Til Death Do Us Party

by Vickie Fee

  I couldn’t help but wonder if Bains had clued Dave in on the conversation he had with Di and me at the station.

  As we got off the elevator my phone dinged with a text message from Winette.

  That man is putty in my hands. Called Holly with good news. Hug your mama for me.

  I smiled and hoped things turned out as well down at the police station.

  Larry Joe hailed a taxi. Dave sat in front with the driver and the three of us got in back, with me in the middle. Why do I always end up in the middle?

  “Convention Center Area Command on Sierra Vista,” Dave told the driver. Then Dave put his cell phone to his ear.

  “Yeah, Bob. We’re en route. Right. Gotcha.”

  Di was staring out the window. Dave tilted his head slightly toward us.

  “Bains said Crystal will be joining us at the precinct as soon as she finishes her shift. Earlier it sounded like he was just going to chat with us informally. But he might take a more official approach and take Liv and Di into separate interview rooms,” he said, apparently addressing Larry Joe.

  Di and I shared a knowing look.

  Few words were exchanged on the ride there. In about twenty minutes, the taxi dropped us off in front of the familiar precinct, a boxy white building across the street from an empty lot. Once inside, Dave spoke to someone at the counter and we waited until a uniformed officer came to fetch us.

  Detective Bains did play things more “informally,” as Dave had called it, by seating all of us around the table in one interview room. He talked to us for about forty-five minutes, rephrasing, but asking the same questions three or four times. I’d learned this was standard procedure from some of the less pleasant chats Di and I had had with Dave back in Dixie. More than once, he’d been less than gracious when we’d helped him out with a murder investigation.

  The detective left the room. The blank walls and buzzing fluorescent light overhead felt like sensory deprivation after the past few days of neon overload. Bains returned about twenty minutes later and motioned for Dave to join him.

  “The detective has on a poker face, like cops are wont to do,” I said.

  “I don’t know.... Sheriff Davidson has been known to wear a scowl on more than a few occasions,” Di said.

  I decided it was better just to ignore the remark.

  “Do either of you have a feeling about whether he’s taking the information we’ve given him seriously?” I asked.

  “Hon, I don’t think he would have invested close to an hour questioning you if he thought it was a waste of time. He seems like a no-nonsense kind of guy,” Larry Joe said, which sounded encouraging.

  In a few minutes Dave and Detective Bains returned to the interview room, and Crystal was with them. The men sat down and the detective invited Crystal to be seated, as well.

  Bains cleared his throat.

  “With the information you’ve given us, along with some new information from Crystal Pryor, I believe there may be a way to wrap up this case. That is, if Mrs. McKay would feel comfortable assisting us with a suspect.”

  “Mr. McKay will have to feel comfortable with her assisting you before she agrees to anything,” Larry Joe interjected, reaching over to grab my hand as he glared at the detective. “What exactly are you asking her to do?”

  We spent the next twenty minutes or so listening to Bains lay out the plan, interrupted several times with questions from Larry Joe. After everything was explained and agreed to, I went down the hall with one of the uniformed officers to get prepared. A patrol car drove us all back to the hotel, except for Crystal, who had driven to the station in her own car.

  Larry Joe, Di, and Dave and I went to the casino bar. The men ordered beers and Di and I opted for glasses of white wine. While we waited to hear from Detective Bains, I made a quick phone call to Earl.

  “Hi, Earl. Are y’all still at the hospital?”

  “Yeah, they’re waiting on Junior’s test results. They’ve got him hooked up to an IV and a heart monitor. To be honest, I’m more concerned about your mama. She’s worrying herself sick over her brother and her nephew.”

  “Listen, Earl, I can’t go into any details. But tell Mama we’re on to something here, and if everything goes according to plan, Little Junior should be out of jail by tomorrow—if not sooner.”

  “I’ll tell her. Can I also tell her not to worry about you doing anything dangerous?”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll talk to you later.”

  “Any news on Uncle Junior,” Larry Joe asked.

