If It's Not One Thing, It's a Murder

by Liz Wolfe

  “Well, I met this really nice man. Skye, you met him in the shop a couple of weeks ago. His name is Derek.”

  “I remember. I didn’t get to talk to him much, though.”

  “We’ve developed a definite affection for each other.”

  “Are you kidding, Lily? You already have a husband and a lover.” Bobbi Jo laughed and pointed at me. “And you think I’m nuts?”

  We’d been friends too long for Lily to take offense at Bobbi Jo’s words.

  “Oh, I don’t expect you to understand. I’ve never thought polyamory was for everyone. But it works for me. And for Grant and Kyle, too.”

  “But a third man?” I really couldn’t even imagine how tangled that would be. “How can you divide yourself between three men?”

  “It doesn’t really feel like I’m dividing myself,” Lily said. “And over the years Grant and Kyle and I have worked out a kind of schedule.”

  “You mean for sex?” Bobbi Jo asked.

  “For having time with each other, although that also includes time for sex.”

  “So, how’s that work? Like you have Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays with one guy and the rest of the week with the other?” Bobbi Jo asked.

  “Something like that. But we don’t have specific days. I usually spend a few nights with each of them.”

  “Just how often do you have sex?” I asked. I’d known about Lily’s polyamory relationship since I’d met her, but somehow I’d never considered just how often she was having sex.

  “It varies, but it’s probably about five times a week, sometimes more.”

  “Five times a week?” I sat back stunned. Craig and I had never had sex more than twice a week. And that was only in the months following our wedding. Of course, it might have been different if I’d been married to a heterosexual man.

  “And just how are you going to fit another man into that?” Bobbi Jo asked.

  “Well, relationships aren’t just about sex. Besides, Grant and Kyle aren’t sure about it.”

  “I guess they would have an opinion about it,” I said.

  “They aren’t completely opposed to it. But they’ve grown comfortable with just the three of us,” Lily said. “Anyway, I should probably forget about it until after Jasmine’s wedding. That’s my other problem.”

  “I thought everything was all settled for her wedding.” Jasmine hadn’t seemed the least bit distressed when I’d talked to her in Lily’s shop.

  “It was until her wedding planner decided to run off with David’s father.”

  “Oh, my gawd! She didn’t!”

  “I’m afraid she did. David’s mother, Claire, is not taking it well,” Lily said.

  “I imagine not, but what is Jasmine going to do without the wedding planner?” I asked.

  “I have no idea. The woman returned most of the fee, but the wedding’s less than two months away. There isn’t a wedding planner in town who will take over at this point.”

  “But, surely, everything’s already planned, isn’t it? I mean the caterer, the flowers, all that stuff?” I asked.

  “I think so. But that woman was so ditzy, I’m not sure. Jasmine is at home now going through the folders.”

  “That poor baby.” Bobbi Jo shook her head. “Weddings can be a bitch. I was a bridesmaid more times than I care to remember. That’s one of the reasons Edward and I didn’t have a big wedding.”

  “I remember planning my wedding. Craig and I were engaged for exactly one year because my mother insisted on it. I couldn’t wait to get married.”

  “Did you have a big wedding?” Bobbi Jo asked.

  “Big enough. I think about a hundred guests. And I didn’t even have enough sense to have a wedding planner.”

  “You did it all yourself?” Lily asked.

  “Well, that’s not such a big deal for someone like you,” Bobbi Jo said. “You’re the queen of organization. I’ve seen you throw together a cocktail party in twenty-four hours.”

  “Maybe you could help Jasmine,” Lily suggested.

  “Oh, I don’t know, Lily. Weddings are different now.”

  “But you said you wanted a job. Jasmine can pay you the fee that the wedding planner returned.”

  “I’d never take money from Jasmine.”

  “Well, if you want to do it for free, that’s your choice,” Lily said.

  “Looks like you’re recruited, Skye,” Bobbi Jo said.

  “Okay. I’ll help her pull everything together. If the wedding planner has already arranged everything, then it’s just a matter of keeping everything on schedule. But you two have to help out, too.”

