by Elaine Viets
“Horndog Hal,” Kathy said. “He needs money, all right. He has four kids, a wife and a mistress. I’d never give him my cell phone number. The caller could have been old Mrs. Kiley, my next-door neighbor, but she doesn’t even have a computer. I can’t see her getting a voice changer at RadioShack. The Kerchers in back of us were on vacation. And the Cooks on the other side—”
“Kathy, we’ll worry about this later,” Helen said. “I’ll FedEx you the money tomorrow. And don’t worry. I told you before: I’ll go to jail before I let Tommy get dragged into this, and I mean it. Call me if you hear any more from the blackmailer.”
“Thanks, Sis,” Kathy said, and hung up.
The silence seemed shattering after her sister’s emotional call. Helen cursed Rob and the day she’d met him. He couldn’t die when she wanted him to. Now he couldn’t even stay buried. That worthless twit was not going to ruin her nephew’s life.
The sound of a vehicle interrupted her thoughts. It was Phil. Helen watched her fiancé leap out of the Jeep, his silver hair glowing in the setting sun. Her knight in blue denim.
“Helen,” he said, folding her into his arms. “You’re free.”
She clung to him. “Right,” Helen said. “I’m free.”
CHAPTER 30
The black limo pulled up to the Coronado Tropic Apartments as night was falling. It was three days since Commissioner Stranahan was arrested for the murder of Christine Martlet. The limo was as long as the apartments’ parking lot. A driver with bulging muscles and a baby face carried a vase of two dozen white roses and a gift basket the size of a shrub decked with white ribbons. He was nearly hidden behind the gifts.
Margery met the driver at the gate, her eggplant caftan a graceful sail in the evening breeze.
“I have a delivery for Miss Helen Hawthorne,” the driver said.
“She’s sitting out by the pool with her boy toy,” Margery said. “Come in.”
The driver carried his gifts to the umbrella table, where Helen and Phil were holding hands. Helen was drinking box wine. Phil had a beer and those orange chips. Peggy was stretched on a chaise with Pete the parrot on her shoulder and a glass of wine in one hand.
“Miss Hawthorne?” the driver asked.
“Here,” Helen said.
The driver set the vase and the gift basket on the table, then stood before her like a high school student reciting a lesson. His dishwater blond hair stuck up in a cowlick. “Mr. Daniel Martlet presents his compliments and his thanks for your help in solving his wife’s er . . .”
The driver skidded to a stop, backed up and tried again. “Mr. Daniel Martlet presents his compliments and thanks you for your help. He hopes you will enjoy these gifts as a token of his esteem.” The driver bowed his way out of the backyard.
“This is so romantic,” Peggy said. “It’s like a prince sent you a gift.”
“Good boy!” said Pete.
“Well, don’t keep us commoners waiting,” Margery said. “Open it.”
Helen held the opulent bouquet of roses like a beauty queen and inhaled its scent. “Mmm,” she said. “These smell like real flowers, not hothouse funeral roses.”
“Take time to smell the flowers some other day,” Margery said. “Show us your loot.”
Helen winked at Phil, pleased that Margery was her sassy self again. She pulled the ribbons and cellophane off the basket. Inside were Krug Grand Cuvée champagne, pâté, Carr’s water crackers, pistachios, clusters of tiny red grapes, apples, pears and cheddar.
“I’d say he was grateful,” Margery said. “The man sent you almost two hundred bucks’ worth of champagne. That’s pretty high esteem.”
“It’s the thought that counts,” Helen said.
“Then I like the way Danny the developer thinks,” Phil said, abandoning his beer and orange chips.
“The envelope, please,” Margery said, and handed it to Helen.
Helen opened the red wax seal on the envelope. The stationery was thick and expensive, suitable for edicts and declarations of war. Danny’s writing was bold and black. “ ‘Thank you,’ ” Helen read. “ ‘I hope this will help compensate you for your trouble.’ ”
Helen’s eyes widened in surprise and she nearly dropped the letter. “Phil! This is a check for ten thousand dollars.”