  “No. They’re still waiting on some test results.”

  I sipped on my wine and waited anxiously for the detective to call.

  * * *

  I jumped when Dave’s phone buzzed.

  In a moment, Dave nodded at me and said, “You’re on.”

  I started to walk away. Larry Joe grabbed me by the hand, pulled me back, and wrapped his arms around me. He gave me a big kiss, one I wished I had more time to savor. But we’d have to save that for later.

  I forced a smile and said, “Hey, I’m not going far, you know.”

  I walked across the lobby, past the elevators to a relatively quiet spot to make a phone call. Fortunately, Jana picked up. She started talking, making excuses, before I could even say anything.

  “Jana, I understand you couldn’t take a look at surveillance video in the casino for a specific time without raising questions. But I had an idea. Could you get your hands on the key card to room 7121 or 7123? There’s bound to be a maid or maintenance guy who owes you a favor, or who would be willing to let you take a quick peek into the rooms in exchange for tickets to some new show. If we could look around and see if there really is a two-way mirror, that would be something we could take to the police. Tangible evidence and not just a theory.”

  Jana went quiet for a moment, then said, “That’s an excellent idea, Liv. I can’t believe I didn’t think of it earlier. Could you meet me on the seventh floor in thirty minutes?”

  I told her I’d be there. I wiped my sweaty palms against my pants leg, and walked down the hallways toward the meeting room area. The conference was over and the halls were mostly empty. I slipped into the ladies’ room and made a pit stop. I washed my hands and stared at my reflection, taking a few deep breaths and steeling my courage. I tugged down on my shirt and turned to look at my back in the mirror, making sure everything was straight.

  At the appointed time I took the elevator up to the seventh floor. Jana was waiting for me. We walked down the hall together, checking numbers until we arrived at room 7123. Jana inserted the key card and opened the door. She flipped on the light switch and I followed her to what appeared to be an ordinary mirror on the wall. She pulled her cell phone from her purse and told me to shut off the lights. Then she turned on her cell phone flashlight and held it very close to the mirror. I stepped over beside her and leaned forward, looking intently into the mirror. The bright illumination of the flashlight allowed us to peer dimly into the room next door. We could make out the shapes of the bed and nightstand.

  “I read about this flashlight trick online,” Jana said. “Apparently, blackmail victims could be viewed from the other side of a mirror. When the light’s on in here and the light’s out in there, someone could film the proceedings without being seen.”

  I was still peering curiously into the mirror. Jana turned around and flipped the lights on. When she turned back to face me, she was holding a gun, which she aimed directly at me.

  “I turned the lights on because I want to see your face when I put a bullet in you. I give you credit, you’re smarter than the average hick. You figured out the blackmail scheme.

  “You were wrong about Steve blackmailing Gordy, though. Steve was actually stupid enough to blackmail me. So he had to go. Steve and I had enjoyed each other’s company for a while, in a romantic way. He was even foolish enough to think I still had feelings for him, and that he was safe from any kind of reprisal. He was dead wrong.”

  �
��So you killed him and used the sodium cyanide in the photo chemicals to cast suspicion on Gordy. Only the cops weren’t even smart enough to pick up on that.”

  “True. But when they arrested your dimwit cousin instead, that was fine. I didn’t care who took the fall, as long as it wasn’t me.

  “Liv, I truly didn’t want to have to kill you. If only you’d let go of the whole blackmail rooms on the seventh-floor thing. This is a lucrative little setup I have here. I wasn’t going to let Steve mess it up—and I’m certainly not going to let you mess it up for me. I’m surprised none of the other threads you kept trying to unravel ever led you to me.”

  “Oh, but they did. I figured out earlier today that you were the one who killed Steve—when you told me maybe I was right about Gordy. That’s when you slipped up.”

  “Really. Go ahead and prove to me how smart you are and how you had it all figured out. Right before I kill you.”

  “Okay. You said the flask was hidden behind the roses.”

  “What?”

