by Maria Luis
No soul-wrenching kisses.
For all sense and purpose, he and Jade had progressed backward in their relationship.
“Mommy!” the little girl shriek from inside the house. “Mommy! You have friends.”
He and Jade shared a grin.
Their grins died the moment Miranda Smiley stepped in the doorway, a kitchen towel in her hands and no smile in sight.
Time to get down to business.
“Ms. Smiley,” he said, voice low and unassuming. He motioned to Jade, who offered a small tilt of her lips when he added, “This is Jade Harper, my partner.”
They’d agreed to keep it plain and simple. Partners. No mention that the NOPD was now scrambling to keep the media in its place. Homicides were, unfortunately, a dime a dozen in New Orleans, like in any big city, but the Zeker case had spiraled out of control, with the media feeding the flames of citizen outcry.
Zeker’s murder needed to be put to bed yesterday, for the sake of his mourning family, who weren’t given the privacy to grieve, and for Nathan’s own piece of mind.
“Ms. Smiley, I’m sorry to stop by unannounced. We’d like to speak with you for a moment.”
Ms. Smiley did not smile. “I’m not sure what else you could possibly ask me that you haven’t already.”
Before he had the chance to open his mouth, Jade stepped forward. “We don’t want the children to overhear,” she murmured, sweet as can be. “Would you be willing to step outside for just a few minutes?”
With a hard glance between them, Ms. Smiley held out an arm and they trooped over to the small patch of grass with a decapitated Barney toy and a scooter toppled over in the grass.
As soon as they were out of earshot from the front door, Ms. Smiley turned to them with no preliminary chitchat. “Detective, I’m sure you can understand my frustration at seeing you here again.”
Clearly there was no love lost between them. “We’ll be out of your hair as soon as possible, ma’am. The thing is, we’ve come to a bit of a crossroads.”
“And you’re back to thinking that I murdered my husband?”
“Husband?” Jade asked, echoing the same thought sprinting through Nathan’s brain. “I’m sorry, ma’am, I don’t mean to be rude, but I was under the impression that—”
“That I was the other woman?” Ms. Smiley said snidely, her expression one of pure disgust. “Yes, you’re not alone. All of New Orleans thinks I have less morals than a whore.”
Nathan mentally scanned through every file he’d pored over in the last three weeks. Nowhere did he remember stumbling across any kind of marriage document linking the woman before him to Charlie Zeker. Hell, she wasn’t even listed as being married. But if what she claimed was correct, then . . .
“I need you to backtrack for me,” he said, trying beyond everything to keep his cool. “You never mentioned marrying Zeker.”
“No,” she replied testily, “I didn’t mention it.”
Ever the calm presence within the storm, Jade said, “Can we ask you why?”
For a moment, it didn’t seem likely that Zeker’s widow would speak at all. She stared resolutely down at the headless Barney, her fingers digging into her arms. Finally, she spoke, though her gaze remained pinned to the kid’s toy nestled in the grass.
“Charlie divorced Shawna three, no, maybe four years ago now. We’d known each other beforehand. Worked together, at this restaurant in the Quarter. I still work there. We never did get together until after their divorce was finalized.” Her gaze lifted and the turmoil in her light-colored eyes was potent. “I’m not that sort of woman, Detective.”
“All right.”
Seemingly satisfied by his non-answer, she went on. “We eloped about a year after their divorce, at one of those walk-in chapel-type deals two blocks from the restaurant. Until we married, I’d never met Shawna. But boy did I get to know her face real well after our marriage.”
Beside him, Jade stirred. “Can you give us more details?”
Ms. Smiley—or was she Mrs. Zeker?—shrugged. “She showed up frequently at the restaurant, screaming at Charlie for leaving her. Slashed my car tires, that sort of thing.”
“Anything else?” Nathan pushed. “Did you ever file a restraining order?”
“No.” The woman turned to look at something behind Nathan. “I never did. Charlie said she was harmless.”
“Was she?” Jade murmured. “Harmless, I mean.”
