by Susan Slater
“You’ve already told them, haven’t you?” Her face was flushed and there was spittle at the corners of her mouth.
“Told who? Told them what?”
“That I took the ring.”
“Cherie, I really don’t know—”
“Yes, you do. You’ve been looking for it. You and your money-grubbing mother. I saw how everything in the storage unit had been picked over.” Cherie was absolutely wild-eyed.
Julie shook her head. She had absolutely no idea what the woman was talking about. Another piece of jewelry? “So, whatever it was, it’s gone. And I don’t have it.”
“I know you don’t have it. Weren’t you listening? I have it.” Cherie shifted the gun to her right hand and held her left hand in front of her, fingers spread. “Here. Remember?”
The huge diamond sent multi-colored flecks of light bouncing outward. Connie’s engagement ring. She seldom wore it, but Julie remembered it from when she was small. And the last time she saw it? The night of the dinner party. The night Connie was killed.
“She owed me. She promised to invest in my business. To pay my debts and help launch the new line. But then she decided not to. Said there was something else happening in her life. She couldn’t commit at the moment. Don’t you understand? She promised. I believed her. I expanded on that promise, borrowed money—money that was going to be paid back a month ago. I didn’t use a bank. I trusted Jonathan to find some Vegas money—that’s what he called it. Use people who bet on a sure thing and offer big, short-term loans with big interest. But when I couldn’t pay them? They were threatening to ruin me. Take away everything that I am—make a laughing stock out of me. Maybe even kill my family … I had to cancel with Martha Stewart for God’s sake.”
“You killed her. You killed Connie for your inheritance? And you didn’t even know that all you had to do was wait.”
“That inheritance was supposed to include the CdeBaca family land. Our land wasn’t a gift to some Indians just so they could go out and pick flowers. And the remainder? Divided unfairly with some bastard child. My father would have killed her if he’d known.”
And almost did, Julie thought. They had all been so wrong. Assumed Mac was the one—the only one capable of killing. But hadn’t Wayne said he heard a woman arguing with Connie that night? He’d assumed it was Julie.
“Do you know what she said to me? ‘I think you’re my angel—my angel of death.’ And then she begged me to grant her one favor—let her dress in that wedding gown and help her fix her hair before I killed her. Do you believe that? Isn’t that the most bizarre request?”
“But you did it.”
“It kept her quiet. It made killing her easy—she didn’t even struggle.”
“I suppose she considered it a favor. She had very little time to live and would never have wanted to be a burden.”
“I didn’t know she’d already given things away … had drawn up a new will.”
“Cherie, I don’t care about the jewelry. It’s yours. This is my wedding day. I need to dress.”
“You’re not marrying anyone, let alone that half-breed. And speaking of dress, isn’t it bad luck to marry in something you stole?” Cherie was pointing to the Chanel carefully laid out on the bed. “I’ll just take that while I’m here.”
“Am I intruding? I thought maybe you could use some help.” Sally Johnston poked her head around the door.
“Sally—”
As Cherie turned, Julie dropped the jewelry bag and jumped, throwing her weight into Cherie’s torso, reaching for the hand holding the gun. Cherie maybe outweighed Julie by fifteen pounds and was an inch taller—but it wasn’t an unfair advantage. Julie’s anger gave her momentum. The two of them toppled, hitting the edge of the bed. Cherie recoiled as the shot exploded, splintering a bedpost, then regained her concentration as they hit the floor. She tried to lower the barrel and aim at Julie’s forehead. Julie dug her nails into Cherie’s wrist, pushing the gun away while trying to shake it loose. She drew her knees up to deflect any kicks, then quickly rolled to straddle Cherie before she knocked the gun to the side.
“Get help.” Julie had no idea if Sally heard her above her own screams. But suddenly there was silence—only the muffled sound of feet running on carpet. It felt like a hundred years before a security guard kicked the gun out of Cherie’s reach and helped Julie to her feet.
Cherie was handcuffed, sullen, and uncooperative. My God, what a family, Julie thought. It took over an hour but Julie gave a statement, corroborated by Sally, and finally she was alone to shower and dress. At last. Wow, how many people had wedding days like this one?
