by Dylann Crush
The threat of someone discovering the fake engagement paled in comparison to the threat of finding out his dad and pops were into something much more sinister. As he scrolled down another web page, Shotgun sat up from where she’d been lying at his feet and whined.
“Need to go out, girl?” He patted her head, still not comfortable with the fact that she was going to be a mother. As an only child he’d never had to care for anyone or anything younger than him. Sure, they’d had kittens from the barn cats and an occasional calf or two but that fell under his grandfather’s jurisdiction. Bodie might have helped a little bit but raising animals was typically left to the ranch hands.
He clipped Shotgun’s leash onto her collar and led her out of the stuffy office. Shotgun sniffed along the mulched flower bed before heading toward the bushes on the side of the building. While he waited for her to do her business, his phone buzzed in his pocket.
Dad. The text wasn’t really an invitation to lunch, it was more of a demand. Bodie hadn’t talked to his dad or his pops since the blowout they’d had. His desire to keep his family safe battled with his need to get to the bottom of whatever asinine plan they had. It was time to come clean. If he wanted to be able to help them dig themselves out of the hole they’d fallen into, they’d have to trust him.
He was about to respond when a text from Lacey lit up the screen.
We need to meet. Can you come to the funeral home at 3pm?
The funeral home? About what?
Spreadsheet’s done. We need to sync schedules and I need to show you something.
Her and her damn spreadsheet. If he left soon he could chat with Dad and Pops and still have time to meet her by three. What could she possibly want to show him at the funeral home though? Knowing Lacey, it could be anything. The thought of her all decked out in white sent a cold shiver through him. She’d make a beautiful bride. Someday. For someone else.
What would Luke say when he found out about the phony wedding? If all went well, he never would. Bodie would follow Lacey’s lead and let her figure out the plan. He had his hands full enough with his own family issues.
* * *
* * *
Twenty minutes later his dad greeted him as he walked into the office. “You said you needed to see me?”
Dad stood and walked around his desk. “I think it’s about time we put this deal to bed, don’t you?”
“I told you, I’m not going to fix the election. Now, why don’t you come clean with me and tell me exactly what’s been going on?”
“That won’t be necessary.” Mayor Little swiveled around in a chair, a thick cigar clenched between his teeth. “We’ve got some business to discuss.”
“What’s this?” Bodie spread his hands. “I told you, I’m not selling out to Swynton. I don’t care about the sheriff’s job. Just tell me what your involvement is in the cigar-smuggling ring. If all goes well I can use the info you give me as a bargaining chip and we can figure out who’s at the top of the line.”
“Deputy Phillips”—Mayor Little stood—“you may want to rethink your options.”
Bodie’s head shook from side to side. “I’ve made my decision. The cigar ring is going down.”
“Even if it means taking your entire family with it?” Buck’s eyes gleamed.
“Dad? Want to tell me exactly what your role is in this? Who are you working with?”
His father didn’t speak but the look in his eyes said more than if he’d launched into a long-winded explanation.
Bodie turned his attention to Buck. “You seem to be running the show. Why don’t you tell me exactly what’s going on?”
“Oh, I will. But first we need to make sure you’re not going to do anything with the information we share. A little insurance, if you will.” Buck slid his phone out of his pocket.
“What’s he talking about, Dad?”
“I didn’t mean for it to come to this.” Dad hung his head. Bodie had never seen him look so haunted, so wrung out, so low.
If he thought his dad and pops had been messing around, Bodie’s mind was completely blown by the image staring back at him from Mayor Little’s phone screen. Lacey stared into the camera, her eyes smudged with makeup from crying, her cheeks stained pink, probably from shock and embarrassment.
“Where did you get your hands on that?” Bodie asked.
“I happen to have a penchant for mug shots. You think the people of Idont—”
“She’s changing the name to Ido,” Bodie corrected.
“Doesn’t matter. When the folks see their beloved mayor splashed across the front page of the paper they won’t care what name she wanted to call the town. I can see it now.” Buck lifted a hand and made his point by punching the air with his palm. “Small-town Texas mayor arrested for assaulting an officer.”
Bodie’s hands clenched into fists at his sides. He couldn’t overreact. That would just fuel whatever fire Buck had started building. “What do you want?”
“I think you know, Son.” Buck slid his phone back inside his linen blazer.
“Fine, the beavers are yours. Cigars, too. I’ll go get them tonight and meet you wherever you want.” He couldn’t let Lacey take the fall for something his family had started, not even if he went down with them.
Buck waved the notion away like a pesky fly. “That’s the least of it.”
“Then what?” Bodie spread his arms wide, at a loss. Obviously Buck was in charge of whatever his dad and pops were involved in. What more could he want than the damn cigars?
Buck tapped his cigar against the ashtray on Bodie’s dad’s desk. “Find anything interesting while you were digging around in the yard the other night?”
Bodie’s forehead creased and he rubbed at a knot in his shoulder as he tried to make sense of Buck’s question. “I was filling in holes from the armadillos.”
“You sure those critters are what made those holes?” Buck kicked his feet up on the edge of the desk, making it crystal clear who was running the show.
