“The bride chose this venue because her father got his first job here as a teen, working the drive-thru window. Now that her father is deceased, she thought it would be a nice way to include him and that he would enjoy it.”
“Why were we invited?”
“Dickie and I talked it over. These people aren’t locals, so we don’t know them like we do our regular clientele, where we typically know the deceased or a family member. We’ve had much more peace of mind since the two of you agreed.”
“That was nice of us,” I mumbled.
“Excuse me.” An older woman walked out of the main room. “Could you remove the mannequin at the front? The man is quite disconcerting to look at and not appropriate for wedding decor.”
Raul paled a little. “We’ll remove him right now.” He and Dickie engaged in a glare-off.
“Raul, you’re the one who forgot.” Dickie waved his hand in a dismissive manner and trailed after the woman.
“I’ll be right back,” Raul said. “Dickie can’t carry Mr. Burns by himself.”
Fab, who had disappeared momentarily, returned. “What’s going on?”
“A tiff between the guys as to who does what,” I said to her back as she peered into the main room. “If asked, what do we tell people – bride’s side or groom’s?” I waited for a response and didn’t get one. “I’m going to say the bride is your friend and I’m your date. What’s her name anyway?”
“You know I don’t remember names.”
Raul and Dickie came back through a side door that I hadn’t known existed carrying the “mannequin” on a chair. He appeared to my untrained eye to be a recently deceased man of about sixty. The boys had obviously been sucked into another theme funeral. The gentleman, one leg crossed over the other, was dressed in a plaid suit with suspenders that dated back to an era before I was born. There was a cigarette in his hand.
I need an aspirin.
Dickie lowered his end of the chair to the floor, opened the first viewing room, and the two carried the man inside. When they returned, Dickie said, “Mr. Burns had a rather large viewing earlier, and at the last minute, we moved the mourners into the main room to accommodate them all. We were getting ready to move him back to his room when the wedding party started arriving. The funeral is tomorrow.”
“Mr. Burns planned his own funeral,” Raul said. “He knew exactly what he wanted and even included pictures in his funeral plan.”
Dickie checked his watch. “The wedding ceremony begins in fifteen minutes. Raul, will you check with everyone and make sure there aren’t any last minute snags?” He whispered to me, “Some people think I don’t make a good first impression.”
“You’re fine.” I patted his arm. “We’ll sit in the back.”
Fab had a big smile pasted on her face, clearly enjoying the drama. I followed her to our favorite spot—seats she’d reserved next to the exit, with a clear shot to the front door.
“Do you think if I wrapped my fingers in your hair, I could swing you around, right off your feet?” I asked sweetly.
“You always suck the fun out of everything.”
“Not always. Did you know about Mr. Burns?”
“Oh, heck no. But I did get a picture. Wait until your mother sees it.”
“You’re turning Mother into a ghoul, and I’m not sure I like it.”
Chapter Twenty-One
The normally canned music used for funerals had been replaced by a pianist seated in the corner. The grey-haired woman with wire-rimmed glasses concentrated carefully on her rendition of Here Comes the Bride, but still threw in a few notes the original didn’t have.
The bride was stunning in a backless, floor-length gown with a full skirt and full veil. A younger man, waiting in the doorway, extended his arm and led her down the aisle.
The ceremony started without a hitch, everyone seated and well behaved. Fab put her head on my shoulder, and I shook it off. If I had to be awake, then so did she.
I leaned over and whispered, “Can we leave as soon as they say their I-dos?”
She fidgeted in her chair and finally said, “We’re staying for the reception.”
“What happens when someone wants to know who we are? You never answered me before. Then what? The old ‘friend of a friend’ excuse hardly works in this setting.”
The person in front of us turned, finger to her lips, and shushed me. I almost cracked a smile when the lime green feather fell from her purple velvet hat, an exact match for her dress.
Fab smacked my hand, shaking her head in faux annoyance. The woman smiled at her.
