Murder of a Wedding Belle (20 page)

“But if I tell you and you decide you have to tell Sonny Boy, I’m screwed.” Bunny pouted. “You have to promise first.”

Was the redhead setting Skye up, or was she just being Bunny? Skye crossed her fingers and hoped she wouldn’t have to go to confession for breaking her word. “I promise.”

“Hmm.” Bunny gave Skye a calculating look. “The question is, can I trust you?”

“Of course.” Skye attempted her own version of an innocent expression. “Have I ever lied to you?”

“If you haven’t, you’d be the first one.”

Skye felt a stab of guilt but pushed it aside. “Come on, just tell me so we can both get out of here.” She was doing this for Bunny’s own good.

“Okay.” Bunny’s mood shifted, and she wagged her finger at Skye. “But remember, you might still end up marrying my son, and you wouldn’t want me to be a monster-in-law.”

“Bunny.” Skye’s tone held a warning. “Tell me or I’m leaving. And if I walk out of here, they’re locking you up and throwing away the key. They don’t even have to charge you. They can just claim you’re a threat to national security.”

“Okay, already.” Bunny shrugged. “Don’t get your thong in a twist. It’s not that big a deal.”

Skye shuddered inwardly at the thought of wearing a thong but nodded encouragingly.

“Well, that wedding planner, the one who went and got herself killed the other day ...”

Skye winced. “Belle Canfield.” Shoot. This was looking more and more like it was tied to the murder.

“Yeah, her.” Bunny teetered to her feet, balancing precariously on four-inch silver stilettos. “She wanted to use the bowling alley for a combined bachelor and bachelorette bash.”

“Yes.” Skye had suggested the venue, figuring that if everyone would be drinking, it would be best to keep the party local. “And?”

“She wanted it on Thursday night.”

“And?” Skye still couldn’t see why Bunny would want to keep this a secret from Simon.

“Thursday night is the mixed-doubles bowling league. Our biggest group. They use all the alleys.”

“So? I doubt the wedding party would want to bowl.” At least not early in the evening when they were still sober, and the league would be finished by nine thirty, ten at the very latest.

“Maybe.” Bunny frowned. “But she wanted the whole building. Said it had to be a private party. I offered her the bar or the grill or the basement, but no, Miss High-and-Mighty would only make the deal if I closed the place down.”

“And when you said no ...” Skye squirmed. This story couldn’t end well.

“She offered me two thousand in cash, above the fee for the party.”

“So you said yes.”

“A little voice told me to.” Bunny tilted her head. “It whispered in my ear, ‘It’s tax-free money; Sonny Boy won’t have to know anything about it. You can finally get those Botox injections you’ve been wanting.’”

“You know that voice isn’t real?” Skye questioned, worried that Bunny had finally slipped over the edge.

“It may not be real, but it has some pretty good ideas.” Bunny tossed her curls. “So I took the dough, booked the party, and told the league we were fumigating that night.”

Yikes!
Skye cringed. Simon would not be happy that Bunny was ousting the locals, who were his loyal customers, in favor of out-of-towners. Or that she was going behind his back to do it. Or that she was planning on cheating on her income taxes.

“When did Belle give you the cash?” Skye asked.

“Saturday afternoon.”

“Why did you wait until today to deposit it?”

“The bank was already closed when I got it Saturday, and it’s closed on Sunday; then I forgot Monday,” Bunny explained. “Which reminds me, if money doesn’t grow on trees, why do banks have branches?”

Skye ignored Bunny’s non sequitur and questioned, “So, the hundred-dollar bills that Belle gave you are the same bills that turned out to be counterfeit?”

“Yep.” Bunny’s shoulders drooped, and she suddenly looked every one of her fifty-seven years. “Trust me to be the one to get stuck with funny money when I decide to take a bribe. I should get SUCKER tattooed on my forehead.”

 

Skye informed the feds and Wally about what Bunny had revealed, then gave Simon a modified report, telling him only that there was some problem with the deposit the wedding planner had given his mother to reserve the bowling alley for the bachelor/bachelorette party. She left out the parts about counterfeit money, bribery, and tax evasion. Even with the sanitized version, Skye was glad she wasn’t along for the ride when he drove Bunny home.