“You buried something in the yard, didn’t you?” Bodie stepped forward and slammed his hand down on the desk. “You sick sonofabitch. There’s something out there you can’t get your hands on now, isn’t there?”
Buck tapped a finger to his forehead as he cast a long look at Bodie’s dad. “I knew you got the smarts in the family.”
“What’s out there?” Bodie crossed his arms over his chest, his patience for Buck’s style of fun and games quickly dissipating.
“I want to make you an offer. You get me what I want and I don’t leak your girlfriend’s picture to the AP. Sound good?” Buck offered a hand.
Bodie ignored it. “I’m not willing to consider any kind of offer until you tell me everything.”
“Your boy’s got a backbone.” Buck spit the words out toward Bodie’s dad. “Turns out your pops didn’t necessarily trust the local bank with his savings.”
“What?” Bodie glanced to his dad. “What’s he talking about?”
Finally, his dad shifted in his seat and a little bit of color returned to his face. “Pops was his own bank. He preferred to keep his cash right under his nose.”
“You mean . . .”
“Yes. Your grandfather stashed pockets of cash all over the yard of the house. Figured with it being so close to the warehouse and under the town’s protection that it would be a safe place to store it.”
“And he can’t go dig it up himself?” Bodie asked.
Dad shook his head. “He doesn’t necessarily know we’re going after it.”
“Whoa.” Bodie put his palms out. “There’s no way I’m crossing Pops.”
“Would it make a difference if I told you it’s not his?” Dad asked. “He owes some very dangerous people quite a bit of cash.”
“Then why won’t he dig it up himself?” Bodie asked. Even though his p
ops might bend the law from time to time, his word was as good as gold. “Pops always honors his commitments.”
“Not this time.” Dad lowered his head. “Our customers lost patience with the disruption in service. Buck sent him up to Oklahoma to stall. But we’re not going to have enough, not unless we make up the rest with the stash from the yard.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Bodie wiped the back of his hand across his brow.
“Wish I was. Then we’d all be happy,” Buck said. “I’ve agreed to help your grandfather out this time. But I still need to answer to my higher-ups. You get me fifty grand from the yard and I’ll let your grandfather live. Oh, and keep little Lacey Cherish from gracing the front page of the paper.”
Bodie slid his gaze from Buck to his dad. “Pops doesn’t know about this?”
“He hasn’t checked his stash in years,” Dad said as he handed Bodie a creased piece of paper.
“What’s this?” Bodie took it, recognizing his grandfather’s chicken-scratch writing.
“A map. Just take some from each hole until you get what Buck needs. Pops will never know and we’ll get him off the hook. Lacey, too.”
“And then you’ll leave everyone alone?” Bodie directed the question to Buck.
“You’ve got my word.” Buck held two fingers up like he was making some sort of pledge.
Bodie regretted the words before he even uttered them, wishing he could take them back as they spilled from his mouth. “Fine, I’m in.”
“Great. I realize this will take quite a bit of effort so I’ve decided to be generous. You’ve got a month. If I don’t have that cash in hand by then you can kiss your pops and your mayor’s future good-bye.”
Bodie waited until Buck swaggered out the door until he turned on his father. “What the hell were you thinking? Do you have any idea what kind of position you’ve put me in?”
“Would have been a hell of a lot easier if you’d gotten us the damn beavers when we asked for them in the first place.” Dad cradled his head in his hands.
Bodie’s palm smacked the edge of the desk. “Would have been a hell of a lot easier if you’d been straight with me from the get-go.”
Dad looked up, his eyes streaked with pink lines like he hadn’t slept in days. The side of his face still held a greenish-purplish tinge. “I guess we both learned something from this experience.”
Not wanting to justify that remark with any kind of a response, Bodie took a final, long look at his dad then folded up the treasure map and slid it into his back pocket. His grandfather and father had sealed their own fate. But Lacey . . . she was only trying to do the right thing. He couldn’t let her take the fall for something his family had done. He needed to come through for her on this, and sooner rather than later. Hopefully she’d never find out about it.
thirty-four
Lacey flipped through pictures of funeral wreaths. Some were shaped like horseshoes, some like hearts. Flowers in every color of the rainbow decorated the wire frames. That wasn’t exactly what she had in mind when she’d set up the appointment to chat about flowers. Since Adeline canceled and took all of her vendors with her, Lacey would have to get creative when it came to finding people to help her with wedding plans if she wanted to keep the business local. They didn’t have a local florist so she’d reached out to the only place in town that used flowers on a regular basis . . . the funeral home.
Bodie pushed through the door, his boots not making a sound on the plush carpet. He took the seat next to her in the front room. “Hey. Sorry I’m a few minutes late.”
“That’s okay. I was just looking through some of our options.” She turned the photo album toward him so he could see. “I think I’m leaning toward the heart-shaped wreath with the Holding You in Our Hearts banner.”
Bodie’s eyes widened. “Really?”
“No, not really. But Suzy hasn’t ever done a wedding, just a corsage or boutonniere for a dance or two so she didn’t have any pictures to look at.” Without thinking she set her hand on top of his in an effort to ease his concern.
