by Liz Wolfe
“Sure.” Max stood up and held out a hand. It shook a little.
I took his hand and stood up. “This was nice.”
“It was very nice.” He pulled me close and kissed me lightly.
“I’m just not sure I’m ready, you know?”
“That’s okay. I’m a patient man.”
Max walked me to my car and kissed me good night. I drove to Bobbi Jo’s wondering if it really was okay with him that we’d stopped when we did. He’d said it was okay, but did men ever think it was okay to stop in the middle of something like that? I had no doubt we’d have ended up in bed if we’d continued for another five minutes. I still wasn’t sure how I felt about that. I wasn’t even sure I wanted to think about it.
I pulled into Bobbi Jo’s driveway, and the porch light automatically turned on. The house was dark, and I guessed she’d already gone to bed. She was still experiencing the fatigue so common in the first trimester and usually turned in by nine. Which meant she wouldn’t be awake to hear me call Scott Madison and ask him what the hell he was thinking by dragging my best friend in for questioning.
How could he even think Bobbi Jo would kill anyone? Much less for money. He hadn’t bothered to learn anything about her. He was being a typical cop. Just because Bobbi Jo could have done it, he was more than willing to assume she was guilty. I wasn’t about to let that happen.
By the time I’d found his card and picked up the phone, I’d worked up a righteous anger. I punched in his cell number, ignoring the fact that it was almost eleven o’clock.
“Madison.”
“Detective Madison, this is Skye Donovan.”
“I thought your name was Williams.”
“I’m going back to my maiden name.” I was immediately annoyed that somehow he had started the conversation so that I was answering his questions rather than him answering mine. “I understand you took Bobbi Jo to the precinct for questioning?”
“Yeah, but it was just routine. You know cops. We do it all the time.”
“Save the flippant attitude for someone who might appreciate it.”
“Sorry.”
“You told me that you didn’t think Bobbi Jo was really a suspect, so why the questioning?”
“Well, that was then. This is something different. Listen, Skye, you have to admit she had the motive, means, and opportunity to commit both murders. I can’t really ignore something like that.”
“Oh, this is ridiculous. Bobbi Jo didn’t kill anyone or even try to kill anyone.”
“Did you know that Brian is contesting Edward’s will? He thinks he should be getting all the millions that Bobbi Jo is getting?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact, Bobbi Jo told me that. Did you know that Bobbi Jo was the one who talked Edward out of disowning Brian altogether?”
Scott paused. “Did you actually hear that conversation?”
“Of course not. I don’t normally listen in on my friends’ personal conversations.”
“So, you only know that because Bobbi Jo told you about it?”
Damn. He had me there. Which only pissed me off even more.
“Skye, all I can tell you is that I still don’t believe Bobbi Jo had anything to do with her husband’s death. I also don’t think she made an attempt on Brian’s life.”
“Then why did you bring her in for questioning?”
“Because that’s what I do. It’s my job. I question everyone. I question everything. I report what I find and the DA takes it from there.”
“The DA? You mean they might arrest Bobbi Jo?”
“I really don’t think they will. It’s just one of those cases where someone looks like she is the perfect suspect but I have to tell you, no one working on this case likes Bobbi Jo for this.”
“How can anyone not like Bobbi Jo? And I really don’t think that your personal opinion of someone should factor into this.”
“No. That’s not what I meant. It’s just cops-peak.”
“Copspeak?” I asked. What the hell was that?
“If a cop thinks someone actually committed a crime, we’ll say we like them.”
“That’s weird.”
“Only if you’re not a cop.”
“So, if you really, really believe they did something, do you love them?”
“It doesn’t really work that way.”
“I see. So, you don’t think anyone is seriously considering Bobbi Jo a suspect?”
“No,” Scott said. “I really don’t. Now, are we still friends?”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
I pulled on the gray silk pantsuit I’d bought for the wedding and buttoned the jacket over a lavender chemise that matched my new suede flats. The three-way mirror reflected a polished, organized, professional event planner who could handle anything. God, I never wanted to do this again.
