pawsitively-guilty_ebook

Medallion Press, Inc.
Printed in USA
Previous accolades for
THE SAUCY LUCY MURDERS:
“This lighthearted amusing amateur sleuth tale is fun
to read. The storyline never takes itself seriously, even
when the heroine is in danger, as Cindy Keen Reynders
provides fans with an enjoyable frolic.”
—Harriet Klausner
DEDICATION:
This book is dedicated to my sister, Shauna
Lucille Smith. She is not only my sister;
she is my best friend, my pal, and my very
own brainstorming partner-in-crime. When
my world fell apart, she was there for me. I
don’t know what I’d do without her.
Published 2008 by Medallion Press, Inc.
The MEDALLION PRESS LOGO
is a registered trademark of Medallion Press, Inc.
If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware
that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and
destroyed” to the publisher, and neither the author nor the publisher
has received any payment from this “stripped book.”
Copyright © 2008 by Cindy Keen Reynders
Cover illustration by Adam Mock
Cover models: Sara Mock, Jessica Tampa
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or
transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means,
including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage
and retrieval system, without written permission of the publisher,
except where permitted by law.
Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the
author’s imagination or are used fictionally. Any resemblance
to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely
coincidental.
Typeset in Adobe Garamond Pro
Printed in the United States of America
13-digit ISBN: 978-193383660-7
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
First Edition
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS:
Hugs, kisses, and buckets of love to my
husband, Rich, for his support and understanding
when I get up every morning at 4 a.m. to write.
To my dad: I love you. Thank you to my
stepmother, Mary, for joining this huge clan we
call family.
Thank you to my children, Cristina, Jordon,
and Brian. Also to my granddaughters, Alora and
Celeste, and my son-in-law, Chris. You’ve been an
endless source of inspiration and I’m proud of your
accomplishments. To my lovely stepdaughters,
Erin and Lauren: thank you for being my friends.
To Helen Rosburg, Christy Phillippe, Janet
Bank, Kerry Estevez, Adam Mock, and all of the
Medallion Press staff, I want to say thank you.
To the heroic men and women in our armed
forces, thank you for defending our homes and
protecting our freedoms.
To all of you: live your lives to the fullest.
Find time to laugh, love, and enjoy.
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
steady drizzle made the evening cool and
quiet as a tomb.
Trees with skeletal branches and dry, crackling leaves
stood like sentinels in front of the brightly lit hospital
entrance. Guarding, watching, and waiting.
Bundled in a black trench coat, hat, and gloves,
someone trudged along the sidewalk. Head bent and
shoulders scrunched, as though trying to avoid attention,
the shadow entered the hospital and rode an elevator to
the intensive care unit.
Slipping undetected past the front desk, the shadow
found the room of an elderly gentleman and peered
through the door. Hooked up to IV and oxygen tubes,
the old man lay asleep on his bed, snoring softly.
The shadow slipped inside, paced back and forth,
watched the patient’s labored breathing. In and out, in
and out. Slow, ragged, strained. Retrieving a pillow
from a chair, the shadow approached the bed and unplugged the vital signs monitor.
2
The patient’s eyes fluttered as he struggled to regain
consciousness.
With a firm grip, the shadow pressed the pillow into
the old man’s face. Harder, harder. The patient struggled weakly. His muffled cry reverberated against the
cushion. Arthritic, age-spotted hands clawed the white
covering. The pillow’s smothering embrace held him
captive. The old man’s struggle ended with a final gasp.
The shadow smiled.
ale moon and starlight bathed the inside
of Gabe Stevenson’s Jeep with a muted glow, adding to the romantic mood. Lexie Lightfoot felt giddy,
like a teeny-bopper on her first date. The warm breeze
blowing through the open windows cooled her cheeks,
flushed with anticipation.
The Jeep’s tires crunched gravel as Gabe drove
higher up the hill and pulled into a secluded spot beside
pine, spruce, and aspen trees. A cluster of lights from
the small town of Moose Creek Junction twinkled in the
valley below.
Déjà vu, Lexie thought. I’ve been here before, done
this before.
She licked her lips and her heart pounded like a hammer. Nervous hiccoughs threatened, but she managed to
swallow them. The last time she’d visited make-out hill, it
had been with her now ex-husband, Dan, when they were
both sixteen. They’d often snuck away from prying eyes to
come up here for hot, heavy petting and smooch action.
4
Ah, the innocence of youth.
As a preacher’s daughter, Lexie had never blended
well into her father’s obedient flock. She strayed. Terribly. A wild and independent streak prompted her into
forbidden, promiscuous behavior. God forbid if her parents had found out about her field trips to lover’s lane.
She’d have been grounded for life. Her father would
have threatened fire and brimstone, promising that her
very soul was bound for perdition.
Lexie didn’t go to hell. However, the petting got
so hot and heavy up here one night, her daughter, Eva,
had been the result. Because of her pregnancy, she and
Dan had married far too young. Looking back, she had
many times asked herself: Why, oh, why didn’t I listen to
Mom and Dad?
Lexie forced herself to focus on the present. She
wasn’t a snotty-nosed teenager any longer. She was a
grown woman with a reputable business and a nineteen-year-old daughter. It wasn’t Dan Lightfoot who
sat beside her. It was one of Westonville Police Department’s finest officers—Detective Gabe Stevenson. He
was by far the coolest guy she’d met after moving back to
Wyoming. Unfortunately, most of the guys she’d dated
since she returned home had wound up six feet under,
but that was another story.
Moose Creek Junction, Wyoming, was a backwater,
one-stoplight town. Full of gossiping townsfolk and self-
5
righteous harpies: the armpit of America. Nevertheless,
it was where Lexie grew up. It held memories of her parents, now deceased. Her sister, Lucy; her brother-in-law,
Otis; and her daughter, Eva, lived here. Regardless of
the town’s faults, it represented Lexie’s personal history.
It symbolized who she had been before marrying Dan
Lightfoot, The Undertaker, who now lived in Tidewater,
California, with his witchy new wife and baby daughter.
What made her marriage fall apart?
It was a special recipe, a unique blend of nasty ingredients. 1.) Add a good helping of Dan’s funeral home
business, which diverted his attention from Lexie and
their marriage. 2.) Throw in his wandering eye, which
got him involved with numerous bereaved widows.
3.) Sprinkle with too much comfort given by Dan to
said bereaved widows, resulting in extramarital affairs.
4.) Add several pinches of hitting and yelling, along with
several liberal dollops of lies. 5.) Roast for several years
in a hot, unforgiving environment, which successfully
kills all love and respect.
Voilà. Put a fork in it. It was done, done, done.
Stop it, Lexie told herself. This was no time to act
like a space cadet. She was on a hot date with a very sexy
detective who had a special glint in his eye. Her marriage was history—her future bright.
Gabe got out of the Jeep, came around, and opened
Lexie’s door. “Come here,” he said in a husky voice,
6
taking her hand and helping her out.
As they stood in the fading warmth of the spring
evening, Gabe pulled her close and stroked her hair.
Lexie was momentarily concerned the wind had blown
it into a mess of red, twisted strands. A rat’s nest galore.
Gabe didn’t seem to care.
“How did you like the movie, hon?” he asked, then
leaned over and nuzzled her neck.
“Mmm, what movie?” she returned breathlessly.
Actually she’d watched very little of the picture. She
couldn’t even remember who was in it. She’d been too
jazzed up, sitting next to Gabe, enjoying his strength,
his warmth.
I am definitely in lust with this man. Nothing sexual
had happened. Yet. However, their date tonight teased
Lexie with a promise of things to come. She felt attracted
enough to Gabe to go all the way with him. Yikes, I sound
like I’m sixteen. Either way, she thought they might wind
up in bed. The vision of them together made her shiver
with yummy anticipation.
Gabe looked intently at her with hazel eyes, a wave
of dark brown hair slanting across his forehead. “Are
you cold?”
“I’m”—swallow hiccough—“fine.”
“You know I like you a lot, don’t you, Lexie?”
“I hope so, because I like you, too.”
He grinned. “You’re a good woman, and you’re
7
beautiful. You know that?”
Lexie shrugged. “No.”
“You’re humble.”
