Murder of a Wedding Belle

by Denise Swanson

  “Why did you wait until today to deposit it?”

  “The bank was already closed when I got it Saturday, and it’s closed on Sunday; then I forgot Monday,” Bunny explained. “Which reminds me, if money doesn’t grow on trees, why do banks have branches?”

  Skye ignored Bunny’s non sequitur and questioned, “So, the hundred-dollar bills that Belle gave you are the same bills that turned out to be counterfeit?”

  “Yep.” Bunny’s shoulders drooped, and she suddenly looked every one of her fifty-seven years. “Trust me to be the one to get stuck with funny money when I decide to take a bribe. I should get SUCKER tattooed on my forehead.”

  Skye informed the feds and Wally about what Bunny had revealed, then gave Simon a modified report, telling him only that there was some problem with the deposit the wedding planner had given his mother to reserve the bowling alley for the bachelor/bachelorette party. She left out the parts about counterfeit money, bribery, and tax evasion. Even with the sanitized version, Skye was glad she wasn’t along for the ride when he drove Bunny home.

  Once Simon and his mother left, Skye waited for Wally while he conferred with the special agents. After a half hour, he told her to go ahead and leave since he had no idea how much longer he would be. The feds believed that Belle had brought the counterfeit money into Illinois from California, but they wanted to track down a few details before they left Scumble River.

  As Skye hurried out of the police station toward her car, intent on dinner and a relaxing bath, a hand came down on her shoulder. She shrieked and whirled around.

  “Whoa.” Simon put up both hands. “Did I frighten you?”

  “Yes. You nearly scared me to death.” She wished people would quit accosting her in parking lots. “What are you doing back here?”

  “Sorry.” His tone was sheepish.

  “That’s okay. I just thought you had left with your mother.”

  “I did. But once I dropped her off, I realized I hadn’t thanked you for helping me.”

  “You didn’t have to come all the way back here for that.” Skye noticed that Simon had changed clothes. He now wore pressed khakis and a moss green polo shirt. “You could have called and left me a message.” She set her purse on the hood of her car, opened it, and began digging for her keys.

  “I could have.” Simon plucked the key ring out of her bag, but instead of giving it to her, he tossed it in the air and caught it. “But I didn’t want to.”

  “Oh.” Tilting her head to look at him, she asked, “Why not?”

  “Uh.” A discomfited expression stole across Simon’s face. “Well, you see, I ...”

  “Yes?” Skye was confused. The Simon she knew was rarely uncertain or at a loss for words.

  “Are you hungry?”

  “Yes.” The question caught her by surprise.

  “Good. So am I.” Simon put her keys in his pocket. “Let me take you to dinner.”

  Skye refused to think of this as a date. She and Simon were just grabbing something to eat together, like they did after church on most Sunday mornings. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t tried to refuse. He had nearly shoved her into his Lexus.

  Still, she wished she looked a little nicer. She had on the dress and heels from her dance lesson, but it had been close to twelve hours since she’d put on her makeup, and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d combed her hair.

  Simon’s voice interrupted her thoughts. “Since the Feed Bag closes at seven, I thought we’d go to a new restaurant a little south of town along the river.”

  “There’s a new place?” Would it seem tacky if she got out her makeup bag and fixed herself up? “I wonder why I haven’t heard about it.”

  “It’s only been open a couple of weeks, and you’ve been tied up with the wedding and all.”

  “True,” Skye agreed. “I haven’t read the Star in a month. I have a stack of them in my sunroom, but I fall asleep before I get past the front page.”

  “Believe me, you haven’t missed much. Unless you want to know whose dog is barking or whose teenagers got arrested for DUI.”

  Skye gazed at Simon’s handsome face. The moonlight streaming through the windshield bathed him in a golden glow, and being alone with him like this made her think about all that had happened since they’d broken up. It saddened her that things had turned out so badly between them.

