Justice (The Galilee Falls Trilogy)

by Jennifer Harlow

  The lobby is quieter. Tourists and upper echelon meander around, separated by the red carpet and velvet rope. Security guards line the rope, keeping the gawking have-nots from the haves. A teenage girl even takes my picture. I scan the room for Harry, but no joy. His phone switches straight to voice mail again. “Harry, where the hell are you? I’m at the hotel already. I have to go in, but I have the invitation. You can’t get in without it. Please call me when you get here.”

  If he thinks he’s getting any tonight after all this trouble, he’s nuts. Now I have to go in there alone. Except on rare occasions I always come alone, unless Justin escorts me. It should be old hat by now, but tonight I’m almost afraid to walk in there. The looks. The questions. The playing nice. I just don’t want to do it alone.

  “Joanna!” Brittney “Bitsy” Armstrong calls to me as she drags her husband Thayer from the entrance. Both are thin and tan, but so is everyone in this set. She wears a pink floral gown, her signature. Bitsy air kisses me. “You look fabulous.”

  “You, too. Love the necklace.”

  She touches the pink diamond the size of a gumball. “Thank you. Thayer got it for our ten year anniversary. He has such good taste.”

  Thayer isn’t paying attention. His fingers dance over his Blackberry. They come up with a new way to be rude every year.

  “Isn’t this wonderful? Justin finally tying the knot? You can hear the sound of a thousand hearts breaking. Though I absolutely adore Rebecca. And that little girl! So cute. We had them over for dinner last month and our Preston just fell madly in love with little Daisy.”

  “It must be genetic,” I say with a smile. Might as well get this thing plastered on right now. It won’t be coming off until I get home tonight and put it back into my medicine chest.

  “Are you going in yet or are you waiting for someone?” Bitsy asks.

  “Um…no. I think I may have been stood up.”

  “Oh, you poor thing. Well, whoever he is, he’s an idiot.” She locks her elbow in her husband’s, who doesn’t even notice and starts walking. He’s probably e-mailing Giselle Larkin. Everyone knows they’re having an affair, maybe even Bitsy. The criminals I chase have more morals than most of these people.

  Time to face the music. I follow a few feet behind the Armstrong’s toward the ballroom. A security guard checks the invitations of the guests before allowing them to pass. I pull out mine and he nods. Welcome to the lion’s den.

  There have to be two hundred people here, all dressed to the nines and swilling champagne as if it was the elixir of life. An orchestra plays big band music near the waterfall while guests shake and shimmy on the dance floor. Silver and black balloons are scattered around along with lit-up crystals that match the chandelier in the middle of the ceiling. Simple, tasteful, and elegant, just like the happy couple. Almost the moment I step in, I grab a passing champagne glass and down it.

  After a deep breath, I join the horde. Twenty years of practice has made me damn good at small talk. The key is to ask questions about everyone’s favorite topic: themselves. People can talk about themselves for hours. I have two more glasses of champagne while listening to Emma Gilroy blabber on about her new Italian villa. I smile and nod like a moron. This just encourages more talking, but at least it’s her doing it, not me. Italian villas are a safer topic than acid spewing supers or abandoning boyfriends, which is all I have on my mind right now. I’m just about to grab my third glass of booze when Marnie, Rebecca’s mother, starts toward me, looking very elegant in a long sleeved green velvet gown and hair in a bun.

  “Joanna, there you are,” she says, almost relieved. “We’ve been looking for you.”

  “Excuse me, Emma,” I say before following Marnie.

  “Thanks for the save,” I say when we’re far enough away.

  “Seemed like you needed it. We thought you weren’t going to make it.”

  “Took longer than I thought to get ready.”

  “Well, it was worth it. You look smashing.”

  “Thank you. So do you.” We stop at the buffet and I snag a few crab puffs. “So, where is the happy couple?”

  “I lost track of them ages ago. Lucy was introducing me to people, but she’s vanished as well. And let me tell you these people are not my crowd. Who are Dolce & Gabanna, and why does everyone insist I visit them?”

  I chuckle. “Yeah, they are an acquired taste. Better get used to them, though. You’ll be seeing them at Christmas, New Year’s, and all summer long. They show up like a rash and are far more annoying.”

