by Elaine Viets
“The envelope, please,” Margery said, and handed it to Helen.
Helen opened the red wax seal on the envelope. The stationery was thick and expensive, suitable for edicts and declarations of war. Danny’s writing was bold and black. “ ‘Thank you,’ ” Helen read. “ ‘I hope this will help compensate you for your trouble.’ ”
Helen’s eyes widened in surprise and she nearly dropped the letter. “Phil! This is a check for ten thousand dollars.”
“Let’s break out the champagne and celebrate,” Phil said.
“Let’s save it for our wedding toast,” Helen said.
“Let’s do both,” Phil said. “We can have the wedding toast tonight. It’s been three days since we got our marriage license. We can get married now. That is, if Margery agrees. Madam Preacher, will you do the honors?”
“I thought you’d never ask,” Margery said. “I’m not getting any younger, you know. Give me time to change into my minister’s robe. A preacher of my standing deserves respect.”
Margery had been ordained by mail for a dollar in the Universal Life Church. She could perform weddings in a slew of jurisdictions. Reverend Margery bought her purple robe on eBay. She claimed it had belonged to a Baptist choir singer, so at least her robe had been in a church.
“Wait! I don’t have a dress,” Helen said.
“What about your wedding dress?” Phil asked.
“I couldn’t bear to look at it after that disaster in June,” Helen said. “I sold it at Snapdragon’s.”
“You’ve already had two wedding dresses,” Margery said. “And one and a half marriages. Isn’t that enough?”
“Everyone ignores the groom’s wishes in a wedding,” Helen said. “What would you like me to wear? Name your favorite outfit.”
“The tight black dress with the slit up the side,” Phil said.
“Black isn’t bridal,” Helen said. “It might be bad luck.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Peggy said. “After what happened at the last ceremony, you’re worried about bad luck?”
“Hello!” Pete said.
“Black looks a lot sexier than white on a grown woman,” Margery said. “You didn’t wear the black dress to your mother’s funeral, did you?”
“No,” Helen said.
“Then wear it now. If that man offered to marry me, I’d grab him in a heartbeat.”
“What about me?” Phil asked. “What should I wear? What’s your favorite?”
Helen kissed him and said, “Wear your blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up and your blue jeans. Isn’t that what you had on when I first met you?”
“As I recall, you were topless,” Phil said.
That was not a moment Helen wanted to remember. “I was working on a case,” she said. “And I held up two soda bottles, so I wasn’t completely bare.”
“They were liter bottles, too,” Phil said.
“Quit talking about her jugs,” Margery said.
“Nice talk from an ordained minister,” Phil said.
“I meant her soda bottles. Are you two going to get married or talk all night?” Margery said. “It’s going on nine o’clock.”
“Wait! Where are you getting married?” Peggy asked.
“The beach!” Helen and Phil said together.
“Finally, you agree on something,” Margery said.
Thunder rumbled in the distance. The sky was black and starless. Helen suddenly realized their wedding could be rained out.
“I don’t want the word ‘obey’ in my wedding vows,” Helen said. “Love and honor, definitely, but I’m not obeying.”
“Me, either,” Phil said. “This is a marriage of equals.”
More thunder. Lightning flashed to the east. “We’d better hurry, before we’re struck by lightning,” Margery said.
“Can I be your bridesmaid again?” Peggy asked.
“As long as you bring Pete,” Helen said. “I have to get dressed and Margery has to put on her robe.”
“Hurry, will you?” Margery said. “A storm is coming in.”
They heard a fluttery voice say, “Hello? Margery? Helen, dear, are you there?”
It was Elsie, Margery’s friend. “I wanted to show you my new outfit,” she said.
Elsie had the heart of a teenager trapped in the body of a seventy-eight-year-old woman. When it came to her clothes, she was all heart. The results were startling. Elsie was some sixty years older than the teen fashion models she admired and maybe a hundred pounds heavier. The rising wind blew her fluffy hair flat, but Helen could see it was dyed orange red.