  “Sure, sounds like fun,” Bobbi Jo said.

  “This could turn into a career for you,” Lily said.

  Somehow I didn’t think a bitter divorcée would make a great wedding planner. And I was definitely in the bitter stage. But it was only two months and I really did feel bad for Jasmine. I knew she had her heart set on a special wedding day. Besides, what could go wrong?

  “Now that the wedding issue is settled, let’s get back to this plan of yours, Bobbi Jo,” Lily said.

  “What about it?”

  “Aside from the fact that it’s just a bad idea, aren’t you concerned about what might happen?”

  “What could happen? I’m an adult. I know how to be careful.”

  “What about that stalker you had?”

  “Oh, gawd, that was years ago.”

  I shuddered. Almost ten years earlier, some maniac had been stalking Bobbi Jo. He’d called her at home, often several times a day. He’d followed her when she went shopping. Edward had hired a bodyguard for her. It had gone on for over a year but the police had never been able to do anything about it.

  “John Templeton got twenty years in a Louisiana prison for raping that poor girl. I’ll never hear from him again.”

  “But something like that could happen again,” I said.

  “Believe me, darlin’, something like that only happens once in a lifetime. Besides, it’s not like I’m going to go to the sleaziest bars in town to pick up men. I’m going to pick and choose from the best men in Portland.”

  I thought Bobbi Jo’s plan had disaster written all over it, but it was obvious she wasn’t going to listen to me or Lily. All we could do was be there for her when it fell apart.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Skye! Thank the Goddess you’re here.” Jasmine jumped up from the kitchen table and wrapped her arms around me. “I can’t thank you enough for doing this.”

  “Hey, what are friends for?” I gave her a hug and sat at the table, carefully moving one of the stacks of papers.

  “Well, I don’t know if you’re going to be calling me a friend for long. This is a mess. I mean, I thought Barbara had a lot more done.”

  “It can’t be that bad. We’ll figure it out.”

  “You want some coffee?”

  “Oh, I’d love some. I only had one cup before I left Bobbi Jo’s.” Jasmine fussed with the coffeemaker while I tried to sort some of the papers. There didn’t appear to be any order to the piles of paper. “I’ll be right back. I have to get something from my car.”

  I trotted out to the car, grabbed a large plastic crate, and was back at the table as Jasmine was pouring the coffee.

  “This will help.” I set the crate on the floor next to my chair and took a cup of coffee from her. “Now, we need to go through all this paper and get it organized.”

  “How? It’s just a mess. She didn’t have anything together. I went through all the folders and everything was just jumbled up.”

  “Sit,” I commanded. “And relax. It’s just a matter of going through it one piece at a time.” I picked up a sheet of paper. “Catering estimate. Anything to do with catering goes in this folder.” I pulled a folder from the crate and labeled it.

  “Okay. Here’s one for flowers.” Jasmine handed me another paper. “And this one, too. This one’s for the bridesmaids’ dresses.” Jasmine kept handing papers to me and I filed
them away. By lunchtime, we’d gotten through the piles of paper.

  “See? It really isn’t that hard.” I didn’t tell her that we’d just done the easy part. I wasn’t even sure everything had been ordered, which could be a disaster. Who was I kidding? It would absolutely be a disaster.

  “You are so totally organized, Skye. I’m amazed.” She laughed. “Organization isn’t exactly my strong point.” Jasmine leaned over. “I’ll bet you’re a Virgo. Virgo is a very organized sign.”

  “You’re good. My birthday is September tenth.”

  I stuffed the last folder into the case. “I’ll take this stuff with me and go through everything, then we’ll get together in a couple of days and see where we are. How does that sound?”

  “Great. I can’t tell you how relieved I am. I’ve been spending so much time making my wedding gown that I kind of let this part slide.”

  “You’re making your own gown? I’m impressed.” My own sewing skills were pretty much limited to replacing buttons.

  “All I have left to do is the hem.”

  “Would you like me to pin it up for you?”