  “Please don’t tell me that. I want this to be a happy night, not one that will give me nightmares.”

  We both chuckle this time and shake our heads. It’s official. I like this woman. But the fun police find us. Justin’s Aunt Lucy, in a matronly black dress with gold jacket, swans over. Her lips purse in disapproval, as they always do when she’s around me. I could graduate valedictorian at charm school and she’d still think I was nothing more than a guttersnipe. But in the spirit of the new me, I choose to remember the good things about her. Like when Mom split my lip Lucy iced it, let me spend the weekend at the mansion, and then went and spoke to Mom. I have no idea what she said, but that was the last time Mom ever laid a hand on me. Or the fact that both she and Justin showed up at my graduation ceremony from the police academy. Or the time when I was fifteen and broke my arm at school. Mom was passed out, Uncle Ray was out of town, so Lucy not only stayed with me at the hospital, but paid the bill too. She’s not so bad. I think deep down we like each other. Way deep down. Not that either of us would ever admit it to the other.

  “I see you’ve found her,” Lucy says to Marnie.

  “Fashionably late, you know me,” I say.

  “Justin and Rebecca were asking for you,” Lucy says in that tone reserved only for me, annoyance mixed with…well, really just annoyance.

  “Where are they?” Marnie asks.

  We scan the crowd, but I spot them first talking to the mayor and his wife. As always, he’s drool worthy in his tux, golden hair brilliant against tan skin. She compliments him, wavy orange hair cascading down over her blue-gray draped goddess dress. His arm is around her waist. For once, and I credit the power of positive thinking for this, I feel no jealousy or longing. I see it. They fit together perfectly.

  “They’re talking to the mayor,” I say.

  “Oh. Him,” Lucy says with distaste. “Begging for money, no doubt. Insipid man.”

  “I guess it’s my job as best man to save them,” I say with a swig of champagne. “Ladies.”

  Justin’s face lights up when he spots me crossing the room. Always nice to be appreciated. Mayor Miracle continues talking. “…and that’s why we failed. I mean, with no support from the constituents, how can anything get done?”

  “Sorry to interrupt, Mr. Mayor,” I say.

  “Joanna!” Rebecca almost shouts. She breaks away from Justin to give me a huge hug. “You’re here!” She releases me. “You look so beautiful! Doesn’t she look great, Justin?”

  “Most definitely.” He hugs me too. “Thanks for coming.”

  I pull away. “And miss the party of the year? Never.”

  “I’m happy the city could give you the night off, Detective,” the mayor says.

  “Me too, sir.” I try to be on my best behavior around Justin. My shenanigans shouldn’t impact his business relationships. “Thank you. Justin, one of the caterers was looking for you. Something about the champagne?” We always use this excuse when getting the other person out of an uncomfortable situation.

  “Oh. I’m sorry, Mr. Mayor, we have to deal with this. Excuse us.” He ushers Rebecca away, and I trail behind. As we walk back toward Lucy and Marnie, they smile and nod at the other guests.

  “Thank you,” Rebecca says. “He would not stop talking!”

  “My pleasure.”

  “So, where’s this surprise you promised?” Justin asks.

  “Um…it didn’t pan out.” Justin and Rebecca excha
nge a look. “No biggie, guys.”

  Marnie and Lucy meet us halfway. “I told the photographer we’re all here now,” Lucy says. “He’s setting up by the waterfall.”

  “You guys waited for me?” I ask.

  “Of course,” Rebecca says.

  “They’re waiting,” Lucy says impatiently.

  “Oh, wonderful,” Marnie says as if reading my mind. We smirk at each other as Lucy leads us toward the waterfall. The photographer and his assistant set up a tripod in front of the lit-up, blue waterfall that twinkles like sapphires. Sparkle Cohen, the grand dame of society reporting for the past fifty years, is taking notes while chatting with the photographer. Her withered frame is encased in an ornate yellow dress with huge collar. She reminds me of a cobra with that collar and skin pulled tight across her face. As we walk Justin whispers something into Rebecca’s ear, and she pecks him on the lips. Sparkle jots that down.

  “Are you enjoying yourself, Sparkle?” Justin asks before kissing her cheek.