“And you’re sure you don’t want to find a florist in Swynton or bring in someone else?”
She let her hand drop from his and leaned back in her chair. “If we’re going to be wedding central we need to be able to offer all of the services a bride will need. Besides, Adeline booked everyone else for the same date. She’s still mad at me about ruining her party. Suzy can handle it, I’m sure.”
Speaking of Suzy, the front doors opened and the woman rushed in amid a whirlwind of flowers, papers, and bright red hair. Lacey and Bodie both made a move to help. Bodie grabbed a large wire easel dragging behind her while Lacey bent to pick up the papers strewn across the floor.
“I’m so sorry I’m late.” Suzy bustled over to the coffee table and dumped the contents of her arms on the sparkling glass top. “I had a woodchuck to finish up.”
Bodie tilted his head toward Lacey, a question in his eyes.
“Suzy works full-time for the taxidermist out on Highway 87.” Lacey set the papers she’d gathered on the table before taking her seat again.
“How interesting,” Bodie said. He moved the easel holding a wreath of fake orange roses closer to where the women sat.
“I usually only do flowers when someone dies,” Suzy twittered. “My husband says I just can’t get enough of being around stiffs.”
Lacey’s gaze flew to Bodie, who bit back a laugh. “Thanks so much for meeting with us.”
“What’s the occasion?” Suzy asked. “Are we talking cremation, closed casket or open? Jacinda does a great job on lips if you need someone to do the makeup. So lifelike, you’d hardly know they were dead.”
“Um, we have another kind of event in mind,” Lacey said. “We’re not ready to go public quite yet”—she reached for Bodie’s hand—“but Bodie and I are engaged.”
Suzy stood stock-still, her mouth agape. For a split second Lacey wondered if her news had given the poor woman a heart attack.
“We were hoping you’d be able to do flowers for the wedding.” Bodie squeezed Lacey’s hand, infusing her with a jolt of confidence.
“Suzy?” Lacey prodded.
“Well, hell’s bells. A wedding. The two of you?” Suzy moved her pointer finger from Lacey to Bodie and back again.
“Yes.” Lacey cleared her throat and summoned a smile. Breaking the news wasn’t quite as hard as she thought it would be. At least this time. “We’re planning a wedding for the middle of May at the Phillips House. I’m sure you’ve heard it’s being restored and reopening as an event center?”
Suzy laced her hands over her belly and giggled. “I sure did. What a crackpot idea.”
Lacey’s pulse twinged against her temple. “Since the import business closed its doors, we’re hoping the event center will create jobs for all of the workers who have been displaced.”
“Oh.” A slight burp escaped through Suzy’s orange-painted lips. “Excuse me.”
“Will you help us?” Bodie leaned in. “With the flowers? Lacey’s trying to build up the town, put us on the map, and give everyone something to work toward together.”
“I see.” Suzy flipped through the stack of papers on the table. “I haven’t done a wedding before. Closest thing I’ve ever done was a double funeral for a couple of married teacup poodles. I have pictures here somewhere.”
Bodie scooted forward in his chair. “Did you just say married pood—”
“We’d love to see them,” Lacey interrupted.
While Suzy searched for the photos, Bodie cleared his throat. “We’re trying to keep this quiet for now so we’d appreciate your discretion.”
“Oh, don’t you worry about that.” Suzy waved a hand in the air as she set a color-printed sheet on top of the stack. A small bouquet sat on top of a tiny casket. Miniature white roses were strewn around the edge
s, caught up with clusters of ribbons and netting. “They were so small they put them in one together.”
“That’s just lovely.” Lacey gave Bodie’s hand a squeeze. “Isn’t it lovely, sugar bum?”
“Sure is. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Lacey could tell by the wide eyes he was telling the truth. She’d never seen or heard of anything like it, either. But with time running short and no other option, she swallowed any doubts and thrust her hand at Suzy. “You’re hired.”
“But you haven’t seen all of my pictures. I’ve got a great one here somewhere of a float I did for the funeral home for the county fair a few years back.” Papers fell to the floor as she shuffled through.
“It’s okay, I’ve seen enough to know you’re the one for us.” Lacey pumped Suzy’s hand up and down. “We’re thinking something pretty simple. Do you have any suggestions?”
Suzy glanced from Lacey to Bodie and back again. “Well, if the wedding is in May you know tulips will be in season. I could do a bouquet of tulips with some accents of freesia.”
“I love it.” Lacey glanced at Bodie. “Anything to add?”
He shook his head. “No, this is your big day, Sweets. I want it to be everything you’ve ever dreamed of.”
Lacey furrowed her brow. He was being awfully accommodating. She knew him well enough to know that could mean only one of two things: either he truly didn’t give a rat’s ass about what kind of flowers they had at their fake wedding, or he was going along because he wanted something.
With her pen flying over her notepad, Suzy counted aloud. “Two dozen, no, probably need three for the bridal bouquet. How many bridesmaids?”
“Oh.” How had she missed that question on the quick wedding-planning checklist she’d downloaded from the Internet? Who would she ask to stand next to her? The only person who came to mind was Zina, and she’d probably pitch a fit when she heard the news. “Probably just one.”