“Plaid is very big this year,” Elsie said. “What do you think?” She attempted a twirl. Elsie’s outfit looked like a girls’ school uniform gone wild: Red plaid leggings covered her saddlebag thighs and varicose veins. The buttons strained on a long-tailed white shirt. The short Black Watch plaid jacket looked more like shoulder pads with sleeves. High-heeled plaid booties completed the ensemble.
Phil gulped.
“Amazing,” Helen said truthfully. “Phil and I are getting married on the beach tonight. We just decided. Would you like to join us?”
“How exciting,” Elsie said. “It’s like an elopement. I have something for you in my car. I’ll be right back.”
Elsie tottered back in her towering booties with a covered casserole and a Tupperware cake holder. “I heard about your mother’s death, dear. I’m so sorry. I was taught to bring food to people in mourning. I hope you don’t mind. This is beef bourguignonne and a coconut cake. It’s chocolate with white icing.”
“Our wedding feast,” Phil said, and kissed Elsie’s rouged cheek. “Thank you, darlin’.”
Margery appeared in her purple satin minister’s robe, puffing on a Marlboro. She looked more like the devil’s familiar than a minister of God. Maybe it was the trail of smoke. Or the lightning and thunder flashing behind her.
“We’re going to get drenched if we don’t move,” Margery said. “My one-buck ordination didn’t include the power to stop thunderstorms.”
Peggy, Phil and Helen hurried to their apartments to change.
Thumbs the cat met Helen at the door and demanded dinner. “Okay, buddy,” she said. “I’ll feed you now.” She quickly poured dried food into his bowl, then pulled the tab on a can of tuna. “Your pal Phil is about to become a permanent member of the household,” she said. “You can celebrate, too.”
Thumbs ignored her while he gobbled his wedding feast.
Helen put on fresh makeup, smoothed her hair, then changed into her black dress and ankle-strap shoes. She stepped outside her apartment and shut the door.
Peggy handed Helen the fragrant white bouquet, lighter now by three roses. “I took out one for each bridesmaid and made a boutonniere for Phil,” she said. “Let me take your picture. You look sensational. When these pictures get out, black-and-white weddings will be all the rage.”
“They already are,” Helen said.
“I mean the bride wearing black, not the bridesmaids.”
“My sister and her family will love the photos,” Helen said. “I wish they were here.”
But then she remembered Rob, the ex-husband she’d tried so hard to forget these last three days. She could almost see him grinning at her, eerie and insolent in the oncoming storm.
“You make such a lovely bride,” Elsie said, and sighed. She clutched her single white rose.
Phil raised his eyebrows when he saw Helen with her black dress and white roses. “Killer,” he said. “I’m shot through the heart.”
She pinned his boutonniere on his shirt and kissed him.
Peggy came out wearing a fresh green blouse, with Pete on her shoulder as a feathered accessory. The little bird tucked his head down to keep from blowing away.
“I put the champagne on to chill,” Peggy said, “and took the food inside until we return. Where are we going?”
“The beach at the foot of Las Olas on A1A,” Phil said. “There’s a public parking lot. We’ll meet
there and walk across the street to the beach. Helen and I can go in my Jeep.”
“Peggy, you and Elsie can ride with me,” Margery said.
Las Olas was one long traffic jam filled with revelers. Drunks staggered between the stopped cars. Couples kissed on street corners. When the Jeep passed Snapdragon’s Second Thoughts, Helen began to have second thoughts of her own. The traffic jam broke up at the Hendin Island turnoff and Phil drove faster toward the beach. Helen could see Margery’s car behind them. Peggy waved out the front window and Phil honked back. Thunder boomed.
Phil’s Jeep reached the parking lot first. He found a spot near the entrance. Margery circled, looking for a place to park.
More thunder. Lightning ripped across the sky. The clouds were black and pregnant with rain. Helen felt a stab of fear. My marriage to Rob was a mistake, she thought, and I was too dumb to know it. Phil is a good man, but I’m dragging him into blackmail and a possible murder trial. I could wind up in jail. Is that fair to him? Should I say something? Yes. He needs to know. I have to tell Phil. I have to be an honest woman. If he doesn’t want to marry me, so be it.