With a bark of laughter, Ms. Smiley shook her head. “No. It got worse after our first daughter was born. Shawna started showing up here, first just once every few weeks and then more frequently after that. I don’t know how many times I had to go to Sears to get new tires because she slashed them all.”
Nathan made a mental note to look into that further. In reviewing Shawna’s past, he’d never come across the violent behavior Ms. Smiley was suggesting. Sure, friends and family had mentioned Shawna having a small temper. Who didn’t, though? Her rap sheet was clean. No misdemeanors. No felony charges. For all intents and purposes, until the death of her husband, Shawna Zeker was described as an unassuming woman with a knack for poetry and a sweet spot for stray cats.
Car slashing hadn’t been one of her hobbies.
It was a struggle to marry the image of Shawna Zeker that Ms. Smiley provided, and the version of Shawna known by her loved ones. Then again, hadn’t Ms. Bev mentioned that she’d led her daughter down the wrong path by not baptizing her?
This case was one big mess. He felt like he was running in circles.
Nathan scrubbed a frustrated hand over his face. “What exactly would she be seeking revenge for?”
He was rewarded with a blank look. “I don’t know, Detective,” Ms. Smiley said blandly. “How about for taking her husband?”
Gotcha. “But you just said that you didn’t take her husband away. That the two of them had been done at least a year before y’all got together.”
“Well, yes.”
“And in that year, do you recall Zeker dating anyone else?”
Out of his periphery, he saw Jade ease her duffel down to the ground. There was the zzzzppp of a zipper easing open.
“He may have,” Ms. Smiley said, her gaze bouncing from him down to Jade. “I don’t know.”
“But you would know, wouldn’t you,” he murmured, keeping his tone light. “You would know because Shawna mentioned something to me just yesterday when she was released from prison.”
Light-colored eyes shot to his face. “And?”
“Y’all have known each other for years.” He paused, waiting for his comment to sink in. He saw the moment that it did. Her pretty features twisted, her mouth becoming nothing more than a slash across her face. “I never gave it much thought, not until now, anyway, but you dated one of Shawna’s ex-boyfriends . . . from high school, wasn’t it? And then again while in college.”
Her teeth clamping together in fury, Ms. Smiley wrung the kitchen towel between her hands and then snapped it against her leg. “So, what, I’m not allowed to date who I want? It’s a free country.”
“It is,” Nathan said slowly, carefully. “But I suspect that you knew how Shawna might react if she heard about you dating yet another one of her exes—this time her husband.”
Subtly, so subtly he almost didn’t notice at all, Jade excused herself from the conversation, muttering something about having to take a call. Ms. Smiley barely spared her a single glance, her entire focus was fixed on Nathan.
“Listen here, Detective. You’ve got a job to do. You’re questioning me because I’m an easy target. The supposed ‘other woman.’ But I’m no other woman.” The last words were spat out. “Charlie and I were married. You can come here another ten times if you want, but you’re not going to get anything from me. I did not murder my husband.”
Hard as it was, Nathan ignored her anger in an effort to keep his own composure. “I’d like the name of that wedding chapel you went to when you married Zeker.” He drew in a heavy breath. “P
lease.”
Ms. Smiley didn’t like that answer any more than she’d like any of the others he’d given her in his last two visits. “What,” she said, voice raising a hair past shouting, “so you can go and look me up? No, thank you.”
Time to go about this another way, then. “Ma’am,” he said in a placating tone, the kind of tone that worked wonders on calming down drunks, “I can go about this two ways. You can just give me the information I need, and I’ll go right along on my way, or I can do the research myself and still go down to that chapel.” He paused, then added, “I can tell you which one will look better in the court of law, however, should it come to that.”
The glare she leveled on him was positively cuddly. “You’re an asshole, Detective Danvers. As much of a prick as the newspapers are saying.”
Nathan tapped the black body camera pinned to his chest. “Should I remind you what the newspapers are saying about you?” he said in a low voice. “I think you’d be the first to agree that not everything we read about in the papers has a lick of truth to it.”
