Her Lucky Catch

by Amie Denman

  The Virgin Mary scared me far more than any of the men. Her hair showed no signs of acknowledging the weather. My shoulder-length brown hair was given to curl if it even suspected that I’d let down my guard and retired the army of flat irons and hair products. After quality time in Kurt’s bed and a dash through the storm, I must have looked like a second-favorite doll that got left out in the rain. I was the only person in the car wearing a wet tank top instead of formal wedding attire. Without a doubt, one of the top five most awkward and humiliating moments in my life. Not everyone keeps a record book of those things, but for me it was easy.

  “We were wondering what was keeping you, Kurt,” said the young firefighter in a disastrous attempt at levity.

  “Stuff it, Rod,” Kurt growled. The mayor looked like he’d eaten something distasteful, and the Virgin Mary stared at Kurt with calm possession. Did anything ever put ripples in her composed surface?

  Fixated on her beautiful, dry wedding gown, I didn’t notice that the rain had dislodged one of my fake eyelashes and it was stuck to my bare upper arm. Until Kurt reached over, flicked it onto the floor and stomped it mercilessly under his dress shoe. I felt his full-body shudder.

  No one said anything. We all just looked at the floor of the limo where a tiny black mass was ground into the carpet.

  I turned toward Kurt and our eyes met.

  “Fake eyelash,” I said.

  “Oh. I thought it was a spider.”

  Silence followed, and I considered crawling over him and rolling out of the moving limo. A few scrapes would probably be worth it.

  “What are you doing here?” Kurt suddenly asked Mary, his tone borderline rude. I attributed it to the shock of the false-alarm spider and seeing his un-girlfriend and her father all dressed up like they were kidnapping him for a wedding. Mary didn’t seem to notice.

  “Last-minute substitution. The model for this dress got food poisoning,” she explained.

  Kurt stared at her with an unreadable expression and said nothing.

  “You got lucky on the fit,” I said. “Looks like it was made with you in mind. White’s a good color for you.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I swore I could see a little smile on Kurt’s face.

  The lovely supposed Virgin Mary looked me over from head to toe with the same expression cute girls in high school give the ugly girls when they’re trying to be nice. The look that said they could afford to be condescending because those dorky girls were no threat to them whatsoever. Such was the assessment the stunning bride gave my khaki shorts, damp tank top, frizzy hair and mismatched eyelashes. Taking a shot at me, especially my hair, would have been like shooting fish in a barrel, and the Virgin showed mercy by saying nothing.

  Because I was in absolutely-nothing-to-lose mode and figured that the mayor wouldn’t murder me in front of Kurt and the other firemen, I considered going for broke. I thought about asking him what he was doing with all his extra money these days, what he and Cerberus talked about when they hung out on Greenback or possibly which float had won the best of the show in the parade. The winning float riders got a free pizza, and I wasn’t too proud these days.

  Mostly out of mercy for Kurt I decided to keep my mouth shut. He’d had enough excitement for one day.

  Chapter Seventeen

  When the limo spewed me out at the back door of the marina, it was a huge relief to see Marlena’s outrageous hair through the rain-washed glass door of the office like a rainbow after a storm. After Kurt had directed the driver to drop me off on the way to the show, no one had said a single word. Not even Kurt. Although we sat so close that our thighs were touching and I could smell his wonderful man smell, he hardly looked at me and kept his hands folded in his lap. Maybe he was embarrassed to be caught in an afternoon tryst with me. Maybe he felt guilty for holding up his friends and awkward in front of his wanna-be father-in-law. Or maybe he was praying for some kind of glorious deliverance.

  Marlena, however, was not the type to remain silent.

  “Jumpin’ Jesus, girl! I give you a long lunch and you come back with sex hair riding in a limo.”

  “Which part surprised you more? The sex hair or the limo?”

  She considered the question, tapping one yellow fingernail on the counter. “Since your car died, I never know what you’re gonna be riding in. Tow trucks, bicycles, Harry’s sweet pickup, fire trucks, you name it. Considering you’ve been a nun all winter, I’d have to say the sex hair.”

