Wedding Day of Murder Read online

  She reached for a towel and found none. At first she panicked and thought the intruder had somehow slipped into the room and stolen her towel. Then she remembered that she had left it sitting outside the door. Not only was she a sitting duck, she was a nude sitting duck. Again she heard a small sound outside the door. Her chances were better in the warehouse than they were in the tiny bathroom enclosure. She forced herself to open the door and take a step outside. Where was the towel? She couldn’t find her clothes.

  Her fingers fastened on a canvas drop cloth. She picked it up and wrapped it around herself like a towel. The weight of it worked against her and it immediately fell off. She picked it up again. This time she wrapped it around and around and around, encasing herself like a sausage. Not only would it not fall off, but also whoever was out there would have to waste precious time unwrapping her if he wanted to harm her.

  The plan was brilliant, or so she thought until she tried to take a step. While concentrating intently on covering the vital bits and pieces in her midsection, she had also covered her feet in a dozen canvas wrappings. She was hobbled, a fact she only realized after she attempted a step and fell over. She tried to stand up again and couldn’t; the bindings were too tight. For a moment, she lay in silent consternation. What was she going to do? In an effort to get away from whomever might be in the room with her, she had inadvertently gift-wrapped herself. If she died, everyone would think she had been part of some serial killer’s ritualistic ceremony.

  The sound came again, like a shoe scraping softly against the floor, as if someone was trying to muffle his footsteps. She had to go, to get away. If she could just get to the stairs, then she could escape. She began crawling toward the exit, raising her behind high in the air and tossing her front half forward like an inchworm. That worked for a few feet, until her shoulder struck a ladder. The ladder wobbled precariously back and forth. Lacy prepared herself for the blow in case it came crashing on top of her. After shaking violently back and forth a few times, it settled back into position. Unfortunately, the paint can resting on top of it didn’t. It toppled and clunked Lacy on the head. The good news was that it wasn’t full and the pain barely registered. The bad news was that the lid wasn’t on securely. She slapped her hand over her eyes as paint oozed and spilled in a slow run down her head. It started with her hair and gently slid down her face, covering her forehead, hand, nose, and cheeks.

  The paint was old and had been exposed to air. It was so thick and gloppy that it stopped short of reaching her mouth. My lucky day, she thought. When the oozing stopped, she removed her hand from her eyes. The lights were back on, and a pair of men’s shoes was planted directly in her path.

  Chapter 2

  Even in the midst of her humiliation, the shoes were a welcome and familiar sight.

  “Oh, hey,” Lacy said. Looking up, she affected a casual tone.

  Jason stared down at her, warring expressions fleeting through his features. A couple of times he opened his mouth to speak then shook his head and squatted beside her. “Hey.”

  “I don’t suppose you know how to get paint out of hair. Asking for a friend,” Lacy said.

  “Baby oil,” Jason said.

  “How do you know that?”

  “When we started dating, I bought a book called, How to Remove Stains From Anything.”

  “Smart move,” Lacy said.

  “The cover has already worn off and the binding is cracked,” Jason said. He looked her over, starting at her head and ending at her feet. “So…nice weather we’re having.”

  “Isn’t it, though?” Lacy said. While they talked, she had been holding her torso aloft with her arms like a mermaid. Her traitorously weak biceps began to protest and jiggle. She flopped onto her back. Her hair immediately affixed itself to the ground, warning her that she needed to get up before it dried that way. “Could you maybe help me up? Keep in mind that I can’t bend any part of my body between my shoulders and my toes.”

  “Okay,” Jason drawled. “How…is the stock market today?” He was trying so hard not to ask how she had wound up wrapped in canvas and stuck to the floor with paint. She should put him out of his misery and tell him the whole story, but she couldn’t bring herself to reveal the extent of her paranoia and clumsiness.

  “I haven’t checked. I’ve been busy,” she said. He put his arms around her and levered her to a standing position.

  “You need some help with that hair?” he asked.