She giggled, but not for long. Gabe’s soft mouth
closed in on hers and they kissed—long and sensually.
Gabe’s whiskers brushed against her face. Rough, but
exciting. The spicy scent of his cologne, Drakkar, filled
her nostrils.
It had been so long since she’d been with a man. Too
long. Lexie eagerly absorbed Gabe’s masculine attention
and gave herself over to his passionate embrace. She craved
his touch, longed to feel his heart beating against hers.
Locked together, Lexie and Gabe leaned against the
Jeep. Lexie knew he wanted her. Lord help her, she
wanted him, too.
Finally he pulled away and took a deep, ragged
breath. “Can we go somewhere? I mean, uh . . . ah, hell.
You know what I mean.”
“Think you’re safe to drive?”
“Yes, ma’am. Not a problem.”
“Let’s go.”
They got in the Jeep and as Gabe drove back down
the hill, he said, “Your house?”
“Sure. Aunt Gladys and Frenchie are gone tonight.
They went to visit his nephew in Denver.” Lexie started
to hiccough and tried like hell to swallow it. It was no
use. Talk about your personal tics, nervous hiccoughs
8
were hers. The bane of her existence.
“Are you all right?” Gabe asked her, his brow knitted with concern.
“Fine.” Hiccough, hiccough. “You know I always
do this.”
“When you’re nervous.”
She shrugged.
Gabe grinned devilishly. “No need to feel anxious
around me, darlin’. Tonight I’m your handyman. I’ll fix
whatever problems you have.”
Gabe parked in front of Lexie’s house, shoved a hand
into his back pocket, and pulled out his wallet. “Damn
it,” he muttered, searching through it.
Lexie frowned. Hiccough. “What?”
“I don’t have any, well, you know.” Gabe gave her a
questioning stare.
“Don’t look at me. I don’t keep those things on
hand.” Hiccough, hiccough.
“Wait a minute. We might be in luck.” Gabe reached
into his glove compartment and produced a small package. He gave a whoop and flipped it over. “Crap. It’s
expired. Want to walk on the wild side?”
“No way,” Lexie shot back, watching the hard-toresist grin melt on Gabe’s face. “Been there, done that.
Got the T-shirt and wore it out scrubbing dirty diapers.”
Gabe snapped his wallet shut and put it away. “Is
there anywhere in town we could get one?”
9
“What time is it?” Hiccough, hiccough, hiccough.
“Nine fifty-five.”
“Bertie keeps the Loose Goose”—hiccough—“open
till ten.”
“Let’s go.” Gabe switched on the engine and took
off down the street, taking the curve too fast and squealing tires. He burned rubber as he took another corner,
his jaw set with determination.
Lexie hoped her brother-in-law, patootie-head Otis
Parnell, the town sheriff, was home sawing logs and
dreaming about chasing rabbits, since he had never been
any good at chasing crooks. No doubt his deputy, Cleve
Harris, was over at the city slammer, snoring away at
his desk.
Tonight would not be a good night for Detective
Stevenson to be picked up for reckless driving.
Lexie stifled a giggle, then hiccoughed. Maybe swallowing backward and burping will help. Nope. Nothing
doing. She would gross out Gabe for sure. The hiccoughs continued to plague her, rampaging through her
diaphragm like an army of demons.
Gabe lurched his Jeep into a parking place at Bertie’s
and killed the engine. Since Herb Musselman had retired and closed his little grocery, it had become the only
store in town.
The lights inside the Loose Goose went dark. Disappointed, Lexie said, “I bet Bertie just closed.”
10
“Darn it,” Gabe growled. Undaunted, he swung out
of the Jeep and bounded up the front steps.
Watching Gabe’s eager stride, Lexie giggled, hiccoughed, and giggled again. Nice that a man would
want her that bad. She never figured that would happen
again. Not in this lifetime, not on this planet.
She felt old, used up, and past her expiration date.
She recalled a story she used to read her daughter, Eva,
many moons ago—The Saggy Baggy Elephant. Exactly
how she felt about her body. Her boobs, her butt, and
even her thighs resided in the vicinity of her ankles.
Gravity challenged and gone with the wind.
Fortunately, Gabe didn’t seem to notice. Think
again, moose breath. Gabe had never seen her naked.
Gabe did not know her in the biblical sense. He had
no clue how the ravages of time had robbed her of her
youthful shape or how her body had betrayed her. It
was a crime.
Holy crap. Do I really want to do this?
Lexie panicked. Trying to calm her ricocheting
nerves, she concentrated on the determined detective
rapping his knuckles on the front door. Crickets chirped
innocently, the sound filling the night air.
“Bertie,” he called out reassuringly. “It’s Detective
Stevenson.”
Lights flooded the store and Bertie opened up, her
forehead furrowed with concern. “Is everything okay,
11
Officer?”
“Sure. I just need . . . something.”
Bertie took pity on him and stood aside so he could
enter.
Lexie took the opportunity to swallow her blasted
hiccoughs and burp backward. It sounded disgusting,
like a garbage disposal with a paper clip in crosswise.
Thankfully the routine usually did the trick.
Still nervous, Lexie looked around Gabe’s truck.
She hated sitting out here cooling her heels while Gabe
was on a mission for love gloves. It made her feel like a
cheap tramp, or perhaps like she was desperately seeking
sex. Holy mama! She chewed a finger, tapped her foot,
and looked around. A paper on the dashboard caught
her eye.
She reached for it, thought, I shouldn’t snoop, but
latched onto it anyway. Like Pandora’s box, the paper
tempted her. Did it contain vital information about the
man she might share carnal knowledge with? No way
could she resist taking a gander.
Gabe hadn’t divulged much about himself or his
past. He still hadn’t introduced her to his daughter,
Jade. Why did he behave so mysteriously? Was he hiding something? A deep, dark secret, perhaps?
Maybe he didn’t want to get too close to her. Did
he only want her to be his friend with benefits? Nothing
more? The rat fink. Is that all he thought of her? Did he
12
think she was that easy?
With that thought gnawing away at her, Lexie unfolded the page, her hands trembling. A streetlight
illuminated the typewritten words—a recent e-mail
transcript between Gabe and someone named Melanie.
Melanie? Lexie stared at the words on the paper, her
heart squeezing with mistrust.
I’m sorry about what happened, Melanie, Gabe wrote.
I never wanted it to turn out like that. You deserve better.
I miss you so much and I hope to see you soon. Maybe we
can pick up where we left off. You know I love you and I’ ll
always be there for you.
Lexie tensed. Who was Melanie? What was going
on between her and Gabe?
I love you, too, Mel wrote back. I hope I can come
back soon. Life without you just doesn’t seem right. You
and I should never have gotten so upset with each other.
Please stay in touch. Kisses—Mel.
Paralyzing barbs pricked Lexie’s skin. The anticipation she’d felt was immediately doused, like a flame
smothered in ice. She no longer wanted to get horizontal with Gabe. What was going on? Was he in love with
someone else while he was making time with her?
Why not? He was a typical man. Men didn’t care
about feelings. They got what they wanted when they
wanted it. Sex was merely a bodily function for them.
Like brushing their teeth or plucking their nose hairs.
13
Here she was, preparing herself to become Gabe’s
booty call. Did he just want to keep her around for the
occasional romp in the hay, no strings attached?
“Oh, hell, no,” she told herself as righteous indignation burned inside her. Quickly, she refolded the e-mail
and shoved it back on the dashboard.
Clutching a small package in his hand, Gabe emerged
from the store. His smile said, I’m gonna get some nookie
tonight, and he whistled a jaunty I’m a stud tune.
Take a flying leap, Lexie thought as anger streaked
through her.
When Gabe climbed in the Jeep, she announced
icily, “Take me home.”
He lifted a brow. “That’s where we planned to go,
darlin’.”
“Quit calling me that. I want to go home alone.”
Gabe blinked. “Huh?”
“You heard me.” Lexie knew she sounded unreasonable. Gabe probably thought she’d lost all her marbles.
Too bad, so sad. She couldn’t let him know she’d snooped
and found the incriminating e-mail.
Gabe reached for her hand. “What’s wrong?”
Lexie pulled away. “I just want to go home. In fact,
what am I saying? I live right around the block.”
