Sam Darling Mystery Book 4) Page 10
