Weddings Can Be Murder

by Christie Craig

  “Here she is,” Les said.

  Carl started to swing around, and Katie’s desire to hide did a complete turnover. Utterly complete. She remembered how he made her feel safe. How he smelled. How he’d made her feel so alive even while she’d been facing death.

  He hadn’t completely turned around before she threw herself into his arms. And boy, was that a mistake.

  But it was one of those too-late-to-stop mistakes. Like the moment when your hand pushes the car door closed behind you, you hear the lock click, and your brain shouts Keys! When your mind yells Don’t, but something has already said Do, and the brain refuses recalls.

  Yep. The man she’d Velcroed herself against wasn’t Carl Hades.

  Katie’s first thought was, At least this mistake has a nice butt.

  Her second thought was, Nice butt or not, I could have just worn Papa Smurf. Impressing strangers wasn’t too necessary.

  Her third thought was that she really needed to peel herself off him, but her fourth thought was just to stay right where she was. Because as soon as she un-Velcroed herself, she’d have to face this stranger with the nice butt.

  “Miss Ray?” Said stranger dropped his hands from around her. Obviously, he’d felt compelled to return her embrace. That, or he’d felt the need to protect himself. “Are you okay?”

  There was that word again: okay. Why was it that people chose the most inopportune times to ask that question?

  She stepped back and stared. Not a stranger. She knew him. Her mind searched through identifying data. Her brain finally spat out the answer. The cop who’d interviewed her.

  “Miss Ray?” He appeared concerned—as in the are-you-nuts kind of concerned.

  She couldn’t recall his name. Nor could she recall thinking he had a nice butt earlier at the station. Funny, how you missed things like that.

  “I’m Detective Ben Hades. We met this morning?” The fact he felt inclined to remind her of their meeting confirmed that he thought she might be a good candidate for a padded cell.

  “I remember you,” she said. “I don’t hug just anyone.” Okay, she wished she hadn’t said that. What was wrong with her?

  Sleeping pill.

  Yes. She could blame this all on the sleeping pill, and she’d started to do just that when he grinned and her mind spun off in another direction.

  She stared at his smile. So familiar. Her brain started playing connect-the-dots. “Hades? Your name is Hades?”

  “Yes. Ben Hades. I’m the one you spoke to this morning.”

  “I remember,” she said. “I just didn’t catch your name this morning. Are you related to—”

  “Yes.” His eyes widened as if he’d figured it out. “Carl’s my brother. I guess we sort of look alike…from behind.”

  “Yes, you both have nice…” She caught herself before she fell into that one. But, quick, she needed a replacement word.

  “Thank you.” He grinned as if he’d finished her thought.

  Her face flushed. Definitely, the sleeping pill.

  Silence threatened. “And your father. You all look alike. Not that I…checked out his backside.” Yup! Sleeping pill.

  He chuckled. “That’s right, you met my father, too. You just need to meet my wife, my son, cat, and dog, and you’ll know the whole family.”

  His words triggered an image, a family image. “What about Precious?”

  Ben Hades laughed for real this time. The deep-timbred sound brought on memories of another laugh. Her heart filled with an ache. How could she miss someone she barely knew?

  “I can’t believe he told you about Precious. Did you know my wife has to take it in to be groomed because Carl’s too embarrassed? But she gets them to put bows in the dog’s hair just to tick Carl off.”

  Katie smiled and found she liked Mr. Ben Hades more now than she had this morning. “Please sit down.”

  “Why don’t I fix us some coffee?” Les offered.

  Katie had forgotten Les was there. “I’m sorry. This is my friend Les Grayson.”

  “We introduced ourselves.” Ben glanced at Les. “I’ll take a rain check on the coffee.” He gazed back at Katie. “I came by to tell you…to remind you again to take precautions.”

  “Has something else happened?” she and Les asked at the same time.

  Ben stuffed his hands into the pockets of his blue Dockers. “You witnessed a murder. While we don’t have any reason to think you might be in immediate danger, it’s best if you’re cautious.”

  A chill worked its way through Katie. “You…you think he might come after me?”