“Hey, Skye. Are you about ready?” Bobbi Jo called from the front room.
“As ready as I can be.” I picked up the bag that held a clipboard and my cameras, and went to join Bobbi Jo.
She looked stunning, as usual. Disappointed that she really wasn’t showing enough to wear any of her new maternity clothes, she’d chosen a flowing dress in yellow crinkled silk with flowers splashed about the hem, tendrils of leaves and vines creeping up to the low neckline. It was topped with a floppy brimmed hat and complemented by low-heeled sandals in a mossy green.
“You know, you really don’t have to go so early,” I said as we climbed into my SUV. “You could wait and come later with all the other guests.”
“Oh, I know, darlin’.” Bobbi Jo waved her hand. “I just thought maybe I could be of some help. Besides, I need to keep busy.”
I knew what she meant. Even though Scott had assured me he didn’t really believe Bobbi Jo had murdered Edward or cut Brian’s brake line, Bobbi Jo was still a suspect. I could only imagine what that felt like. To have anyone think you might have murdered the man you loved more than anything in the world. And I had a feeling that Bobbi Jo needed to know who really did kill Edward. Just to give her some closure.
I reached out and squeezed her hand. “I appreciate it. I really do. I hope this all goes off without a hitch.” And I hoped those damn flowers were blue by now.
We arrived at Lily’s house a few minutes after nine. The wedding was scheduled for noon. I already felt like I was running behind. I had to check on the flowers, make sure the bridesmaids were dressed, direct the caterers when they arrived, tell the band where to set up, hope the florist had managed to remake the bouquets with blue flowers, see that the tables were set up correctly, and keep the groomsmen from getting drunk before the ceremony. After the ceremony, I didn’t really care what anyone did. Personally, I was hoping to get a tiny bit drunk, go home, and take a long nap.
“You know what you can do, Bobbi Jo?”
“What?”
“You can make sure that David’s mother is taken care of. The last thing I need is for her to get upset and make a scene or anything. Her name is Claire Taylor. You’ll recognize her by the icy expression.”
“No problem, darlin’. I’d recognize her kind anywhere.”
“Thank the Goddess you’re here!” Lily threw the front door open.
“Why? Is there a problem?”
“No. Not at all. Not really. Well, not yet.”
“Not yet?”
“I’m just so emotional. I didn’t expect to be, but my baby is getting married.” Lily threw her arms around me and blubbered. “I didn’t feel this way when Beau got married. And I didn’t even like the woman he was marrying.”
“Now, Lily, this is no time to get emotional. You can cry later. You don’t want puffy eyes, do you?” I wiped the tears off her cheeks.
Just then two little boys screamed through the room. Really. Screamed. At the top of their lungs. They appeared to be about five. They also appeared to be hell-bent on trouble.
“Brandon, Justin, slow down. You’ll knock something over.” Lily smiled at them. “Come here, boys, I want you t
o meet someone.”
The boys glared at me and I could have sworn I saw a malicious glint in their eyes as they walked over. I had no doubt I’d probably recognize them on a most-wanted poster in the future.
“This is Skye. She’s helping with the wedding,” Lily said to the boys. They didn’t appear to be impressed.
“Brandon and Justin are Beau’s twins. They’re going to be the ring bearers.”
I felt a tug on the hem of my jacket.
“I’m gonna be sick.”
I looked down at a tiny girl who had her hand plastered across her mouth. I scooped her up, running for the bathroom, hoping it wasn’t occupied.
I didn’t make it. The little girl spewed her breakfast over the hallway floor. Looked like Cheerios to me.
“Is she all right?” Lily asked from behind me.
“I think so, but your floor’s not.” I stepped across the mess on tiptoe. Now the girl was crying. “It’s okay, sweetie. You’re going to be fine.” I patted her back and hugged her tight.
She hiccupped and wiped at her eyes. “I made a mess.”
