Wedding Bell Blues (19 page)

And I had had enough! It was time to quit relying on others
and take some action of my own, before something else happened.

Still, part of me that knew I shouldn't do anything foolish.
Not
couldn't, mind you. I'm all too capable of being foolish. In fact, I'm
pretty darned good at it. No, this time I knew I shouldn't do anything
foolish because, if I wasn't lucky, I could end up very dead.

Not that it slowed me down for long. Fifteen minutes after
convincing my mother to take a nap, I slowly crept down the stairs,
carefully avoiding the place in the middle of the third step down that
always creaked. It had taken me years to figure out that's how my
parents always knew if Maryanne or I was wandering around in the middle
of the night or trying to sneak in after breaking curfew.

All but tiptoeing through the house to the kitchen, I listened
for
anything that might warn me Mom was up. The house seemed still and
quiet, so quiet I knew a heavy breath would bring my mother racing
downstairs to see what was wrong. I won't even mention how loudly my
heart pounded in my chest. This was worse than that time I tried to
sneak out to meet Jimmy Peterson my junior year in high school. That
time, Dad caught me and it had been a month before I'd been allowed do
go anywhere but school and church. If Mom caught me now, I'd be lucky
if she didn't sedate me and lock me in the basement for the rest of my
life. Hell, the rest of the family, not to mention Colton, would help
her, no doubt about it.

In the kitchen, I reached for the keys to Mom's car from the
small
basket where she always threw them. So far, so good. Now, if I could
just get in the car and down the drive before she realized I was
gone....

Two minutes later, I was driving away from the house, relieved
I'd
managed to make it that far without anyone stopping me. Now all I had
to do was figure out what I was going to do. Part of me wanted to just
keep driving, stopping only for gas, until I was far from here. It
would be so easy and it was so tempting. If I was away from here, there
would be no one gunning for me and no complications because Colton was
back in my life and, even more importantly, no harlequin bridesmaid
dress from Hell. That alone might be reason enough to run away.

Still, tempting as it was, I couldn't do it. For one thing, my
parents would just track me down. No need for dogs or private
detectives or the like. Not when my mother was involved. She'd know
where I was before I got there. I swear she would.

If that
wasn't reason enough to disregard the idea, the fact that trouble just
seemed to be following me was. At least here I had family and friends -
even a lover I wasn't quite sure I wanted back in my life. Well, one
thing about it, my life had certainly gotten interesting the last few
days.

Without conscious thought - in other words, while I was busy
arguing
with myself about whether or not I really was going to run away - I
made my way to the police impound yard. A high chain link fence topped
with circles of razor wire surrounded the yard, and signs posted at
regular intervals informed those with business there that they had to
check in at the front gate. Well, I had business there. I still wasn't
sure I wanted to reclaim my car, but there were some things in it I
needed. Besides, if I was lucky, the clerk who'd released my name over
the phone might be on duty and I really, really wanted to talk to him.

All I had to do was remember not to take a swing at him for
being an
absolute idiot. It really is amazing how bloodthirsty a little thing
like someone shooting at you will make you.

After parking across the street from the lot, I jogged across
the
two lanes to the front gate and the tiny structure just beyond. You
really couldn't call it a guard shack. Set inside the fence, it
reminded me of those small, and usually all too flimsy, little huts the
attendants used to man at the downtown parking lots. Through the
window, its glass reinforced with some sort of screen that made it hard
to see inside, sat a man of indeterminate age. As I neared, he got to
his feet and then he stepped outside. One look was all I needed to know
I'd have to go carefully with him. Short, flushed, and overweight, he
was a heart attack waiting to happen.

Lucky me - again.

"May I help you?" he asked as I stopped before him.

"I sure hope so." I gave him my most reassuring smile and dug
in my
purse for my wallet. "My name's Jessica Jones and I think my car was
brought here Saturday." I opened the wallet and showed him my driver's
license.

The moment I said my name, he paled and straightened, as if
bracing
himself for a confrontation to come. Well, I didn't want a
confrontation, especially not with a man with a gun who looked like he
might either keel over from a coronary or draw down on me. Neither was
an appealing possibility. So it was time to switch to another tack. If
I couldn't confront him, I'd just have to try to charm him.

"I believe your car's here, miss. Mustang isn't it?"

"Why, yes, it is." Another smile and an inward cringe. God,
did I
look as insipid as I sounded? "I was wondering if I could get a few
things out of it. You see, I'm not really sure I'm allowed to pick it
up yet. I'm not sure the detectives are through with it."

I waited, barely daring to breathe, afraid I'd overplayed my
hand as
the officer, Osselli according to the silver nametag on his uniform
shirt, eyed me suspiciously. Then he nodded, apparently satisfied with
something he saw about me and I sighed softly in relief.