  “I didn’t say that. I just think being careful is wise.”

  Ben left soon after saying that, and Katie and Les locked the doors, made coffee, and sat in the kitchen in an awkward silence.

  “Did Joe go to work?” Katie inhaled the scent of her coffee.

  “He said he was going in for a while, but he’d be by later.”

  And I have to figure out what I’m going to say to him.

  Les shifted in her chair. “You know, we could both go and stay at my brother’s,” she said. “Or a hotel. It could be like a vacation: order room service, buy some romance novels, and—”

  “Ben didn’t say I had to leave.” Katie peered at the steam rising from her cup. “And we did lock the doors.”

  “Yeah, but who wants to stay somewhere where a murderer may or may not come looking for you?”

  Emotionally, Katie flinched. If this had happened a few days ago, she would have suggested they stay at Joe’s place. Sweet, handsome, wonderful Joe. “Oh, God.” She dropped her elbows on the table and moaned. “Everything is so fuckedup.”

  “Fucked-up?” Les asked. “You mean, you deem this f-word worthy? Now I’m really getting scared, girlfriend.”

  Katie looked at Les and just said what was eating at her: “I can’t marry Joe.”

  Les’s green eyes grew round. “Okay, it’s f-word worthy.” She dropped her head on the table and gave it a thump.

  Katie studied the top of her friend’s head. “I just—”

  Les snapped back up. “No. I can’t let you do this. I’m the one who put this stupid notion in your head. I’m the one who said you flushed the ring on purpose. And…”

  “And what?” Katie asked.

  “And I’m an idiot. You don’t need to listen to me.”

  “But I always listen to you.” Katie half grinned.

  “Well, you shouldn’t.” Les jumped up from her chair and paced.

  “Hey, I’m not feeling this way because…because of anything you said.”

  Les swung around. “Are you sure? Absolutely sure?”

  “Yes. I mean, it’s true that what you said made me start thinking, but the questions were already there. You were just the straw that broke the camel’s back.”

  Les made a face. “Again with the straw! I don’t fucking want to be the straw! I can’t be the straw.” She stared at Katie. “You can’t do this.”

  Katie swallowed a gulp of uncertainty. “So you think I should marry Joe?”

  “Yes. No! I mean, it’s not important what I think. What’s important is what you think. You told me you loved him.”

  Katie blinked. “Yes, and I do. I mean…I think I do.” She pressed a hand to her stomach. “But I want to throw up every time I think about him.”

  “Okay, but like you said earlier, you throw up before every big event in your life. You’re a nervous puker.”

  Katie stared down at her coffee, fighting the nausea and recalling the sympathy puker with whom she’d spent last night. “Maybe I don’t really love Joe.” The nausea increased. “No, that’s not true,” she confessed. “I do love Joe. I do.”

  “Good, then that’s solved.” Les let out a big sigh.

  “I just don’t love him in the right way,” Katie finished.

  Les’s shoulders slumped. “Maybe it’s just cold feet.”

  Katie stared at her coffee. And the tiniest bit of doubt rose in her like
steam from her cup. “Did you have cold feet?”

  “Me?” Les asked, as if she didn’t understand the question.

  “Yes. When you were engaged to Mike. Did you ever think you were making a mistake?”

  Les plopped down in her chair and reached up to touch her chest. “No. I couldn’t wait to marry Mike.” She spoke while looking down at her coffee. “Without him beside me, I didn’t feel whole or complete. It was as if I needed him to breathe.” Les looked up. “You don’t feel that way with Joe?”

  “No.” She forced herself to admit the truth. “It feels comfortable. But I don’t stop feeling lonely.” She frowned. “Even the sex is…ho-hum.” She shook her head. “It’s crazy, Les. Joe’s a sexy guy. Great body and he does everything right. His techniques are on the mark. Not too fast, not too slow, and yet…”

  Les stared. “You’ve never had the big O?”

  “Of course I’ve…” She blinked. “Okay, I’ve faked it some. A lot.” She hated admitting it, but this was Les she was talking to. “Most of the time.”