  “No, thanks. I mean, I’m sure you’re capable of doing it. I’m just being a control freak about it. I want to do all of it myself. That way if anything is wrong, I only have myself to blame.”

  “I see. Well, if you change your mind, let me know.” I remembered being more than a little obsessive about certain aspects of my own wedding. Maybe I should have paid a little more attention to my choice of the groom.

  “Actually, I could use your help. Will you put the gown on so I can pin up the hem?”

  “Doesn’t it need to be pinned up while you’re wearing it?”

  “We’re the same height,” Jasmine said. “It’ll only take a few minutes.” Jasmine grabbed my hand and dragged me down the hallway to her bedroom. She pulled the ice-blue wedding gown from the closet, laid it on the bed, and left me alone to change. I stripped out of my jeans and shirt, toed off my sandals, and looked in the full-length mirror.

  At forty-two, my figure was still boyish. Small breasts, slim hips. I’d hoped that having Sheridan would fill out my hips and breasts but, except for the six months I was breast-feeding, it hadn’t worked. Still, I’d always been comfortable with my body. More so, now that I’d lost the extra pounds I’d been carrying for a couple of years. Sure, I wasn’t voluptuous. I’d never had cleavage. Or hips that swiveled in an enticing manner. And I was okay with that.

  Now as I looked at my lack of breasts and hips, I wondered if that was part of what had attracted Craig. Did my lack of feminine attributes allow him to pretend he was really with a man? I shuddered at the thought that my marriage had been such a sham.

  Then I laughed at myself. I didn’t know what exactly was going on with Craig. But surely he hadn’t married me because I was less womanly than someone else. Besides, if that had been his intention, it had obviously failed since we were never very sexually active. It wasn’t my lack of breasts and hips. No doubt it was the lack of a penis that was a problem for Craig.

  I pushed the disturbing thoughts aside and stepped into the dress. Holding the skirt off the floor, I walked back to the kitchen.

  “You look beautiful,” Jasmine gushed as she pulled the zipper up. Well, of course. This was her wedding dress. She’d think a dog looked beautiful in it. The satin was tightly fitted around my torso, flaring out to a full skirt at the hips, with long tapered sleeves that ended in points over my hands. Then there was the gaping neckline that my small breasts had no hope of filling out. Luckily no one but Jasmine would see me in it. Still, it was a beautiful gown and I felt extremely feminine. And that felt good.

  “Come in here.” Jasmine pulled me into the sunroom off the kitchen. “There’s more room.” She guided me up onto a small step stool. “Stay right there. I just have to get my pins.” Jasmine trotted through the kitchen and down the hall.

  I stood perched on the tiny stool hoping it wouldn’t take long because I could hardly breathe. The sliding door opened behind me, and I tottered around to find a man covered in dirt and sweat holding two pots with blue mums.

  “Stop!” I held up my right index finger in the universal sign to halt. Jasmine would kill me if any dirt got on her wedding gown.

  “Okay, okay.” The man backed up a couple of steps and let his gaze move from my head to the floor and back. “You’re very tall.”

  I glanced down. The gown fell almost to the floor, covering the footstool. “I’m standing on a stool.”

  The man nodded and grinned at me, causing little lines to appear at the corners of his green eyes. Which were dancing with amusement. He leaned against the doorjamb and gestured toward me with one of the pots. “So, what’s with the dress?”

  “Jasmine has to hem it. What’s with the plants?”

  “I need to know if they’re the right color.”

  “They’re blue. What color should they be?”

  “Blue.”

  “Well, there you go.” I leaned over to look through the kitchen, hoping to see Jasmine. The top of the gown fell forward and I grabbed for it and straightened up.

  “But are they right shade of blue?”

  “How many shades are there?”

  “I don’t know, but there must be hundreds of shades of blue.”

  “No, I mean how many shades of blue are available in the mums?”

  “Oh, Max, they’re beautiful. Just the right shade of blue.” Jasmine returned, put her box of pins down, and clapped her hands like a little girl. It was kind of sweet seeing her so excited about her wedding.

