by Peggy Dulle
“Thanks, Maury.”
“Did you call the chief and let him know that you’re home and safe?” Maury asked.
I cringed. “No, I’ll give him a call right now.”
Maury left and I got my phone out of my purse next to the bed. With one hand under Kenny’s head, I used my other to dial Tom’s number and put it on speakerphone.
“Hello, Liza. You spent a long time at the beach.”
“Not really.” I whispered and then told Tom all about the unpasteurized apple juice and how Kenny got sick.
Tom chuckled. “Couldn’t happen to a nicer guy.”
I rolled my eyes and wished Tom could see me. Kenny started to stir and I said, “Sh, go back to sleep.”
“Are you talking to me?” Tom asked.
“No, Kenny’s asleep in my lap and he’s starting to stir. I better disconnect this call. I don’t want to wake him.”
“Wait,” Tom yelled as I started to push the button to end the call.
“SH! What?”
“Why is he asleep in your lap?” Tom’s tone turned cool and clipped.
“He was too sick to send home alone, so I put him in my bed.”
“And you’re in the bed with him?”
“Of course. I’m not leaving him alone when he’s this sick.”
“Stretch?” Kenny mumbled in his sleep.
I stroked Kenny’s head and said, “Sh, go back to sleep, Kenny.”
“Hold me, Stretch. I feel so cold.”
I rolled my eyes and slugged Kenny on the shoulder.
“Oh, that didn’t feel so good,” Kenny opened his eyes and smiled at me.
“You’re an idiot,” I told him.
“What’s going on?” Tom said through the phone, his voice elevated with each word.
“You’re a lousy nurse, Stretch.” Kenny rubbed his arm.
“Liza!” Tom yelled.
“Oh, sorry, Tom. I think Kenny is feeling better.”
“Did you slug him?” Tom asked.
“Yes, I did.”
“Good girl. Kenny, get out of Liza’s bed and go home.”
Kenny sat up. “Okay, but I hope you’re never sick. She’s not very nurturing for a kindergarten teacher.”
“That’s because you aren’t that sick any more. I was very nurturing when you were heaving and hot.”
“That’s true.” Kenny stood, then wavered on his feet. I grabbed him and set him back on the bed.
“You’re not going anywhere,” I told him.
Maury stuck his head in the door and said, “Chief says you need to get some rest so he wants me to walk Kenny back to his house so he can rest in his own bed. George and Ryder will keep an eye on him for you.”
I glared at the phone. Obviously, Tom used another line and called Maury. I hate it when people circumvent me.
I put my hand up and brushed the air to indicate to Maury to get out of my room. Maury frowned but he left and closed the door behind him.
“Don’t do it, Stretch,” Kenny said.
I scowled.
“Don’t do what?” Tom asked.
“Bad move, Chief. Stretch is thinking about you asking Maury to take me home. She’s thinking about doing the exact opposite. Haven’t you learned anything?”
Tom coughed, then said. “I am a very stupid man sometimes, Kenny. Can you take this phone off of the speaker and hand it to Liza, please?”
Kenny gave me the phone, kissed me lightly on the forehead and whispered. “He loves you, Stretch. Give him a break, okay? Would you want him nursing some other woman in his bed?”
“You are not just some other man,” I growled.
“I know, Stretch, and that probably makes it even worse.”
Then Kenny went out and closed my bedroom door behind him.
“Liza?” I heard Tom’s voice through the phone.
“Tom,” I said coolly into the phone.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t think about how it would sound for Maury to come in and help Kenny home. I totally trust you. Even around Kenny, who I know that you love. If you want to go over to his house and crawl in his bed and nurse him back to health … I am okay with it.”
“Really?” I asked.
“Yes,” Tom sighed.
I knew that he wasn’t okay with it, but it was nice of him to say it. “No, I think Kenny will be fine.”
“So besides Kenny getting sick, did you have a nice time today? I know you love the beach.”
I sat down on the bed. “It was wonderful and nobody tried to kill me.”
“How’s your investigation going?”
“Justin hasn’t found anything new on the victim’s secrets or changes in their financials in the months before their deaths. I guess the blackmail angle doesn’t work if there aren’t any payments to anyone.” It was nice to discuss things with Tom and not have to be careful or censor my words.
“If he can’t find it, how is the killer learning about their secrets?” Tom asked.
“That’s a really good question. I’ll talk to Justin and see if he has any ideas. Thanks for the suggestion.”
“Just trying to help.”
“And making sure we keep you in the loop?” I suggested.
“There is that, too.”
“So did you call the FBI and tell them about my secret scenario?” I asked, even though I knew the answer.
Tom coughed, then said, “Yes.”
“I figured you would. Maybe they can find out the secrets.”
“They have several computer techs working on it, so hopefully they can.”
“I think it’s got to be the link between the victims since we can’t find any other reason to connect them. Maybe the guy is a newspaper reporter?”
“I doubt it. Some of the victims wouldn’t have been news worthy.”
“What about a tip line? A place where you call if you think something is wrong,” I suggested.