  “You know I always love your soirees,” she says. “They’re always so elegant and tasteful. Much like your choice in fiancée. Hello, Dr. Thornton.”

  Rebecca embraces the woman. “Sparkle.”

  “I want to get the future bride and groom first,” the photographer says.

  As Justin and Rebecca arrange themselves for the photo, Sparkle turns her attention to me. “So, Joanna, I’ve been meaning to ask, how are you and the future Mrs. Pendergast getting along? She’s exquisitely beautiful.” Sparkle loves needling me, hoping I’ll flub up and give her something juicy to write. Hasn’t worked yet, but I do admire her tenacity.

  “Oh, yes. Both inside and out. The woman’s a living angel. To be quite frank, he doesn’t deserve her.”

  “And I heard you two didn’t get along,” Sparkle says.

  “Well, you heard wrong. How can I not like her? She makes my best friend happy. She’s like my sister.”

  “Right,” Sparkle says with a fake smile.

  Justin waves the rest of us over. “Excuse me, Sparkle. Duty calls.”

  The photographer sets up again as Rebecca and Marnie fix each other up for the next shot. Lucy hangs back, talking to Sparkle. “Long time no see, stranger,” Justin says. “I was beginning to think you were mad at me.”

  “I’ve been living at the station. I haven’t had time to be mad.”

  “Well, I appreciate you taking time away from saving the city. I know you hate these things. Though you look great.”

  “Thanks.”

  We stand side by side with the trumpets and piano playing “In the Mood,” but the silence between us is unbearable. He glances at me, but I just watch as Rebecca and Marnie pose for the camera. “Now, just the Pendergast family,” the photographer says.

  Justin signals to Lucy, who excuses herself from Sparkle, and rushes right over. “Our turn,” Justin says. He takes Lucy’s hand and then grabs mine. I look up at him, surprised. “If you’re not family, I don’t know who is.”

  And the Grinch’s heart grew three sizes this day. I follow them to the waterfall, trying and failing to hide my pride. As always, when he puts his arm around my back I get a little tingly. Baby steps, Jo. Baby steps. The photographer snaps the three of us, then have Rebecca and Marnie join us. He releases me and greets her with a loving smile. We position ourselves: me, Rebecca, Justin, Lucy, and Marnie. His arm instinctively wraps around her waist, and she takes my hand.

  One big happy family.

  After the photos Shannon, Justin’s assistant extraordinaire for the last nine years, whisks the couple away to chat with the Ambassador of France while Marnie goes to call the baby-sitter. Lucy and I exchange an uncomfortable glance then go our separate ways, she to Sparkle and I to the bar. Jack Daniels keeps me company. After watching Justin stare into Rebecca’s eyes as if she was the only woman in the universe and kiss her, and after I suppress the hint of anguish it stirs, I check my cell. There are no calls or texts. All the joy from the last few minutes shatters. It hits me. I’ve officially been stood up.

  He must have weighed our relationship against the job, and the job won. That I can understand. I can. We are the job. It’s our calling. I was having a tough time with this too. I never took him for a coward, though. Not that this is all his fault. I got my hopes up. I know better. There’s only one man I can really trust. I just stand at the bar for a few minutes, watching the crowd and trying to hide my embarrassment and pain. The perpetual wallflower who no one dares to come near. I’m just not worth it.

  A cute man with glasses, dark curly hair, and killer cheekbones takes pity on me, nervously asking me to dance. The booze is working its magic, and I’m in dire need of a distraction, so I agree. Neither of us talks, I think he’s afraid to, but when he opens his mouth for the first time Justin taps him on the shoulder.

  “Mind if I cut in, Jem?”

  My partner steps aside to allow Justin to take me in his arms. Lucy insisted on dance lessons for her nephew, and I just happened to be around to act as partner. I know all his moves and cues so well, I could dance with him even if I had no legs. He smiles down at me, and I quickly smile back. “So, are you? Mad at me?” he asks. “Because I was just trying to protect you. I know you hate it, but it’s sort of my job.”

  “I do appreciate it. I do.”

  “Well, if you’re not mad at me, who do I need to beat up?”

  I chuckle. “No one. I’m just…tired.” Angry, afraid, and heartbroken.

  “I know the feeling. I have this project at work that’s going nowhere. I’m frustrated as hell because if I don’t crack it, a lot of people could suffer.”