  “But will they still be blooming for the wedding?” she asked.

  “No. I’m putting these in my garden. I’ll get the ones for the wedding a week before the big event.”

  “Oh, Max, this is Skye Williams. Skye, Max Harrison. He’s our next-door neighbor, and he’s making the yard and garden perfect for my wedding reception.”

  Max grinned. “I’d offer to shake hands, but I’m dirty.”

  “Nice to meet you, Max.” I gave him a little finger wave.

  “Yeah. I need to get these in the ground. I’ll see you around.” Max left with his blue mums.

  “He’s cute, huh?” Jasmine picked up her pins and settled on the floor in front of me.

  “I suppose. But are you supposed to be noticing cute men right before your wedding?”

  “No, silly. I meant for you. Mom told me that you and Craig are getting a divorce. If you think he’s cute, I could tell him and you guys could go out.”

  “No!” I tried to take a deep breath, but the dress prevented that. “I mean, I don’t think I’m really ready to date just yet.”

  “Oh, well, when you’re ready you should really consider Max. He’s a sweetheart.” Jasmine motioned me to turn a bit. “And he’s a writer. So, you know, he’s smart.”

  “What does he write?”

  “Fantasy, I think. Maybe it’s science fiction.” Jasmine shrugged and motioned me to turn again. “So, what are you going to do? I mean, you didn’t work before, did you?”

  “No, I didn’t work. Although I think the politically correct phrase is that I didn’t work outside the home.”

  “I know what you mean. It’s a lot of work to run a house and rear children. That’s what I want to do.”

  “You’ll make a wonderful mother.” A little ditzy, but wonderful.

  “I plan to.” Jasmine stood up and moved a few yards away. “Turn around.” I turned slowly while she examined the hem for evenness. “So, are you going to get a job? Although I would think that after being married for so long, he’ll probably have to give you enough alimony to live on.”

  The word alimony reminded me that I was supposed to see an attorney at three. Bobbi Jo had made the appointment, insisting that waiting was not an option. I knew she was probably right, but somehow I felt disloyal to Craig.

  “I have to run, Jasmine. But I’ll call you in a couple of days and we’ll go over the details.
”

  “Any time that’s good for you. I can’t thank you enough for doing all this, Skye.”

  “No problem. We just have to get the plans organized.” I stepped down from the stool and ran on tiptoes down the hall to the bedroom. I shucked the dress off and placed it carefully on the padded satin hanger, then pulled on my jeans and shirt and rammed my feet into my sandals. I had an hour to drive back to Bobbi Jo’s, change clothes, and get to the offices of Munson, Tate, and Stanford.

  I hadn’t had time to apply any makeup but at least I was wearing a suit and heels when I walked into the law offices in downtown Portland. Andrew Stanford only kept me waiting ten minutes past our appointment and apologized nicely for the delay. He was nattily dressed in an expensive suit, his nails were manicured, and his feet were shod in soft Italian leather.

  He looked totally gay to me.

  “You’re thinking about a divorce?” he asked as I settled in the chair across from his enormous rosewood desk. “No.”

  “I’m sorry. I have a note here that you wanted to see me about a divorce.”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “But you said no.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I meant that I’m not thinking about a divorce. I want one. Definitely. I want one.”

  “Ah. Good. No, I mean—not that it’s good to get a divorce. It’s—” He took a deep breath and smiled. “I’m glad we understand one another. Tell me about the situation.”

  “The situation?”

  “Why do you want the divorce?”

  “Oh.” What could I say? I didn’t really think it was my place to out Craig by telling everyone that I’d caught him in bed with another man. “Do I have to have a reason?”

  “No. You only have to state that there has been an irreconcilable and permanent breakdown of the marriage.”

  “That’s it,” I agreed.

  “However, if there are issues of child custody, the past and present personal conduct of each party will be taken into consideration by the judge.” He leaned forward and smiled gently. “What I’m saying is that if your husband fights you about the custody of any children, we can use his personal conduct to convince the judge to rule in our favor.”