The wind slammed her sideways, blowing her dark hair across her face like a veil. More thunder. She saw jagged lightning strike the ocean.
“Phil,” Helen said. “This wedding—”
“Is exactly the way to get married,” Phil said. “We have our friends, we have food, we have flowers and champagne. What’s the matter? Are you worried?”
“Yes,” Helen said. “It’s a big step. What if things go wrong? What if Rob comes back and causes trouble?”
“What if my ex returns?” Phil said. “Kendra has a genius for screwing things up.”
He kissed Helen and said, “There are no guarantees. I know that. So do you. I want you for better or worse.”
“But it could get bad,” Helen said. “Chaos seems to follow me around. I could drag you into it.”
“That’s why I love you,” Phil said. He kissed her harder, as if he could make her fear go away.
“Excuse me,” Margery said. “May I marry you first before you consummate the wedding?”
The glow of Margery’s cigarette was the beacon that guided the party to the beach. The women carefully picked their way across the sand in high heels.
Helen held on to Phil and her huge bridal bouquet as her heels sank into the sand. She could see the bright lights of a cruise ship on the black water, but the night seemed endlessly dark.
“Let’s get started,” Margery said. “Let me ask the question that caused so much trouble last time. Does anyone know any reason why this man and woman should not be joined in marriage?”
Smoke rose over Margery’s gray hair and was carried away by the wind. They heard the soothing surf and the growl of thunder.
Margery cleared her throat and said, “Do you, Helen Hawthorne, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, till death parts you?”
Helen felt the panic stab her heart. Do I? she thought. Do I want to tie the man I love to my troubles?
The moon slid out from behind the dark clouds, and the beach was flooded with light.
“Look,” Elsie said. “You have a silver lining.”
I have to believe that, Helen thought. I love him. I need him. I’ve been alone too long. And he loves and needs me. I hope we’ll have some good times before everything crashes in on us.
“Helen?” Margery said. “Do you want to get married or not?”
“Yes!” Helen said. “I mean, I do. I really do.”
“Me, too,” Phil said.
“I now pronounce you man and wife,” Margery said. “At last.”
CHAPTER 31
The wedding reception was lit by moonglow and bug lights, with flashes of distant lightning.
There was no receiving line, no best man making tasteless toasts, no garter to throw or bouquet to toss. An intrusive videographer did not command the couple to pose. Peggy took photos for Helen and Phil, then put her camera away.
The wedding feast was on a long folding table by the pool. The bridal bouquet was once more in its vase, doing double duty as the centerpiece. The bride and groom held hands and kissed. The guests laughed often.
None of them paid lip service to their diets. Boring excuses such as, “I’d eat that, but it’s so fattening,” were forgotten. The pâté, crackers and fruit were quickly demolished. Even Pete was allowed a single cracker. The pudgy parrot’s perpetual diet had a one-night reprieve.
Phil polished off the last of Elsie’s beef bourguignonne. Helen cut the coconut cake and served her guests generous slices.
Phil refilled the wineglasses for yet another round of toasts. They’d drunk the champagne and were now working on the box wine.
“These are two words I’ve wanted to say for a long time: my wife,” Phil said. “I will love you forever. I’m so glad you finally said yes.” He gave Helen a lingering kiss as the wedding party applauded.
“Only a man as good as Phil could persuade me to marry again,” Helen said, raising her glass. “To my husband.”
“That’s so sweet,” Elsie said, wiping her eyes.
“And this toast is for Elsie,” Helen said. “A bridesmaid at last. It’s never too late to get your wish.”
They saluted Elsie.
“Thank you, dear,” Elsie said, patting Helen’s hand. “I had to wait sixty years to be a bridesmaid, but I must say, it was worth it. I married at eighteen and I was pregnant with my Milton the summer when my friends married. In those days you couldn’t have a pregnant maid of honor. It wasn’t done. We missed so much fun by worrying about what people thought and it was all so silly. I’m glad I’m free of those self-imposed rules now. Milton says my clothes aren’t appropriate for my age, but I think age is all in your mind.”
