CnC 5 One Hex of a Wedding (15 page)

Read CnC 5 One Hex of a Wedding Online

Authors: yasmine Galenorn

Tags: #Fiction, #General, #Mystery & Detective, #Mystery Fiction, #Single Mothers, #Witches, #Occult Fiction, #Divorced Women, #Washington (State), #Women Mediums, #Tearooms, #O'Brien, #Emerald (Fictitious Character)

BOOK: CnC 5 One Hex of a Wedding
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By the time we finished, Deacon was shaking his head. “I don’t mind telling you, I’m worried. We haven’t had someone on the force with a creeper in a long time,” he said.
“Creeper?”
“That’s what the Chief calls it. Occasionally you get a cop who attracts a wacko. A lot of times, it’s somebody they’ve busted; once in a while it’s your everyday, average neurotic who fancies the officer to be their own personal savior. Hero worship bordering on fantasy. But whoever this is, this dude’s escalated the pattern. He’s skipped a few steps.”
“Like what?” I asked. If he was upping the ante, there had to be a reason.
“He’s invaded her house and she still doesn’t know who he is.” Deacon glanced at me. “You might just be right about the shooter. We’ll look into it.”
They inspected the chopper and noted down the damage, then checked out the rest of Jimbo’s vehicles, but could find nothing else out of place. As they headed to their patrol car, they left Jimbo with a caveat to be careful and make sure to lock up his vehicles in the garage.
“You might want to give them a once-over before you ease out on the road, too,” Greg said. “Just to make sure there’s nothing wrong. I don’t want you paranoid, but if somebody’s been tampering with your bike, next time you use your truck, you might want to look under the hood.”
Jimbo frowned. “Why?”
An image flashed in my mind and I knew I’d picked up on what Greg was thinking. As softly as I could, I said, “Explosives. You don’t want to get in a booby-trapped car. Isn’t that right, Greg?”
Greg’s gaze flickered to me and he nodded. “Yeah. Pretty much.” On that note, they pulled out of the driveway.
I sighed. There was nothing more I could do out here, and I had an appointment with the seamstress who was altering Nanna’s wedding dress. My mother had found it in the attic, and it was a vision in ivory lace and satin. It was too big for me—Nanna had been a stout woman—and I wanted a lower neckline, but Janette Armor, who owned the Bridal Veil, had promised that she would work her magic. I only hoped that I hadn’t gained any weight. I’d been stressing a lot the past few days and eating everything in sight.
I gave Jimbo a hug and he swept me up in his arms. “Thanks, O’Brien. You may have just saved my can. If you’re right, at least now I can be on the alert. And I’ll keep a close eye on Anna, so don’t worry your scrawny little butt over that.”
As I headed toward my Mountaineer, escorted by none other than Terry-T himself, I heard Jimbo briefing the guys on what he wanted them to do while patrolling his property.
Terry-T held my door open for me as I scrambled in. I blinked in surprise. “Why thank you, Terry. Keep an eye on him for me, will you?” I nodded Jimbo’s way.
The big galoot grinned. “Sure thing, sweet cheeks. He’s the Man, all right. So, you’re getting married to the paramedic.”
I nodded. “Yeah, supposed to be, if things ever calm down. Why?”
He hemmed and hawed for a moment, then said, “The boys and I wanted to do something to thank you for catching that S.O.B. who killed Clyde and Scar last year, and for what you did for Traci. We’ve been talking about it for a while now, and we’ve come up with a gift for you. But I don’t want to spoil the surprise. When we heard you were coming up here today, I figured why wait. So, a couple of the boys delivered it to your house. By the time you get home, it should be there.”
I blinked again. A present? For me? From the Klickavail bikers’ enclave? Shades of surreal. “I have no idea what to say. You didn’t have to do anything—I’m just glad I could help out.” I broke into a wide grin. “But I do love presents, so thanks, Terry-T. And tell the boys that, whatever it is, I’m sure I’ll love it.”
He slapped the side of my door as he shut it for me. “Yeah, we think you will, too. Okay, gonna go help Jimbo here. Can’t have the Man in trouble, you know?” As he sauntered away from my car, I couldn’t help but think about first impressions, and how very wrong they could be. I’d learned a lot from Jimbo and his buddies, and I hoped I never forgot the lesson.
On the drive home, I wondered what on earth a bunch of bikers could have settled on for a wedding gift. As I pulled into the driveway, the answer became abundantly clear. There stood Joe, Randa, and Kip, big goofy grins on their faces. They were gathered around a beauty of a chopper. A Harley with a passenger seat, painted brilliant emerald green. Oh my God, the boys had given us a motorcycle!
I leaped out of the Mountaineer and raced over, laughing. Joe caught my gaze, his eyes twinkling as he pointed to the side of the chopper. Instead of flames, the words CHINTZ ’N CHINA EXPRESS had been painted in lemon yellow and outlined in black, a perfect contrast against the green. When I could control my laughter, I told them what Terry-T had said.
Joe nodded toward the house. “There’s more.”
“More? That thing is worth a good ten or twenty grand, or would be if it was new.” I knew the boys had refurbished an older bike, which was just fine—a new one would be way too expensive for me to feel comfortable accepting. I also knew that Joe would have a blast with it, and I fully intended to be right there, behind him on the passenger seat.
We trooped up the steps to the porch where I saw two black leather jackets, one in my size, one that would fit Joe. On the back was the enclave’s sigil, and beneath it, the words HONORARY MEMBER.
Grinning like a hyena, I decided that maybe our wedding would go off without a snag after all. And if it didn’t, we could hop aboard the bike and elope.
 