  I thought about my reputation. In the short time I’d known Kurt, I had just about abandoned my innocent Catholic schoolteacher persona. Our relationship sizzled with promise but remained as murky as the water at the bottom of the marina. Where did Kurt think this was going? I had no idea because we hadn’t exactly spent the afternoon in conversation.

  “I’ll admit I’m curious, Jazz. How did you happen to end up in a limo with the bridal party?”

  “It wasn’t a real bridal party, they were doing a bridal show.”

  I wish I had stopped with that explanation, but discretion is not my middle name.

  “Kurt’s the groom,” I said.

  “Uh-huh. And who’s the bride?”

  “The Virgin Mary.”

  Marlena did one of those scrunched-up lip things that only worked for old ladies who’d smoked a few too many cigarettes. Even though it was a masterful expression for conveying her thoughts, I hoped my face would never get to the point where it could do that.

  “What the hell have you got yourself into, Jazz? Didn’t I tell you Kurt’s got one foot on the altar with her? And let me guess who’s responsible for that hair you’ve got going on.”

  “It’s not like that,” I said. “I asked Kurt about his relationship with Mary and he cleared up the whole thing.” I felt as if I was twelve and explaining to my mother why I should be allowed to date a cute boy in my class. For her part, Marlena looked unimpressed. If it were up to her, I wouldn’t be going to the seventh-grade formal with any boy.

  “He explained the whole thing? And then played wedding dress up anyway?”

  Despite the colorful hair and evidence of too much time in the sun, Marlena was starting to slap some sense into me. In a rational light, it really was looking like: Virgin Mary, one point, Jazz Shepherd, zero. I couldn’t discount the fabulous forty-five minutes in Kurt’s bedroom, but then he had ridden off in a limo dressed for a wedding with Mary and her father. No doubt her father didn’t like me, and he was, technically, Kurt’s boss. He was also not above breaking the law, screwing over his employees and the whole town, and consorting with Damien Cerberus on something shady enough to cause the sun to set early over Bluegill.

  Suddenly, I felt like a world-champion idiot. It was like finding my ex-husband screwing the night janitor in my kindergarten classroom all over again. Somehow, despite running pell-mell from that situation nearly a year ago, I had managed to open my heart just in time to let in my next big mistake. Why the hell did men think they could have their cake and eat it too whenever I was on the dessert menu?

  Hot tears filled my eyes and I tried the classic “look up and you won’t be able to cry” advice. It might work for sappy graduation speeches, but it didn’t work today. I had spent the entire year trying to be tough. I’d moved away from home, gotten a new job that paid peanuts, spent quality time on my knees in church, lived a lonely existence with my flamboyant cousin and tried desperately to pretend that the hurt and betrayal from my asshole ex-husband didn’t exist. Deep down, I figured Marlena already knew all these details about my life, and after sobbing and blubbering out the whole story for the next thirty minutes, there was no doubt she knew about all my disappointments dating back to junior high.

  The only part that seemed to surprise her at all was that Harry was not looking for women to throw in the bed of that fancy-ass black truck. Marlena thought Mary was a virgin and didn’t have a clue about Harry’s personal preferences. She was a great listener and a hell of a margarita maker, but her gossip ha
d a few holes in it.

  “But he’s such a hot piece of man,” she protested. “That little devil.” Marlena did the scrunchy lip thing again and then laughed out loud. “Maybe I don’t know men as good as I thought.”

  I hoped that might have a glimmer of truth in Kurt’s case, but my half hour of sobbing had left me in a sober mood. My eyes were killing me, my face was all puffed up, my nose had to rival Rudolph’s, my other eyelash had long since disappeared and I was still sporting the sex hair. That mussed-up look might have been cute an hour ago, but now I just looked like the loser of a backstage catfight at the Miss America contest. Except that I’m too short and busty to ever compete in a swimsuit. I did have a talent though. I was great at making a champion ass of myself.