  “Lot of that going around,” I say.

  “And I have to fly to New Urbana tonight for a meeting because I’ve been neglecting everything else. I’ve barely seen Becks or Daisy all week. What my future mother-in-law must think of me.”

  “Better get your priorities straight there, rich boy, before you say ‘I do.’ I doubt your lovely fiancée will put up with your workaholic ways for very long before she wises up and dumps you for a man who will actually be home for dinner and make those ballet recitals.”

  He doesn’t say anything for a moment, his face falling a little. We dance in silence for a few seconds before he asks, “Do you think I’ll make a good father?”

  I’m a little taken aback. We’ve never discussed this topic before. I always put him in the same category as me, the forever childless. Freedom and fun before all else. Crap, he’s going to be a father. How am I just realizing this now? He’s going to have massive responsibilities. The welfare of others will be entirely in his hands. “Of course you will. You’ll be a great Dad,” I say without reservation. “You were born to be a Dad. That little girl adores you.”

  “I’m so scared about screwing this up, Jo,” he says in a tone I didn’t think he knew of, let alone felt. Terror.

  “Justin, I don’t think you could mess this up even if you wanted to. She’s over the moon for you, they both are. You’ve never failed at anything, let alone the most important thing to ever happen to you. Just be a partner, a friend, a confidante, and most importantly, show up. That’s all any of us can do.”

  “You always know what to say to me.”

  “My mouth can on occasion be used for good. You just bring it out of me, I guess.”

  “You don’t give yourself enough credit. You never have. You’re my strength, Jo. Everything I am, I owe to you.”

  “Hey, if memory serves, you saved me. You more or less took me in, stood by me when I had no one else. You believed in me. You…kept me sane. You’re my hero, in every possible way.”

  He stops dancing to hug me. I stiffen at first, but then go with it, even savoring it. “I love you, Jo.”

  Twenty years I’ve been waiting to hear that. No one but my Pop has ever said it to me. It’s not the way I want it, but I’ll take it. “I love you too, rich boy.”

  The song ends and the dancers applaud. He pulls away first, beami
ng down at me. “We’re going to take a short break,” the bandleader says before stepping away from the stand. There’s a clinking of glass and all eyes turn to the source. Lucy holds up her glass and hits it as she walks toward the bandstand. Rebecca and Marnie are close behind, whispering to each other. Must be nice to have such a good relationship with your mother. The ladies step next to us, Rebecca sliding her arm through Justin’s.

  “May I have your attention, please?” Lucy asks. The conversation stops as we all listen. “I ask you all to raise your glasses to the future bride and groom.” Everyone who has one raises them. “May you always have wealth, health, and above all, happiness. To the beautiful couple.”

  “To the beautiful couple,” we all say. They nod in appreciation.

  Lucy looks at me for a few seconds, why I have no idea. Her eyes narrow in annoyance. Oh! That’s my cue. I climb up onstage as Lucy steps off. I was trying to think of something to say on the ride over, but nothing came to mind. Some best man I am. The crowd waits as I smooth my skirt and clear my throat. Mouth, don’t fail me now.

  “It is customary for the best man to get onstage and roast the future bride and groom, and you would think that after twenty years of friendship, I would have some doozies. Tales of debauchery and venereal disease, or running from the Mexicali police.” I hang my head, shaking it. “Alas, this is not my wedding.” Everyone, including me, laughs. “My best friend has not made it easy on me with all his virtuous behavior,” I say with fake disgust, “so I’ll just have to talk about that, won’t I?” I look straight at my friend, right into his eyes. “You trust him the moment you meet him, and he never abuses that trust. He is one of the few people who earn it every day. He always looks for the best in people, always tries to help them even when they don’t want him to. He’s loyal, strong, kind, giving, and above all, loving.” I turn my gaze to Rebecca. “Now, I haven’t known Rebecca as long, but in the short time I’ve had the pleasure, I can say with utmost certainty everything I just said goes double for the bride-to-be. She’s a good woman. Better than most. You two are going to have a wonderful life together because you are both compassionate, loving people, and I thank you from the depths of my heart for letting me be a part of your family.” I raise my glass again. “To the happy couple.”