 
AS I TOOK a shower, Joe sat on the toilet, talking to me. I told him what I’d figured out. “I don’t think you were the target,” I shouted over the running water, as I lathered rose-scented shampoo into a thick foam. I wasn’t about to go to a fitting for my wedding dress with anything but powder-fresh skin and clean hair.
“You know, that makes sense,” he shouted back. “I can’t imagine who would want me dead. Not even Roy.”
Roy. Yeah, my suspicions about Roy had been alleviated by our talk, but I wasn’t ready to tell Joe about my visit. As it was, I had my doubts that Roy would ever really shape up. Oh, he might actually stick by his word and try to be a better father, but until he could take full responsibility for his addictions, he’d always be blaming someone or something else for his problems.
I rinsed my hair and turned off the water, stepping out of the shower as Joe handed me a towel. “Thanks. I’m worried sick, though. Who could be stalking Murray, and why? And if this psycho’s taking potshots at Jimbo, then he’s serious.”
“How do you know it’s a he?” Joe asked.
“What?” The thought that the stalker might be a woman hadn’t occurred to me. “Usually women stalk men, don’t they? If a woman was stalking Jimbo, wouldn’t she have sent presents to him and shot at Murray?”
“I’m just saying, don’t make any broad generalizations until you know for sure. Who knows? Maybe some woman has fallen for Murray and is angry that she’s with a man? It happens.” Joe smacked me soundly on the butt as I padded over to the vanity and peered at myself in the mirror. I turned around, eyeing him, and he raised one eyebrow. “Ms. O’Brien, would you like to retire to the bedroom?”
“I would indeed, however, I’m going to be late for the fitting of my wedding dress so you’ll have to hold that thought for later. We don’t want to aggravate your injury, either, so maybe we’d better hold off for a day.” I returned to the bedroom, searching for the corset and panties I’d be wearing under the dress. You could never be too careful with special-occasion outfits. Always best to wear the foundation garments you were planning to wear with the dress when you went to have it altered. The wrong bra—especially for someone with boobs my size—could make or break a look.
Joe followed me, stretching out on the bed. “My shoulder’s not what I was planning on using,” he grumbled, but gave me a good-natured grin. “Wow, that’s hot,” he added, as I cinched the ivory bustier a little tighter.
I grinned at him as I shook Rose’s gift out of the velvet bag into my hand. Once again, I had the feeling something was off and, as I reached up to fasten the necklace around my throat, I couldn’t go through with it.
“Damn it!” I dropped to the vanity bench and stared at the chain of crystal beads. This was getting ridiculous.
“What’s wrong, sweetie?” Joe slowly pushed himself to a sitting position. “Everything okay?”
“No,” I said, frustrated. “There’s something weird about this necklace Rose gave me. I love it, but every time I wear it, I get dizzy, and now I’m nervous about putting it on at all. I guess I’ll have to wait until I have more time for scrying. I was going to ask Murray and White Deer to look it over for me, too. I’ve been so preoccupied that I’m finding it hard to focus on the crystals when I try to tune into the energy.”
He frowned. “Just leave it home, then. You don’t really need to wear it today, do you?”
I slowly slid the necklace back into the velvet bag and put it in my jewelry box. “I guess not. I wanted to make sure it worked with the outfit, but I can do that later.”
As I reached for my peach chiffon skirt and a tan tank top, I glanced in the full-length mirror. Even though I was comfortable with my looks, I never thought of myself as particularly sexy or beautiful. But this time, I felt like I was looking in the pages of a lingerie magazine. The corset was embossed, tone-on-tone ivory, with a delicate floral design. The panties matched. Thanks to my yoga, I’d toned up a little and, while I’d never be a size six, I didn’t really care. I looked better than I had in years. And part of it, I knew, was directly thanks to being in love and happy again. Turning away slowly, it occurred to me that, for once, I knew what it was like to
feel
beautiful. Really beautiful.
 