  After making me see the cold facts, Marlena seemed determined to cheer me up.

  “I’m getting you one of my margaritas,” she declared. “Be right back.”

  She zipped into the office adjoining the marina store. I liked the simplicity of her plan. Pour enough margaritas on a problem, and it’s going to look better no matter what. It had worked after I’d put on my own personal aquatic show on the back of Greenback. Thinking of that day reminded me of Kurt. Was he laughing at me or with me? He’d told me earlier that I was great entertainment. He called me Sunshine and it all seemed so cute and sweet at the time.

  My stomach started to churn, though, when I pictured him laughing at me with his firefighter friends and the Virgin Mary. What was the conversation in the limo like after they dropped me off?

  Marlena was back in a flash, happily hoisting a margarita in an unnatural shade of pink. I didn’t let the color distract me from downing it in record time. After all that crying, I needed to rehydrate. I handed the drained glass back to Marlena and she disappeared into the office again to get a little more of that magic while I mulled.

  If I had a killer hangover in the morning, it might give me a good excuse for skipping church. Although at least I’d have something interesting to confess for the first time since I’d moved to Bluegill. I wonder what the priest would think of my mission to return the jacket that turned into an afternoon mistake. How confidential was confession anyway? I didn’t think I’d risk finding out, especially considering that I planned to bury my Kurt cravings deep under something sweet at the Dairy Slide after ten-thirty mass.

  I had pretty much decided Marlena was right about everything, especially considering how awesome a margarita she could make. How could a woman like that not have magical powers of discernment and understanding of her fellow man? Still, I did hold out one ounce of hope for Kurt. She claimed that he had discretion and didn’t talk about people or their embarrassing foibles. I remembered how reluctant he had seemed to say anything mean about Mary. Was he protecting her because he was a man of integrity or because they were actually in Las Vegas right now getting married in their pretend wedding clothes with her father looking on with an approving smile on his asshole face?

  Either way, I hoped Kurt would keep those fabulous lips securely closed when it came to the foolish adventures of Jazz Shepherd.

  Chapter Eighteen

  It was almost five o’clock when Marlena decided that I was either not suicidal anymore or too drunk to do actual damage to myself. She must also have decided that four margaritas would not impair my ability to check in any boats that might arrive on a Saturday night and, of course, she could be confident I wouldn’t be driving myself home because I was notoriously carless.

  She left me in charge of the store after a few minutes of rummaging under her desk for a pair of yellow high heels. With the shoes, matching nails and a skintight pair of jeans that kind of held up what was left of her rear end, she looked pretty hot for a woman her age. Sherman hadn’t been feeling too well lately, according to Marlena, but I hoped he rallied enough tonight to enjoy his birthday and the presents he’d be getting. I just hoped he could get those jeans off her without hurting himself.

  Part of Marlena’s magical afternoon cure involved reeling off stories from her incredibly colorful life. The tales of her salacious exploits when she was younger proved Kurt’s theory that everyone would look virginal compared to her. They also cheered me up a lot. Compared to Marlena, I didn’t have the credentials to get too maudlin about my love life.

  However, now that she was gone and I had the benefit of a whole coffee pot to myself, I started to settle into a general malaise about my future. I’d concealed my lousy divorce, bellied up to the Catholic bar without batting an eye and thrown myself at a hot fireman who was probably going to marry his boss’s daughter if he cared about his career at all. Sure, he’d be marrying into a crime family, but there was probably job security in it. That was more than I had.

  The sun was setting on a miserable Saturday when there was a tap at the back door of the marina office. Feeling reckless as a result of having four margaritas and almost nothing to lose, I walked past the piles of paperwork I was supposed to be filing and flung open the door with a still slightly drunken swagger.

  The sight of the police chief sobered me up even more than the first mug of coffee. It was a general law of the universe not to let your inebriation show in front of a law enforcement officer. Especially the chief, whose daughter was one of your students and who you and the FBI were secretly working with on a case. I mustered up my teacher face double time.