“Let’s break out the champagne and celebrate,” Phil said.
“Let’s save it for our wedding toast,” Helen said.
“Let’s do both,” Phil said. “We can have the wedding toast tonight. It’s been three days since we got our marriage license. We can get married now. That is, if Margery agrees. Madam Preacher, will you do the honors?”
“I thought you’d never ask,” Margery said. “I’m not getting any younger, you know. Give me time to change into my minister’s robe. A preacher of my standing deserves respect.”
Margery had been ordained by mail for a dollar in the Universal Life Church. She could perform weddings in a slew of jurisdictions. Reverend Margery bought her purple robe on eBay. She claimed it had belonged to a Baptist choir singer, so at least her robe had been in a church.
“Wait! I don’t have a dress,” Helen said.
“What about your wedding dress?” Phil asked.
“I couldn’t bear to look at it after that disaster in June,” Helen said. “I sold it at Snapdragon’s.”
“You’ve already had two wedding dresses,” Margery said. “And one and a half marriages. Isn’t that enough?”
“Everyone ignores the groom’s wishes in a wedding,” Helen said. “What would you like me to wear? Name your favorite outfit.”
“The tight black dress with the slit up the side,” Phil said.
“Black isn’t bridal,” Helen said. “It might be bad luck.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Peggy said. “After what happened at the last ceremony, you’re worried about bad luck?”
“Hello!” Pete said.
“Black looks a lot sexier than white on a grown woman,” Margery said. “You didn’t wear the black dress to your mother’s funeral, did you?”
“No,” Helen said.
“Then wear it now. If that man offered to marry me, I’d grab him in a heartbeat.”
“What about me?” Phil asked. “What should I wear? What’s your favorite?”
Helen kissed him and said, “Wear your blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up and your blue jeans. Isn’t that what you had on when I first met you?”
“As I recall, you were topless,” Phil said.
That was not a moment Helen wanted to remember. “I was working on a case,” she said. “And I held up two soda bottles, so I wasn’t completely bare.”
“They were liter bottles, too,” Phil said.
“Quit talking about her jugs,” Margery said.
“Nice talk from an ordained minister,” Phil said.
“I meant her soda bottles. Are you two going to get married or talk all night?” Margery said. “It’s going on nine o’clock.”
“Wait! Where are you getting married?” Peggy asked.
“The beach!” Helen and Phil said together.
“Finally, you agree on something,” Margery said.
Thunder rumbled in the distance. The sky was black and starless. Helen suddenly realized their wedding could be rained out.
“I don’t want the word ‘obey’ in my wedding vows,” Helen said. “Love and honor, definitely, but I’m not obeying.”
“Me, either,” Phil said. “This is a marriage of equals.”
More thunder. Lightning flashed to the east. “We’d better hurry, before we’re struck by lightning,” Margery said.
“Can I be your bridesmaid again?” Peggy asked.
“As long as you bring Pete,” Helen said. “I have to get dressed and Margery has to put on her robe.”
“Hurry, will you?” Margery said. “A storm is coming in.”
They heard a fluttery voice say, “Hello? Margery? Helen, dear, are you there?”
It
was Elsie, Margery’s friend. “I wanted to show you my new outfit,” she said.
Elsie had the heart of a teenager trapped in the body of a seventy-eight-year-old woman. When it came to her clothes, she was all heart. The results were startling. Elsie was some sixty years older than the teen fashion models she admired and maybe a hundred pounds heavier. The rising wind blew her fluffy hair flat, but Helen could see it was dyed orange red.
“Plaid is very big this year,” Elsie said. “What do you think?” She attempted a twirl. Elsie’s outfit looked like a girls’ school uniform gone wild: Red plaid leggings covered her saddlebag thighs and varicose veins. The buttons strained on a long-tailed white shirt. The short Black Watch plaid jacket looked more like shoulder pads with sleeves. High-heeled plaid booties completed the ensemble.
Phil gulped.
“Amazing,” Helen said truthfully. “Phil and I are getting married on the beach tonight. We just decided. Would you like to join us?”