 
AFTER I’D DRIED my hair and grabbed my purse, I headed down to the dress shop. The title for the bike was in my purse. As much as I appreciated the guys’ goodwill, I was planning on having Murray run a background check on it first to make sure everything was on the up-and-up. The last thing I needed was a hot chopper in my possession.
I turned onto Hawthorn Boulevard five blocks north of the Chintz ’n China and managed to find a parking spot just around the corner from the Bridal Veil. As I approached the shop, a nagging feeling tapped at the back of my brain. I tried to shake it away; usually that feeling meant trouble, and more trouble was the last thing I needed. But when I rounded the corner and pushed on the door, I knew the universe had once again dropped a speed bump in my path.
The shop was closed. Not just closed, but the window displays had been torn apart. Anxiously, I cupped my hands around my eyes and peered inside. From what I could see, the place looked in total disarray, and the racks of gowns were nowhere to be seen.
Shit! What the hell? I forced myself to remain calm and set my purse on the sidewalk, flipping through my Day-Timer till I found Janette’s home number. I pulled out my cell phone and punched the keys, trying to keep my cool. A loud beep sounded, then a voice announced, “This number has been disconnected. If you think you dialed in error, please hang up and try again.”
Cripes. Maybe I’d punched in the wrong number? It couldn’t hurt to try again. I dialed Janette once more, making sure I hit each key correctly. Again the beep and the voice. Oh, hell. Bloody freakin’ hell. I dialed the Bridal Veil’s number and again, the same message.
Now
it was time to panic. I dropped my phone back in my purse and pounded on the door.
“My dress is in there!” I shouted. And then I saw Tilda, the shop cat, pacing back and forth in front of the door, meowing. Had Janette abandoned her cat? Anger welled up as I thought of Nanna’s dress being held hostage. It increased with the thought of the little gray ragamuffin being left to fend for herself in a locked building. I grabbed my phone again and dialed Murray. The minute she came on the line, I started shouting.
“Calm down! Calm down!” She cleared her throat and waited for me to shut up. “Em, now start again and tell me what’s going on.”
“Janette’s disappeared, and my wedding dress is still in her shop. And her cat’s in there. I can’t get her at home—both her home number and her shop number have been disconnected. What am I going to do?” I swallowed the rising swell of panic.
Mur let out a sigh of exasperation. “Well, that frosts it. Okay, I’ll be down there in a few minutes and pick you up. We’ll check out her home address, see if she’s there. If she’s not, we’ll decide what to do next. Hold on, and please calm down. We’ll get your dress.”
While waiting, I tapped on the window, watching as Tilda reached up, trying to touch me through the glass. If Janette had just dumped her, locking her in the shop, I hoped to hell they caught the woman and hauled her ass into court for animal abuse. I couldn’t watch an episode of
Animal Cops
on the Animal Planet station without bursting into tears, and neither could Kip. Randa, either, bless her hard-hearted shell that protected a very vulnerable and gentle nature.
Ten minutes later, Murray pulled up. I’d settled myself on one of the sidewalk benches, staring at the shop as if by focusing my attention, I could make Janette somehow magically appear. Unfortunately, even though I’d seen things resembling miracles, this wasn’t one of those times.
Murray looked through the window, then tried the door. “Come on, let’s go check out her apartment. I found the address. We have to do that before I can make the call to go in. If she’s not there and it looks like she’s disappeared, I can always say that we were worried something might have happened to her, so I had to break into the shop. Bonner wouldn’t give me flak for that.”
I climbed in her car—as head of detectives, she drove one of the unmarked vehicles the station owned—and we zoomed off in the direction of Janette’s home. Located on Brookline Drive, the Wilkenshire Arms was probably the most expensive apartment complex in Chiqetaw. Stately, the building stood four stories high and had recently been painted with a cream-colored fresco faux finish. It reminded me of some old building in southern California, with a clock tower rising a level above the roof.

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