“Screw you, Detective.”
Well, guess she didn’t give a rat’s ass about the fact that this meeting had been recorded.
“Mommy!” called the little girl from the porch. “Where’s Barney?”
Ms. Smiley bent down to grab the headless toy from the grass. “Right here, honey. Where’s his head?”
“IN THE TOILET,” screamed the banshee, “IN THE TOILET. I LOVE YOU’S, YOU LOVES ME-E-E’S—”
Ms. Smiley turned to him, the headless Barney gripped in one hand like a lifesaver. “I have to go.”
Not until he had the pertinent information. “The chapel?”
“WE’RE A HAPPY FAMILIES-S-S-S-S-S-S—MOMMY!”
Forget his ears, Nathan was pretty damn sure his entire skeletal system had just shut down from the little girl’s screaming.
The universe must have heard his prayers because right before Ms. Smiley ran up the porch steps to her shrieking toddler, she tossed over her shoulder, “Heavenly Met. On Dauphine Street.”
Bingo.
Chapter Twenty-Two
THE FRENCH QUARTER, NEW ORLEANS
“Are you sure this is it?”
Jade stared in awe at the one-story cottage. It was . . . magical. The window panes were lit up with scenes from the nativity, mixed in with images of Elvis Presley impersonators marrying couples in a tiny room. A chalkboard sign posted by the front door read:
You catch ’em? We’ll seal the deal.
Walk-ins welcome.
We wed dogs too.
(No cats. Keep the evil demons outside or we’ll feed them to the dragon.)
“Are we in Las Vegas?”
Nathan glanced down at her. “You’re stereotyping. Vegas doesn’t own the copyright to Elvis weddings.”
“What is this place?”
“I’m guessing Miami doesn’t have local chapels?”
“If they do, I’ve never seen them before with my own eyes.” Jade dug into her duffel. “Wait, before we go inside, I have to take a photo of that sign for Sammie.”
His brow arched. “Right now?”
Jade ignored his brow-raise and snuck a photo on her phone. “There, done. We can go inside.”
He shook his head, hand going to her lower back. The pressure of his hand was an instant reminder that she’d slammed the brakes on any sexual connection in the last two days.
It wasn’t because she didn’t want him.
No, her retreat had everything to do with the fact that she was in too deep and had no idea what to do about it. And now that they’d spent the last forty-eight hours in each other’s company—minus the hours they’d slept, separately, at their respective places—Jade was even more confused.
How did you go about telling someone you liked that you wanted more than just a one-night stand?
That was only part of Jade’s dilemma.
The other part was that John Thomas had randomly texted her three times in the last two days to just “check on her.”
She had a sneaking suspicion that Sammie, her beloved sister, had let slip to the family that Jade had a certain “problem.” That problem, of course, being the man who’d sought her help above everyone else’s for a case that could potentially break his career.
It was hard to imagine someone having such faith in her abilities . . . and that he had that faith in her? This problem of hers was only becoming more problematic.
Chimes tinged above their heads as the entrance door closed behind them. The entry parlor was darker than expected, and it took a moment for Jade’s eyes to readjust to the candle-lit room.
“They’re holding a wedding,” Nathan muttered, “I can hear the music.”
Jade strained her ears. “Surely they’re not playing . . .?”
“Yes, yes they are.”
As Elvis Presley’s “A Big Hunk o’ Love” reached its chorus, Jade couldn’t help but giggle. “This is crazy.” She twisted around to check out her surroundings. “Did you read that sign outside? Apparently, they’ve got a—Díos mío!”
She lurched back at the sight of two taxidermies. Nathan caught her about the waist and pulled her into the circle of his arms. “What,” he demanded. Then, “What the hell is that?”
And that was how they were discovered. She, tucked against his body; him, poised to take action against the stuffed Chihuahua and pit bull taking their vows at a staged altar. Below their bodies was a plaque that read: Niko and Starr, September 1927.
“Why, hello there!” sing-songed a masculine voice from behind them. “You’ve just missed the wedding of the century.”