The preacher concluded the ceremony with, “You may kiss the bride.” The groom lifted the veil and jumped back after a quick glimpse of her face, the veil falling back into place. He yelled, “What the f—?”
Silence descended over the room.
Fab shot out of her seat, motioning for me to guard the door as she hugged the side wall, where she wouldn’t attract a lot of attention, and headed to the front.
The groom turned on the preacher, yelling, “This better not be legal. I’d never marry this bitch.”
“Robbie, I love you.” The bride swept the train of her dress over one arm and launched herself at him, wrapping her arms around his middle, grasping and clawing to keep from falling to the floor.
The groom loosened her arms, which she then wrapped around his neck. He tugged on her hands, prying her loose, and pushed her backwards. She stumbled to the floor in an ungraceful heap. He bent down. “Where is Leslie?” he screeched in her face.
Gasps were heard around the room.
“Leslie?” a woman screamed from the front row.
The woman raced forward. I guessed her to be the mother of the bride. She peered down into the face of the woman on the floor and suddenly collapsed beside her.
Fab flew to the woman’s side. I held my breath, not sure what she intended to do.
“She’s fine,” Fab shouted over the voices that had begun to escalate. “Just fainted. Do we have a doctor or nurse here?”
The bride encircled the groom’s legs in a death grip, causing him to tip forward. He caught himself and, instead of landing on top of her, fell to the side. He grabbed her shoulders, dragged her face to his, and unleashed a tirade of words that were unintelligible. In return, the woman clawed at his face.
The groom shrugged her off. “Call the police,” he yelled. “We need to find Leslie.”
Fab joined Raul, who was trying to calm down the groom. Fab laughed, which earned her two dirty looks.
I heard one couple say, “Who the hell is that woman?”
Fab helped the “bride” to her feet, turning her towards the guests. A few of them stared back in shocked recognition. Fab strong-armed her part of the way down the aisle before she twisted away and ran to grab the microphone from the stand.
Fab let her go and motioned me down the aisle. “She’s not the bride.”
“Figured that out by the groom’s reaction,” I said, the sarcasm unmistakable in my voice.
“Everyone, sit down,” the faux bride screamed into the microphone, which reacted with ear-splitting noises of its own.
“Nobody noticed until now?” I asked.
Fab shrugged, as if to say, these things happen.
“I love Robbie,” the woman started. “Leslie stole him from me, and I got him back. Serves the bitch right. We’re married now, and there’s not a damn thing any of you can do about it.”
Deluded woman, there was nothing legal about this marriage. Tired of standing, I headed back to my seat, not wanting to be far from an exit. “I’m not missing a minute of this drama.”
On my heels, Fab said, “You think the other bride is dead?” She motioned me to move over a seat, wanting to be on the aisle.
The lady in the row in front of us turned around again. “Shut up, you two. Stop your caterwauling. I can’t hear a damn thing.”
“You’re overly dramatic.” I stared back at the woman.
&nb
sp; Fab lifted the skirt of her dress, showing her the Walther strapped to her thigh, then leaned forward and growled.
I loved her imitation of an unhappy dog about ready to chew a leg off.
“Gun!” the woman squealed, jumping up, tripping over the leg of her chair, and skidding into the aisle.
Fab climbed up on her chair and shouted, “False alarm. We’re security.”
When the woman shouted “gun,” the new bride had run to Robbie and he’d wrapped his arms around her and appeared to be comforting her.
Guess he doesn’t hold a grudge, even after “marrying” the wrong woman.
Raul grabbed the microphone, tapping the side to get everyone’s attention. “We’ll be making an announcement shortly as to what will be happening next. In the meantime, if you’d like to go out to the patio, we have a bar set up with wine and beer.” He pointed to the sliding doors.
I tapped Fab’s leg, pointing to the chair. Fab ignored me and instead went to confer with Dickie, who was waving frantically from the far side of the room.
She returned faster than I expected.