  Before she could answer, a movement to her left caught her attention. Lacy jumped and would have toppled again, but Jason righted her and turned accusingly toward the intruder.

  “What are you doing up here?” he asked.

  Michael stared at them in open-mouthed surprise; rather, he stared at Lacy. “The lights went out. I was coming to check on Lacy.”

  “In the shower?” Jason said. He and Michael rarely saw each other. When they did, their interactions were contentious, usually because Jason made them that way. Michael had no problem with Jason; Jason had a big problem with Michael. Just a few days ago, Jason and Lacy had discussed the situation. She had reiterated that he had no need for jealousy. There was nothing but friendship between her and Michael. They often worked closely together on Stakely-related causes. He had become a valuable helper in the fight to advance the local economy. More than that, she genuinely liked him. But she wasn’t attracted to him. Though he hadn’t said as much, Lacy knew that Jason would prefer her to have less contact with Michael, but that wasn’t going to happen. She saw him every day at work, and she refused to curb her social life to appease his unreasonable jealousy. For the time being, they had agreed to disagree over the matter.

  “I wasn’t going to pop in on her,” Michael said. “I was simply coming up here to make sure she found her way in the dark. Looks like she did fine on her own.” His eyes twinkled with merriment at Lacy’s predicament. He would no doubt put this in the archives and pull it up whenever he wanted to tease her, and since he liked to tease her all the time, she would probably hear about it a lot. Maybe for the rest of her life.

  Lacy jumped in before Jason could respond. The less interaction between the two men, the better. “Thanks for checking, Michael, but I’m doing well.”

  Michael laughed. “Clearly.”

  Joe, her erstwhile security guard, appeared as he always did, as if he had been conjured from thin air. One minute he wasn’t there, and the next he was. Lacy had no idea how he did that. “Lacy, we’ve got a problem.”

  Jason shifted irritably from foot to foot. “Lacy, why are you allowing people up here? This is your personal space. It should be off limits. This is not safe.”

  “It’s off limits to strangers,” Lacy defended.

  “Did you give them a key?” Jason asked. He gestured to Joe and Michael.

  “Joe has a skeleton key. And so does Michael. The door to this floor is unlocked, but I did put up a sticky note that says, ‘Please do not enter,’” Lacy said.

  “Well, if you put up a sticky note,” Jason said. “They’re practically impenetrable. Geez.” He closed his eyes and squeezed the bridge of his nose.

  “What’s the problem, Joe?” Lacy asked, thankful for a subject change. Jason didn’t believe she took security in the building seriously enough. She routinely pointed out that nothing ever happened anyway and she had Joe who practically lived at the building.

  “Them,” Joe said. He pointed behind him to the door. The group of protesters filed in and began chanting.

  “What do we want? Equal protection and fair trade for all nations, whether developed or rural, and an end to sun grown coffee and chocolate. When do we want it? Now!” The dreadlocked woman who had verbally attacked Lacy outside seemed to be the leader. She was also the only one who knew all the words to the chant. The others randomly called out “coffee” “chocolate” and “fair.” They became cohesive when they reached “now.” The word echoed around the warehouse, bouncing off the walls so the small crowd sounded large an
d intimidating.

  For a moment, Jason seemed at a loss as to know what to do with them. He looked between the woman and his gun with more than a hint of longing. Finally, his professionalism won out. He clamped his hand on the woman’s bicep and began dragging her toward the exit.

  “You cannot protest inside. Everyone out, or I will arrest you,” he said.

  The group followed their leader. A few of the stragglers turned to stare at Lacy as they filed past. “Morning,” she called, adding a friendly wave. “See you. Have a good day.”

  “What are you doing?” Michael asked.

  “I thought maybe if I was friendly enough, they might not notice anything else,” Lacy said.

  “There isn’t a big enough smile in the world to stop them from noticing that you’re naked, wrapped in canvas, and covered in paint. A better strategy would have been to tell them that this is some sort of art project,” Michael said. “I’ll spread that story, if you want.”