Jade and Nathan whirled around to find a portly man grinning widely at them. Decked out in a blue tuxedo, he ambled toward them with his arms held up in greeting.
“Never fear,” the man said in a lowered voice, hand placed next to his mouth as though imparting a secret, “the wedding party is about to promenade past this very room in . . . three . . . ”
She shared a look of impending dread with Nathan. Did they have time to leave? Could they hide?
“Two . . . ”
Nathan’s hand took hold of hers. He squeezed, just once, and Jade wondered if he meant to tell her that they were in this together, for better or for worse.
“One!”
A pair of double doors burst open to Jade’s left.
She squeezed Nathan’s hand, hard, in an effort to keep from doubling over in laughter.
“What a lovely couple,” said the man who’d approached them. “So handsome, so beautiful!”
The Great Dane, whom Jade could only imagine was today’s bride, tossed her wreath-donned head in the air and nearly stepped on her groom, a Yorkshire terrier dressed in a doggy tux.
Nathan snorted and Jade shoved her elbow into his side. “Don’t ruin their big day,” she muttered. “They’ve been waiting for months.”
Another snort. Another sharp elbow jab.
The newlyweds were followed by Elvis Presley himself and about five to seven other humans sipping from long, green plastic containers. They stumbled over each other as the group promenaded out the front doors, only to erupt into a chaos of sharp yip-yips! and more than a few gruff barks.
“It seems they’re off to an excellent start,” Nathan said wryly.
The shorter man didn’t catch the sarcasm and sashayed over to the front door. “Lovely, lovely wedding. Went off without a hitch.”
The door clicked shut, eclipsing whatever afternoon sunlight had lit the dark parlor.
Jade sidled closer to Nathan.
The portly man shuffled around. “Now, so sorry about the delay. How may we help you today at Heavenly Met?” He neared them, climbing up onto a step stool to tug on a string. The room flooded with artificial light. “Are we thinking a big wedding? Small, perhaps? My name is Mr. Simms.”
“Oh, no we aren’t—”
He bowled right over Jade’s injection. “We create custom weddings here. You won’t
find anything else like us in the French Quarter. We are an institution.”
“Really?” Nathan’s tone was skeptical, at best.
The skepticism slipped right over the man’s head. “Absolutely! My grandfather opened this chapel in 1912. The year of the Titanic, I like to tell people. That’s how old we are. The year the unsinkable ship sank, we’ve had our doors open to anyone who wishes to marry.”
“Except for cats,” Jade couldn’t help but throw in.
“Well, yes,” he said slowly, as though questioning her intelligence, “cats are the devil’s spawn.”
Nathan left her side to walk around the perimeter of the room. He paused at the antique Chihuahua and pit bull taxidermies, taking in their touching paws before continuing on. “So, you provide weddings to everyone else but cats?”
“Nutria are also on our do-not-marry list. Evil little things.”
Jade tossed a questioning look toward her partner.
“They’re an invasive species,” Nathan told her. “They look a bit like beavers who’ve eaten way too many Cheetos.”
Right. Cheeto-eating beavers. Because that was an image she wanted to try to summon up.
“Now, sir,” Nathan went on, “could I assume that if this . . . institution has been open since 1912, you’ve kept records of every couple ever married here?”
“Oh, yes. Substantial records. We are an institution, like I said. Opened in the Storyville years—you should have seen the couples we used to marry! Madams and their pimps. Common dockside whores and their sailors. Why, we even had some big name Jazz musicians play for the weddings!”
Nathan stopped searching the room to glance back at Mr. Simms. “Louis Armstrong?”
“Well, no, not him.”
Jade stifled a laugh at hearing his disgruntlement. A thought hit her. “Do you report all of your weddings to the state for filing?”
Narrowed eyes landed on her. “Of course we do.”
“Even the dog weddings?”
“Are you making fun of me, ma’am?” Disapproval cooled his expression.
“Not at all!”
“Good,” he said succinctly before scratching his chin. “Now, am I planning you two a wedding or not?”