Murder on Consignment (19 page)

“Yeah, so. You think you’re the only one entitled to a little fun on the side?”

“I never paraded mine out in public. What are you thinking? Not too smart, especially now that your wife is missing.”

“She’s just off somewhere. She’ll get over it and come home.”

“Yeah, well she’d better show up. There’s too much at stake for her to be running around on the loose. You need to get her under control.”

“I’ll take care of it. I told you I would.” J.J.’s voice was faltering.

“You’d better, or I will.” 

“Like you took care of Alex Sokolov? I guess his death solves a lot of problems
, doesn’t it? Really, Dad, your own son? He
was
your son, wasn’t he?”

I heard some movement and a little thud. I a
ssumed James had pushed J.J. against the wall. “Shut up, J.J. You don’t know what you’re talking…”

“I want a balloon.”

I looked down to see a four foot bundle of energy prancing at my feet. “I want a balloon,” he whined.

I motioned for
him to be quiet, but he persisted. “Balloon, balloon!” He was getting louder and tugging at my bun.

I was trying to shoo him away, when suddenly I felt someone grasp my arm. I looked up to find James’s face boring into mine.

“Hey, let go,” I pleaded, trying to shake him off, but his grip was tight. He dragged me through the crowd and into the men’s room. J.J. was right behind him. Once inside, he backed me against a urinal and yanked off my hotdog head. I reached to try and secure my wig, but was too late. It had faltered and he grabbed ahold of it, too.

It was just like all the ending scenes in Scooby Doo where Velma rips off the villain’s disguise and announces his true identity.
Aha…it’s not really a hotdog, it’s … it’s….

“It’s that crazy red haired woman,” JimDog announced. Then, momentarily confused by my new brunet
te coloring, he grabbed a hold of my real hair and yanked again.

“Ouch!” I shrieked. Then, with all my might, I kicked him in the shin.

He doubled over and dropped a few cuss words. Seizing the opportunity, I opened the bathroom door and ran like the dickens. I ran through the restaurant, out the side door, and straight towards my rental, all the while fumbling for my keys inside the hotdog suit. J.J. was right behind me and closing in fast.

Luckily I found my keys
and slipped into the car just before he caught up to me. I clicked and double checked the locks. He started banging on my window like a crazed lunatic.

“Take an easy. This is a rental!” I yelled out.

He kept banging.

I jammed the keys into the ignition, peeled out and
left J.J. in my exhaust. Right before leaving the lot, I glanced in my mirror and saw him making a rude gesture my way. The Farrell men really lacked class.

*

It wasn’t easy driving while wearing half a hotdog costume, but I managed to put some distance between the two JimDogs and myself before my cell started to ring.

I made a quick pull over in a gas station lot and dug my phone out of my bag. I expected it to be Sean, but it was my mother.

“Hi Mom. I’m kind of busy right now, can—”

“Kind of busy? Do you know what time it is?”

“Uh—”

“It’s after three o’clock.”

I didn’t get it. The wedding wasn’t going to start until seven. “Okay…”

“Do
n’t you remember that the photographer is going to meet us there at five for pictures?”

I thought back. “No. When did you tell me that?”

“Last night at the rehearsal.”

Oh
, no wonder I didn’t remember; I was probably already half-baked when she told me. “No problem, Mom. I can be there at five. I’ll go home and change now.”

“You’re not being a very good maid of honor. You should be here attending to Cherry. She’s a nervous wreck.”

She was right, I wasn’t being a good maid of honor. Although, technically, I was just the fill-in maid of honor. At least I was better than Willow who had got herself into major trouble with the law. Speaking of which, I hoped Sean didn’t catch up to me until the wedding, or I could find myself in the same predicament. That would really upset my mother.

“I’m sorry, Mom. I’m on my way.” I snapped my phone shut and headed for home, promising myself that I’d put the case out of my mind for a while. I needed to focus on Cherry and her big
day. I was going to be the best maid of honor ever, despite the ugly dress.