  “That would be great, thank you,” Lacy said. “I’m going to finish my shower.” Once again Joe had disappeared. Michael backed toward the exit.

  “See you, boss.” He added a little salute and disappeared, closing the door tightly behind him.

  Lacy showered, shampooing her hair five times to no avail. Some of the paint came out; a lot of it didn’t. She left the conditioner in and wrapped it in a towel, vowing to lay her hands on baby oil as soon as possible.

  When she stepped outside of the bathroom, Jason met her with a bottle. “After I took the trash out, I walked to the store and bought some oil.”

  “Thank you,” she said, she reached for it, but he tugged it back and plucked off her towel.

  “Let me,” he said. Lacy wasn’t sure if it was a romantic gesture or if he simply couldn’t resist a cleaning challenge.

  “Let’s go to my office so we can sit down,” she said. They walked hand in hand downstairs to her office. Jason sat in her chair. She sat on the floor in front of him and closed her eyes while he gently worked oil into her hair and pulled out wads of paint.

  “This is tedious,” he said, but he sounded cheerful.

  “Not that this isn’t completely helpful and relaxing, but what are you doing here? Did you take the day off?”

  “Sort of,” he said. His tone told her she wasn’t going to like what was coming next.

  “You have to work tonight,” she surmised.

  “I’m sorry. A thing came up, and Arroyo took it off.”

  Detective Arroyo had more seniority than Jason and therefore first pick of assignments and days off. Lacy secretly thought he didn’t care about those things and messed with Jason’s schedule to get to Lacy. “It’s all right,” Lacy said, trying hard to cover her disappointment.

  “I know that you were looking forward to tonight, and I was too,” he said.

  “Aren’t you the sweetest liar?” Lacy said.

  He chuckled. “Well, the thought of a double date sounded a little Brady Bunch for my tastes, but I did want to meet Kimber’s guy.”

  “He’s not just Kimber’s guy. Andy and I have been friends since freshman year. I think the four of us could have a lot of fun,” Lacy said. She hoped that was true. Andy was like her and Kimber, a late-blooming nerd with a history of social dysfunction. But Jason had repeatedly proved that he didn’t care about any of those things. If someone was kind and a good person, then Jason was willing to accept him. Andy was a great guy and one of the few people Lacy deemed worthy of Kimber.

  “I’m sure I’ll get the chance to meet him again,” Jason said.

  “Definitely,” Lacy said. She was trying hard to be upbeat. It wasn’t his fault that his job had terrible hours and never seemed to end. Lacy had gone into the relationship with eyes open, fully aware that his schedule would be a challenge. To complain about the unchangeable now would be grossly unfair. Sometimes, though, she really hated his job.

  “And I’m still taking you to the dentist tomorrow,” Jason added.

  “You’re a good boyfriend,” Lacy said. “Maybe the best ever.”

  “Definitely,” Jason agreed. “Tell me again why I get the privilege of driving you to the doctor.”

  “Grandma is having cataract surgery, so Grandpa is going with her. Mom and Riley are going shopping.”

  His fingers tensed on her head. Lacy smiled. The fact that Jason was always on her side was more heartening than she could convey. “I have to say something,” he began. “I cannot believe your mother is going shopping with Riley instead of being there for you when you’re having surgery.”

  “In Mom’s defense, it’s just my wisdom teeth,” Lacy said. “It’s not that big of a deal. I’m the last in my family to have them removed.”

  “When your kid is having surgery, it’s always a big deal. Or it should be.” His vehement tone bore testimony to his bitterness; his parents hadn’t been there for him through much of his growing up years. He had practically raised himself, and though they had apologized and received help for their alcoholism, Jason retained more than his share of painful memories.

  Lacy moved into his lap and hugged his neck, resting her cheek comfortingly against his. They sat that way for a few minutes until she felt him relax, and then she spoke. “I don’t disagree with you, but you can see that this is sort of a relief for me. Mom and I can use as much time apart as possible.”

