by Peggy Dulle
I nodded and she left. I thought about crawling under the covers again, but decided I needed to get up and get going. It wouldn’t be a good start to be late for my own wedding.
When I came out after taking a shower, my phone was ringing. Maybe it was Tom wishing me a happy wedding day?
I wrapped the towel around myself and sat on the edge of the bed. It wasn’t Tom – it was Justin’s number.
“Good morning, Justin. It’s not two o’clock in the afternoon. What got you up so early?”
“I haven’t been to bed yet, Teach.”
“What?”
“Yeah, well, I started in the lawyer’s chat house and went back to archived conversations starting a month before each of the victims’ deaths to see if I could pick up some chatter about them. Do you know what I found?”
“Lawyers talking about their crappy clients?” I suggested.
“Nope, absolutely nothing.”
“Really? I was pretty sure you’d find the victims’ dirty little secrets and we’d know, at least, why they were killed.”
“Nope, I think lawyers are too slick for that. I couldn’t tie any of their conversations to our victims.”
“Another dead end,” I sighed.
“Not exactly. Remember how we talked about how other professions might want similar chat rooms?”
“Yeah, like a place for teachers to complain about how parents aren’t being parents anymore and how the schools have to teach manners along with reading, writing, and math?”
“Yep, well, I followed a small thread of a conversation in the lawyer’s chat room and found quite a few other chat rooms. There is one for doctors, law enforcement officers, firemen and even teachers.”
“Wow.”
“That’s not all. Do you remember the electrician that made our skin crawl?”
I shuddered. “Yeah.”
“Well, I followed a comment from the lawyer’s chat room into the doctor’s chat room where he was talking about several women he’d examined. From there, that same thread led me to the cop’s room.”
“Rapist?”
“Oh yeah. According to the cop room, he’s got ten rapes that they know about.”
“Why isn’t he in jail?”
“All of the victim’s refuse to testify. It seems that after he rapes them, he tells them that if they testify against him, his brother will come back and kill them and one of their loved ones. One of the victim’s has a sister and she told the doctor about what the rapist said. Another has a daughter and she told a cop about what the rapist said.”
“He was a scumbag.”
“Yes he was and the cops couldn’t touch him.”
“So the vigilante took him out.”
“Yeah, and the lady with the scowl. I actually picked up her trail from the teacher’s chat room. It led me to a doctor and then back to the cops. She was using her two kids to pass out drugs that look like candy at the elementary school. The kids get hooked on the drug-laced candy and then when they get to middle school, she moves them up to the drugs alone.”
“Bitch,” I muttered.
“Yep.”
“So most of the information is coming out of the cop’s chat room?”
“Yeah, I think we’ve got a cop who’s a vigilante.”
I told Justin about the FBI’s theory that it is two people: one that finds the information and the other does the killing.
“So maybe a cop picks the victim and someone kills them.”
“Does that make him just as responsible for the death?” I asked.
“I don’t know that much about the law, Teach.”
“I’ll ask Kenny about it but if it is not a cop than it just could be anyone who can maneuver the chat rooms, like you can,” I suggested.
“Too bad I’m stuck in this wheel chair or I might be your first suspect,” Justin laughed.
“What about Penelope?”
“I couldn’t find anything about the kindergarten teacher.”
There was a light knock on my bedroom door and Jordan said, “Are you ever coming out of your room?”
“I’ve got to go, Justin. We can talk about this later. You get some sleep. I don’t want you late for my wedding.”
“I’ll be there, Teach.”
I ended the call and set the phone back down, then turned toward the door. “I’m just getting dressed. I’ll be out in a few minutes.”
When I came out, Kenny, Julie, and Jordan were sitting at my kitchen table.
“Where’s Sam?” I asked, inquiring about the only person missing from the house.
“This time is for your bridal party, so I threw him out.”
“He’s over at my house with the rest of the guys,” Kenny added.
“Come have a seat and eat, Sis.”
“Yeah and since I’m the oldest,” Julie, who was dressed in a pink Nike sweat suit, said, “I get to give the ‘wedding night sex talk.’”
We spent the next hour talking, laughing, and it helped to settle my nerves. Around eleven thirty, I went into my bedroom to gather all the things I needed to take with me. I meant to pack a bag yesterday, but it just didn’t happen.
I wanted an outfit that I didn’t wear to school to put on when Tom and I left the reception. I didn’t want to look like a teacher today. I chose a black and white skirt which was too short to wear at school, since I often found myself on the floor with my kindergarten students. To complement it, I got a black silk top, white sweater and a pair of black shoes with a small heel. For the wedding I needed my undergarments, the jewelry I bought to wear, and the gifts for Julie, Jordan and Tom. I never did find anything for Kenny and it was too late, now. I still had no clue what I wanted to get him.
Around twelve we left for the Gardens. Julie drove since Sam would need the rental car and Kenny’s car was still in Nashville. My Jeep was gone.
So we all piled into Julie’s red Prius and it didn’t explode. That’s one for the win column. Then we drove to Ceres. Julie turned up the country-western music and we all sang along as we drove.