Grabbing her purse, Lexie hopped out and stormed
down the sidewalk toward her house.
Gabe started the engine and followed alongside her
14
in his Jeep. Leaning out the window, he gently coaxed,
“Please get in. We need to talk.”
“Oh, go soak your head.”
“Lexie!”
Lights switched on in several houses along the street.
Dogs barked, howled, and bayed at the moon. People
in fuzzy bathrobes parted curtains and peered out their
front windows.
Oh, brother! This is great. Just great.
If last year’s fiasco with Carma Leone killing off her
dates and setting fire to her house wasn’t enough, now
she would be a complete laughingstock. Her neighbors
and customers would snicker among themselves. They’d
have a heyday discussing how one of Westonville’s finest
had followed her home one night like a lost puppy dog.
Too darned bad. So what if people talked? Blasted
small-town rubberneckers, the lot of ’em. She would just
ignore them. Easier said than done, but she’d give it her
best shot.
As for Deputy Dog, he could just forget about marking another notch in his gun holster. She would not fall
victim to his charms, no matter how persuasive.
“Leave me alone,” she snapped. “I don’t want to see
you any more.”
Gabe stopped the Jeep. “So it’s over between us?
Just like that?”
“Yes.” Lexie stood still on the sidewalk, her insides
15
knotted with misery. She noted Gabe’s exasperated expression and felt a twinge of regret, but held her ground.
“What about your aunt’s wedding? Do you still
want me there?”
Lexie had forgotten about Aunt Gladys and
Frenchie’s wedding that would be held in a week. Aunt
Gladys had asked her and Gabe to be attendants. Oh,
well. “I don’t see any harm in the two of us walking
down the aisle,” she returned, hopefully disguising the
catch in her voice.
“Your choice.” Gabe gunned the Jeep’s engine,
flipped a U-turn, and drove away.
Lexie watched his vehicle fade into the darkness,
feeling as though her heart would burst. Quickly, she
walked to her house, went inside, and leaned against
the door. As she closed her eyes, tears strained through
her eyelashes and rolled down her cheeks. She had really liked Gabe. She enjoyed spending time with him,
wanted to know him better, hoped the future held good
things for them as a couple.
Son of a banana. Who was she kidding?
She kind of loved him.
God himself had possibly never envisioned a more beautiful event than this—Aunt Gladys’s wedding day.
16
Thank goodness the wind wasn’t blowing a million miles
an hour, typical Wyoming weather practically any time
of the year.
Lexie filled her lungs with fresh June air and basked
in the sunshine bathing her skin with warmth. As soft
orchestra music drifted on the gentle breeze, she studied
the flower-studded front yard of the Saucy Lucy Café,
currently filled with relatives, friends, and guests.
A striped canopy arched above the refreshment table,
which held a large, tiered white cake covered with delicate pink roses, curling green tendrils, and tiny plastic
bride and groom statues. Bowls of nuts and mints were
interspersed with platters of finger sandwiches filled with
egg, chicken, and ham salad. Punch bowls had been
filled, and champagne chilled in silver ice buckets.
Rows of white chairs, festooned with butter-colored
bows, faced the wraparound porch of the stately old brick
Victorian home that had once belonged to Lexie and
Lucy’s parents. Lexie and Lucy had converted the bottom floor into The Saucy Lucy Café and had the second
floor renovated into Lexie’s two-bedroom apartment.
For the last several months, Lexie had been caring
for Aunt Gladys, her cousin Bruce’s squirrelly mother.
The elderly woman was a fire-starting loon and a menace to society. She had nearly driven Lexie crazy with
her antics and drama-queen theatrics. In addition to
being difficult to live with, Aunt Gladys had an eccen-
17
tric streak and a fanciful flair.
Despite her outlandish ways, Lexie had grown to
love her.
Nevertheless, she was overjoyed Frenchie loved her,
too, and was willing to take the old bat off her hands. God
help the man; he was going to need it, along with a lifetime
of miracles if he was to survive Hurricane Gladys.
Suddenly Lexie felt ashamed for her uncharitable
thoughts about her aunt. She glanced around guiltily at
the wedding guests until she spotted Lucy.
She could almost hear Sister Lucy’s admonishment
in her head: “Aunt Gladys is just an old lady with a bad
memory. Behave yourself, now.”
Lexie shivered despite the perspiration dampening her
neck underneath her hair. Thank goodness Lucy hadn’t
heard her inner thoughts. Lexie didn’t need the grief.
Seeing Gabe today would be punishment enough. His
betrayal still infuriated her. Somehow she needed to find
a way to get past the pain of their almost affair. She didn’t
know whether she was more melancholy about the sex that
almost was or the loss of Gabe’s companionship and sense
of humor. Lexie quickly realized it was the latter.
The sound of someone clearing his or her throat
jolted Lexie back to reality. She looked up at the porch
and saw Reverend Lincolnway—a tall, angular man with
thinning brown hair and sunken cheeks—trying to get
everyone’s attention.
18
Straightening her yellow chiffon gown, she hurried
over to Lucy and pulled her away from the guests she’d
been gossiping with. “It’s time,” Lexie told her, inclining
her head toward the porch. “I think Reverend Lincolnway’s ready to start.”
Lucy glanced at him. “I think you’re right. And for
Pete’s sake, here I am gabbing away like a house on fire . . .”
Lexie and Lucy exchanged sharp glances. After Carma
Leone set the café’s kitchen ablaze several months ago, fire
wasn’t exactly a subject the sisters were keen on discussing.
Carma was the reason so many of Lexie’s dates had
wound up six feet under. She’d nearly killed Lexie, too.
Jealousy had driven her mad. A high school love affair
between Carma and Lexie’s ex-husband, Dan, had produced a child. Carma had kept the boy hidden from
prying eyes for years. Secretly she’d harbored hatred for
Lexie, blaming all her troubles on her for breaking up
her relationship with Dan. Lexie never knew about Dan
and Carma. She had no clue when she moved back to
Moose Creek Junction that Carma, driven insane with
vengeance, would go off the deep end.
Thankfully, the woman had been incarcerated in the
women’s correctional facility. Her son, Danny, whom
she’d enlisted to help her with the murders, now resided
in a rehabilitation center for individuals with Down syndrome where he would receive proper guidance. Poor
young Danny—he was one of Carma’s victims, though
19
he didn’t realize it.
Thank goodness Gabe had shown up when he did
and saved her from burning up in that old cabin. Otherwise, she wouldn’t be here today. Gabe . . .
Lexie forced her wandering mind back to the present. “Are you ready, Lucy?”
“Of course,” Lucy shot back impatiently and pushed
her large round glasses farther up the bridge of her nose.
“Everything will be perfect—just like we planned.”
Thinking about having to see Gabe again, Lexie
gulped with uncertainty. Hiccough, hiccough, hiccough.
Wedding prelude music drifted through the air above
the seated wedding guests. The photographer lifted his
camera and began to take pictures as soon as the bridesmaids appeared, clutching identical nosegays of pink
and yellow roses. One by one, they met their appointed
groomsmen.
Akiko Fletcher, who had become fast friends with
the bride, came first on the arm of the groom’s best
man, Howard Longfellow. Eva was next with her new
boyfriend, Will Townsend, and Lucy followed behind
with Otis. Now it was Lexie’s turn. She watched as
Gabe approached her, her heart fluttering like a drunken
butterfly. He met her gaze briefly, then took her arm
20
and escorted her toward the flower-adorned altar.
Lexie attempted to quell her trembles. One touch
from the handsome detective, and she turned into scrambled eggs. Swallowing another sudden bout of hiccoughs,
she stared straight ahead, refusing to meet Gabe’s piercing hazel eyes that asked a thousand questions.
“You missed the rehearsal the other night,” she whispered in an accusatory tone.
“Didn’t think I’d be welcome,” he said.
Lexie’s knees turned rubbery as she stole glances at
Gabe in his tuxedo—his tall, muscular physique almost
overpowering. Her breathing became erratic and the
constant swallowing of hiccoughs made her dizzy. Stop
it, she told herself. This was not the time and place to
behave like a ninny hammer.