Once Simon and his mother left, Skye waited for Wally while he conferred with the special agents. After a half hour, he told her to go ahead and leave since he had no idea how much longer he would be. The feds believed that Belle had brought the counterfeit money into Illinois from California, but they wanted to track down a few details before they left Scumble River.

As Skye hurried out of the police station toward her car, intent on dinner and a relaxing bath, a hand came down on her shoulder. She shrieked and whirled around.

“Whoa.” Simon put up both hands. “Did I frighten you?”

“Yes. You nearly scared me to death.” She wished people would quit accosting her in parking lots. “What are you doing back here?”

“Sorry.” His tone was sheepish.

“That’s okay. I just thought you had left with your mother.”

“I did. But once I dropped her off, I realized I hadn’t thanked you for helping me.”

“You didn’t have to come all the way back here for that.” Skye noticed that Simon had changed clothes. He now wore pressed khakis and a moss green polo shirt. “You could have called and left me a message.” She set her purse on the hood of her car, opened it, and began digging for her keys.

“I could have.” Simon plucked the key ring out of her bag, but instead of giving it to her, he tossed it in the air and caught it. “But I didn’t want to.”

“Oh.” Tilting her head to look at him, she asked, “Why not?”

“Uh.” A discomfited expression stole across Simon’s face. “Well, you see, I ...”

“Yes?” Skye was confused. The Simon she knew was rarely uncertain or at a loss for words.

“Are you hungry?”

“Yes.” The question caught her by surprise.

“Good. So am I.” Simon put her keys in his pocket. “Let me take you to dinner.”

 

Skye refused to think of this as a date. She and Simon were just grabbing something to eat together, like they did after church on most Sunday mornings. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t tried to refuse. He had nearly shoved her into his Lexus.

Still, she wished she looked a little nicer. She had on the dress and heels from her dance lesson, but it had been close to twelve hours since she’d put on her makeup, and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d combed her hair.

Simon’s voice interrupted her thoughts. “Since the Feed Bag closes at seven, I thought we’d go to a new restaurant a little south of town along the river.”

“There’s a new place?” Would it seem tacky if she got out her makeup bag and fixed herself up? “I wonder why I haven’t heard about it.”

“It’s only been open a couple of weeks, and you’ve been tied up with the wedding and all.”

“True,” Skye agreed. “I haven’t read the
Star
in a month. I have a stack of them in my sunroom, but I fall asleep before I get past the front page.”

“Believe me, you haven’t missed much. Unless you want to know whose dog is barking or whose teenagers got arrested for DUI.”

Skye gazed at Simon’s handsome face. The moonlight streaming through the windshield bathed him in a golden glow, and being alone with him like this made her think about all that had happened since they’d broken up. It saddened her that things had turned out so badly between them.

They rode in silence until Skye said, “It’s really sweet of you to take me to dinner, but totally unnecessary. You know, I love Bunny, and I was happy to help her.”

“This isn’t about Bunny.” He glanced at her, his amber eyes smoldering. “And sweet is not the way I feel about you.”

Uh-oh!
Skye didn’t know how to respond, so she didn’t. What had brought this on? Simon’s passion had always been limited to the bedroom. Had he changed, or had she underestimated him from the beginning?

Neither of them said anything more until they arrived at the restaurant. Only a few other customers were present, which at eight thirty on a Tuesday was what Skye would have expected. Not many locals would be out this late on a work night. Even on weekends most people around here had eaten by seven.

Once they were seated, a server arrived to take their drink orders. Simon shocked Skye again by ordering a bottle of wine without consulting her. He knew she seldom drank, and certainly not when she had to get up early the next day. What had gotten into him? It was almost as if he’d been a black-and-white movie in the past, and now he’d been colorized by Ted Turner.

After the server left, Skye and Simon sat in silence. Their table was next to a large window overlooking the Scumble River. Water lapped the shore, and Skye gazed at the reflections of stars twinkling on its inky surface.