Epilogue
The afternoon was clear. Snow had melted off the roads but stuck to trees and mounded on the tops of fence posts. The Jemez Mountains were resplendent with white mantles sweeping across their peaks and sliding down their sides. Pueblo rooftops were edged with sugary icing and looked like gingerbread cutouts, not real dwellings. Julie smiled as Sally parked the car in back of the chapel. She could not have chosen a more perfect day for her wedding. Christmas Eve. Evergreens beside the chapel twinkled with colored lights underneath each branch’s cap of white. A huge Christmas tree took up almost all of the tiny chapel’s foyer and was covered in natural ornaments—popcorn strings alternating with ropes of cranberries, fat tallow candles in tin clip-on holders, and bows of white velvet. Simple, but breathtaking.
She carried the Chanel in a dress bag; Sally followed with shoes and the hat box. The platinum jewelry bag was safe in her purse. It was still an hour before the ceremony, but curiosity got the best of her. She peeked through the curtain that screened the rectory from the pulpit and was amazed—already the chapel was filling. Friends from her studio days sat toward the back. Gloria from IHS was halfway down on the right with her family. Two docs from IHS were acting as ushers. Thank God. It promised to be a full house.
“You need to get dressed.” Sally motioned her toward a sitting room, now a makeshift dressing room. “Let’s do a little work on your hair.”
Julie dutifully slipped on her dress and draped the bed sheet she’d borrowed from the hotel over her shoulders, wrapping the ends around her mid-section. She’d die if she got makeup on the dress. She would leave the matching jacket in the dressing room until after the ceremony and only wear it for the reception. It really gave her two outfits. She dug hair brushes and makeup out of her bag and sat in front of a large mirror brought in from the hallway.
Sally deftly pulled Julie’s hair straight back without a part, smoothing the wad of curls under at her crown. She positioned the hat at an angle, gathering the veil into a knot on one side, securing it under a white rosebud and slip of greenery from her bouquet. All this with three bobby pins, two hat pins, and a rubber band. It wasn’t how Julie had envisioned it but it was right. Somehow it looked more modern and lost the look of a ’50s pillbox. Blusher, mascara, lipstick, a light dusting of powder to set it. She looked in the mirror. Perfect.
The jewelry was the last touch, and, again, perfect. Sally excused herself to get dressed, walked out the door then leaned back in. “Break a leg, kiddo.”
Twenty minutes. She could hear strains of Christmas music from a quartet in the loft above the congregation. Her father’s gift. Only live music would do and she agreed with him. The chapel’s acoustics seemed to separate, yet accentuate, each instrument’s interaction with the others, blending the notes beautifully. She and Ben preferred only instrumentals, no soloist.
A knock on the door and there was her father—could it be time to go already? They would have a brief walk outside in order to come in at the back of the chapel. Father Emerson, the groom, and his attendants must already be in place. Julie got only a glimpse of Sally in the midnight-blue dress whose cut mirrored her own. Very plain, classic lines. She looked beautiful. Robby had worked with a seamstress in Albuquerque and proved to have a real talent for design and execution.
The two ushers held open the double doors to the sanctuar
y. The strains of the wedding march sounded and everyone stood. This was it. There were people crowded into the foyer and lining the back of the pews. Her maid of honor and bridesmaid had taken their places. Sandy Black stood next to Robby who was next to Ben; Father Emerson beamed in the center.
If there was one thing she’d remember all her life it would be Ben’s smile. He never took his eyes off of her, even when her father was declaring his love and stating that he and her mother blessed this union. Ben smiled and squeezed her hand. Robby discreetly pointed at her hat and gave a wink and a barely concealed thumbs up. The rest of the ceremony was a blur. The exchange of rings went smoothly and only once did she falter and have to repeat a vow. Then it was over. She and Ben kissed and walked down the aisle to the applause of the congregation. She stole a look at the narrow band of diamonds and inlaid turquoise, pipestone, coral and obsidian. She was, indeed, Mrs. Benson Pecos.
Thank you for taking the time to read Fire Dancer. If you enjoyed it, please consider telling your friends or posting a short review. Word of mouth is an author’s best friend
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Thank you,
Susan Slater
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