by Cathie Linz
“How do you know the annulment papers weren’t signed?” Megan said.
“Because my dad just ran across the unsigned papers on Buddy’s desk at his home when he was there to give Mouse his shot.”
“Who’s Mouse?” Megan said.
“His diabetic cat,” Logan said. “He needs an insulin shot every twelve hours. Gramps left the directions on his desk, but the cat messed up the papers.”
“Maybe there’s another copy of the annulment papers that was signed?” Megan asked. Damn, but those decades of her being an optimist were hard to give up.
Buddy shook his head. “There was only one set of papers.”
“If they were on your desk, you must have known that they weren’t signed.” She directed her comment to Buddy, but Logan answered.
“You’d have to see Buddy’s desk to understand. He’s got piles of stuff dating back decades.”
“Paperwork,” Buddy muttered under his breath. “Damn paperwork will do you in every time.”
“Everything okay out here?” Caine had his war face on as he stepped out onto the terrace.
“My grandson Logan is a Chicago police detective,” Buddy said proudly.
“Caine is a former Force Recon Marine,” Megan said. “He’s not impressed that Logan is a cop.”
“Yes, I am impressed,” Caine said.
“Whose side are you on?” Megan said.
“Caine is a former Force Recon Marine,” Buddy said. “He’s on the side of the United States of America.”
“The U.S. has no stake in this matter,” Megan said before telling Caine, “Go back to your bride, please, Caine. I’ve got this under control.”
Caine raised an eyebrow at her confident claim but did leave after saying, “Just shout if you need any help.”
She smiled and nodded before turning to glower at Buddy. “How could you make such a mess of things?”
“Hey, listen up, buttercup—” he protested.
She interrupted him. “No, you listen up!”
“Logan, are you going to stand there and let her talk to me like that?” Buddy demanded.
Logan just nodded.
“I had no idea you had such a temper,” Buddy told Megan. “She must have Irish blood in her,” he added for Logan’s benefit.
“No doubt,” Logan agreed.
“I don’t believe you two. This is serious.”
“What’s serious?” Gram asked as she came onto the terrace. “Buddy, is there a problem?” She came to stand by his side, a concerned look on her face. Even though she was in her midseventies, Ingrid West was not your typical senior citizen. Her blue eyes and high cheekbones proclaimed her Scandinavian heritage, while her gelled, spiky haircut revealed her rebellious side. Today she was wearing one of her Chanel suits with a large red flower in the lapel and a Save the Polar Bears pin. “It’s not the Swedish mob, is it?” she said in a semiwhisper. “Are they here in Las Vegas?”
“Gram, there’s no such thing,” Megan began when Buddy interrupted her.
“No, the Swedish mob has no foothold here.”
“Swedish mob?” Logan frowned.
“That’s right.” Buddy sounded defensive. “Tell her they aren’t here in Las Vegas.”
“I have connections,” Gram said.
“To the Swedish mob?” Logan said.
Gram nodded. “Why? Does Buddy have a problem? Do we need to call in the Swedish mob?”
“No, ma’am. I don’t think that will be necessary,” Logan said.
Gram gently socked his arm. “I’ve told you before to call me Gram, not ma’am. Were you feeling left out today, Logan? Is that why you stopped the wedding? You didn’t want to miss anything? I’m sorry you weren’t invited to the event.” She patted his shoulder. “That was wrong of us.” She turned to Megan. “Why wasn’t Logan invited to the wedding? He’s practically family.”
“No, that’s okay, really,” Logan hurriedly said. “I wasn’t feeling left out.”
“He’s a cop,” Buddy said. “Third generation. Logan isn’t all touchy-feely.” Buddy shuddered at the thought. “Not at all.”
“Then I don’t understand why he wanted to stop Faith’s wedding.” Gram paused as a thought occurred to her. “Unless you thought it was Buddy’s wedding to me. Is that what you thought?” Her expression reflected her hurt feelings. “I thought you liked me.”
“It isn’t about you. It’s about Buddy,” Logan said.
“What about Buddy?” Gram said.
“Are you going to tell her or should I?” Logan asked Buddy.
“I’ll tell her. We could use a little privacy here.”
Megan reluctantly stepped back inside but hovered near the doorway in case her grandmother needed her. Logan stood beside her. They were soon joined by Megan’s uncle, Jeff, and her father. Jeff was the smooth, uberworkaholic, and Megan’s dad, Dave, was the quiet, bookish accountant in the family. They both owned West Investigations, the largest private investigation firm in Chicago.
“Is somebody going to tell me what’s going on here?” Jeff demanded. “Why wasn’t I told that Buddy planned on proposing to my mother? I had no idea things had gotten that serious. They’ve only known each other a few months. I thought they were just . . . I don’t know . . . playing bingo together.”
“Strip bingo,” Logan muttered under his breath.
Megan elbowed him in his side.
“What was that?” Jeff said. “I didn’t hear you.”
“Nothing.”
“It was a mistake,” Buddy said in a loud voice from the terrace. “I didn’t know I was still married!”
“Still married?” Jeff’s face turned red with fury. “Did Buddy just say he was still married? The bastard. How dare he . . .” he sputtered.
Megan’s dad helped him out. “Tamper with our mother’s affections?”
Jeff nodded. “Yeah, that. I’ve got a good mind to—”
“Beat up a seventy-something-year-old senior citizen?” Megan said, irritated by all the testosterone swirling around her. She hadn’t missed the smack-down looks shooting between her uncle and Logan.
Her attention was diverted when Gram came into the room, tears running down her face. Megan’s dad put his arm around her and guided her from the room.
“You.” Jeff turned his wrath on Logan. “You couldn’t have made this info public sooner? Dammit, I should have checked out the guy myself, but my mother made me swear I wouldn’t. And Faith did a preliminary check on him. Clearly she didn’t look deep enough.”
“My grandfather thought he was free to marry Ingrid,” Logan said, sounding remarkably calm for a man who looked like he wanted to kill someone for a second there. Then he had his cop face back on. Megan recognized it because it was so similar to Caine’s war face.
“Does he have dementia?” Jeff demanded. “Is that it? He forgets he still has a wife?”
“No, he doesn’t have dementia.” Logan’s voice reflected his growing aggravation.
“So he’s just an old geezer who likes conning rich old women?” Jeff said.
“You take that back!” Buddy growled as he joined them. “Ingrid is not old and neither am I. I’m for sure not so old a geezer that I can’t take you, boyo.”
Megan put her hand on her uncle’s chest, stopping him before he could do something stupid. “There will be no fighting here.”
“Let’s take it outside then,” Buddy said.
“No fighting on the terrace either,” Megan said. “No fighting anywhere, period.”
“You stay away from my mother,” Jeff told Buddy, pointing an angry finger at him. “If I catch you anywhere near her, you’ll regret it.”
Buddy pointed an angry finger right back at him, with his other digits bent.
“Did you see that? He just gave me the finger,” Jeff bellowed. “Get him out of here before I call security and have him tossed out.”
“You and what army?” Buddy growled.
“Come on,” Logan said, put
ting an arm around his grandfather’s shoulders and guiding him out.
Megan’s uncle followed them to make sure of their exit, leaving Megan alone in the room with the still-bemused minister.
“It was . . . uh . . . it was a lovely . . . uh . . . ceremony . . . for the most part,” the minister said, trying to be cheerful and looking for a silver lining.
“Yeah, it was just peachy.” Megan said. The best laid plans of mice and men and librarians sometimes went to hell in a hand basket with lightning-fast speed. Little did Megan know that things were about to get much, much worse.