  “Hi, Miss Shepherd. Got a minute to talk?” The chief looked sober enough for both of us.

  “I’m here all night,” I said as I stepped back and allowed him in.

  The chief shut the door behind him and glanced around the room. “No one around?”

  “Marlena is off tonight, and that storm this afternoon pretty much discouraged any Saturday boaters. The rest of the town is at the festival. I’ve got some coffee on to help chase away the loneliness.”

  “Wouldn’t mind a cup if you’ve got it to spare,” he said.

  He was in uniform and I figured his police car was parked around back where it would be hidden almost entirely from view. I found a mug in the cabinet over the sink and poured the coffee.

  “So, I guess I know what this visit is about,” I ventured.

  “Cerberus’s boat still out there?”

  “Nope. Marlena said he left this afternoon while I was, um, out to lunch. He said he’d be back tomorrow.”

  Chief Balcheski looked suspicious. “Wonder why he’d come in on a Friday, leave on Saturday, then come back on Sunday.”

  “Probably stayed Friday night because of the festival.”

  Balcheski sat and put his coffee cup down in one of the only vacant spaces on the desk. It’s amazing how much paperwork an office can generate when absolutely nothing is done on the computer.

  “I think it’s time I filled you in on a little background. I didn’t tell you all this before because some of it’s speculation and some of it might just scare you a little bit.”

  I didn’t like the sound of this. “You mean scare me off from helping with the case?”

  “Hope not.”

  “Better try me,” I said.

  “Cerberus and the mayor have been friends—for lack of a better word—for a few years. About two years ago, there was some sort of accident on Cerberus’s boat.”

  “What happened?”

  “Cerberus’s wife apparently hit her head and fell overboard.”

  My heart felt like a lead weight sinking lower and lower in murky water.

  “Cerberus has a wife?”

  “Had,” Balcheski said. “The official ruling, with the testimony of the mayor, was that it was an accident. The deck was slippery, and the story was that she wasn’t much of a boater.”

  I was afraid to ask any details for fear of what I might hear, but I had to know what happened if I was going to get on a boat with Damien Cerberus. I wouldn’t want to accidentally hit my head and die.

  “Was her body found?”

  “It was never lost. Cerberus and the mayor told the same story. She slipped,
hit her head and fell overboard. They heard the splash and pulled her in, but there was nothing they could do to save her. The 9-1-1 recording of their call backs up the story.”

  “So maybe it really was an accident,” I suggested hopefully.

  Balcheski looked at me like a little kid whose favorite fish needed to be flushed.

  “It was after the accident that I started to get wind of some missing money.”

  “Wait a minute,” I said, “you told me it was just a few months ago that the accountant approached you about missing money.”

  “It was, but that wasn’t the first I’d heard of it. It took me a while to connect the missing money, the mayor and Cerberus. What you overheard in the parking lot and in the closet helped me figure it out.”

  Balcheski took a sip of his coffee and looked me over. Even a mildly observant member of the male persuasion could see that my hair was a mess and the margaritas had left me for a sunnier climate.

  “So, you think his wife’s death was no accident.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “And the mayor helped him cover it up.”

  “Yep.”

  “Cerberus gave him money to gamble on and now he wants it back? I don’t get it.”

  “There are still some missing pieces.”

  “Why would Cerberus want to kill his wife?” I wanted to know this more than anything. If he was a man who would resort to murder, my involvement in this case was far more serious.

  “Not sure about that.”

  “So, no one seems to know why he killed his wife. If he killed her. No one knows why the mayor would fake testify to Cerberus’s innocence and then borrow a million bucks from him to gamble at his casino. And then no one noticed that the mayor stole a million bucks from the city to pay back the gambling debt.”

  Chief Balcheski looked at his feet. I was in no mood for any of this.

  “Really?” I said. “This is bullshit. Doesn’t anyone actually look at the books around here?”