Wedding Day of Murder (2 page)

In addition to her toiletries, Lacy
had dragged a few changes of clothes to the space. Together with the rack of
her biological grandmother’s designer originals, the room looked like the
largest and sparsest walk-in closet on the planet. The contractors had done
their part to fill in the gap. A table saw, ladder, drop-cloth, paint, and
paint paraphernalia littered the space. Lacy had halted work on the project
until her mother went away. When Frannie went back to Florida, then the men
could resume their work. Until then, Lacy needed it too desperately to care how
it looked.

She had just started to shampoo her
hair when she had the prickling sensation that she wasn’t alone. “Hello?” she
called, but the rushing water and large, echoing space swallowed the word. She
turned off the water and listened hard. She heard nothing. “Hello,” she tried
again, louder this time. Her heart thudded painfully against her ribs.
It was nothing, just my imagination,
she
told herself. Relieved, she reached for the faucet again and the lights went
out. It was morning, but the contractors had kindly placed drop cloths over the
windows for maximum privacy. The room was dark; Lacy couldn’t see a thing.
Outside the door, she heard the sound of a boot scraping on the floor. She was
definitely not alone. Not only that, but she was naked and covered in soap and
shampoo. Her little bathroom area had a door but no ceiling. Her walls were eight
feet tall; the walls of the Stakely building soared to twenty feet. She had
never felt more exposed.

She reached for a towel and found
none. At first she panicked and thought the intruder had somehow slipped into
the room and stolen her towel. Then she remembered that she had left it sitting
outside the door. Not only was she a sitting duck, she was a nude sitting duck.
Again she heard a small sound outside the door. Her chances were better in the
warehouse than they were in the tiny bathroom enclosure. She forced herself to
open the door and take a step outside. Where was the towel? She couldn’t find
her clothes.

Her fingers fastened on a canvas
drop cloth. She picked it up and wrapped it around herself like a towel. The
weight of it worked against her and it immediately fell off. She picked it up
again. This time she wrapped it around and around and around, encasing herself
like a sausage. Not only would it not fall off, but also whoever was out there
would have to waste precious time unwrapping her if he wanted to harm her.

The plan was brilliant, or so she
thought until she tried to take a step. While concentrating intently on
covering the vital bits and pieces in her midsection, she had also covered her feet
in a dozen canvas wrappings. She was hobbled, a fact she only realized after
she attempted a step and fell over. She tried to stand up again and couldn’t;
the bindings were too tight. For a moment, she lay in silent consternation.
What was she going to do? In an effort to get away from whomever might be in
the room with her, she had inadvertently gift-wrapped herself. If she died,
everyone would think she had been part of some serial killer’s ritualistic
ceremony.

The sound came again, like a shoe
scraping softly against the floor, as if someone was trying to muffle his
footsteps. She had to go, to get away. If she could just get to the stairs,
then she could escape. She began crawling toward the exit, raising her behind
high in the air and tossing her front half forward like an inchworm. That
worked for a few feet, until her shoulder struck a ladder. The ladder wobbled
precariously back and forth. Lacy prepared herself for the blow in case it came
crashing on top of her. After shaking violently back and forth a few times, it
settled back into position. Unfortunately, the paint can resting on top of it
didn’t. It toppled and clunked Lacy on the head. The good news was that it
wasn’t full and the pain barely registered. The bad news was that the lid wasn’t
on securely. She slapped her hand over her eyes as paint oozed and spilled in a
slow run down her head. It started with her hair and gently slid down her face,
covering her forehead, hand, nose, and cheeks.

The paint was old and had been
exposed to air. It was so thick and gloppy that it stopped short of reaching
her mouth.
My lucky day,
she thought.
When the oozing stopped, she removed her hand from her eyes. The lights were
back on, and a pair of men’s shoes was planted directly in her path.

Chapter 2

Even in the midst of her
humiliation, the shoes were a welcome and familiar sight.

“Oh, hey,” Lacy said. Looking up,
she affected a casual tone.

Jason stared down at her, warring
expressions fleeting through his features. A couple of times he opened his
mouth to speak then shook his head and squatted beside her. “Hey.”

