CnC 5 One Hex of a Wedding Read online

  “More? That thing is worth a good ten or twenty grand, or would be if it was new.” I knew the boys had refurbished an older bike, which was just fine—a new one would be way too expensive for me to feel comfortable accepting. I also knew that Joe would have a blast with it, and I fully intended to be right there, behind him on the passenger seat.

  We trooped up the steps to the porch where I saw two black leather jackets, one in my size, one that would fit Joe. On the back was the enclave’s sigil, and beneath it, the words HONORARY MEMBER.

  Grinning like a hyena, I decided that maybe our wedding would go off without a snag after all. And if it didn’t, we could hop aboard the bike and elope.

  AS I TOOK a shower, Joe sat on the toilet, talking to me. I told him what I’d figured out. “I don’t think you were the target,” I shouted over the running water, as I lathered rose-scented shampoo into a thick foam. I wasn’t about to go to a fitting for my wedding dress with anything but powder-fresh skin and clean hair.

  “You know, that makes sense,” he shouted back. “I can’t imagine who would want me dead. Not even Roy.”

  Roy. Yeah, my suspicions about Roy had been alleviated by our talk, but I wasn’t ready to tell Joe about my visit. As it was, I had my doubts that Roy would ever really shape up. Oh, he might actually stick by his word and try to be a better father, but until he could take full responsibility for his addictions, he’d always be blaming someone or something else for his problems.

  I rinsed my hair and turned off the water, stepping out of the shower as Joe handed me a towel. “Thanks. I’m worried sick, though. Who could be stalking Murray, and why? And if this psycho’s taking potshots at Jimbo, then he’s serious.”

  “How do you know it’s a he?” Joe asked.

  “What?” The thought that the stalker might be a woman hadn’t occurred to me. “Usually women stalk men, don’t they? If a woman was stalking Jimbo, wouldn’t she have sent presents to him and shot at Murray?”

  “I’m just saying, don’t make any broad generalizations until you know for sure. Who knows? Maybe some woman has fallen for Murray and is angry that she’s with a man? It happens.” Joe smacked me soundly on the butt as I padded over to the vanity and peered at myself in the mirror. I turned around, eyeing him, and he raised one eyebrow. “Ms. O’Brien, would you like to retire to the bedroom?”

  “I would indeed, however, I’m going to be late for the fitting of my wedding dress so you’ll have to hold that thought for later. We don’t want to aggravate your injury, either, so maybe we’d better hold off for a day.” I returned to the bedroom, searching for the corset and panties I’d be wearing under the dress. You could never be too careful with special-occasion outfits. Always best to wear the foundation garments you were planning to wear with the dress when you went to have it altered. The wrong bra—especially for someone with boobs my size—could make or break a look.

  Joe followed me, stretching out on the bed. “My shoulder’s not what I was planning on using,” he grumbled, but gave me a good-natured grin. “Wow, that’s hot,” he added, as I cinched the ivory bustier a little tighter.

  I grinned at him as I shook Rose’s gift out of the velvet bag into my hand. Once again, I had the feeling something was off and, as I reached up to fasten the necklace around my throat, I couldn’t go through with it.

  “Damn it!” I dropped to the vanity bench and stared at the chain of crystal beads. This was getting ridiculous.

  “What’s wrong, sweetie?” Joe slowly pushed himself to a sitting position. “Everything okay?”

  “No,” I said, frustrated. “There’s something weird about this necklace Rose gave me. I love it, but every time I wear it, I get dizzy, and now I’m nervous about putting it on at all. I guess I’ll have to wait until I have more time for scrying. I was going to ask Murray and White Deer to look it over for me, too. I’ve been so preoccupied that I’m finding it hard to focus on the crystals when I try to tune into the energy.”

  He frowned. “Just leave it home, then. You don’t really need to wear it today, do you?”

  I slowly slid the necklace back into the velvet bag and put it in my jewelry box. “I guess not. I wanted to make sure it worked with the outfit, but I can do that later.”