“You’ve made the world a more colorful place,” Phil said, and raised his glass again.
“This last-minute wedding is the way to tie the knot,” Peggy said. “I’ve been to too many where the bride is frazzled and the groom is hungover. The couple is so tired after months of planning their wedding, they don’t enjoy it. You both look relaxed and happy.”
“Why not?” Helen said. “Our friends did all the work.” She helped herself to another piece of coconut cake. “Terrific cake, Elsie.”
“Thank you, Helen, dear,” Elsie said. “It’s good to see a young woman with an appetite. Was that your name in a newspaper story about the arrest of that crooked county commissioner? The newspaper said she attacked you.”
“It did,” Helen said, “and she did.”
“My wife forgot to mention that she found the evidence that will put Loretta behind bars,” Phil said proudly. “There. I said it officially. My wife.” He kissed Helen again.
“Loretta hasn’t been convicted yet,” Helen said. “And my husband left out his own part.” It felt good to use the H-word without hating the man connected to it. “Phil tracked down the slum house where Loretta was renting rooms to illegal immigrants.”
“Danny the developer’s detective did that, too,” Phil said.
“But Danny didn’t use his knowledge for good,” Helen said. “He blackmailed the commissioner.”
“Whoa,” Margery said. “You lost me. I thought Loretta Stranahan was against Danny’s Orchid House development.”
“She was,” Phil said. “But once the police arrested her for murder, she couldn’t wait to rat out Daniel Martlet. She said he was blackmailing her in case he needed her vote on future Orchid House changes.”
“Did the commissioner give him money?” Peggy asked.
“No, Danny wasn’t after money. He has enough votes to get the proposal passed. She could oppose him publicly until her reelection. Then, if Danny needed her vote, he had it. She was his insurance policy.”
“Awk,” Pete said.
“How could she do that?” Peggy asked.
“Happens all the time,” Margery said. “I know I sound cyn
ical, but for more than fifty years, I’ve been watching Florida politicians spin like weather vanes in a hurricane. First, they oppose all development as evil. That gets them elected. Once they safely have their seats, they have a sudden conversion. Now development is good. It will bring more tourists and more jobs. In these troubled times, they say, Florida can’t afford to lose this opportunity. Trust me, the times are always troubled. Nothing has changed in half a century.”
“And the politicians get away with it?” Peggy asked.
“Almost always,” Margery said. “If the bums get thrown out of office, they find a safe, salaried berth with the developer or his friends. Either way, they win and we, the people, lose.”
“Loretta will be the exception,” Helen said. “She’s been caught, thanks to Phil, who found the house of the seven toilets.”
“I think I read that book when I was a little girl,” Elsie said, slightly tipsy from so many toasts.
“Probably not,” Phil said. “There was nothing charming about this house. Every room, even the garage, was rented to illegal immigrants for outrageous prices. Every room had a toilet. And it was my wife”—he stopped to savor that word—“who counted those toilets.”
“We know she’s a talented toilet counter,” Margery said. “But can we get to the end of this story before your golden wedding anniversary? You and Helen can split the credit for finding the house of the seven toilets. What happened next?”
“Loretta got arrested,” Helen said. “Should we tell you about that?”
“Yes, dear,” Elsie said. Her voice was gentler than Margery’s. “We’re anxious to know, if you don’t mind discussing murder at your wedding.”
“Marriage and murder go hand in hand,” Margery said. Cigarette smoke formed a crown around her head.
“A customer at Snapdragon’s showed me a pair of polka-dot heels that didn’t have a price tag,” Helen said. “I put them aside so Vera, the owner, could see them. Vera said the shoes were too damaged to sell and forgot them. Three days ago, I had a brainstorm. I remembered Commissioner Stranahan was in the store when Chrissy was murdered—and she wore polka-dot heels.