“It’s all right. Someone will clean it up. Does your tummy hurt?”
She shook her head. “Not anymore. I’m the flower girl.”
Perfect. A puking flower girl and demon spawn for ring bearers.
“Are you nervous?”
The little girl nodded. “Mommy says I always get sick when I get excited.”
“Where’s your mommy now?” I hoped she was someplace close. Like in the next room.
“I don’t know. She’s going to be here later.”
“Giselle’s mom will be here soon. She dropped her off early so I could get her dressed.” Lily threw a handful of paper towels into a plastic bag and tied a knot in it.
“I don’t think I’d dress her until the last minute. Just in case.”
“Good point,” Lily agreed. “Giselle, you go play, honey, and I’ll help you put your dress on in a little bit.”
“Okay.”
I lifted Giselle down from the counter and she ran off, evidently in excellent health now that she’d relieved herself of her breakfast. “I also wouldn’t give her anything to eat.”
“Holy Goddess, are we going to live through this?”
“Absolutely,” I assured her. “It’s only a few more hours. Then it’s all over.”
“Can’t be too soon for me. I have a life to get on with.”
“Has the florist delivered the bouquets?”
“Oh, yes, they arrived just before you got here. I’ve got them in the extra refrigerator in the garage. They’re lovely, Skye. And Max will be putting out the other flowers soon.”
The other flowers. I offered up a little prayer that Max’s chemistry experiment had worked. But Max would have called if there had been a problem. Or he would have gone out for spray paint.
“What about the caterers?” My question was punctuated by the doorbell.
“That must be them now. Can you take care of it while I get rid of this?” Lily trotted off to the kitchen without waiting for a response. I greeted the caterers, directed them to the reception tent set up in the backyard, and headed for Jasmine’s bedroom.
She was surrounded by her three bridesmaids, all in some stage of undress, or about to be dressed. They fluttered around her as she sobbed into a towel.
“Skye!” Jasmine lowered the towel. “I’m going to be married today.” Then she burst into tears again.
“I know. You’re also going to have a puffy face and red eyes if you keep this up.”
“I know!” Jasmine wailed.
I ran to the kitchen, found a blue-ice pack in the freezer, and wrapped it in a hand towel.
“Here, put this on your face.”
Jasmine leaned back against the headboard and held the ice pack to her face while I shooed the bridesmaids out.
“Take your gowns to Lily’s room and get dressed in there. I think Jasmine needs a little solitude,” I instructed. The girls gathered up their blue chiffon gowns and chattered as they left the room.
“Feeling better?” I asked Jasmine when they were gone.
Jasmine sobbed a couple of times and lowered the ice pack. “I just didn’t expect to be so emotional. I didn’t sleep at all last night.”
“I know. It’s okay. You’ll be fine. But you don’t want to have a tearstained face for the wedding. Just lie down for a few minutes. Get some rest and I’ll check on you in a bit.”
I left the room, closing the door softly behind me. With any luck, she would pass out and sleep until she needed to get dressed. The bridesmaids were giggling and dressing in Lily’s room, the demon spawn were running in the front yard, and the flower girl was asleep on the sofa. I checked my watch. Two hours until the wedding.
“Hey.” Max walked in from the sunroom. “The flowers are all in place. The tables are set up for the reception. I put down the blue carpet for Jasmine to walk down, but you probably need to take a look at the altar area.”
“Hi, Max,” Lily called without turning around. She looked too tired to even move from her chair.
“I’ll go check the altar. You rest for a minute, then kick the bridesmaids out of your room so you can get dressed.” I grabbed my bag and followed Max outside.
“They’re all blue,” he said.
“Really?”
“Really. Some are more blue than others, but I didn’t have to spray paint any of them.” He grinned at me and I giggled. We reached the wedding area and I stopped at the arbor, covered in fake clematis blossoms.
From the arbor, a powder blue carpet ran twenty feet to the altar. The altar was flanked by tall stands of gladioli, in a glorious shade of blue. I grinned at Max. “You did it. You turned the flowers blue.”