  “I suppose,” he grudgingly agreed. “And since I would want to be there anyway, I might as well be the one who takes you.”

  “You would come to my tooth surgery even if you weren’t driving me?” Lacy asked.

  “Of course I would,” Jason said. “Surgery is scary. Anytime you have general anesthetic, your risk of death is…” He stopped talking when she tensed and clutched his shoulders. “Nominal. You’ll be fine.” He rubbed a slow circle at the base of her spine until she relaxed.

  “I’m glad you’ll be there,” Lacy said. She pressed her face to his neck, inhaling. Jason had become synonymous with security. She never felt safer or more loved than when she was with him. Love. The word rose up to accuse her. She still hadn’t said it, the three words. What was wrong with her? Why was it so hard? Sayitsayitsayit. She took a breath.

  “I should work on your hair some more before it dries,” Jason said.

  “All right,” Lacy said, thankful for a reprieve. Coward. She slid back to the floor. Jason worked on her hair for a long time in silence. Lacy closed her eyes and enjoyed the relaxing feel of his fingers in her hair. She was nearly asleep when someone tapped on her door. Without waiting for an answer, her mother pushed open the door and poked her head inside, followed by Riley who waddled slowly by and sat down.

  “Riley and I came to take you to lunch,” her mother said. “Lacy, what happened to you?”

  “Paint,” Lacy said.

  Frannie stepped all the way inside and put her hands on her hips. “How could you do this so closely to Riley’s wedding? There is no way you can be the maid of honor with white, paint-streaked hair.”

  “Mom, Riley’s already married,” Lacy said for the umpteenth time. “She’s four months pregnant.”

  “It doesn’t count until she has a real wedding,” Frannie said. “Stop changing the subject. Why would you do this? I realize a lot of attention has been on Riley lately, but this is no way to take some of the limelight for yourself.”

  Jason’s fingers dug into Lacy’s scalp. She removed them and gave his hands a squeeze. So far, he had avoided voicing his opinion in her mother’s presence. She had no idea how long that would last. Long experience with her mother had taught her that no good was gained by arguing. Her mother lived in her own world with her own warped reality, one that often cast Lacy as the villain. To make matters worse, Frannie was sickly sweet to Jason. She treated him as if he were a philanthropist who had taken on Lacy as a charity project. It drove Jason crazy. Everything about her mother drove him crazy; Lacy adored him for that.

  “Oh, Jason, look at you, working so hard to try and put
Lacy back together. What a sweet boy you are,” Frannie said.

  “Lacy does a good job of being put together all on her own,” Jason said.

  Frannie laughed. “Good one. Well, I guess lunch is out. You can’t be seen in public until that gets taken care of.” She shook her head, sighing expressively. “Come on, Riley.”

  Riley made brief eye contact with Lacy, pleading. “Mom, it’s not that bad. Lacy can go with us.”

  “Riley, she looks like a skunk and smells like Home Depot. She can’t go. Come on, we’ll find Tosh and finalize plans for the rehearsal. I’m not happy with his mother’s guest list.” She breezed from the room. Riley heaved herself from the chair and toddled after her mother, closing the door in her wake.

  “Was it my imagination, or did Riley look trapped and a little bit desperate?” Jason said.

  “I think Mom’s presence is wearing on her, which is strange. Those two have always been so close. It was always me and Dad and Riley and Mom. I think Riley feels strange about the alienation. She’s unaccustomed to feeling frustrated by mom and being the brunt of such intense and scathing focus.”

  “You’d think your mom would have grown accustomed to the situation by now. She’s been here for weeks,” Jason said.

  “Twenty three days, to be exact. If you think you have it bad, be glad you’re not Tosh. He’s stuck in the middle between Riley and Mom and between Mom and his parents. Mom’s turned into a mother-of-the-bride-zilla. The wedding has to be perfect; so far nothing has been good enough, Tosh especially. You know she tried to get them to live apart until after the ceremony? Tosh put his foot down on that one.”