She observed the sea of guests. They probably assumed her watery eyes and blotchy face were caused by
sentimental thoughts of her elderly aunt getting married.
Not so. She hated to admit, even to herself, she’d become unglued in the presence of Deputy Dog.
In rapid succession, the bridesmaids and their groomsmen all parted and went to stand on opposite sides of
the altar. When Wagner’s “Wedding March” blared,
Aunt Gladys walked proudly down the aisle on the arm
21
of Winfield Hightower, her oldest and dearest friend in
Moose Creek Junction. Positively radiant, she stepped in
time to the music, her long, former Las Vegas showgirl’s
legs still as firm as when she danced under the bright
lights of the MGM.
The bride was in her seventies, as was the millionaire groom, Ferdinand Duckworth II, and both of them
were smiling so hard their faces probably ached. It was
a wonderful occasion, and Lexie was more than happy
to turn over the care and feeding of her loopy, eccentric aunt to dear Frenchie. Once again, she said a small
prayer for the man’s safety and sanity.
Amen.
Lucy poked Lexie with her elbow and whispered,
“Don’t you think it’s unnatural that Cousin Bruce
couldn’t tear himself away from business to come to his
mother’s wedding? Just because he bought them a yacht
for a present doesn’t make a bit of difference. What are
they going to do with a stupid boat in Wyoming, anyway? I highly doubt Frenchie likes to fish.”
“That’s Bruce for you, selfish and thoughtless,” Lexie
returned. “Making money is the love of his life.”
Lucy poked Lexie again. “And aren’t you glad we
convinced Aunt Gladys not to wear that hideous outfit
she choose for the wedding? Why, we’d have been the
brunt of jokes all over town.”
Lexie nodded. Aunt Gladys, who most times
22
couldn’t remember who you were or where she was, had
a definite penchant for the outrageous. For her wedding
she’d originally chosen a leopard print caftan with strappy black sandals, a red scarf, large gold earrings, and a
plethora of Egyptian style bracelets.
Yikes.
Fortunately, Lexie and Lucy had convinced her to
wear a pink brocade suit, matching pumps, and a straw
hat covered in roses and ribbons. Her large bouquet of
blush and white roses complemented the outfit.
“That could have been you, you know.” Lucy nodded at Aunt Gladys. “If you’d played your cards right.
Of course, you couldn’t have worn white.”
Lexie knew Sister Lucy referred to her ill-fated relationship with Gabe. Uncomfortable heat filled her
cheeks. No doubt her face was red as a tomato. “That’s
none of your business,” Lexie growled.
“Ahem . . .” Reverend Lincolnway gave the sisters a
stern look.
Lexie and Lucy instantly fell silent and turned to
watch Aunt Gladys as she reached the altar. With tears
in his eyes, Winfield, affectionately known to Aunt
Gladys as “Winkie,” handed her over to Frenchie. He
sat down beside his current boyfriend.
Reverend Lincolnway cast an uncomfortable look at
the two men holding hands, and began to drone away
with the traditional wedding ceremony. “Dearly be-
23
loved, we are gathered here . . .”
Lexie concentrated on the ceremony, observing as
Aunt Gladys held out her left hand, which sported a
flashing pink diamond ring. It was similar to the one
J. Lo received from Ben Affleck. It must have cost a
fortune, but Aunt Gladys claimed Frenchie was rolling
in the dough. Whatever Frenchie’s sweetie pie wanted,
she got.
As the bride and groom exchanged rings, Howard
Longfellow, Frenchie’s best man, let out a wicked yelp.
All eyes turned to him.
“Sorry, folks,” he said apologetically, rubbing a
nasty-looking red welt on his neck. “Bee stung me.”
Sympathetic whispers rippled across the crowd.
Reverend Lincolnway then pronounced Aunt Gladys
and Frenchie “husband and wife.”
Music filled the air once more as Aunt Gladys and
husband number eight hooked arms and walked down
the aisle, smiling and waving. Lexie dreaded having to
file off with Gabe again. He looked at her like she’d shot
his dog. She felt his grip on her arm, his warmth at her
side, but refused to relent.
Let him be miserable, she thought. Maybe by now
he’d figured out she wasn’t a woman to be toyed with.
As soon as she could, Lexie tried to break loose
from him, but he drew her away from the crowd toward
a rambling old rosebush, its branches heavy with coral-
24
colored blossoms.
“Why won’t you return my calls?” Gabe asked.
Lexie pulled free and gripped her bouquet tighter.
“I’ve been busy with the wedding.”
“We need to talk.”
“Why?”
The furrow between Gabe’s brows deepened. “I
want to know what happened between us.”
Lexie met Gabe’s gaze. At one time, she’d looked
forward to being an important part of his life. She’d
hoped he would feel the same about her. The e-mail had
dashed those hopes to smithereens. Obviously, he was a
player. He didn’t want to commit to one woman.
He was in love with a woman named Melanie. Lexie
refused to play second fiddle. As much as she liked the
detective, she would not allow herself to be put through
that nonsense again.
“It’s not important,” Lexie finally blurted.
Gabe shook his head. “I don’t believe that.”
Men!
What a bunch of troglodytes. What could she expect when the only thing their testosterone-soaked pea
brains needed to survive was beer and sex. Oh, yeah.
And football.
Lexie felt like clobbering Gabe with her bouquet
when a beautiful girl in a gauzy blue party dress came up
to the detective. Her brownish blond hair and hazel eyes
25
gave a strong indication of who she was.
“There you are, Daddy,” she said to Gabe. “Grandma
and I have been looking for you.” She tossed Lexie a
curious glance.
“Told you I’d be right back.” Gabe squeezed her
shoulders. “Lexie, this is my daughter, Jade. Sweetheart,
this is my friend Lexie.”
Friend?
Lexie burned with anger. The man was a dirtbag.
Quelling her irritation, Lexie reached out to shake
Jade’s hand. “Jade Analeese, right?”
“Uh-huh,” Jade said with a wide grin, obviously
pleased at being greeted with a grown-up handshake.
“You have a beautiful name.”
A smile tilted Jade’s lips. “Thanks. You sure look
pretty.”
“You, too,” Lexie told her. “Did you get some cake
and punch?”
“Yeah. It was awesome.” Jade stared up at Gabe
again. “Grandma wants to know when we’re leaving.”
“We’ve got plenty of time to get to California.”
A brunette woman wearing a tan pantsuit approached Gabe. She smiled and her hazel eyes crinkled
at the corners as she shook hands with Lexie. “I’m
Roxanne Stevenson, Gabe’s mother.”
“Nice to meet you,” Lexie said.
“Hey, mister.” Roxanne punched Gabe’s shoulder.
26
“I’d like to get in some road time before sundown.”
“We will,” Gabe said.
Roxanne winked at Lexie. “Gabe and Jade flew me
all the way out here to go on vacation. In a camper.
Guess I get to do the laundry and cooking. Nice, huh?”
“It’s a motor home, Mom,” Gabe said. “Much different from a camper.”
“Whatever,” Roxanne said.
Lexie immediately liked Roxanne. However, at the
thought of Gabe leaving, her heart crept into her throat
and lodged there like a cowering bullfrog.
“You’re going out of town?” she asked Gabe.
“I’ve got a chunk of vacation saved up. We’re driving to Disneyland. Afterward, we’ll visit some other
tourist attractions,” he said.
“Oh, my gosh. Like the museum of sod and the biggest ball of twine?” Jade groaned.
Gabe chuckled. “When we get home, my mom’s going
to stay for the summer and watch Jade till school starts.”
Jade took Roxanne’s hand. “I wish you’d move out
here for good, Grandma.”
“Yes, and keep your little fanny out of trouble,”
Gabe added.
Jade rolled her eyes. “Oh, Daddy.”
“Guess we’d better take off.” Gabe reached into his
jacket pocket and handed Lexie a card.
Lexie was annoyed by the shivers that rippled
27
through her at his touch. Was she a complete idiot? The
man was a no-good lout.
“This is for your Aunt Gladys and Frenchie,” Gabe
explained. “I wasn’t right sure what to get for them, but
I managed to round up a gift certificate.”
“Thank you.” Though Lexie’s heart was twisted
with pain, she forced a polite smile.