As we drove up the Garden’s driveway, they had already begun to decorate for the wedding. The table and chairs were all arranged on the lawn. The tables looked beautiful, the red napkins and the white tablecloths were perfect together. There were strings the lights and lanterns across the grassy area and it was beginning to look magical to me.
Amelia met us at the car. I was glad the ground was dry. Obviously it hadn’t rained in Ceres. When I opened the car door, the weather was warm but not hot.
“It’s a beautiful day for a wedding,” Amelia said by way of greeting.
“Yes it is. Have the stylists arrived?” Jordan asked.
“Yes, I put them all in the Ready Room,” Amelia said just as a very tall, large man came around the corner of the house.
“Hello,” he waved and came up to us.
“This is Joe,” Amelia told me. “He’s the DJ.”
Joe extended his hand to Kenny and asked, “If you’re the groom, you’re not supposed to be here yet.”
“No, I’m the Maid of Honor,” Kenny chuckled.
Joe raised his eyebrows and I said, “Kenny’s my best friend so he’s standing up with me. I’m Liza Wilcox.”
Joe shook my hand and grinned. “It’s nice to meet you, Liza. The Gardens is a wonderful place for a wedding. Everyone always has a great time here. I’ve got my entire set up and my karaoke equipment.”
“Thanks for bringing the extra equipment.”
“No problem. I’ve never done a karaoke wedding, so this should be fun. What kind of songs do you like to sing?”
My sister immediately burst into laughter, with Kenny only a few seconds behind her. I ignored them both.
“No, I’m not a singer. My fiancé has a great voice and he likes to sing. And according to him, so does his family.”
“You haven’t met them yet?”
“No, I just met his son and brother, yesterday.”
“Well, this
should be fun. I’m setting up my stuff to the right of the head table and next to the dance floor. Is there a special song you want me to play when the two of you come in on the carriage?”
I hadn’t thought of any special songs I wanted and I didn’t asked Tom, either.
“I’m okay with whatever you usually play.”
“I’ll ask your fiancé when I see him.”
“He’ll be okay with any song, too.”
“They always say they have no opinion and then it turns out they have a strong opinion. I’ll just wait and talk to him.”
Joe was either a smart man or had lots of experience doing weddings.
Kenny came over and squeezed my hand. “I’ll hang out with Joe until I need to get dressed.”
I nodded and let Julie and Jordan pull me toward the Ready Room. It was a big room in the building where Amelia’s office was. There were several full-length mirrors and a vanity with a bench in front. Three women were already in the room when we entered. All three were tall and skinny as a rail, one blond, one brunette, and one with purple hair. They could be twins except for the hair color. I hoped the one with the purple hair wasn’t the hair stylist.
The purple-haired woman was Evelyn and she was the manicurist. She got some hot, soapy water and I put my hands in and then filled a pedicure machine with the same solution. The water was warm and the bottom vibrated, giving the bottom of my feet a massage. It was nice.
When she started filing my nails she said, “You have very strong nails. Do you have them done often?”
“Nope, mostly I keep them very short. I don’t want to scratch a kid with them in class and if they get too long, I start biting on them.”
She gave me a disgusted look. I knew biting nails was a bad habit, but at least I stopped biting the cuticles several years ago. In my book, it’s progress.
While she worked on my nails, I enjoyed the sensation on my feet. The machine made a bit of noise, rumbling and swirling the water around my feet. I never had a pedicure before but this felt wonderful. Maybe I’d get one after the wedding, too.
The water was turning cool and I said, “Can you add more warm water? My feet are cold.”
The manicurist frowned. “It has a heating element and should be keeping the water at a constant temperature.”
She reached into the water, frowned, and then fiddled with the knobs on the side. The water immediately warmed up.
“Thanks,” I told her.
She smiled and went back to my nails.
Julie came over and watched Evelyn work on my nails.
“She’s doing a wonderful job, Liza. I’ve never seen your hands look so beautiful.”
I held up the one hand she had finished. My nails were filed evenly and coated with a light pink color. They were beautiful.
“Why are your feet so red? Julie asked.
“It’s this wonderful machine. The water is warm and the bottoms of my feet are being massaged. I might buy one of these machines for myself or go get a pedicure more often.”
Julie reached down, put her hand into the water and immediately pulled it out. “That water is way too hot, Liza. Get your feet out of it.”
“It doesn’t feet hot to me,” I told her.
“It doesn’t make the water that hot,” the manicurist said.
“I don’t care what you say,” Julie reached down and pulled my feet out. “It’s too hot, see for yourself.”
Evelyn huffed but then put her hand into the water, immediately pulling it out and saying “Ow! That’s way too hot. What is the matter with this machine?”
Julie picked my feet up and inspected them. Then she pinched the skin on the top of my foot.
When I didn’t respond, she said, “Can’t you feel that?”
“No,” I reached down and pinched my own skin. It was as if it was anesthetized.
“What’s in that soap?” Julie asked the manicurist.
“It’s rosemary soap.”
“Are you allergic to rosemary?” Julie asked me.
“Heavily scented flowers make me sneeze, but other than that I have no allergies,” I told them both.