“Simple science.”
“Right now, I consider it magic. I want to look at the reception tent.” We walked over to the large tent where the caterers were setting up the buffet. Everything looked perfect. I pulled one of my cameras out of my bag and snapped some pictures of the tables and the altar. Jasmine would probably like to know what it looked like before the guests arrived. The photographer’s van pulled into the driveway and I ran back to the house to direct him to the backyard.
One of the hellion boys tore through the living room, emitting a high-pitched scream. Did these children do anything but scream? And where the hell was their father? The other demon spawn came down the hallway screaming and holding one of Jasmine’s blue satin shoes in his grubby little hand. I nipped the shoe from his hand and barely resisted the urge to swat his bottom. That was fortunate because the father of the little brats walked in.
“Hey, Skye, have you seen Brandon and Justin?”
“That way.” I pointed toward the sunroom. “They need to get their suits on. And watch they don’t get dirty before the ceremony,” I called after him.
I took the shoe to Jasmine’s room. She was surrounded by her bridesmaids in their fluffy chiffon gowns. Other than her missing shoe, Jasmine looked like a fairy princess. The ice-blue wedding gown fit her perfectly, and her eyes sparkled under the wreath of blue flowers on her head. Even the puffiness from her crying jag had disappeared.
“Looking for this?” I waved the shoe at her.
“Oh, Skye. Where did you find it?”
“One of the twins had it.”
“Those boys are such pranksters.” Jasmine slipped the shoe on. “But they’re sweethearts. It’s so cool how Beau lets them express themselves.”
I would have muzzled them. “Everything’s all set, so just stay here and I’ll send your father for you when it’s time.” I ran out to the yard again for a final review.
The caterers were set up in the reception tent. The guests had gathered in the area where the wedding would take place. The harpist who would play during Jasmine’s walk down the blue carpet was positioned to one side. Even the minister and priestess were at the altar, chatting amiably. Claire kept glancing nervously at the priestess, but Bobbi Jo was ke
eping her distracted with nonstop chatter. I trotted over to the guesthouse and knocked on the door.
“Is it time?” Grant asked.
“It’s time. You go get Jasmine, and Kyle can make sure David gets to the altar.”
“I can’t believe my baby girl is getting married.”
I patted him on the back and guided him toward the house. Once David was in place and Jasmine and Grant were poised for her entrance, I set down my clipboard and hung both cameras around my neck. Finally my job was over and I could enjoy taking some photos for the scrapbook I planned to make for her.
I got a few shots of Grant and Jasmine as they whispered quietly to one another, then the harpist began playing. I hung back and continued taking photos during the ceremony and as the guests moved into the reception tent.
“You did it,” Max said.
“And I’m fairly certain I don’t ever want to do it again.”
“But you’re so good at it.” Max grinned.
I grinned back. I liked Max. A lot. He was fun, easy to talk to, and he’d saved my butt with the blue flowers. I just wasn’t sure how much I liked him or how much I was ready for.
“I need to change my film.”
“Just a minute.” Max looked down at his feet. “I wanted to talk to you about last night.”
“Oh.”
“I thought maybe I was rushing you a bit. Was I?”
“I don’t know. I think maybe I was the one rushing. I just don’t know what I’m ready for. Does that make any sense to you?”
“I understand. It takes a while. Especially after having been with someone for so long.”
“I guess it does.”
“I just wanted to let you know that I understand. I don’t want to do anything that makes you uncomfortable.”
“Oh, you didn’t. Well, I mean, I enjoyed …”
“Me, too. Skye, we can take this as slowly as you like.”
“We can?”
“Of course. If you just want to keep it at friendship for now, I’m fine with that.”
“Does that mean you’ll help me paint my loft?” I was teasing but his answer pleased me.
“Absolutely. What are friends for?” Max leaned over and kissed my cheek. “But I won’t pretend that I wouldn’t like the possibility of more, eventually. I think you’re worth waiting for.”