“Lovely to meet you, my dear,” Gabe’s mother told
Lexie, her alert eyes watching the exchange between her
son and Lexie.
Lexie sensed Roxanne knew something was going
on between the two of them. That instinctive mother’s
intuition had probably kicked in by now. It wouldn’t
have taken a rocket scientist to sense the tension between them.
Why had Gabe tried to hoodwink her? What was
going on between him and Melanie? Even though she’d
told herself it was none of her business, she couldn’t help
but wonder. On the one hand, she was angry at Gabe for
leaving. On the other, she thought, Good riddance.
The bottom line: she felt miserable.
“Talk to you when I get back?” Gabe’s brow arched
hopefully.
Ignoring Gabe, she turned to Jade. “Have fun in
Disneyland,” she told the girl, remembering when she
and Dan had taken Eva there a lifetime ago. “It’s an
amazing place.”
28
“I know,” she said energetically, her eyes twinkling.
“I can hardly wait.” She took her father’s hand and
tugged. “Come on, Dad. Let’s go!”
Lexie watched the Stevenson family walk away, her
heart wrenching. She couldn’t deny what she felt for the
man, even if it was wrong.
Lord, help me.
here you are, Lexie.”
Lexie was still wallowing in self-pity when
Lucy appeared, grabbed her arm, and dragged her toward the guests assembled on the lawn. “For Pete’s sake,
why are you hiding over here by the roses? Everyone’s
wondering where you are. We need to mingle.”
Lexie sighed. As they walked past the gift table
full of presents in silk ribbons and pale wrapping, she
dropped off Gabe’s card. “I was talking to Deputy Dog.
I got to meet his daughter and his mother.”
Lexie felt less attached to Gabe when she called
him by the nickname she’d given him when they first
met. Back then he simply annoyed her. Maybe referring
to him like that again would give her the distance she
needed from her emotions.
Right. And pigs fly.
“Uh-oh. You’re calling him Deputy Dog again.”
Lucy rolled her eyes. “You actually got to meet the mysterious detective’s family?”
30
“Yes.”
“He’s been so secretive about them.”
“I know.”
Lucy’s countenance turned thoughtful. “Maybe
when Gabe returns, the two of you can—”
“Lucy, enough with the matchmaking.”
“You’ve barely given this relationship a chance,
kiddo. You know what the church tells us about the
sanctity of marriage. It would be wonderful if you two
got together.”
“It’s complicated, Lucy.”
Lucy batted her eyelashes innocently. “Like how?”
Lexie explained about the e-mail, leaving out the
part she and Gabe had nearly gotten horizontal. That
would have sent Lucy through the roof.
Even if you were of age and consenting, premarital sex was absolutely forbidden in the First Community
Church of the Lamb of God. Lexie and Lucy’s father,
Reverend James Castleton, had presided over the congregation more than twenty years. That had been one of his
solemn talking points. No wonder it had been Lexie’s
undoing. The more he preached against premarital sex,
the more she had experimented.
Now Reverend Lincolnway tended to their father’s
flock, and Lucy would be bound by the conventions
of the church until the day she died. Individuals who
didn’t comply were damned to fire and brimstone for
31
eternity. Like Lexie.
“Maybe it was old,” Lucy suggested.
“No,” Lexie muttered, crestfallen all over again. “It
was recent.”
For once in her life, Lucy was speechless.
“There you are, Mom.”
Lexie and Lucy both turned to see Lucy’s son, Carl,
standing by the refreshment table with a brassy blond
woman draped over him like the icing on Aunt Gladys’s
wedding cake. Mitzi the poodle. He motioned for them
to come over.
“Uh-oh,” Lucy said in a strained voice. “Carl’s brought
trouble. He’s been dating that trollop for months now, or
did I tell you?”
Lexie nodded. She didn’t remind Sister Lucy she’d
told her about Carl and Mitzi dating no less than a gazillion times. She’d also expressed her extreme disapproval.
Carl was the assistant manager at Big Daddy’s Used Car
Lot in Westonville, and Mitzi was Big Daddy’s dilly-bar
daughter who painted her finger- and toenails at the receptionist desk. Most objectionable of all, Mitzi danced
topless at the Doll House Gentlemen’s Club.
A true heathen, according to Sister Lucy.
Dating the boss’s daughter could potentially advance
Carl’s career, Lexie admitted. However, Mitzi was like
a Barbie doll on crack. She never stopped talking and
dressed like an out-of-control teenage Hollywood diva.
32
Lexie wondered how Carl could stand her.
“I wish Carl would come to his senses and date a
decent girl,” Lucy grumbled as they walked toward Carl
and Mitzi. “Like Bella or Bethany.”
Lexie blinked. “Betsy Birtentoff’s daughters? The
gag-reflex twins?”
“Really, Lexie.” Lucy sent her an admonishing look.
“Your language is terrible.”
Lexie shrugged.
“The girls attend church regularly and take care of
their aging parents. They even make their own clothes.”
“What’s there to sewing together a couple of burlap
sacks and a Peter Pan collar? Even I could manage that.”
“Would you like me to wash your mouth out with
soap, Alexandria Kathleen?” Lucy smiled sweetly, her
words barbed. “Since Mom and Dad aren’t here, I might
have to do that. I think I’d enjoy it, too.”
Lexie rolled her eyes. “Sheesh, Luce, I know you’re
worried about Carl. We all worry about our kids. For
goodness’ sake, if I were Carl, I wouldn’t date the twins,
either. They’re downright scary.”
“What are you talking about? Either one of them
would be perfect for Carl,” Lucy protested. “I’ve put a
request into the prayer circle. Hopefully, the Lord will
see fit to help Carl realize he should choose better dates.
Like one of the Birtentoff twins.”
Lexie glanced over at the giggling sisters as they
33
stood at a lace-draped table serving cake to guests, their
plump, pimply faces eager to please. “Lucy, get a grip,
will you? Bella and Bethany must each weigh three
hundred pounds and probably comb their hair with
pitchforks. They have orange fuzzy teeth like they’ve
eaten Cheetos for a year and never brushed. Oh, and the
most charming of all: they talk to each other in a secret
language that sounds like chimpanzees sucking helium
balloons. I don’t blame Carl for steering clear.”
“But Carl’s dating a . . . a stripper!” A wild, mortified look flared in Lucy’s eyes. “That’s completely
unacceptable. Otis and I are shamed to the core.”
Lexie figured Otis wasn’t so much shamed to the
core as he was jealous that he’d never had the opportunity to date a stripper himself. “Shhh,” she cautioned.
“They’ll hear you.”
Carl grinned when Lexie and Lucy approached. He
looked deliriously happy. And no wonder. What redblooded American male wouldn’t be completely gaga
over Mitzi’s skimpy attire? No doubt the boy was in
hog heaven.
The little tart wore a slinky red dress and gold sandals
more fitting for her nightly jiggle jaunts than for a wedding. She sported a heart tattoo above one of her bouncy
breasts and was the proud owner of a barbed-wire tattoo
circling an ankle. The crowning glory: a diamond stud
pierced in one nostril, sparkling like a slimy booger. The
34
longer Mitzi worked at the gentlemen’s club, the fancier
her body adornments. Lexie figured there were probably
more piercings and tattoos in places she didn’t want to
know about.
“Hullo, Mrs. Parnell,” Mitzi said to Lucy as she
chewed furiously on a wad of gum. She glanced at Lexie.
“I remember you; you’re Carl’s auntie, right?”
“Yes, I’m his Aunt Lexie.” Lexie snatched a couple
of carrot sticks from a vegetable tray on the refreshment
table. She stuffed them in her mouth before she blurted
out something she might regret.
Mitzi popped a huge pink bubble and turned to
Carl. “I’m so excited I’m going to be a part of your family, pumpkin.” She giggled and squeezed his arm.
Lucy’s face drained of color. “Excuse me?”
Carl held up Mitzi’s left hand where a diamond
engagement ring glinted in the sun. Bling bling for a
ding-a-ling, Lexie thought.
“I thought Aunt Gladys and Frenchie’s wedding
would be a good place to pop the question,” Carl said excitedly. “Where’s Dad? We want to tell him, too.”