The stillness grew uncomfortable until finally Simon asked, “How are—?”

At the same time Skye said, “Do you—?”

They both stopped and Simon said, “You first.”

“No, you go ahead,” Skye insisted. “What were you about to say?”

“I was just about to ask how Frannie and Justin are working out as assistants.”

“Great.” Skye fiddled with the napkin in her lap. “They’re a lot of help.”

“They’re both good kids. And although I know Xavier is disappointed that Frannie transferred from Loyola to JJC, I think it was for the best.”

“Yeah.” Skye nodded. “Some teens aren’t ready to make such a huge leap from small-town high school to big-city college.”

“Right. Change is hard for a number of people.” Simon took a sip of water. “What were you going to say?”

“Uh. What was I going to say?” Skye gave a nervous laugh. “Oh, yeah. Have you been here before? The waitress seemed to know you.”

“Connie and her husband own the place. They’re friends of mine.”

“That’s nice.” Skye bit her lip. She and Simon never used to have any trouble finding things to talk about, but tonight the atmosphere around them crackled with an underlying tension that dried her mouth and emptied her mind.

Before she could think of a topic of conversation, Connie arrived with the wine. She smiled at them both as she poured, and asked, “Special occasion?”

Simon stared at Skye and said, “I hope so.”

Skye gazed into her glass. What did that mean?

Connie’s grin widened. “Would you like to relax first, or are you ready to order?”

“I’d like the duck, please,” Skye blurted out. Sitting around sharing a bottle of wine with her ex-boyfriend now seemed a little too intimate, and she was eager to eat and go home.

Simon ordered steak Diane. After quizzing them about the rest of their choices, Connie left, and Simon and Skye went back to staring out the window.

At last, Simon cleared his throat, opened his mouth, then paused as if he had changed his mind. Finally, he asked, “How do you like the wine?”

“It’s good.” She smiled at him. “You remembered I don’t like it too dry.”

“I remember everything about you.”

His sexy tenor sent a shiver down her spine, and Skye choked on her next gulp of wine.
Holy moly!
She so shouldn’t be here, and she definitely shouldn’t be getting turned on by another man when she had Wally’s ring in her purse.

She struggled for a response and finally said, “You always did have a remarkable memory. That’s why it was so scary being your bridge partner. You knew every card that had been played. I was constantly worried I’d lose the game for us and you’d be mad.”

“Did I give you the impression that a game was more important to me than you were?” Simon furrowed his brow. “Do I really come across as that kind of guy?”

Skye twirled the liquid in her glass until she had formed a tiny red tornado. “Yes.” It was time to be truthful with him and herself. “You do, or at least you did.”

“I see.” The corner of his mouth twisted downward. “Why did you stay with me for so long?”

“I thought I loved you.” She felt panic building at the back of her throat and swallowed it down. “And I thought you loved me.”

His voice was heavy with remorse. “I did.” He was normally a careful man, but that veneer was starting to crack. “I still do.”

“Really?” Skye stared into his golden hazel eyes, trying to understand the bewildering array of emotions rushing through her. “That certainly wasn’t my impression from what you said to me at the diner eighteen months ago.”

“I was wrong.” Simon reached across the table and captured her hand. “And I was afraid.”

“Of me?”

“Of how you made me feel.”

“I don’t understand.” Skye tried to remove her hand, but he held on tight. “I thought I made you feel good.”

“Too good.” Simon’s tone was raw. “As it got better and better between us, I kept wondering how I could stand it when you left me. And then when you suspected me of cheating, a part of me said, ‘Fine. Let Skye leave me now, because later it will hurt even more.’”

Skye had to lean forward to hear the rest.

Simon stared down at their clasped hands and whispered, “As it did when my mother left me.”

The pain in his voice tore at her. “I think I understand now.” She took a deep breath, afraid she would start crying. “What happened to make you change your mind? Did you go into therapy or something?”

“No.” Simon shook his head. “It wasn’t any one big revelation. Just a lot of little ones over time.”

“Oh?” Skye wasn’t convinced. Surely something had had to happen to set his change of heart in motion. “Like what?”