“Now that’s a possibility. If the guy works the phones at a tip line, then he could be choosing his victims from the calls.”
“Aren’t those calls anonymous?”
“Yeah, but after 9/11, nothing is really anonymous.”
“Big Brother is watching?” I laughed.
“Big Brother is watching, listening and videotaping.” Tom chuckled, then continued, “and just so you know that I am being an active member of your little investigative group. I’ve got some information for you to add to your files.”
“Really?”
“Yes, it’s about the gunshot victims.”
“The ones that we think were basically executed and where the guns weren’t found at the crime scene?”
“Yes. In two of the cases, the bullets have been matched to those that were recovered from a couple of other murders, one was gang related.”
“Like a professional hit?”
Tom chuckled, then sighed. “You think like a cop, Liza, and that’s exactly what the FBI are thinking. They are leaning toward a scenario that includes two people: one that finds the secret and the other does the killing.”
“And the killer is a professional who is what, contracted to do the killings?”
“It’s a possibility, Liza.”
When I finished my call with Tom, I crawled into bed and immediately fell asleep but slept fitfully. I kept seeing this huge eyeball following me everywhere. I guess it was all the talk about Big Brother before I fell asleep.
In the morning, I went directly over to Kenny’s house to check on him. Ryder opened the door.
“He’s fine.” Ryder went back and sat at the barstool by the kitchen counter.
“How did he sleep?”
“He got up several more times to throw up. I think he finally stopped around two this morning. He’s been asleep ever since.”
I started down the hallway to Kenny’s bedroom.
“You know that he …,” Ryder began.
“Yes, I know Kenny sleeps in the nude.”
Ryder shrugged and went back to his mor
ning paper.
I slowly opened Kenny’s bedroom door. He was lying flat on his stomach, the sheets all tangled around his stomach and legs. His face was pale and sweat covered his forehead.
“Kenny,” I whispered.
“Go away, Stretch. My stomach is still rolling this morning.”
“Then it’s time to put some bland broth and crackers into it.”
“I’d rather have pizza,” Kenny said.
“I’d rather not have people trying to kill me, either, but we all don’t get what we want. You need to take a shower?”
“I don’t feel steady enough. I’d probably pass out in the shower, so no.”
I opened a drawer in his bureau, dug out a pair of sweat pants and T-shirt, and threw them on the bed. “Can you get dressed or do you need some help?”
Kenny chuckled, it was low and sultry. “The chief would love that. I think I can get myself dressed, Stretch.”
“Well, you know how much I let him dictate what I do and don’t do, Kenny. I repeat, do you need some help?”
“No, I’m fine.”
“I’m going to get you a washcloth for your forehead.” I went into the bathroom, pulled a washcloth from linen closet and got it wet with cold water. When I returned to Kenny’s bedroom he was sitting on the edge of the bed with his pants on, but the T-shirt was still lying next to him.
“I didn’t think it would be so hard to get dressed,” he muttered.
I washed his face with the cloth and he leaned into my hand and sighed. “Thanks, Stretch.”
I settled Kenny on his bed with his back against several pillows, then I went into his kitchen.
George and Ryder were at the kitchen table playing cards.
“You need some help?” George asked.
“No thanks,” I told them and heated some chicken broth and grabbed a box of saltines from the pantry.
I took the food into Kenny.
He lifted his eyebrows up and down and said, “Are you going to feed me, Stretch?”
I rolled my eyes, then handed him the bowl and set the crackers on his nightstand.
Kenny took a few sips of broth and ate one cracker, then pushed the bowl back at me. “That’s enough. My stomach already feels like it wants to give that back.” Then he closed his eyes and was asleep.
I set the bowl on his nightstand, then I went back to my house and retrieved my iPad. I spent the rest of the morning alternating between letting Kenny sleep and forcing him to take a little broth and eat a cracker. While he slept I flipped through the victims’ information, searching for what the secret was that either got them killed or they took their own life rather than having it exposed.
By noon, Kenny was finally feeling better and wanted the chicken enchiladas that Maury cooked for lunch. I gave him more broth and crackers and threw in a little ginger ale.
I went home in the afternoon to feed Shelby and when I came back to check on him and found a note.
Stretch – Went to a friend’s house who will feed me more than broth and crackers. Call you when I get back.
Love you, Kenny
Later that night, Tom arrived and Maury went home.
“We’re supposed to taste the food for the wedding tomorrow, right?” Tom asked.
“Yes, we have to be there at ten.”
“I’m looking forward to seeing the place. I only have the pictures you sent me and the ones on the internet.”
“You looked it up on the internet?” I asked.
“Of course. They’ve got a photo album and I saw the white carriage, somebody’s candy bar, and the white tents. It looks like a very magical place,” Tom said, using the same word I used to describe the Gardens.
“That’s great, Tom. I like that you went and looked it up.”
We went to bed early, since we hadn’t seen each other in a week and last weekend we were too tired and sore to enjoy each other.
In the morning, Tom made pancakes and Kenny didn’t join us.
I called his cell phone.