Chapter 23

Who knew
a cheap rent-a-wreck could do over eighty-five so smoothly? Not bad for thirty-seven a day, plus tax. The little rental wonder got me back to Naperville in a forty-five minutes flat. Of course, I got a few weird looks along the way. Guess people weren’t used to seeing half a hotdog zipping down the freeway in a tiny compact.

I ripped into my drive, pausing for a moment to check for signs of possible police surveillance. I coul
dn’t believe that Sean had let me get by with taking off that morning. He must have figured he’d catch me at the wedding. Hopefully, he didn’t plan to remove me from the festivities in shackles.

I shot up my steps, stripped off the hotdog costume, and hit the shower for a quick rinse. The steam ma
de my curls turn to frizz, but no problem.  I simply twisted and secured them with a clip. A quick smear of mascara and lip gloss and I was wedding-ready.

I grabbed the dress and started to pull it over my hips. Uh, oh. It was kind of tigh
t. How did that happen? It fit a couple of days ago. It must be PMS. That would explain a lot of things.

I danced around, bending and squatting, trying to get the material to stretch; but the pumpkin-colored polyester proved resistant to my efforts. So, out of desperation, I stripped back down and ran to my inventory boxes. I ripped and tore through clothing until I found it—a
Lipo-In-A-Box Girdle. I’d picked it up for a steal at the Salvation Army. I had seen it featured on an episode of a daytime talk show’s favorite picks not too long ago and … well … if anyone needed lipo in a box, it was me.

Somehow, I managed to h
ike the flesh-colored-spandex instrument of torture up over my behind and onto my torso. Then, I tried the dress again. Perfect, except for the fat rolls under my pits and well … I didn’t even dare turn around in fear of seeing back fat. At least I got it to zip. Everything was great, unless I needed to eat, drink, or take a deep breath. The price of beauty.

I put on the matching pumpkin died shoes and trotted right over to the house. The whole gang was there, minus the guys, who were banished from the area. Aunt Maeve was busy fussing over Cherry, who was decked out in a cowgirl wedding dress, complete with white accessories—a fringed jacket, cow-girl hat, and rhinestone accented boots.

“There you are,” she gushed as I approached. “Oh, you look great in that color, especially with your new hair. I just love it.”

I didn’t think her compliment was valid, es
pecially coming from a girl who was going to her wedding looking like she’d just stepped off the set of
Gunsmoke
—before they added Technicolor. I’d be going back to red real soon, despite the police sketch.

“What do you think,” she asked, picking up a piece of tulle and attaching it to the brim of the hat. “Veil or no veil?  It just sticks on with Velcro, so I can go either way.”

“Uh…”  I was speechless. The room grew silent waiting for my reply. I could tell this had been a hot issue before my arrival. I looked at my mother for help. She was wearing a pained expression.

Mary Frances spoke up. “Maybe on for when you walk down the aisle, but off for the reception?” 

“Yes. Great idea,” I agreed. Cherry smiled. Everyone breathed easier. Leave it to Mary Frances to come up with an amiable solution.

After another few minutes of fussing, we all took off for
Stumpy’s. I opted to ride with my sister, Kathleen, and her family in their minivan. There was no way I was going to be able to scrunch my lipo-in-a-box body behind the wheel of the subcompact. As it was, I could hardly manage with the whole back bench of the minivan. Worse yet, the stupid thing was squeezing all the liquid right out of me. I had to go to the bathroom before we even got out of the driveway.

Fortunately,
Stumpy’s had set up a few extra porta-potties just for our family’s special occasion. Someone had also set up a flower covered arch and two large baskets of mums where I assumed Cherry and John were going to take their vows. Instead of chairs, straw bales were arranged in long rows, each bail dressed with a large white bow. Off to the side was a huge bonfire, where we’d gather later to roast weenies, chug beer, and … if I was lucky, put together a few smores. After which, we could all mosey over to the pavilion where a mobile dance floor had been laid out and a couple of fellows were busy testing amplifiers. Although, since the only instruments I could see were a fiddle, a banjo, and a squeeze box, I’m not sure what needed to be amplified.  