Lucy’s mouth worked open and closed like a fish on
a hook, but nothing came out except a couple of squeaks.
She whipped out a fan and waved it madly in front of
her face.
Lexie swallowed a carrot chunk, which clawed its
way down her throat like a crab with gigantic pinchers.
35
“Well, um, congratulations,” she stammered.
Sister Lucy still looked like a fish on a hook. Pale,
her mouth twitching, eyes glazed.
Lexie cleared her throat. “When’s the happy day?”
“Next month,” Mitzi gushed. “Carl and I are flying down to Las Vegas to be married by Elvis! Isn’t it
just peachy?”
Lexie and Lucy exchanged horrified looks.
“I’m so excited,” Mitzi said. She chattered about
her wedding plans, oblivious to Lexie and Lucy’s horror.
“You will come, won’t you, Mother Parnell? You too,
Auntie Lexie.”
Lexie started to hiccough.
Lucy gave a small cry, then stumbled backward into
a chair. One of her feet caught in the bottom rung and
over she went, like a tree felled by a lumberjack.
“Lucy!” Hiccough. Lexie reached to steady her, but
it was too late.
Lucy belted out a wicked scream and tumbled head
over heels down a slope, the chair clattering after her.
“Mother Parnell!” Mitzi screamed. She and Carl
took off after Lucy.
Lexie started to follow, then realized a lump had
lodged in her throat. She tried to swallow. Ouch! She
tried to take a breath. Impossible! A half-eaten carrot
chunk stuck to her air passageway like superglue. She
gagged, tried to cough. The chunk refused to budge.
36
I can’t breathe!
Stars danced before Lexie’s eyes. She felt woozy, tingled all over. Seconds ticked by as she struggled with
disbelief. She was going to die with a friggin’ vegetable
stuck crosswise in her gullet.
What a sucky way to go.
She stumbled sideways, hands wrapped around her
throat. People gathered around, gawking. Finally strong
arms wrapped around Lexie’s waist, and she felt a mighty
shove upward into her rib cage. The offending chunk flew
from her mouth and a whoosh of air escaped her lungs.
Hallelujah!
Lexie leaned over and gripped her knees, gasping
for breath, feeling as though she was going to pass out.
When the world stopped spinning, she straightened and
looked to see who had saved her from the devil’s clutches.
That’s who would be waiting when she passed to the
other side—Satan himself. No way would she be allowed
to step one foot inside the Pearly Gates.
It was the hot place for her, by Jove.
“Are you all right, dear?” Eleni Andros stood before
her, with a concerned expression. Lexie hadn’t seen the
woman in quite a while. The passage of time had been
kind to Eleni. The only wrinkles Lexie could detect
were small laugh lines around her eyes. The woman’s
hair, once the color of rich ebony, was now streaked with
dignified gray. The black silk dress hugging her curves
37
accentuated her olive-colored skin beautifully, giving her
an exotic aura.
The Andros family had been in Moose Creek
Junction since its pioneer beginnings. Eleni’s great-greatgrandfather, Hector, originally from Greece, had settled
here, intending to farm. When that wasn’t the most lucrative venture, he started a restaurant in Westonville.
It had flourished, and generations of the Andros family
had worked there and enjoyed the benefits of Hector’s
hard work.
“I’m . . . fine. Thanks to you.”
She smiled. “Thank goodness I took that Red Cross
class. It certainly came in handy today.”
“Oh, my gosh! Lucy!”
Lexie hurried down the slope to where her sister had
crash landed. Carl and Mitzi hunkered at Sister Lucy’s
side, surrounded by a throng of wedding guests.
“I hope she’s all right,” Eleni said as she followed Lexie.
“Me, too.”
“Excuse me . . . please move aside . . .” Lexie shouldered
through the crowd and knelt beside her sister. “Lucy, are
you all right?”
Lucy was spread-eagled in a decidedly unladylike
position. Her support-hosed legs were askew with one
38
ankle jammed at an awkward angle between the rungs
of the chair.
“I don’t know.” Lucy stared at Lexie with a stunned
expression, glasses hanging crookedly. “For Pete’s sake,
what happened? Oh, my goodness. My, oh, my.”
“Take it easy,” Lexie cautioned.
“Indeed,” Eleni said. “You’re breathing so fast you
might hyperventilate.”
“Excuse me!” Eva said as she and Will shouldered
past guests and knelt beside Lucy. Will offered his
handkerchief and Eva pressed it against Lucy’s bloodied,
bruised forehead. She held up a hand. “How many fingers, Aunt Lucy?”
Lucy blinked. “Two. No . . . three . . . I can’t see!
Everything’s blurry!”
Lexie straightened Lucy’s glasses.
“Much better.” Lucy took a relieved breath. “Two.”
“Good,” Eva said. She took her aunt’s pulse and
nodded. “Your heart’s racing, but no wonder after the
tumble you took. I think you’ll be all right.”
Eva’s medical training at Westonville University and
her summer job as Doc Petrie’s assistant was paying off.
The girl had taken to the medical profession as though it
was her destiny to become a nurse and care for people. A
good career, Lexie thought. Eva would always be able to
support herself financially—something she herself had
struggled with.
39
The crowd parted for Doc Petrie, a short, old wizened man with wire-rimmed glasses. He approached
Lucy and patted her shoulder. “Where’s your pain,
young lady?”
“My head hurts. And my ankle . . . ooh!”
Doc gently extricated Lucy’s foot from the chair
rung. He prodded the puffy flesh, watching closely
when Lucy winced. “I’m afraid it might be broken.” He
frowned. “Or at least badly sprained.”
A few seconds later Otis hurried up to Lucy, waving
his gun. “Jumpin’ catfish. Who pushed you? I’ll book
’em on assault charges.”
Lucy shook her head. “For Pete’s sake, Otis, put
away your weapon before someone gets hurt. Nobody
pushed me. It was an accident.”
Otis holstered his gun, which he’d insisted upon
wearing under his tux jacket. He almost looked disappointed that he couldn’t arrest anyone.
Aunt Gladys tottered over, escorted by Frenchie.
Howard, who still had a red welt on his neck from the
bee sting, had followed.
“Did Lucy drop over dead or what?” Aunt Gladys
asked, then pawed through her handbag. “I got a mirror in here somewhere. Let’s check her breathing, see if
it fogs up the glass.”
“Not necessary,” Lexie told Aunt Gladys.
“I tripped and fell,” Lucy muttered. “Just clumsy, I
40
guess. Nothing to be concerned about.”
Otis and Eva helped Lucy stand. Lexie and Eleni
brushed grass from Lucy’s gown and plucked twigs from
her bun. Lexie recalled when she and Lucy were kids and
they’d rolled down this hill for fun. Back in the day . . . It
used to drive their mother crazy and she’d call out, “You
two are gonna break your scrawny little necks.”
Lexie smiled at the memory.
“I think you should come by my office later,” Doc
Petrie recommended. “Your foot probably needs X-rays.”
Lucy shook her head. “I’m sure I just need to rest.”
“You are so hardheaded, Lucy Parnell,” Eleni scolded.
“If Doc says he needs to have a look, you’d better listen.”
Doc drew his bushy brows together. “I’m heading
back to my office right now. If the foot gives you any
trouble, Lucy, stop by.”
“I promise,” she said.
Doc Petrie blended back into the crowd.
“What the hell happened?” Otis insisted.
Lucy winced. “Mind your language, Otis. There
are children nearby.”
Lines creased his forehead. “With all the ruckus
going on, I thought terrorists had crashed the wedding.
Maybe taken somebody hostage.”
“Terrorists? Hell’s bells, I thought sure the scumsucking aliens were after us again,” Aunt Gladys
exclaimed. “The green bastards like this hellhole for
41
some reason. Did I ever tell you about the time they
landed in our backyard? Little pricks.”
“Enough, Aunt Gladys,” Lexie interrupted. “I think
the heat got to Lucy. It’s warm today.”
Otis shrugged. “No more so than any other day.”
“Could be all the excitement,” Lexie insisted.
“Quit acting like I’ve turned into a deaf, demented old
fool, you two,” Lucy protested. She pulled Otis down by
his bow tie and growled, “Did your son tell you he intends
to marry . . . her?” Lucy pointed at Mitzi the poodle.