“Tom’s cooking blueberry pancakes, where are you?”
“I’m still in the city. I won’t be home until later today. Veronica is a registered nurse and is taking good care of me.”
I rolled my eyes, even though he couldn’t see me. “Okay, Tom and I are going wedding food tasting today.”
“Have fun and I’ll see you tonight.”
I turned to Tom. “He spent the night with a friend.”
“Code for he had sex with a total stranger?”
I shrugged.
When we got to the Gardens, it was decorated with lights and lanterns. Even though it was daytime, you could see how it would look at night. The tents were over a section to the right of the fountain where tables were set up, each with a different color scheme. I saw ours right away – white table cloth, red linens with a three tiered candle with red and white flowers floating on the top center piece. Savanah was seated at the table. She was talking to Amelia.
Tom squeezed my hand. “This is beautiful, Liza.”
“I see our table,” I told him.
“Really?”
“Yes and Savanah is here. I’m glad because I wanted you to meet her. She’s so efficient. I wouldn’t have been able to plan our wedding without her.”
“I can’t wait to meet her.”
We parked the Jeep with the other vehicles and walked over to the tent area.
Savanah stood and extended her hand, “You must be Tom Owens.”
Tom nodded and shook her hand. “Thanks for helping Liza with everything.”
“My job and my pleasure,” she said smiling.
“How does this work, Savanah?” I asked.
“All of the couples here have a wedding in the next three months. Yours is the closest, as it’s next week. They’re all here to taste the food and make menu choices. We’ll go over to the tent where the appetizers will be after the wedding and before the reception and taste there. They’ll have a card for each appetizer, and you just gather the cards for those that you like. Then if you need to narrow it down, you’ll have a handy list of the ones that you want.”
“That sounds efficient,” Tom said.
“They’ve been doing this a long time,” Savanah nodded to Amelia and Hazel.
“Let’s eat,” Tom said.
We walked with the other couples over to the appetizer tent. The tent was packed with plates and plates of appetizers.
“How many can I pick?” Tom asked, reminding me that I said he could pick the food.
“As many as you want Liza to pay for?” Savanah said.
Tom frowned and turned to me, “How many?”
“I don’t know; choose five, six or ten?” I replied. We never talked about how many I would need.
“Don’t pick too many,” Savanah said, “You don’t want your guest to fill up on appetizers and not eat the dinner you’re providing them. This is a snack to keep them busy while you take pictures after the ceremony.”
“Okay, let’s go for six,” Tom said.
We tasted almost sixty different appetizers and I loved them all, so I let Tom decide. He was like a kid in a candy shop. He finally decided upon: stuffed mushroom caps, teriyaki chicken strips, fruit & caramel brie, southwest corn cakes, pot stickers, and citrus glazed fruit kabobs.
“I’m full of appetizers,” I told Savanah and Tom.
“That’s why we are trying the drinks next,” Savanah told us. “You’ll only get a small taste of each. Then you should have room for the dinner food.”
“You pick the drinks, Liza. I just want water and coffee with my cake,” Tom said.
“Okay.” I finally settled on a fruit punch, homemade lemonade, ice tea, mango punch, and coffee.
Then Amelia led us over to the tables under the white tent. She used a microphone and said, “All the buffet stands are set up. Don’t overstuff your plate. Go in shifts. Try the chicken dishes first and decide on how many of them you want and which ones. Then move to the meat dishes an
d fish dishes.”
“This is the best day ever,” Tom said.
“Why?” I asked.
“I get to taste all this wonderful food and then pick some for our wedding. It’s a win-win situation.”
While we sat at the table, Tom asked, “So Savanah, you’re a friend of Jordan’s from high school?”
“We went to high school together, but I wouldn’t say we were friends. We connected on Facebook last year and have been keeping up with each other ever since.”
“Facebook sure has brought some people back together,” Tom looked at me and smiled. He was thinking about Kenny and so was I.
“Are you married?” Tom asked.
I kicked him under the table and he jumped, “What?”
“I am a widow,” Savanah said.
“Oh, sorry,” Tom said rubbing his shin.
“That’s okay, you didn’t know. I’m sure if you would have known, you wouldn’t have asked. Liza said you were a cop, so asking questions and expecting answers is what you do,” then to me she whispered, “My plans are proceeding nicely.”
I smiled at her, remembering our earlier conversation about her husband being killed and her plan for revenge by getting a lawyer to sue for wrongful death or something. She planned to give all the money she got to a charity for animals.
Tom nodded and responded to her statements about cops, “That’s true.”
“How do you like the London Broil?” I asked Tom, getting him off the topic of Savanah’s dead husband. The next thing he’d be asking was how he died.
“It’s really good, nice and tender,” he said, then switched gears. “How long have you been a wedding consultant?”
“Almost five years. I started with my sister’s wedding and enjoyed organizing it, so I kept doing them. It’s fun to enjoy a couple’s special day.”
I knew Tom would continue to ask questions, it was the cop in him, so to head him off I said, “I really liked the color of the hearts on the invitations, Savanah. It wasn’t too pink.”