“Isn’t this wonderful,” Cherry said, squeezing my arm and leading me toward the flowered arch.

“Wonderful,” my mother echoed.

I just nodded and smiled. I kept on smiling right on through the ten million pictures that ensued. Maeve and Chuck must have allocated most of the wedding budget to the photography category. Just my luck. I would be forever archived as a giant, dark-haired pumpkin.

Guests began to arrive, just as the sun was starting to set. I spied Sean right away. He didn’t look too happy; but at least he wasn’t wielding hand cuffs.

I took my place in line for the procession and waited while the fiddler stepped forward and raised his instrument. The crowd grew quiet. I grimaced, ha
lf expecting him to break into a lively rendition of
The Devil Went Down to Georgia
. However, to my surprise, he played a beautiful Canon in D-major.

I must say, the cere
mony went much better than I anticipated. Actually, it was quite nice. The sun, dipped under the horizon just as Cherry and John took their first kiss as husband and wife. From there, they walked hand in hand with a giant torch and lit the bonfire in some sort of symbolic gesture that was lost on me. Next, the guests had a choice of getting in a line for pulled pork sandwiches or roasting a weenie on the open fire. No room for vegetarians at this gig.

It was all just crazy enough to be fun. Spirits were high and both sid
es of the families seemed to mix well. The band had started a lively tune when Sean approached. I couldn’t help but notice how good he looked in his dark jeans and button down shirt.

“Hey, looking good, Sean,” I said, hoping to lighten the inevitable
quarrel that was sure to follow.

He gave me the once over, raised a skeptical brow, but made no comment concerning the
dress I was wearing. Instead, he placed a firm hand on my back and guided me out of the food line. “We’re going down to the station together as soon as you can break away from here. I can’t believe you took off this morning. I trusted you.”

“You knew where I was. You could have come after me anytime you wanted,” I retorted.

He tensed. “That wasn’t the point. You were supposed to show up on your own recognizance. A man was murdered. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

Sean was getting all worked up. A guy like him didn’t like to bend the rules. He was as straight as an arrow. If anyone knew that, I did. I mean, how many times did I try to get him to break various rules? Besides, I already knew who
’d murdered Alex Sokolov. I overheard the whole thing at JimDogs. So, as soon as I could get him alone, I’d fill him in on my latest discovery. It was perhaps the biggest break in the case so far. That would sooth his ruffled feathers.

I turned and placed a hand on his shoulder, giving him my most reassuring look. “No problem. I was planning on heading in soon anyway. Just let me eat, and make a little merry, and I’ll be on my way.”

“No merry. You had enough of that last night.”

“Right. Hey what’s this?” I asked, turning the collar of his shirt over.

He shrugged away, but it was too late. I knew exactly what it was—a lipstick smear.

I grabbed his collar and yanked him in for a closer inspection. “It’s a lipstick stain,” I said through
a clenched jaw. “It’s …” I’d seen the shade before. I knew exactly who it belonged to—Sarah Maloney.

“Listen,
Pippi. This isn’t what it seems. She—”

I swallowed a couple of times, willing myself to stay calm. “No wonder you didn’t come after me today. You were too busy with Sarah!” I spat out her name and spun on my heels. I didn’t get two steps away before he spun me back around. He had his hands
on my forearms, pinning them to my sides. Try as I might, there was no way to get off a good face slap. So instead, I kicked. Only the dress was acting like an orange straight jacket around my lower torso. I kicked and kicked and only managed to land a small one on his shin. “I can’t believe you’ve gone back to her!”

“Would you settle down and let me explain.”

“Excuse me,” a voice interrupted.

I stopped kicking for a second and looked up to see Mary Frances.

“Please tell me this is some sort of new country western dance I’m not familiar with,” she said, giving me the ‘eye’.