  “You said Steve’s flask was tucked behind the roses. But the standard flowers in the chapel are carnations and daisies. Taylor had told us that. There were only roses there—which the florist delivered shortly before the ceremony—because my mama had upgraded the arrangement for her wedding. And you could only have known about the roses if you were there, in the chapel, around the time of Steve’s death.”

  “Maybe it would have been smart of you to mention that tidbit to the police,” she said as she raised the gun and aimed it straight at my heart.

  “She did,” a voice said through the microphone that usually recorded blackmail sessions. At the same instant, the light came on in the room on the other side of the two-way mirror. I dove down behind the king-size bed and Detective Bains along with a uniformed officer stormed in from the hall, with their weapons drawn.

  Jana fired off a blind shot toward me as the uniformed officer grabbed her arm and seized the gun from her hand. The detective rushed over to me, and Dave spoke through the microphone in a panicked voice, “Liv, are you okay?”

  I stood up tentatively, with help from the detective. Still shaking, I nodded and said, “Yeah, I’m fine.”

  I tugged on the Kevlar vest under my shirt, which had ridden up when I dived at the floor, and pulled off the recording device they had wired me with and handed it to Detective Bains. The officer handcuffed and escorted Jana out as she muttered curses, some of which I could understand. And Di and Crystal rushed in from the hall.

  “Are you sure you’re all right?” Crystal said, with a concerned expression.

  “Yeah.”

  “Good. I’d hate for us to go to all this trouble and you mess it up by getting yourself killed,” Di said with her trademark charm.

  “I love you, too,” I said, wrapping my arms around her waist and laying my head on her shoulder. Despite my best efforts to remain stalwart, I started to cry.

  Di patted me on the back and said, “Liv, please don’t cry. This blouse is dry-clean only.”

  The three of us started laughing. We joined Dave in the room next door, where the blackmailer’s camera was usually set up. He talked to Bains and told him that he’d take me down to the station shortly so I could make a formal statement—and return the bulletproof vest they had outfitted me with.

  “You done good,” Dave said, giving me a little shoulder hug. “Jana’s confession should be enough to get your cousin sprung from jail within the next few hours.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  After Jana had been taken away, we were standing around in the hallway recapping everything that had just happened, when Dave said, “There’s somebody who’s anxious to see you. Bains made Larry Joe stay downstairs with a uniformed cop keeping an eye on him. He was afraid Larry Joe’s protective streak could prompt him to jump in to rescue you before we had everything we needed from Jana.”

  “It seems to me you could’ve jumped in a little sooner,” I said, my heart palpitating at the thought of Jana pointing a gun squarely at me.

  We rode the elevator one floor down to the hallway housing our block of rooms. Larry Joe was pacing the floor as a uniformed officer stood between him and the elevator. He looked up with an expression of great relief. I hurried over and threw my arms around his neck. He lifted me off the ground in a rib-cracking hug.

  “Liv, are you okay?” he whispered, his lips against my ear. He pulled back a little and looked me in the eyes. “At one point I thought I heard a muffled gunshot, but the officer told me I was just jumpy.”

  “I’m fine. Everything went according to plan. I was never in any real danger,” I said.

  After giving us a moment, Di, Dave, and Crystal walked over to us.

  “Dave, do you know if the cops have picked up Gordy yet?” I asked.

  “Yeah, Bains said officers were standing by at Gordy’s house waiting to pick him up as soon as we had Jana’s confession here. When he realized she had used his photo chemicals to implicate him in Steve’s murder, he came clean about the blackmail. He claims he knew nothing about the murder. The LVMPD detectives will have to sort out who knew what and when. The important thing is that Jana’s behind bars and Little Junior will be released soon.”

  “Little Junior! Dave, we have to stop by the hospital on the way to the police station and tell Mama and Uncle Junior the good news. That’ll be the best medicine for him right now.”

  “Agreed. We better get moving,” Dave said.

  “I’ll see y’all later,” Di said. “Something tells me there will be a celebration dinner tonight.”