“Well, if you’d have left your feet in there much longer, you’d have third degree burns on your feet and wouldn’t be able to walk down the aisle in a few hours – you’d be in a hospital.”
Evelyn gulped, picked up the machine and immediately emptied it. I guess no one else would get to enjoy having her feet massaged.
She went back to my nails. “I don’t know how my machine got broken. I’ve used it for almost a year and haven’t ever experienced any problems with the temperature control unit.”
“That’s okay,” I told her. “Don’t worry about it.”
Amelia came in to check on us all and the manicurist told her about the machine. “I wonder if that boy who helped us carry in all our stuff accidentally dropped it and didn’t tell me.”
“Pedro would never have dropped the machine and not told you, he’s a very reliable man.”
I recognized the name and asked, “Isn’t that the man that Savanah suggested help you with the floral designs?”
“Yes, and he’s fabulous. He made all of your bouquets, plus the flower arrangement for the top of your cake, the arbor, and the rest of the floral arrangements on the tables and around the reception and appetizer area. He’s unbelievable. I’m going to hire him full time to help me. He’s fast and efficient and doesn’t mind helping in any way that I need. I’ve never had a floral designer who would help carry things in for people, set up tables, or any other help I need. He’s a dream.”
“He sounds like a great find,” Jordan said.
“Savanah suggested him?” I asked, wary of the man. After all, Savanah wasn’t really Savanah, was she?
“Yes, but I checked him out with several other wedding consultants and reception places that have an all-in-one program like I do. He’s well known and fully booked as a floral designer. I was lucky to get him for your wedding. Pedro has worked with Savanah many times and he likes her, so that’s why he agreed to help me today. He already did a wedding this morning and he usually will only do one in a day.”
“We were lucky to get him,” Jordan said.
Amelia nodded and left the room.
The manicurist patted my arm and said, “I still can’t believe I almost scalded you.”
“It’s okay, stop worrying about it. I’m fine and you’ll get a new machine.”
When she was finished she handed me over to the hair stylist.
It turned out that Gina, the blonde, was the hair stylist. We got into an immediate disagreement over my hair.
“But you must put it up,” she said as she pulled my hair tight into a rubber band.
“I want it down,” I told her.
“It’s just not done. Everyone pulls their hair up and lets little ringlets fall down on both sides. It complements the veils.”
“I like my hair down and my fiancé likes my hair down. We are leaving it down.”
She huffed but I won.
“Can I at least curl it a little bit?”
I shrugged. “That’s fine but don’t make the curls too tight.”
She nodded and plugged in her curling iron. Then she took out the rubber band and began brushing my hair. I like my hair brushed, it’s such a relaxing feeling. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the experience.
I heard a small pop, but ignored it. The makeup lady must be opening makeup bottles. Then I smelled something awful. I opened my eyes. Julie was getting a manicure, Jordan was getting a facial, my stylist was having a conversation with the makeup lady, and the outlet that the curling iron was plugged into was on fire.
“Ah!” I screamed.
“What?” Everyone screamed together.
“The plug’s on fire!” I said.
Little flames were coming out of the plug and the wallpaper on top of the plug was also on fire. Everyone started screaming and shouting orders at once. Kenny came in, took one look and left.
I started slapping at the flames with a towel that was on the vanity, just as the hair stylist yelled, “Not the towel, I used it to clean the counter of the vanity.”
The towel caught fire.
I dropped it immediately – it landed on the carpet, which immediately started to catch fire.
Kenny came in with a fire extinguisher. He shot the plug, which dislodged all of the hairstylist’s equipment. She began to scream louder.
Then he put out the towel and the rug, stamping to make sure it was totally out.
Amelia came in and said, “What happened?”
“It was just a little fire, it’s all put out now,” Kenny told her.
“What caught on fire?”
“Your plug!” The hair stylist screamed, still gathering up her supplies from the ground.
“What? We’ve never had a fire in here before and I’ve had hundreds of brides get ready here.” Amelia said, her voice with more than a hint of panic.
“It’s fine,” Kenny patted her on the arm. “Just call an electrician tomorrow and have him check the plug out. It probably has a little short in it.”
“Okay,” she said and mumbled as she left. I thought I heard her say something about a cursed wedding.
“I guess we won’t be curling your hair,” the stylists said, frowning at her curling iron and the plug.
“Thanks for putting out the fire, Kenny,” Jordan said.
“Where’d you get the fire extinguisher?” Julie asked.
“Joe went to get a new extension cord. He was having problems with his so I’ve been wandering around the place. I spotted the fire extinguisher a couple of laps ago.”
“Thank God,” Jordan said.
Kenny came over to me, put his hand on my shoulder, and asked, “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. I didn’t have time to have a panic attack. Thanks for taking care of the fire.”
He squeezed my shoulder and said, “That’s the only job I have today.”
“What?”
“To make sure you get married today,” he smiled and left.
The stylist finished my hair, pulling a few pieces back and French braiding them along the side and then down the back of hair. It was a nice touch and I approved. Then she handed me over to Regina, the makeup person.