  They rode in silence until Skye said, “It’s really sweet of you to take me to dinner, but totally unnecessary. You know, I love Bunny, and I was happy to help her.”

  “This isn’t about Bunny.” He glanced at her, his amber eyes smoldering. “And sweet is not the way I feel about you.”

  Uh-oh! Skye didn’t know how to respond, so she didn’t. What had brought this on? Simon’s passion had always been limited to the bedroom. Had he changed, or had she underestimated him from the beginning?

  Neither of them said anything more until they arrived at the restaurant. Only a few other customers were present, which at eight thirty on a Tuesday was what Skye would have expected. Not many locals would be out this late on a work night. Even on weekends most people around here had eaten by seven.

  Once they were seated, a server arrived to take their drink orders. Simon shocked Skye again by ordering a bottle of wine without consulting her. He knew she seldom drank, and certainly not when she had to get up early the next day. What had gotten into him? It was almost as if he’d been a black-and-white movie in the past, and now he’d been colorized by Ted Turner.

  After the server left, Skye and Simon sat in silence. Their table was next to a large window overlooking the Scumble River. Water lapped the shore, and Skye gazed at the reflections of stars twinkling on its inky surface.

  The stillness grew uncomfortable until finally Simon asked, “How are—?”

  At the same time Skye said, “Do you—?”

  They both stopped and Simon said, “You first.”

  “No, you go ahead,” Skye insisted. “What were you about to say?”

  “I was just about to ask how Frannie and Justin are working out as assistants.”

  “Great.” Skye fiddled with the napkin in her lap. “They’re a lot of help.”

  “They’re both good kids. And although I know Xavier is disappointed that Frannie transferred from Loyola to JJC, I think it was for the best.”

  “Yeah.” Skye nodded. “Some teens aren’t ready to make such a huge leap from small-town high school to big-city college.”

  “Right. Change is hard for a number of people.” Simon took a sip of water. “What were you going to say?”

  “Uh. What was I going to say?” Skye gave a nervous laugh. “Oh, yeah. Have you been here before? The waitress seemed to know you.”

  “Connie and her husband own the place. They’re friends of mine.”

  “That’s nice.” Skye bit her lip. She and Simon never used to have any trouble finding things to talk about, but tonight the atmosphere around them crackled with an underlying tension that dried her mouth and emptied her mind.

  Before she could think of a topic of conversation, Connie arrived with the wine. She smiled at them both as she poured, and asked, “Special occasion?”

  Simon stared at Skye and said, “I hope so.”

  Skye gazed into her glass. What did that mean?

  Connie’s grin widened. “Would you like to relax first, or are you ready to order?”

  “I’d like the duck, please,” Skye blurted out. Sitting around sharing a bottle of wine with her ex-boyfriend now seemed a little too intimate, and she was eager to eat and go home.

  Simon ordered steak Diane. After quizzing them about the rest of their choices, Connie left, and Simon and Skye went back to staring out the window.

  At last, Simon cleared his throat, opened his mouth, then paused as if he had changed his mind. Finally, he asked, “How do you like the wine?”

  “It’s good.” She smiled at him. “You remembered I don’t like it too dry.”

  “I remember ev
erything about you.”

  His sexy tenor sent a shiver down her spine, and Skye choked on her next gulp of wine. Holy moly! She so shouldn’t be here, and she definitely shouldn’t be getting turned on by another man when she had Wally’s ring in her purse.

  She struggled for a response and finally said, “You always did have a remarkable memory. That’s why it was so scary being your bridge partner. You knew every card that had been played. I was constantly worried I’d lose the game for us and you’d be mad.”

  “Did I give you the impression that a game was more important to me than you were?” Simon furrowed his brow. “Do I really come across as that kind of guy?”

  Skye twirled the liquid in her glass until she had formed a tiny red tornado. “Yes.” It was time to be truthful with him and herself. “You do, or at least you did.”

  “I see.” The corner of his mouth twisted downward. “Why did you stay with me for so long?”