  Katie paused. “I keep waiting to hear the voice go off in my head. The one that says, ‘yes.’ You know that voice?”

  Les glanced away. “Yeah, I know that voice.”

  Katie hesitated. “I have comfortable. I have sweet. But no pizzazz, and I don’t think it’s his fault. It’s me.”

  “How could it be your fault?” Les asked.

  “I…Until last night, I thought I was broken.”

  “What happened last night?” Les’s eyes widened. “You slept with that man?”

  “No. Okay, I slept with him but we didn’t do anything. It was cold and there was just one cot and nothing happened.”

  “But…?” Les asked.

  Katie swallowed. “He smelled so good and felt so good.”

  “And?” Les asked.

  “That’s it. That’s all that happened.”

  “Wait. You feel guilty because you noticed he felt and smelled good?”

  Katie fought the urge to go at her lip again. “I wanted to do something. There were all sorts of bells going off.” She sighed. “I might have been freezing my ass off, but I was so hot. If I hadn’t been engaged to Joe, I swear, Les, I would have screwed that man every which way to Sunday.”

  Les’s eyes lit up. “That’s why you practically attacked Mr. Hades. His brother is the guy you spent the night with, right?”

  Katie nodded. “Guilty.”

  “Why, Katie Ray.” Les grinned. “You little slut.”

  Katie moaned. “I’m a terrible person, aren’t I?”

  Les rolled her eyes. “You couldn’t be a terrible person if you graduated with a master’s degree in it.” She paused. “But decent people feel guilty about wanting things, even when they didn’t do anything but want.” Her gaze became somber. “However, this means you do care enough about Joe to feel guilty. So maybe you do love him.”

  “Do you really think this is just cold feet?” Katie asked.

  “I don’t know. And don’t ask me to tell you what to do.”

  Katie half grinned. “You’ve been telling me what to do since I was in kindergarten.”

  Les smiled, but her expression was forced.

  Katie rose to get a coffee refill and was hit with a very ugly thought. “Can you imagine what my parents would say about me calling off a wedding?”

  Les huffed. “Fuck it, Katie. When are you going to stop trying to live up to their standards?”

  Katie went back and dropped back into her chair. “Probably never,” she admitted. “But I’m going to have to talk to him.”

  “To who? Joe or the Hades guy?”

  Katie looked up. “Joe, of course. At the very least, I need to tell him how I feel.”

  One of Les’s eyebrows rose. “And what about Hades?”

  Katie visualized Carl, all perfect six feet–plus of him. “Remember Trey Poke?”

  Les grinned. “I haven’t thought about him in years. Yum.”

  “Remember the vow we made to each other?” Katie asked.

  “To never be one of his pathetic ‘Poked’ conquests.” Les giggled.

  “Well, Carl Hades makes Trey look like Pee-wee Herman. He’s a hundred percent bad boy. Hates marriage, afraid of commitment. All he wants is a sperm bank with legs.”

  “That may be the case, but let’s be honest. If Trey had cast either of us a mere look, we’d both have taken that train to Brokenheartsville so fast we’d never hear the whistle blow.”

  “Maybe,” Katie admitted. “But we’re older and wiser now.”

  “And as boring as a sugar-free, nonfat, plain-vanilla latte.” Les sighed. “Didn’t you just tell me he rang your bell? Maybe life’s too short not to listen to the bells because…Oh, hell, what am I saying? Don’t listen to me.”

  Katie started to answer, but the ringing of another bell—the doorbell—interrupted her.

  Les looked toward the living room. “You don’t think a murderer would ring a doorbell, do you?”

  Chapter Eighteen

  “Don’t you dare open that door!” Les called from behind her.

  “It’s a florist delivery guy.” Katie looked over her shoulder at Les wielding a brass lamp in her hands like a weapon.

  “And how can you be sure?”

  “Because, Sherlock, he’s wearing a uniform with ‘Florist’ written on it, and he’s got flowers.”

  “Yeah, and how many Law & Order episodes have you seen where the guy delivering the flowers is the murderer?”