“Dickie spotted Leslie through the windows of one of the viewing rooms. She’s tied up and the door’s locked. He went to get the keys.” Fab jerked on my arm. “Why wait?” She retrieved a lockpick from her bra and, without backward glance, headed to the viewing rooms.
I hung back, not wanting to get an eyeful of a dead person propped up in all their glory.
Fab started with the last door, opened it, peeked in, and put away her lockpick, motioning me forward. In the corner lay Leslie, bound and gagged, her face twisted with rage.
To say Robbie had a type put it mildly. The two women were similar enough that they could be sisters, and the crazy ex had somehow managed to get the exact same wedding dress.
Fab crossed to Leslie, speaking softly, introducing herself. She untied her, removed the gag, and helped to her feet.
Instead of saying “thank you,” Leslie slapped Fab’s hands away. “I’m suing this place.” She pushed past us, hiked up her dress, and ran out the door.
I backed out of the room; no body inside but still creepy. “I predict fireworks. Since you’ve politely reminded me several times that you’re the ass-kicker, you need to follow and keep the peace. I’ll stay in the back and be the one to take pictures for a change.” We hurried back into the main room.
“Leslie!” The woman who’d fainted sobbed, throwing her arms out.
Leslie didn’t acknowledge her mother, shoving past people, her eyes on her nemesis. She halted in front of the other woman, checking her over from head to toe, and judging by her ice-cold glare, the first thing she’d noticed was that they had on the same dress.
“Marla, you bitch,” Leslie roared. “I don’t know what the hell is going on in that bat-crazy head of yours, but Robbie’s going to be my husband.” She swung her fist and missed her target, but clocked Robbie—who’d made the mistake of stepping between the two women at the wrong moment—a good one on the side of the face.
Word spread like wildfire to the guests who had gone to the patio for free drinks. They crowded the doorway, and others joined those that hadn’t left their seats.
Marla reclaimed the microphone, panting heavily. “He’s mine.” She blew a kiss to Robbie. “Aren’t you, babe?”
Robbie stood mute.
Marla turned her attention back to Leslie. “Ask Robbie where he slept last night. Ask him about how he told me it was the best sex of his life. Wait.” She stuck up her hand. “And ask about the night before and the one before that.” She turned to the crowd. “Where’s Robbie’s family? See them anywhere? They hate her. She’s crazy.”
Plenty of crazy going around.
Marla had no intention of giving up the spotlight. “The only reason Robbie asked you to marry him was we got in a stupid fight.” She waved her finger at Leslie, nose scrunched up as though she smelled. “Robbie’s weakness is money, and let’s face it, hon; your family has plenty. You think he was going to give me up? He wasn’t about to, and certainly not when Husky Robbie didn’t like you and couldn’t get it up half the time. You frigid bitch.”
Men needed to stop naming their dicks; more often than not, it came back to embarrass them.
Clearly, no one had the desire to shut the woman up, the spectators remaining mute. Robbie, looking shell-shocked, took it all in, obviously unable to comprehend how ruined he was—no woman but Marla would want him now. Leslie stared, with no idea how to stop the trainwreck.
“Robbie likes it rough, but you don’t do that, Miss Vanilla,” Marla continued with zeal. “You lie there like a frigid stick. I couldn’t get Robbie to see that money isn’t everything; he needed my help, or he’d be living out his life in complete misery. Hell, he already is. I love him enough to save him from himself.”
What rubbish! I rolled my eyes. If Fab had been the real bride, she’d have shot Robbie already, the heck with witnesses.
Leslie roused herself from her stupor. “You’re a liar. He was with me last night.”
Marla smirked. “Not all night he wasn’t.” She gripped Leslie’s dress in her hands and ripped it down the front. “This is my dress. My husband. And guess damn what—we’re married.”
Robbie stepped between the two.
Leslie sidestepped him and hurled herself at Marla, sending them both to the floor, where they rolled around, pulling hair and landing the occasional slap.