  As I reached for my peach chiffon skirt and a tan tank top, I glanced in the full-length mirror. Even though I was comfortable with my looks, I never thought of myself as particularly sexy or beautiful. But this time, I felt like I was looking in the pages of a lingerie magazine. The corset was embossed, tone-on-tone ivory, with a delicate floral design. The panties matched. Thanks to my yoga, I’d toned up a little and, while I’d never be a size six, I didn’t really care. I looked better than I had in years. And part of it, I knew, was directly thanks to being in love and happy again. Turning away slowly, it occurred to me that, for once, I knew what it was like to feel beautiful. Really beautiful.

  AFTER I’D DRIED my hair and grabbed my purse, I headed down to the dress shop. The title for the bike was in my purse. As much as I appreciated the guys’ goodwill, I was planning on having Murray run a background check on it first to make sure everything was on the up-and-up. The last thing I needed was a hot chopper in my possession.

  I turned onto Hawthorn Boulevard five blocks north of the Chintz ’n China and managed to find a parking spot just around the corner from the Bridal Veil. As I approached the shop, a nagging feeling tapped at the back of my brain. I tried to shake it away; usually that feeling meant trouble, and more trouble was the last thing I needed. But when I rounded the corner and pushed on the door, I knew the universe had once again dropped a speed bump in my path.

  The shop was closed. Not just closed, but the window displays had been torn apart. Anxiously, I cupped my hands around my eyes and peered inside. From what I could see, the place looked in total disarray, and the racks of gowns were nowhere to be seen.

  Shit! What the hell? I forced myself to remain calm and set my purse on the sidewalk, flipping through my Day-Timer till I found Janette’s home number. I pulled out my cell phone and punched the keys, trying to keep my cool. A loud beep sounded, then a voice announced, “This number has been disconnected. If you think you dialed in error, please hang up and try again.”

  Cripes. Maybe I’d punched in the wrong number? It couldn’t hurt to try again. I dialed Janette once more, making sure I hit each key correctly. Again the beep and the voice. Oh, hell. Bloody freakin’ hell. I dialed the Bridal Veil’s number and again, the same message. Now it was time to panic. I dropped my phone back in my purse and pounded on the door.

  “My dress is in there!” I shouted. And then I saw Tilda, the shop cat, pacing back and forth in front of the door, meowing. Had Janette abandoned her cat? Anger welled up as I thought of Nanna’s dress being held hostage. It increased with the thought of the little gray ragamuffin being left to fend for herself in a locked building. I grabbed my phone again and dialed Murray. The minute she came on the line, I started shouting.

  “Calm down! Calm down!” She cleared her throat and waited for me to shut up. “Em, now start again and tell me what’s going on.”

  “Janette’s disappeared, and my wedding dress is still in her shop. And her cat’s in there. I can’t get her at home—both her home number and her shop number have been disconnected. What am I going to do?” I swallowed the rising swell of panic.

  Mur let out a sigh of exasperation. “Well, that frosts it. Okay, I’ll be down there in a few minutes and pick you up. We’ll check out her home address, see if she’s there. If she’s not, we’ll decide what to do next. Hold on, and please calm down. We’ll get your dress.”

  While waiting, I tapped on the window, watching as Tilda reached up, trying to touch me through the glass. If Janette had just dumped her, locking her in the shop, I hoped to hell they caught the woman and hauled her ass into court for animal abuse. I couldn’t watch an episode of Animal Cops on the Animal Planet station without bursting into tears, and neither could Kip. Ra
nda, either, bless her hard-hearted shell that protected a very vulnerable and gentle nature.

  Ten minutes later, Murray pulled up. I’d settled myself on one of the sidewalk benches, staring at the shop as if by focusing my attention, I could make Janette somehow magically appear. Unfortunately, even though I’d seen things resembling miracles, this wasn’t one of those times.

  Murray looked through the window, then tried the door. “Come on, let’s go check out her apartment. I found the address. We have to do that before I can make the call to go in. If she’s not there and it looks like she’s disappeared, I can always say that we were worried something might have happened to her, so I had to break into the shop. Bonner wouldn’t give me flak for that.”

  I climbed in her car—as head of detectives, she drove one of the unmarked vehicles the station owned—and we zoomed off in the direction of Janette’s home. Located on Brookline Drive, the Wilkenshire Arms was probably the most expensive apartment complex in Chiqetaw. Stately, the building stood four stories high and had recently been painted with a cream-colored fresco faux finish. It reminded me of some old building in southern California, with a clock tower rising a level above the roof.