  “I thought I loved you.” She felt panic building at the back of her throat and swallowed it down. “And I thought you loved me.”

  His voice was heavy with remorse. “I did.” He was normally a careful man, but that veneer was starting to crack. “I still do.”

  “Really?” Skye stared into his golden hazel eyes, trying to understand the bewildering array of emotions rushing through her. “That certainly wasn’t my impression from what you said to me at the diner eighteen months ago.”

  “I was wrong.” Simon reached across the table and captured her hand. “And I was afraid.”

  “Of me?”

  “Of how you made me feel.”

  “I don’t understand.” Skye tried to remove her hand, but he held on tight. “I thought I made you feel good.”

  “Too good.” Simon’s tone was raw. “As it got better and better between us, I kept wondering how I could stand it when you left me. And then when you suspected me of cheating, a part of me said, ‘Fine. Let Skye leave me now, because later it will hurt even more.’”

  Skye had to lean forward to hear the rest.

  Simon stared down at their clasped hands and whispered, “As it did when my mother left me.”

  The pain in his voice tore at her. “I think I understand now.” She took a deep breath, afraid she would start crying. “What happened to make you change your mind? Did you go into therapy or something?”

  “No.” Simon shook his head. “It wasn’t any one big revelation. Just a lot of little ones over time.”

  “Oh?” Skye wasn’t convinced. Surely something had had to happen to set his change of heart in motion. “Like what?”

  “It started last October when you were nearly killed by that psycho.” Simon’s voice hardened. “Before that, in the back of my mind, I always thought we’d get together again once you got over your infatuation with Boyd. Realizing that I could lose you forever before that happened was a real eye-opener. That’s when I started ‘accidentally’ running into you after Mass.” He smiled sadly. “I was sure that, given enough time, once we started talking again, you’d see I was the one for you. But you didn’t.”

  “I thought you just wanted to be friends.” Skye frowned. Hadn’t she? “So you’ve been leading up to this moment for eight months? Why didn’t you say anything sooner?”

  “I was sure the chemistry between you and Boyd would burn out.” His hopeless stare drilled into her soul. “But tonight, when I saw you march into battle for my mother, I knew I couldn’t wait any longer.”

  “So, then you really didn’t mean it when we had our big fight and you said the relationship I want doesn’t exist? That I was deluding myself by wanting a soul mate?”

  “No. I was the one deluding myself.” Simon’s expression was bleak. “Now I know there is only one person who completes me, and it’s been hell since she’s been gone.”

  Skye sat, stunned. She had never expected to hear those words from Simon.

  When she didn’t respond, he said, “I know you’re involved with Boyd. And I know our breakup was my fault—”

  “Wait.” Skye interrupted him. She had to tell Simon about Wally’s proposal before he said something he might regret. “Wally has asked me to marry him.”

  “Have you answered him?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Then there’s still time.” Simon produced a faint smile.

  “For what?”

  He stared into her eyes. “For you to give me a second chance.”

  CHAPTER 16

  Flower Power

  Every instinct in Skye’s body told her to roll over, pull up the covers, and go back to sleep. Her legs and back ached, probably from the dance class, and it felt as if she’d lain down only five minutes before, even though her alarm claimed it was six a.m. and she knew she’d gone to bed at ten thirty.

  Of course, she hadn’t fallen asleep until after three, having tossed and turned, her thoughts leapfrogging from the wedding preparations to the murder to Simon.

  His astonishing plea for a second chance had left Skye speechless, and she had finally told him that she couldn’t even think about what he was asking for until after the wedding was over. Simon had said he understood, and after they’d finished their meal, he’d dropped her back at her car, announcing that he’d see her Sunday to find out her verdict. The irony that Sunday was the same day she’d promised Wally a decision about his proposal was not lost on her.