Raul and Fab let them get a few punches in before simultaneously jumping into the fray, each tugging a woman to the opposite corner. Neither wanted to cooperate, and they slowed the process by kicking and screaming. When Leslie started to crawl away, Fab planted her foot squarely in the center of her backside. She should be thankful Fab had left her stilettos under the chair.
“I should’ve known you’d be here.” Kevin sat on the seat next to me.
“Shouldn’t you be up there breaking up the fight?”
“Chick fight? The new guy is right behind me; he can do it. Last time I jumped between two brawling women, I damn near lost something I cherish.” He flashed a boyish smile.
“You wouldn’t sacrifice your… or one of your… for the sake of the job?”
He snorted. “Not if I can help it.”
Another uniformed deputy walked through the door and paused next to Kevin. “You take the one on the right; I’ll take the left,” he said.
“Put a bullet in the ceiling; it won’t be the first.” I pointed upward at several patches. “Free advice, by the way.”
Kevin sighed and stood up. “Don’t leave. I have questions for you.”
“Good luck,” I chirped.
At the first sign of law enforcement, Fab let the women start brawling again. She appeared at my side. “Let’s go.”
“Can’t. I’m being held for questioning. Before you start arguing, I’ll remind you that it beats a jail cell.”
“Kevin again!” Fab knelt in the chair in the row ahead of me, leaning over the seat. “Two women fighting over loser Robbie when they could go out and get another man who’d keep it zipped.”
The two officers pulled the women apart, and everything quieted down up in front. The new deputy announced that the wedding wouldn’t be happening and told everyone to leave through the nearest exit.
Someone in the crowd grumbled, “What about the one that already happened? That one legal?”
Another said, “Is Robbie married?”
“You can go home, and I’ll get a ride in the hearse,” I said, tired of watching Fab punch the back of the seat.
Fab ignored me, scanning the room. “Don’t look at him.” She motioned to Kevin, who was moving in our direction. “We could get lucky and he’ll pass us by.
I glanced up. “Don’t think so.”
“We caught a break. They were tired and ready to stop fighting.” He waved to his partner. “They each threatened to press charges, and when I informed them that in that case they’d both be going to jail, they stopp
ed talking.”
“You need to arrest Robbie,” I said.
“Being a douche isn’t a crime.” Kevin appeared amused. “Besides, once I finished questioning him, he snuck out the side door. Judging by the squealing of tires that I heard, he left the property rather quickly.”
“The brides?”
He shrugged. “I’m just happy they decided to leave without further incident.”
“What do you want with me?” I asked. “If you make it short, you can get a free meal at Jake’s, the protect-and-serve discount.”
“Just wanted you to stick around in case I couldn’t get a straight story out of anyone. And I never get a discount.”
“Says who?”
“Phil.”
I wondered why and then remembered. “That’s what you get for having her car towed.”
“That was years ago. She needs to get over it.”
“You display a certain amount of charm at times; use it on her, smooth things over already.”
“I’m certain that was a compliment.” Goofy smile on his face.
I stood, happy his partner had reappeared and needed his attention. “This has been a wedding to remember.” I went into the entry, where a couple of the guests were grabbing presents and heading out the door.
I resisted the urge to move the gift tags around, instead frowning at Fab, who ended her conversation with Raul.
“Whose idea was this dumb job?” I asked Fab. “Oh yeah, you.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
I walked down the stairs very slowly to give myself maximum eavesdropping time. There was more going on with the night’s upcoming events than I knew about, and no one appeared to be planning to enlighten me anytime soon.
I vaguely remembered Didier and Brad mentioning a dinner party to schmooze a business contact for a real estate deal that had them excited, but that wasn’t tonight. Technically, every deal got a hand vote by all investors, mostly perfunctory. This would be the biggest deal yet.
Lottery in Paradise (Florida Keys Mystery Series Book 11) Page 12