“How exciting,” Elsie said. “It’s like an elopement. I have something for you in my car. I’ll be right back.”
Elsie tottered back in her towering booties with a covered casserole and a Tupperware cake holder. “I heard about your mother’s death, dear. I’m so sorry. I was taught to bring food to people in mourning. I hope you don’t mind. This is beef bourguignonne and a coconut cake. It’s chocolate with white icing.”
“Our wedding feast,” Phil said, and kissed Elsie’s rouged cheek. “Thank you, darlin’.”
Margery appeared in her purple satin minister’s robe, puffing on a Marlboro. She looked more like the devil’s familiar than a minister of God. Maybe it was the trail of smoke. Or the lightning and thunder flashing behind her.
“We’re going to get drenched if we don’t move,” Margery said. “My one-buck ordination didn’t include the power to stop thunderstorms.”
Peggy, Phil and Helen hurried to their apartments to change.
Thumbs the cat met Helen at the door and demanded dinner. “Okay, buddy,” she said. “I’ll feed you now.” She quickly poured dried food into his bowl, then pulled the tab on a can of tuna. “Your pal Phil is about to become a permanent member of the household,” she said. “You can celebrate, too.”
Thumbs ignored her while he gobbled his wedding feast.
Helen put on fresh makeup, smoothed her hair, then changed into her black dress and ankle-strap shoes. She stepped outside her apartment and shut the door.
Peggy handed Helen the fragrant white bouquet, lighter now by three roses. “I took out one for each bridesmaid and made a boutonniere for Phil,” she said. “Let me take your picture. You look sensational. When these pictures get out, black-and-white weddings will be all the rage.”
“They already are,” Helen said.
“I mean the bride wearing black, not the bridesmaids.”
“My sister and her family will love the photos,” Helen said. “I wish they were here.”
But then she remembered Rob, the ex-husband she’d tried so hard to forget these last three days. She could almost see him grinning at her, eerie and insolent in the oncoming storm.
“You make such a lovely bride,” Elsie said, and sighed. She clutched her single white rose.
Phil raised his eyebrows when he saw Helen with her black dress and white roses. “Killer,” he said. “I’m shot through the heart.”
She pinned his boutonniere on his shirt and kissed him.
Peggy came out wearing a fresh green blouse, with Pete on her shoulder as a feathered accessory. The little bird tucked his head down to keep from blowing away.
“I put the champagne on to chill,” Peggy said, “and took the food inside until we return. Where are we going?”
“The beach at the foot of Las Olas on A1A,” Phil said. “There’s a public parking lot. We’ll meet there and walk across the street to the beach. Helen and I can go in my Jeep.”
“Peggy, you and Elsie can ride with me,” Margery said.
Las Olas was one long traffic jam filled with revelers. Drunks staggered between the stopped cars. Couples kissed on street corners. When the Jeep passed Snapdragon’s Second Thoughts, Helen began to have second thoughts of her own. The traffic jam broke up at the Hendin Island turnoff and Phil drove faster toward the beach. Helen could see Margery’s car behind them. Peggy waved out the front window and Phil honked back. Thunder boomed.
Phil’s Jeep reached the parking lot first. He found a spot near the entrance. Margery circled, looking for a place to park.
More thunder. Lightning ripped across the sky. The clouds were black and pregnant with rain. Helen felt a stab of fear. My marriage to Rob was a mistake, she thought, and I was too dumb to know it. Phil is a good man, but I’m dragging him into blackmail and a possible murder trial. I could wind up in jail. Is that fair to him? Should I say something? Yes. He needs to know. I have to tell Phil. I have to be an honest woman. If he doesn’t want to marry me, so be it.
The wind slammed her sideways, blowing her dark hair across her face like a veil. More thunder. She saw jagged lightning strike the ocean.
“Phil,” Helen said. “This wedding—”
“Is exactly the way to get married,” Phil said. “We have our friends, we have food, we have flowers and champagne. What’s the matter? Are you worried?”