  Then there was the little matter of Kathryn Steele. As Skye and Simon were leaving the restaurant, Skye noticed Kathryn watching them from a corner table. Skye knew that the probability of meeting someone you know increases exponentially when you’re with someone you don’t want to be seen with, but it was just her luck that that someone was the owner of the local newspaper. No doubt, a report of Skye’s dinner with Simon would be in next week’s “Talk of the Town” gossip column.

  Skye groaned, then decided she needed to channel her mother and pretend none of it had happened. If this was during the school year, rather than three days before a million-dollar wedding for which she was solely responsible, she would have called in sick. But since she was the boss, she had to get up.

  Skye staggered to the bathroom and stared into the mirror over the sink. She looked awful. Her hair gave the impression that she had spent the night in a Cuisinart, but her face argued that she’d been sleeping on a waffle iron. Would a shower help, or since she looked like the Wicked Witch of the East, would she just melt under the water? She decided to find out.

  Having survived bathing, and feeling marginally better, Skye threw on a pair of shorts and a T-shirt, then gathered her hair into a ponytail. She didn’t have time to mess with her appearance today.

  Before getting her own breakfast, Skye fed Bingo and cleaned his litter. She’d found out the hard way that if the box wasn’t immaculate, the finicky feline refused to use it and would choose somewhere more to his liking—like her most expensive pair of shoes or the middle of her bed—to do his business.

  Finally, cradling a precious cup of tea as if it were a baby bird, Skye took a seat at the kitchen table to plan her day. First on the list was to make sure she still had a floral designer. If Wally arrested Iris, the shit would hit the fan, and the fallout would not be evenly distributed.

  Taking a legal pad and pen from the kitchen drawer, she wrote:

  8:00 a.m.—Call Wally.

  8:30 a.m.—Motor court—Check supplies for favors / Show Frannie and Justin how to put together the boxes

  10:00 a.m.—Drive to country club / Consult with fabric drapers

  1:00–4:00 p.m.—Call caterer, baker, etc.

  5:30 p.m.—Dinner with Wally

  7:00 p.m.—Bridal shower—be there at 6:30

  Skye checked the time: eight ten. Rats! She was already running late. Scooping up the phone, she dialed Wally at home. When his voice mail message started, she hung up and tried his cell, then his private line at the PD. Shoot! Where could he be? Exhaling noisily, she pushed the buttons for the station’s general number.


  Her call was answered immediately. “Police, fire, and emergency department. How may I help you?”

  Skye recognized the voice. “Thea, it’s Skye. Is Wally around?”

  “Hi, hon. Nope. He got a call a couple of minutes ago from County, then took off. Said he needed to talk to that florist over at the motor court.”

  “Shit!”

  “Skye,” Thea tutted. “Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?”

  “Sorry. If Wally checks in, ask him to call me.”

  “Sure thing, hon.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Oops!” Thea yelped. “Gotta go. My other line is ringing. Bye.”

  So much for Skye’s schedule. Now the top priority on her to-do list was find Wally and pray she still had a floral designer. If not, she would have to take a crash course in Flower Arranging 101, and she knew that wouldn’t turn out well. Her eighth-grade home-ec project had ended up looking more like a compost heap than a centerpiece.

  Skye grabbed the breakfast of champions—a can of Diet Coke and a brown-sugar-cinnamon Pop-Tart—and flew out the door. She made record time, and it was only a little past eight thirty when she pulled into the motor court.

  The bad news was that a squad car was parked in front of Iris Yee’s cabin. The good news was that the floral designer was not locked in its backseat.

  After pulling in next to the cruiser, Skye jumped out of the Bel Air and headed toward Iris’s cabin. A few steps before she got to the entrance, she stopped, unsure of her next move. Should she knock, wait for them to come out, or what?

  While she vacillated, the door opened and Wally emerged. His well-muscled body moved with an easy grace, and as he came toward her, she could see his broad shoulders straining against his navy uniform shirt. Even at a time like this, she couldn’t help but notice how hot he was. Regrettably, the frustrated expression on his handsome face did not add to his attractiveness.