“I don’t suppose you know how to
get paint out of hair. Asking for a friend,” Lacy said.

“Baby oil,” Jason said.

“How do you know that?”

“When we started dating, I bought a
book called,
How to Remove Stains From
Anything.
”

“Smart move,” Lacy said.

“The cover has already worn off and
the binding is cracked,” Jason said. He looked her over, starting at her head
and ending at her feet. “So…nice weather we’re having.”

“Isn’t it, though?” Lacy said.
While they talked, she had been holding her torso aloft with her arms like a
mermaid. Her traitorously weak biceps began to protest and jiggle. She flopped
onto her back. Her hair immediately affixed itself to the ground, warning her
that she needed to get up before it dried that way. “Could you maybe help me
up? Keep in mind that I can’t bend any part of my body between my shoulders and
my toes.”

“Okay,” Jason drawled. “How…is the
stock market today?” He was trying so hard not to ask how she had wound up
wrapped in canvas and stuck to the floor with paint. She should put him out of
his misery and tell him the whole story, but she couldn’t bring herself to
reveal the extent of her paranoia and clumsiness.

“I haven’t checked. I’ve been
busy,” she said. He put his arms around her and levered her to a standing
position.

“You need some help with that
hair?” he asked.

Before she could answer, a movement
to her left caught her attention. Lacy jumped and would have toppled again, but
Jason righted her and turned accusingly toward the intruder.

“What are you doing up here?” he
asked.

Michael stared at them in
open-mouthed surprise; rather, he stared at Lacy. “The lights went out. I was
coming to check on Lacy.”

“In the shower?” Jason said. He and
Michael rarely saw each other. When they did, their interactions were
contentious, usually because Jason made them that way. Michael had no problem
with Jason; Jason had a big problem with Michael. Just a few days ago, Jason
and Lacy had discussed the situation. She had reiterated that he had no need
for jealousy. There was nothing but friendship between her and Michael. They
often worked closely together on Stakely-related causes. He had become a
valuable helper in the fight to advance the local economy. More than that, she
genuinely liked him. But she wasn’t attracted to him. Though he hadn’t said as
much, Lacy knew that Jason would prefer her to have less contact with Michael,
but that wasn’t going to happen. She saw him every day at work, and she refused
to curb her social life to appease his unreasonable jealousy. For the time
being, they had agreed to disagree over the matter.

“I wasn’t going to pop in on her,”
Michael said. “I was simply coming up here to make sure she found her way in
the dark. Looks like she did fine on her own.” His eyes twinkled with merriment
at Lacy’s predicament. He would no doubt put this in the archives and pull it
up whenever he wanted to tease her, and since he liked to tease her all the
time, she would probably hear about it a lot. Maybe for the rest of her life.

Lacy jumped in before Jason could
respond. The less interaction between the two men, the better. “Thanks for
checking, Michael, but I’m doing well.”

Michael laughed. “Clearly.”

Joe, her erstwhile security guard,
appeared as he always did, as if he had been conjured from thin air. One minute
he wasn’t there, and the next he was. Lacy had no idea how he did that. “Lacy,
we’ve got a problem.”

Jason shifted irritably from foot
to foot. “Lacy, why are you allowing people up here? This is your personal
space. It should be off limits. This is not safe.”

“It’s off limits to strangers,”
Lacy defended.

“Did you give them a key?” Jason
asked. He gestured to Joe and Michael.

“Joe has a skeleton key. And so does
Michael. The door to this floor is unlocked, but I did put up a sticky note
that says, ‘Please do not enter,’” Lacy said.

“Well, if you put up a sticky
note,” Jason said. “They’re practically impenetrable. Geez.” He closed his eyes
and squeezed the bridge of his nose.

“What’s the problem, Joe?” Lacy
asked, thankful for a subject change. Jason didn’t believe she took security in
the building seriously enough. She routinely pointed out that nothing ever
happened anyway and she had Joe who practically lived at the building.

“Them,” Joe said. He pointed behind
him to the door. The group of protesters filed in and began chanting.