Otis grinned from ear to ear and slapped Carl on the
back. “That’s my boy.”
“You’re all right with this?” Lucy sputtered. She
produced her fan and waved it in front of her flushed
face. “Heaven help us all.”
“Hell, woman! It’s about time the boy settled
down. He’s not a snot-nosed kid anymore. What’s the
problem?”
Mitzi popped her gum loudly and shoved her hands
on her curvaceous hips. “Yeah, what’s the problem?”
Lexie didn’t want to air family laundry in front of
the guests. She turned to the crowd and said, “Everything’s fine, folks; no need to worry. Please, go and
enjoy yourselves.”
Eleni shepherded the guests away, steering them toward the refreshments.
Aunt Gladys, her flowered straw hat slightly askew,
42
blinked in confusion at Lexie and Lucy. “Excuse me,
who are you? What are you all doing here?”
Lord, help us. She’s out circling Jupiter again.
“Lexie and Lucy, Aunt Gladys. Your nieces.” Lexie
quickly introduced the rest of the family.
Aunt Gladys grinned. “Whatever you say, dear.
You’ve met Frenchie, haven’t you? My new husband?”
“For Pete’s sake, of course we all know Frenchie,”
Lucy said impatiently.
“And this is Howard Longfellow, Frenchie’s dearest friend in the world.” Aunt Gladys waved toward
Frenchie’s best man.
With a sheepish expression, Howard raised a hand.
“We met Mr. Longfellow at the rehearsal dinner,” Eva
reassured Aunt Gladys, patting her age-spotted hand.
Aunt Gladys frowned and tapped her wrinkled
cheek. “How many times have I been married?”
“Don’t worry about it, Aunt Gladys,” Lexie said.
“Eight times! Eight times I’ve walked down the aisle.
Hell’s bells, but I just keep giving it a shot.” She hooted
with laughter and clapped her hands. “Did you know
we’re going to France for our honeymoon? We’re going to
see the Eiffel Tower. Frenchie’s giving me a personal tour
of his perfume factory. Isn’t it just the bee’s knees?”
“Princess, do you need to sit down?” Frenchie
looked worried. “You’re getting too excited.”
“Pish, posh.” Aunt Gladys waved her left hand and
43
the enormous pink diamond flashed. “When I get back
from my honeymoon, I’m going to host a party. I want
everyone to see my house. It’s a real killer.”
Mansion from hell was more like it, Lexie thought.
The eccentric old bat had obviously forgotten they’d already visited the mansion in Marble Canyon. Filled with
dark wood paneling, burgundy-colored carpet, mirrors,
and plenty of rooms for maids, butlers, and Frenchie’s
other assembled staff, it had a definitive air of gaudy.
The only saving grace: a lush garden full of trees,
bushes, and flowers someone had coaxed into existence,
despite Wyoming’s harsh climate. Nevertheless, the exterior panorama couldn’t quite dispel the sight of tasteless
marble busts and fountains with statues of naked people
in compromising sexual positions.
Lexie had heard through the rumor mill that Aunt
Gladys’s new home had originally been constructed for
the rapper Curious J. Kat, who had wanted to escape
from the hustle and bustle of Hollywood. J. Kat hadn’t
resided in his Marble Canyon monstrosity for long before he decided raging winter blizzards weren’t his style.
He pulled up stakes and moved his large entourage to a
warmer climate.
Lexie switched her attention from Aunt Gladys and
Frenchie’s questionable digs to her aunt’s condition. Her
“spells” seemed worse. Did Frenchie really know what
he’d gotten himself into?
44
Lexie dismissed her concerns. After months of
guard duty, she was relieved to be off the hook. In fact,
she felt guilty to feel so relieved. It was up to Frenchie to
keep the sweet loon from running around naked in his
front yard or from burning down his house.
“Come on, everybody,” Lucy said, ushering everyone back up the hill in her typical, bossy fashion. “Let’s
get back to the party before the guests think we’re ignoring them.”
At the refreshment table, Eleni joined the family
again. Many a male guest—young and old—turned an
admiring glance her way. She was still quite the looker.
Lexie explained how Eleni had performed the Heimlich maneuver when the carrot got stuck in her throat.
“What a day we’ve all had,” Lucy said. “Are you all
right, Lex?”
“Yes, I’m fine now.” She hugged Eleni. “You probably saved my life.”
“It was nothing, dear” Eleni said quietly.
Frenchie, truly looking like a little leprechaun next
to the statuesque Greek woman, cleared his throat. “I’m
glad you could come today, Eleni.”
“I wanted to wish you and your bride well,” she returned.
Frenchie grinned. “We appreciate it.”
Aunt Gladys shoved her hands on her hips and glared
at Frenchie, then at Eleni, then back at Frenchie. “Okay,
45
mister. ’Fess up. How does she know you so well?”
Frenchie licked his lips nervously. “It was nothing, poopsie. We just played cards at the senior center one time.”
“Cards?” Aunt Gladys glared at him. “Are you sure
that was all?”
Eleni clasped her hands together, revealing manicured,
long red fingernails. “Frenchie’s right. I was volunteering
that day and decided to join in a game of spades.”
“Yeah, and I’m the Queen of Sheba,” Aunt Gladys
retorted, her face getting redder by the minute, her
glasses steamy.
“Excuse me, everyone.” A waiter approached, a tray
of glasses balanced on his shoulder. He wore dark sunglasses and sported a diamond stud in his right ear. His
dark wavy hair was parted down the middle and tied
back in a ponytail. The jeans he wore were ragged, his
T-shirt faded, and he wasn’t wearing a black uniform like
the rest of the staff.
Odd getup for a waiter who’d come from an exclusive catering agency in Denver, Lexie thought. Frenchie
had hired only the best. Everyone but Ponytail Boy was
impeccably dressed and well groomed.
“Would anyone like a drink?” he asked. “I have the
bride and groom’s special goblets filled with bubbly and
ready for a toast.”
The champagne couldn’t have come at a better time
since Aunt Gladys looked like she was ready to pop her
46
cork. Still, something about the waiter bothered Lexie.
He seemed completely out of place.
She shook off her suspicions. Her mind wandered
way too much.
“I think a toast would be in grand order.” Apparently
relieved to have the subject changed, Frenchie helped
hand out the glasses.
Ponytail Boy handed Frenchie and Aunt Gladys their
specially marked “Bride” and “Groom” vessels. Lifting
his tray high, the waiter disappeared into the crowd.
As if on cue, the photographer appeared and began
to take pictures.
Carl raised his glass. “To the bride and groom. May
they live well and love long.”
Mitzi stared adoringly at him and giggled. No
doubt she was thinking of their upcoming nuptials.
Lexie could see her now, swaying her backside to the
wedding march, her hair bleached within an inch of its
life beneath her veil.
“Here, here,” Otis piped up, raising his glass along
with everyone else except Lucy, who wrinkled her nose
with distaste.
“Man, this stuff sucks.” Eva made a face at the
champagne.
“You shouldn’t be drinking,” Lexie admonished, irritated Will was letting her sip from his glass.
“On the contrary.” Will hugged Eva possessively.
47
“You are way too sheltered, young lady. I’ll have to see
to it that you get some culture in your life.”
Lexie frowned. Will’s accent sounded Australian,
but he had never admitted from which country he hailed.
Wherever it was, he behaved as though he was a superior
being. She was getting fed up with that boy’s smug mug
and arrogant attitude. His ballooned ego grated on her
nerves. If Mr. Wonderful thought his butt was lined
with gold, why was he here in backwater Wyoming,
working in a juice bar?
Lexie didn’t trust him. Unfortunately, Eva was
young and impressionable. From the moment she’d met
Will, she’d been head-over-heels infatuated. Lexie knew
her advice would be unwelcome, so she didn’t share her
concerns with Eva. She just prayed Will wouldn’t hurt
the girl. She’d been disappointed enough by her father.
Ignoring Will’s comment, Lexie said, “It’s an acquired taste, Eva. It’s not for everyone.”
“It makes me piss like a racehorse,” Aunt Gladys
said, then thumped her chest and belched loudly.