  Katie’s hand paused on the lock. “Okay, you have a point.”

  The lock in the door clicked. Clicked like being-unlocked clicked. Clicked, like a murdering florist delivery guy on the other side was unlocking the door.

  “Fudge,” Katie said and jumped back.

  “No. Fuck,” Les screeched.

  The door pushed open and a brass lamp went flying through the air.

  Joe, flowers in tow, ducked in the nick of time, losing a few daisies in the process. The lamp clattered against the wall. “What the hell?” he asked.

  “You…you surprised us,” Katie said.

  “Imagine how I felt.” He glanced at the lamp.

  “A cop came and said we should be careful,” Katie explained.

  “And throwing lamps is careful?” He shrugged, and Katie saw him mentally release his frustration. Joe was good at that, letting things just roll off him. But he was also good at avoiding. And he’d avoided her for the past month. No longer.

  “Here.” He held the flowers out to Katie. “I got these from the delivery guy.”

  “Thanks.” Katie took the vase, expecting Joe to say he’d sent them. Which was going to make her feel like the slimy stuff you clean out of the bathtub drain, because she was about to have a serious heart-to-heart with him.

  “From you?” she asked, trying not to sound unhappy.

  “Not me.”

  “Then who ” Carl?

  Hope filled her chest. She plucked the card from the plastic fork. Then she called herself a fool. Carl Hades didn’t seem like the flower-sending kind of guy. And if he was, the fact that he hadn’t waited around to speak to her at the police station meant he wasn’t interested in her in the send-flowers kind of way.

  Not that it would have made a difference. Katie hadn’t liked the idea of winding up on the Poked List in high school any more than she liked the idea now. Bells or no bells. She wasn’t anyone’s sperm bank.

  “Who’re they from?” Joe asked.

  Aware that she stood staring at a bunch of daisies and yellow roses thinking about one man, while another—her fiancé—stood a foot away, made her concerns feel less manageable. She opened the card and read the note.

  “It’s from the florist. The one I hired before Tabitha insisted I hire a different one. They’re congratulating me. Us.”

  “That’s nice.” But Joe didn’t sound as if he meant it.

  She met Joe’s eyes. “We need to talk.”

  Joe’s gaz
e shot to Les. Katie cleared her throat to draw Joe’s attention. She wouldn’t let him avoid her anymore. And he had to listen to her, really listen.

  And just like that, she knew what she had to do.

  Dropping the flowers on Les, she took Joe’s arm. “Come on.”

  She marched him down the hall, into her bedroom, and past the bed, yanked open her closet door, and motioned him inside.

  “What?” he asked.

  “After you.”

  “In the closet?” His expression flatlined.

  “Yes.”

  “Why?” He looked at her a little strangely.

  “Because.” Because she could still recall how talking in the dark with Carl Hades had made it so easy to listen, easy to hear the truth. And right now, she and Joe needed to have a truthful conversation that involved a lot of listening.

  “Katie? Are you okay?”

  “No! I’m not okay.” She gave him a hearty nudge into the closet, stepped in behind him, and shut the door.

  The bell on the door jingled as Carl stepped into the shop. The mixture of floral scents teased his senses with a vague memory. Inhaling, he moved behind a guy at the counter who talked to the female attendant about the type of flowers to send the woman he’d spent the night with.

  “Well,” the attendant asked, “what message would you like the flowers to send?”

  Thanks for a good lay, Carl thought to himself, but keeping his opinion and smile to himself, he moved back a few feet and pretended to be interested in some bouquets.

  It wasn’t that he had anything against the idea of sending flowers. His brother had probably seduced Tami with roses, candy, and all the other romantic gestures. But considering that Carl’s involvement with women was never meant to lead anywhere, he’d never put that much effort into the sentimental side of romance.

  Hearing the two people still talking behind him, he stared again at all the flowers. Most were common varieties—roses, carnations, the kinds of flowers even men could identify—but there was one…For some unexplainable reason, he thought of Red, of having a bouquet delivered. Had Mr. Metro sent her flowers?