  Mur found a parking space near the entrance and we headed inside, where she contacted Doreen Jenks, the manager. I recognized Doreen right away; she was a lovely old woman who frequented my tearoom. When we told her we were worried about Janette, she quickly led us up to the apartment. After knocking several times, she produced a master key and unlocked the door. Murray cautiously entered, motioning for us to stay behind. After a minute, she called for both Doreen and me to join her.

  The apartment was a disaster. While nothing appeared to have been damaged as far as walls or counters, there were scattered newspapers and junk all over the place. The furniture was there, but all personal mementos were gone, as were the TV, microwave, and any other small appliances Janette might have owned. No photos, no pictures or paintings on the walls, no knickknacks, no personal items of any kind left behind.

  Murray checked the bedroom. “Closet and dresser are both empty. Okay, I’m going to call in an officer to search the apartment. She probably just ditched town, but we’d better make sure.”

  Doreen shook her head. “I can’t believe she ran off like this.”

  “Was she a good tenant?” Murray asked.

  Doreen hesitated, then said, “Not the best. To be honest, Janette was behind on her rent, and I’d given her three weeks to pay in full. I warned her last week that if she didn’t produce the money by the deadline, I’d start eviction proceedings.”

  Mur glanced at a calendar that was hanging askew on the wall. “How far in arrears was she?”

  Doreen frowned, concentrating. “Well, on April first, she couldn’t make rent, but I wasn’t too worried. People have problems, they come to me and talk it out, and usually they’re caught up in a month or two. I try to be understanding. Janette told me that somebody had stolen her ATM card and managed to wipe out her bank account.”

  “It should be easy to find out if she reported a theft.” Murray tapped her notepad with her pen. “My guess is that it never happened.”

  “That’s what I think, too, now. But I believed her at first. She’d never given me any reason to doubt her,” Doreen said. “At the beginning of May, she claimed that the bank was slow about replacing her money that had been stolen. She said she’d sent out invoices to her clients and should be able to pay me everything by the first of June. So, even though I was starting to get suspicious, I decided to give her a break. Sometimes a spate of bad luck happens to the best of folks.”

  I glanced around. “Looks like she left in a hurry.”

  “I’m not surprised,” Doreen said. “When June first came and went, Janette did everything in her power to avoid me. I left a notice on her door.”

  “What did it say?” Murray asked.

  “That she had until June twenty-first to pay all three months’ back rent or I’d turn her out.” Doreen wrung her hands. “And now, it’s coming up on the twenty-first and she’s obviously skipped town. But I couldn’t just let her walk over me like that. Three months’ rent comes out to twenty-four hundred dollars. I hope that she’s all right, though. I don’t wish her any harm.”

  Murray muttered something under her breath. I patted Doreen on the arm. “You did the right thing.” Inside, I was boiling. If Janette had ditched Chiqetaw, then where was my dress?

  After Mur called for one of the boys to come assess the apartment, we returned to the car. “You okay?” she asked. “We’ll go check the shop as soon as Sandy gets here. I want to fill him in on everything before we head out.”

  Five minutes later, she was doing just that while I waited, white-knuckled, in the car. Before we headed out, Murray phoned the superintendent who owned the building that Janette’s store was in, and she put in a call to Deacon. He was waiting for us as we pulled up in front of the shop and parked, holding a search warrant.

  “Got it, boss,” he said, grinning at Murray.

  I was out of the car like a light. Murray followed more slowly. We only had to wait for a moment before the building superintendent showed up. He rolled his eyes as Murray explained what was going on.

  “Wouldn’t surprise me if she lit out of here,” he said, pulling out a huge ring of keys.

  “Why?” Murray asked.

  “Because that little girl was two months behind on rent and I told her to either give me my money or be prepared to find another place for her shop. She’s a repeat offender. Two times in the past, she’d been a month late with rent and I warned her one more time and she was out.” He pushed open the door and we slipped inside. Tilda ran over to us, meowing, and the owner caught her up in his arms. “Hey, pumpkin,” he said. “Let’s see if we can find you something to eat.”