“Yes,” Helen said. “It’s a big step. What if things go wrong? What if Rob comes back and causes trouble?”
“What if my ex returns?” Phil said. “Kendra has a genius for screwing things up.”
He kissed Helen and said, “There are no guarantees. I know that. So do you. I want you for better or worse.”
“But it could get bad,” Helen said. “Chaos seems to follow me around. I could drag you into it.”
“That’s why I love you,” Phil said. He kissed her harder, as if he could make her fear go away.
“Excuse me,” Margery said. “May I marry you first before you consummate the wedding?”
The glow of Margery’s cigarette was the beacon that guided the party to the beach. The women carefully picked their way across the sand in high heels.
Helen held on to Phil and her huge bridal bouquet as her heels sank into the sand. She could see the bright lights of a cruise ship on the black water, but the night seemed endlessly dark.
“Let’s get started,” Margery said. “Let me ask the question that caused so much trouble last time. Does anyone know any reason why this man and woman should not be joined in marriage?”
Smoke rose over Margery’s gray hair and was carried away by the wind. They heard the soothing surf and the growl of thunder.
Margery cleared her throat and said, “Do you, Helen Hawthorne, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, till death parts you?”
Helen felt the panic stab her heart. Do I? she thought. Do I want to tie the man I love to my troubles?
The moon slid out from behind the dark clouds, and the beach was flooded with light.
“Look,” Elsie said. “You have a silver lining.”
I have to believe that, Helen thought. I love him. I need him. I’ve been alone too long. And he loves and needs me. I hope we’ll have some good times before everything crashes in on us.
“Helen?” Margery said. “Do you want to get married or not?”
“Yes!” Helen said. “I mean, I do. I really do.”
“Me, too,” Phil said.
“I now pronounce you man and wife,” Margery said. “At last.”
CHAPTER 31
The wedding reception was lit by moonglow and bug lights, with flashes of distant lightning.
There was no receiving line, no best man making tasteless toasts, no garter to throw or bouquet to toss. An intrusive videographer did not command the couple to pose. Peggy took photos for Helen and Phil, then put her camera away.
The wedding feast was on a long folding table by the pool. The bridal bouquet was once more in its vase, doing double duty as
the centerpiece. The bride and groom held hands and kissed. The guests laughed often.
None of them paid lip service to their diets. Boring excuses such as, “I’d eat that, but it’s so fattening,” were forgotten. The pâté, crackers and fruit were quickly demolished. Even Pete was allowed a single cracker. The pudgy parrot’s perpetual diet had a one-night reprieve.
Phil polished off the last of Elsie’s beef bourguignonne. Helen cut the coconut cake and served her guests generous slices.
Phil refilled the wineglasses for yet another round of toasts. They’d drunk the champagne and were now working on the box wine.
“These are two words I’ve wanted to say for a long time: my wife,” Phil said. “I will love you forever. I’m so glad you finally said yes.” He gave Helen a lingering kiss as the wedding party applauded.
“Only a man as good as Phil could persuade me to marry again,” Helen said, raising her glass. “To my husband.”
“That’s so sweet,” Elsie said, wiping her eyes.
“And this toast is for Elsie,” Helen said. “A bridesmaid at last. It’s never too late to get your wish.”
They saluted Elsie.
“Thank you, dear,” Elsie said, patting Helen’s hand. “I had to wait sixty years to be a bridesmaid, but I must say, it was worth it. I married at eighteen and I was pregnant with my Milton the summer when my friends married. In those days you couldn’t have a pregnant maid of honor. It wasn’t done. We missed so much fun by worrying about what people thought and it was all so silly. I’m glad I’m free of those self-imposed rules now. Milton says my clothes aren’t appropriate for my age, but I think age is all in your mind.”
“You’ve made the world a more colorful place,” Phil said, and raised his glass again.
“This last-minute wedding is the way to tie the knot,” Peggy said. “I’ve been to too many where the bride is frazzled and the groom is hungover. The couple is so tired after months of planning their wedding, they don’t enjoy it. You both look relaxed and happy.”