I instantly simmered down. Sean let go of me
and greeted my sister. “Hello, Mary Frances.”

Mary Frances smiled. “Always good to see you, Sean,” she said warmly. “Do you mind if I steal my sister for a few minutes? Something’s come up.”

I could tell Sean was reluctant to let me go. I’m sure he thought I might make another run for it.

“Sister Eileen just called me,” my sister sa
id in a hushed tone once she finally pulled me away from Sean. “Morgan’s at St. Benedict.”

“St. Benedict?” I almost laughed
out loud. Morgan at a convent? 

“Yes, Sister says she’s in hysterics. She keeps mumbling something about sanctuary.”

“You mean like sanctuary from the law. What did she do?” My mind immediately flashed to Alex.
It had been Morgan all along. How could I have missed it? She was the one with the most motive—that stupid house! She wanted that house more than anything. She’d somehow found out about the document in the book. It must have proven that Alex was entitled to his share of JimDog stock. She’d killed two women, but failed to get her hands on it. Of course, that night at the hotel she was trying to seduce him in order to get ahold of it. It must not have worked, so the only thing left to do was kill Alex. Otherwise the share of the stock holdings she’d gain from divorcing J.J. would be drastically reduced.

I glanced over to where Sean, the two-timing jerk was waiting, with his eyes glued to me. I should really tell him about this new information but then I preferred to have him feel like a stupid idiot if I single handedly solved three murders.

“Pippi!” My sister was shaking me back to reality. “We should head over to St. Benedict, don’t you think?”

“I’m supposed to make a toast—”

“Don’t worry. I’ve already talked to Maggie. She’s going to cover for you.”

“Yeah, but Sean is watching.”

She looked over at Sean and smiled sweetly. “Okay, wait here and act natural. I’ll take care of it. Just be ready to make a break for it.”

She took off before I could get an explanation.
So, I headed back over to the buffet line, grabbed a plate and started loading up. I hadn’t even made it to the baked beans before Sean was next to me.

“Have you calmed down yet?” he asked. “I want to talk about this.”

I slapped a pile of beans on my plate, sending little brown splatters everywhere. “Look, Sean. I’ve had it with you,” I said, struggling over the racket coming from the pavilion where the band had started playing again. “I give up. You obviously have some sort of problem with commitment. You couldn’t commit to me, you couldn’t commit to Sarah. One day you’re flirting with me, then the next you’re kissing Sarah. Well, I’m not going to be played like this.”

He reached out for me. I backed up, wound up, and raised my plate. This guy was going to get his dinner the hard way.

“There you are!” It was Maggie. She glommed onto Sean’s arm, saving him from a face full of baked beans. “I’ve been looking for you. My daughter’s class is doing a unit on community helpers and she’s decided to do her report on police officers. Can she pick your brain for a couple of minutes? I promise I won’t keep you two apart for very long.”

I lowered my plate and gave Maggie a knowing look. Mary Frances was good.

Sean, of course, obliged Maggie’s request. As soon as they were a safe distance away, I made a break for the parking lot. Mary Frances intercepted me. “Come on, my car’s over here. I’ve already called Patricia. She was so happy to hear that Morgan’s alive. She’ll catch up with us at St. Benedict.”

It was a quiet
car ride. We both were lost in our own thoughts. I’m not sure what Mary Frances was thinking about, but I was chastising myself for not seeing through Morgan’s innocent act. Here I thought that she might be in danger, when all along she was the killer. How’d she do it?  She must have been partnered with Alex from the get-go. Once the deeds were done, she eliminated him, too. I was going to get a confession from her then call the police and watch her little designer-clad butt being hauled away.

Okay, maybe my sentiments were a little twisted. The girdle was making me crazy. By the time we turned into the parking lot, my face was turning blue from lack of oxygen.

“Are you feeling okay?” Mary Frances asked, parking in the circular drive in front of the main entrance.