  While he looked around for cat food, Murray and I walked through the shop. The racks of new gowns were gone, a few left scattered on the floor like they’d been dropped in a rush. They were crushed and dirty. My heart in my throat, I headed into the back room where we’d done the earlier fittings. No sign of Janette anywhere, but there—in pieces on the floor—lay the remains of Nanna’s wedding dress.

  “Damn it!” I dropped to my knees, gathering them up in my arms.

  Murray rushed in. She looked at the pieces of material. “Oh no,” she said, putting her hand on my shoulder.

  “She said she’d have it ready. She had to take it apart to fix the waist band and the neckline, but she said she’d have it done by my wedding. Why did she do this? Why didn’t she just tell me she couldn’t alter it?” I was seriously in danger of losing it. Not only was I out one wedding dress, but it had been Nanna’s, special to me in a way that no new gown would ever be.

  Murray knelt down beside me. “Em, did you already pay her?” I nodded, too choked up to speak. “Then she’s defrauded you. We’ll put out an APB on her. There are probably other women she did the same thing to. I found her appointment book,” she said, holding up a black planner. “It looks like last week was pretty sparse. Before that she had an appointment scheduled with a Lavyrl McKenzie. If Janette kept that, then we have a time frame for her disappearance.”

  I glanced over her shoulder. “Look.” I pointed to this week’s schedule. “There are five women due to come in for fittings this week. I guess I’m not the only one who’s going to be in tears.”

  She nodded. “I’d better have Deacon get a team down here to sift through what’s left. We’re dealing with a scam artist at this point, and we need to contact these other women and find out everything we can.”

  I stared at the ivory lace pieces in my hands. “Can I take these home? There’s no way I can fix them before the wedding, but they belonged to Nanna.”

  “I’m sorry, Em.” Murray gently shook her head. “They’re part of our investigation, and we’ll have to keep them as evidence for now. But I’ll make sure they’re treated gently, and you’ll get them back as soon as we can.”


  That was it then. I had no wedding dress, and Nanna’s dress had been ruined. Distraught, I slumped against the wall.

  Murray held out her hand. “Get up, Em. You’ll get your skirt all dusty. Come on, now. Don’t worry. We’ll find you a dress. I promise.”

  I blinked back tears. “But I wanted Nanna’s dress. Why is everything so screwed up? What’s happening?”

  She sighed. “I wish I could give you an answer, but I can’t.”

  As I stared at her, bereft, I realized that I hadn’t told her what I’d came up with that morning. The lack of a wedding dress was enough to make me cry, but it didn’t compare to the worry over Jimbo’s life being in danger.

  “Let’s put my problem aside for a moment,” I said. “I have something to tell you. I went out to see Jimbo today. I wanted to get a feel for the meadow and the energy out there.”

  “I know,” she said, holding up her hand. “He called me and told me everything, and I’m plenty spooked. I’m also not thrilled that you told him about the ring and the note, but I understand why you did. It’s okay.”

  “Have you come up with any leads?” I asked. If I was right, nobody had tried to kill Joe. It had been a case of misidentification.

  She shook her head. “No, but seeing that Jimmy might actually have been the target, I’m going to get a security system like you suggested. I’ve already made an appointment for them to come over and install it.”

  A commotion at the front of the shop told us that her team of investigators had arrived. I recognized their faces, but couldn’t remember their names. While she gave them the rundown on the situation, I wandered over to the building superintendent, who had managed to find a can of cat food stuck away in a cupboard somewhere. Tilda was gobbling the food, purring away.

  “I wonder what will happen to her,” I said, reaching out to scritch her behind the ears. “I wish I could take her, but that’s not an option at this point.”

  He gave me a quick smile. “Don’t worry. The detective said that she’d have to call Animal Control. They need to check whether the cat’s underweight or if she’s been mistreated. That way they can add a charge of animal neglect or abuse to whatever Janette’s gotten herself into. I’m going to adopt her after she’s been checked out. She’s a nice cat, and our old Tommy died recently. He was fifteen. My daughter misses him and Tilda would be good for her, I think.”