“Really, Aunt Gladys!” Lucy made a disgusted
sound. She took the glass from Eva’s hand and tossed
the champagne on the grass, at which point the photographer took another picture. “Alcohol is the devil’s brew.
The world would be better off if it didn’t exist. Why, the
church says . . .”
Lexie’s mind went blank as her sister went on. She
48
glanced into the distance, ignoring another religious tirade.
Sister Lucy had missed her true calling. She should be at
the pulpit of the First Community Church of the Lamb of
God every Sunday, preaching fire and brimstone.
She thought of Gabe and how he’d gotten under her
skin. She wished she’d never found that blasted e-mail.
She wished they were still together. Contemplating how
close they’d come to having carnal knowledge of each
other, Lexie chewed her lower lip. Her stomach gave a
panicked little flip.
Maybe it was better they’d broken it off.
As much as she liked Gabe, she was not ready to
walk through the valley of commitment again. Been
there, done that. Once was enough, thank you.
iren blaring, lights flashing, a police cruiser
screeched to the curb in front of the café. Two officers jumped from the vehicle, the police radio squawking
behind them.
One of them approached Otis and growled, “What’s
going on, Sheriff Parnell?”
“Everything’s under control, Officer Matthews.
Thanks for responding so quickly.”
Lexie frowned at Otis. “Who called the WPD?”
He turned tomato red. “Me. I told Cleve to cancel
it. The dimwit obviously forgot.”
Lucy patted Otis’s arm. “Why did you call for backup, dear?”
“When all the commotion broke out, I thought there
might be trouble. Figured I’d rather be safe than sorry.”
He shrugged apologetically at the police officer.
The lawman cleared his throat. “If it’s all right with
you, Sheriff, I still want to have a look around. Just for
good measure.”
50
“Be my guest.” Otis inclined his head toward the refreshment table. “Have a piece of cake, too. There’s plenty.”
With a nod, the officer ambled toward his partner.
Good old patootie-head Otis, Lexie thought. Definitely not the sharpest tool in the garden shed.
“For Pete’s sake, Otis, call them off,” Lucy pleaded.
“This is embarrassing.”
Grumbling under his breath, Otis caught up to the
officers and began to chew the fat. Wedding guests shot
glances at them and whispered among themselves, looking uncomfortable. No doubt they wondered why the
police had joined the party.
Lexie stared heavenward. Lord, help me, I’m related
to a bunch of lovable goofballs. We can’t even have a wedding without everything going haywire.
Will laughed. “Bloody hell. This is like one of those
old keystone cop pictures you see on the telly. All those
fellows need are nightsticks.”
With his tall, thin frame and tousled hair, Will
looked like a starving artist. Unfortunately, the only
type of art he dabbled in was mixing colorful fruit drinks
at a juice bar in Westonville. Not the most promising
career for a prospective son-in-law, Lexie thought. Eva
would have resented her mother’s opinions, so she had
kept them to herself.
Did Will really care about Eva? Lexie battled a pang
of jealousy. Would she lose her little girl to the mysteri-
51
ous Don Juan from abroad? Incredible. A few years ago
Eva had been in braces, and now she was a mature young
lady with what appeared to be a, gulp, serious boyfriend.
Lexie was not comfortable with the concept.
Maybe if Eva and Will wound up together, he would
turn into a juice bar mogul and make money hand over fist.
He could be the Donald Trump of the juice bar business.
“Wow.” Eva giggled. “I can’t believe Uncle Otis
called the police.”
“He meant well,” Lucy said defensively. “He was
just trying to keep everyone safe.”
“Jingle bells, Batman smells, Robin laid an egg . . .”
Aunt Gladys sang.
Lucy gave her a sharp look.
Aunt Gladys stuck out her tongue.
“I’m going to go check on the guests,” Lexie said.
“See if they need anything.”
She wandered through the crowd, stopping to chat
now and then, reassuring folks everything was all right.
If someone asked why the boys in blue had shown up,
she explained they were friends of Otis’s and that he’d
invited them for refreshments.
Which wasn’t exactly a lie, but not exactly the truth.
She noticed the police officers were still hanging
around, notebooks in hand, questioning people. Otis
trotted behind the lawmen. The buttons on his too-tight
shirt popped, sweat beaded his brow, and dark circles
52
of perspiration spread under his arms. Deputy Cleve
Harris—skinny and doofy as Barney Fife of Mayberry
RFD fame—had finally shown up. He tagged along
with the group, no doubt trying to explain his failure to
cancel the call for backup.
“What a joke,” Lexie muttered under her breath,
thinking a neighborhood watch with eagle-eye grannies
and mouthy, smart-aleck kids would be more effective
than those two pea-brains who resided over the Moose
Creek Junction pokey.
The sound of a backfiring engine alerted Lexie to
the arrival of another guest. Barnard Savage, a reporter
for the Moose Creek Junction Chronicle, swung his ancient, battleship-gray Gremlin into a parking space. He
pulled his hump-shouldered, trench-coated reporter’s
body from the moldy interior and headed toward a cluster of guests.
Lexie cringed. Yellow journalism practically oozed
from the man’s fingertips.
The skank must have heard Otis’s emergency call on
his police scanner. She needed to stop that sneaky hack
from writing any more trash about her family. Clenching her jaw, she walked up to him.
“What are you doing here, Savage?”
He shot her a dirty look, then ogled at her well-proportioned boobs. “Move out of my way, Big Red.”
“Crawl back in your den, creep.” She thought about
53
her favorite TV program, The O’Reilly Factor. “The spin
stops here.”
“Hooey! Red’s got a mouth on her.” Savage scratched
his salt-and-pepper hair, then fished a cigarette from his
pocket. He flicked his Bic, lit up, and blew smoke in her
face. “It’s called freedom of the press, sweetie.”
Lexie tapped her foot. “Take off, loser. There’s no
story here.”
Savage took another long drag on his cigarette.
“What if I don’t want to?”
“I’m sure Sheriff Parnell wouldn’t mind arresting
you for trespassing.”
Savage’s pockmarked face turned a sick shade of
purple. He took one more drag on his cigarette, which
by now had a dangerous-looking loop of ashes dangling
from the tip. He dropped the smoke and mashed it into
the grass with his boot heel.
“Aren’t you the same broad whose dates kept getting
knocked off?” He snickered. “That was one of my better stories.”
“Vamoose!” Lexie felt a wave of hiccoughs rise in her
chest. “Before I tell the nice cops over there”—hiccough—
“you threatened me with”—hiccough—“bodily harm.”
“Oooohhh, you’re scaring me.” Savage held up his
hand, the nails on his fingers short and dirty. “See how
I’m trembling?”
“You’ve got about two seconds before I scream,”
54
Lexie warned. “Real loud.”
With a snarl, Savage stormed over to his sad vehicle
that looked old enough to have arrived on the Mayflower.
Black smoke spit from the muffler as he backed out. He
shoved his hand out the window and flipped the bird.
Lexie returned the gesture with gusto.
“Alexandria Kathleen!” Lucy limped over and
yanked her hand down. “You are completely shameless.
What would Jesus think?”
“He’d have probably done the same”—hiccough—
“thing, sis.”
“Such disgusting behavior from my own flesh and
blood. You will eventually have to answer for your wayward actions.”
“When I meet my maker”—hiccough—“I’ll explain
everything. God is merciful. Surely he will understand
I was tempted to stray”—hiccough—“because of circumstances beyond my control.”
“Maybe someday you’ll return to the house of the
Lord and learn some reverence,” Lucy scolded. “For right
now, we are at a wedding, and Reverend Lincolnway is
within earshot. Please refrain from crude body language
or foul outbursts.”
“Whatever.” Lexie winced at Lucy’s foot. “That
doesn’t look good. You’d better sit down.”
Lucy eased herself into a lawn chair and rested her
ballooning ankle on a wicker stool. “It does ache, and
55
my head’s still killing me. I’m also worried sick about
how to keep clothes on my future daughter-in-law.”
“Ah, yes. Mitzi the poodle, our very own stripper
queen.” Lexie hid a smile. “We do have our problems,
don’t we?”
Paws-itively Guilty
Visit MedallionPress.com for more information.