“What do we want? Equal protection
and fair trade for all nations, whether developed or rural, and an end to sun
grown coffee and chocolate. When do we want it? Now!” The dreadlocked woman who
had verbally attacked Lacy outside seemed to be the leader. She was also the
only one who knew all the words to the chant. The others randomly called out
“coffee” “chocolate” and “fair.” They became cohesive when they reached “now.”
The word echoed around the warehouse, bouncing off the walls so the small crowd
sounded large and intimidating.

For a moment, Jason seemed at a
loss as to know what to do with them. He looked between the woman and his gun
with more than a hint of longing. Finally, his professionalism won out. He
clamped his hand on the woman’s bicep and began dragging her toward the exit.

“You cannot protest inside.
Everyone out, or I will arrest you,” he said.

The group followed their leader. A
few of the stragglers turned to stare at Lacy as they filed past. “Morning,”
she called, adding a friendly wave. “See you. Have a good day.”

“What are you doing?” Michael
asked.

“I thought maybe if I was friendly
enough, they might not notice anything else,” Lacy said.

“There isn’t a big enough smile in
the world to stop them from noticing that you’re naked, wrapped in canvas, and
covered in paint. A better strategy would have been to tell them that this is
some sort of art project,” Michael said. “I’ll spread that story, if you want.”

“That would be great, thank you,”
Lacy said. “I’m going to finish my shower.” Once again Joe had disappeared.
Michael backed toward the exit.

“See you, boss.” He added a little
salute and disappeared, closing the door tightly behind him.

Lacy showered, shampooing her hair
five times to no avail. Some of the paint came out; a lot of it didn’t. She
left the conditioner in and wrapped it in a towel, vowing to lay her hands on
baby oil as soon as possible.

When she stepped outside of the
bathroom, Jason met her with a bottle. “After I took the trash out, I walked to
the store and bought some oil.”

“Thank you,” she said, she reached
for it, but he tugged it back and plucked off her towel.

“Let me,” he said. Lacy wasn’t sure
if it was a romantic gesture or if he simply couldn’t resist a cleaning
challenge.

“Let’s go to my office so we can
sit down,” she said. They walked hand in hand downstairs to her office. Jason
sat in her chair. She sat on the floor in front of him and closed her eyes
while he gently worked oil into her hair and pulled out wads of paint.

“This is tedious,” he said, but he
sounded cheerful.
 

“Not that this isn’t completely
helpful and relaxing, but what are you doing here? Did you take the day off?”

“Sort of,” he said. His tone told
her she wasn’t going to like what was coming next.

“You have to work tonight,” she
surmised.

“I’m sorry. A thing came up, and
Arroyo took it off.”

Detective Arroyo had more seniority
than Jason and therefore first pick of assignments and days off. Lacy secretly
thought he didn’t care about those things and messed with Jason’s schedule to
get to Lacy. “It’s all right,” Lacy said, trying hard to cover her
disappointment.

“I know that you were looking
forward to tonight, and I was too,” he said.

“Aren’t you the sweetest liar?”
Lacy said.

He chuckled. “Well, the thought of
a double date sounded a little Brady Bunch for my tastes, but I did want to
meet Kimber’s guy.”

“He’s not just Kimber’s guy. Andy and
I have been friends since freshman year. I think the four of us could have a
lot of fun,” Lacy said. She hoped that was true. Andy was like her and Kimber,
a late-blooming nerd with a history of social dysfunction. But Jason had
repeatedly proved that he didn’t care about any of those things. If someone was
kind and a good person, then Jason was willing to accept him. Andy was a great
guy and one of the few people Lacy deemed worthy of Kimber.

“I’m sure I’ll get the chance to
meet him again,” Jason said.

“Definitely,” Lacy said. She was
trying hard to be upbeat. It wasn’t his fault that his job had terrible hours
and never seemed to end. Lacy had gone into the relationship with eyes open,
fully aware that his schedule would be a challenge. To complain about the
unchangeable now would be grossly unfair. Sometimes, though, she really hated
his job.