  Larry Joe and Dave and I took a taxi to the hospital. Our transportation bill had gone up considerably since Little Junior’s arrest.

  We made our way through the hospital and took the elevator. I could hear Mama’s booming voice from down the hall. We tapped on the half-open door to Uncle Junior’s room. Upon entering, we saw that Uncle Junior was dressed and sitting in a chair.

  Mama, who was perched on the side of the bed, looked up, all smiles, when we walked in, with Dave behind me and Larry Joe behind him. Earl was standing at the foot of the bed.

  “They’re sending Junior home. We’re just waiting on the dismissal papers,” she said.

  “They ran a bunch of tests and told me I don’t have a heart,” Uncle Junior said.

  “I think they’re kicking him out because he got fresh with a nurse. Said if he feels that perky it’s time for him to leave,” Mama said.

  Larry Joe, who had been hanging back with his face slightly turned away, stepped forward into the room. Every head turned toward him, taking notice of his black eye.

  “What happened, son?” Uncle Junior said. “Your wife catch you ogling some show girl?”

  “No. I accidentally stepped in front of a drunk guy’s fist. It’s not as bad as it looks.”

  “I’m not sure I buy that story, but if Liv’s satisfied with your explanation, I’m not going to interfere,” Mama said doubtfully.

  “Where’s my mama?” Larry Joe asked, eager to change the subject.

  “She left a little bit ago. She wanted to make sure Wayne didn’t eat supper before we got there. We thought a little dinner to celebrate Junior getting a clean bill of health was in order. Although, he’s not going to eat anything too heavy. Right, little brother?”

  Uncle Junior nodded noncommittally.

  “Uncle Junior getting out of the hospital is cause for celebration. But we have some other happy news. They’re releasing Little Junior from jail this evening,” I said.

  “Glory be,” Mama said as she jumped up and ran over to hug me.

  After smothering me to her bosom, she said, “So, does this mean they caught the real killer?”

  “Yes,” Dave said. “And your daughter played a key role in bringing a murderer to justice.”

  “You didn’t do something crazy, did you?” she said, eyeing me with suspicion.

  “No, the cops were right there. But I wore a wire and they got the confes
sion on tape,” I said.

  “You mean like on TV? Just wait until I tell the ladies in my Sunday School class. Sylvia’s always going on about how her daughter once thwarted a shoplifter. All she did was squeal on some elderly woman in the lingerie department who was stuffing underwear into her purse. Sylvia’s daughter yelled for the manager and held on to the lady’s handbag until store security came running over.”

  When Mama stopped long enough to take a breath, Uncle Junior asked, “So who is the killer?”

  “My money’s on that snooty wedding coordinator, Taylor,” Mama said.

  “Nope. It’s Jana Hively, the event coordinator at our hotel.”

  “And Liv knew her,” Larry Joe interjected. “She used to be a member of the event-planning association in Memphis before she moved to Vegas.”

  “And she knew Steve, apparently in the biblical sense,” I said.

  “Did she kill him because he was two-timing her with Taylor?” Mama asked.

  “No, it was more complicated than that. Jana and Gordy, the wedding photographer at the Burning Love Chapel, were running a blackmail scheme at the hotel. Gordy was taking compromising photos of people who didn’t want to be compromised. Steve was either in on it or found out about it—I’m not quite clear on that point. Either way, he tried to blackmail Jana and she took him out of the picture,” I said.

  A nurse knocked on the open door as she entered.

  “Mr. Manning, you’re all set. We just need you to sign these papers.”

  She handed Uncle Junior the clipboard and a pen, and he scrawled his name at the bottom of the page.

  Uncle Junior stood up and Earl grabbed his arm to steady him as he walked to the door. A nursing assistant was waiting in the hallway with a wheelchair.

  “I can walk, thank you,” Uncle Junior snapped.

  “Mr. Manning, it’s hospital rules. We’ll roll you to the door. Do you have a ride waiting?”

  “We should have,” Mama said. “I called for a taxi thirty minutes ago. I’ll call and check.”