“And I’m still taking you to the
dentist tomorrow,” Jason added.

“You’re a good boyfriend,” Lacy
said. “Maybe the best ever.”

“Definitely,” Jason agreed. “Tell
me again why I get the privilege of driving you to the doctor.”

“Grandma is having cataract
surgery, so Grandpa is going with her. Mom and Riley are going shopping.”

His fingers tensed on her head.
Lacy smiled. The fact that Jason was always on her side was more heartening
than she could convey. “I have to say something,” he began. “I cannot believe
your mother is going shopping with Riley instead of being there for you when
you’re having surgery.”

“In Mom’s defense, it’s just my
wisdom teeth,” Lacy said. “It’s not that big of a deal. I’m the last in my
family to have them removed.”

“When your kid is having surgery,
it’s always a big deal. Or it should be.” His vehement tone bore testimony to
his bitterness; his parents hadn’t been there for him through much of his
growing up years. He had practically raised himself, and though they had
apologized and received help for their alcoholism, Jason retained more than his
share of painful memories.

Lacy moved into his lap and hugged
his neck, resting her cheek comfortingly against his. They sat that way for a
few minutes until she felt him relax, and then she spoke. “I don’t disagree
with you, but you can see that this is sort of a relief for me. Mom and I can
use as much time apart as possible.”

“I suppose,” he grudgingly agreed.
“And since I would want to be there anyway, I might as well be the one who
takes you.”

“You would come to my tooth surgery
even if you weren’t driving me?” Lacy asked.

“Of course I would,” Jason said.
“Surgery is scary. Anytime you have general anesthetic, your risk of death is…”
He stopped talking when she tensed and clutched his shoulders. “Nominal. You’ll
be fine.” He rubbed a slow circle at the base of her spine until she relaxed.

“I’m glad you’ll be there,” Lacy
said. She pressed her face to his neck, inhaling. Jason had become synonymous
with security. She never felt safer or more loved than when she was with him.
Love.
The word rose up to accuse her.
She still hadn’t said it, the three words. What was wrong with her? Why was it so
hard?
Sayitsayitsayit.
She took a
breath.

“I should work on your hair some
more before it dries,” Jason said.

“All right,” Lacy said, thankful
for a reprieve.
Coward.
She slid back
to the floor. Jason worked on her hair for a long time in silence. Lacy closed
her eyes and enjoyed the relaxing feel of his fingers in her hair. She was
nearly asleep when someone tapped on her door. Without waiting for an answer,
her mother pushed open the door and poked her head inside, followed by Riley
who waddled slowly by and sat down.

“Riley and I came to take you to
lunch,” her mother said. “Lacy, what happened to you?”

“Paint,” Lacy said.

Frannie stepped all the way inside
and put her hands on her hips. “How could you do this so closely to Riley’s
wedding? There is no way you can be the maid of honor with white,
paint-streaked hair.”

“Mom, Riley’s already married,”
Lacy said for the umpteenth time. “She’s four months pregnant.”

“It doesn’t count until she has a
real wedding,” Frannie said. “Stop changing the subject. Why would you do this?
I realize a lot of attention has been on Riley lately, but this is no way to
take some of the limelight for yourself.”

Jason’s fingers dug into Lacy’s
scalp. She removed them and gave his hands a squeeze. So far, he had avoided
voicing his opinion in her mother’s presence. She had no idea how long that
would last. Long experience with her mother had taught her that no good was
gained by arguing. Her mother lived in her own world with her own warped
reality, one that often cast Lacy as the villain. To make matters worse,
Frannie was sickly sweet to Jason. She treated him as if he were a
philanthropist who had taken on Lacy as a charity project. It drove Jason
crazy. Everything about her mother drove him crazy; Lacy adored him for that.

“Oh, Jason, look at you, working so
hard to try and put Lacy back together. What a sweet boy you are,” Frannie
said.

“Lacy does a good job of being put
together all on her own,” Jason said.

Frannie laughed. “Good one. Well, I
guess lunch is out. You can’t be seen in public until that gets taken care of.”
She shook her head, sighing expressively. “Come on, Riley.”