"Of course. I will need to go with you though. Policy, you
see."

"Oh, would you? I'd really feel better if you did." Oh dear
Lord, if
I had to keep this up for long, I'd gag. "I know there's nothing to
worry about here, but still...." I let my words trails off, hoping he'd
assume I was too afraid to walk the impound yard alone.

"No problem, miss. Just let me close the gate."

I waited as he reached inside his little shack and pressed
some
button I couldn't see. Behind me, the metal gate slowly slid closed.
Osselli took a moment to check it before turning back to me, a slight
smile on his face. I was, as far as he was concerned, an empty-headed
little twit, nothing to worry about. So far, so good.

"You know, miss, you can take the car if you want. My notes
say that
the detectives are through it," he commented as we walked down one of
at least a dozen long rows of cars of various makes and models. Near
the end, I could see my Mustang and my heart skipped a beat, the events
of Saturday rushing back.

"I'm sure you're right, officer, but
I'd like to talk to the detectives first." I smiled up at him and the
uncertainty in my eyes wasn't feigned. I really didn't know if I ever
wanted to drive the Mustang again, and that pissed me off. I'd loved
that car until Saturday. I still owed on the car and couldn't really
afford a new one, especially now that my house no longer existed. Well,
one thing about it, my luck hadn't changed any yet. "But I do need to
get some things out of it for work."

"I understand." He handed me the keys and stood back, watching
as I unlocked the driver's door and leaned inside.

"Thanks." I closed and locked the door, my briefcase and a
stack of
papers that needed graded now in hand. Okay, I could have left the
papers and made my students very happy, but I'd already given them a
break on the test. They'd just have to live with the fact I wasn't
going to lose their homework assignment. "I really do appreciate it," I
added as we started back up the aisle toward the front gate, furiously
trying to figure out how to ask him about how he'd released my name to
someone on the phone. Then, seeing another red Mustang on the next
aisle, inspiration struck. "Wow! I hadn't realized there were other
cars like mine here. I guess that happens a lot. It must be awfully
hard to keep everything straight when folks come in to reclaim their
car." I swear I didn't bat my lashes at him, but I might as well have.
This playing the empty-headed fool was easy, especially since he was
falling for it - I hoped.

"It does sometimes, especially when the license numbers are
close.
Just this weekend -" He suddenly broke off, his florid face flushing a
deeper read and I held my breath. Would he stroke out before he told me
what I wanted? With my luck, he'd drop right there and I'd never find
out anything. Then, just as I decided he wasn't going to say anything,
he chuckled a little sheepishly and gave a shrug. "I'll be honest,
ma'am. I had that happen with your car. Some young buck called in early
Sunday morning asking about a red Mustang that matched yours
completely. It wasn't until I tried to verify the registered owner
information that I figured out he was calling about another car."

"Wow. I really appreciate you not giving the car to him. I
still owe
a couple months' worth of payments on it." We paused at the shack, and
he once more reached inside it and activated the front gate. It gave a
metallic screech before opening.

"Well, I have to admit, he had me going for a bit before I
figured out he was asking about a totally different car."

Damn, he wasn't going to tell me anything else and I'd only
make him suspicious if I asked. Time to go.

"Thanks again, Officer Osselli." I gave him a quick little
wave and
jogged back across the street to my mother's car. I hadn't really
accomplished much more than realizing Osselli hadn't given out my name
through anything other than dumb luck. He was probably as thick as I'd
acted, making me doubly glad he wasn't out patrolling the streets. Time
to figure out what to do next.

My cell phone rang as I slid inside. A quick look at the
readout and
I grimaced slightly. In the last fifteen minutes, I'd had three calls,
one from my mother and two from Colton, and I had absolutely no
intention of answering either of them. I knew they were worried and I
really should have left Mom a note telling her I'd be back soon. Surely
she realized that I was okay since her car was gone. Still, it probably
wouldn't hurt to call her.

But I had absolutely no intention of calling Colton. Nope. Not
at
all. Not until I got back to Mom's. He'd be furious, and we'd end up
fighting. So, I'd just pretend I didn't know he'd called and pray he
didn't put out a BOLO out on me or on the car.

I dropped the
cell phone back onto the seat beside me and slid the key into the
ignition. For a moment, as the engine idled, I sat there, eyes closed,
mind blank. Then I sat up, drumming my fingers against the steering
wheel as I decided what to do next. Not that it took long to come up
with the answer. There was only one place I needed to go just then.

My next stop was Lucas Funeral Home. I wanted to pay my
respects to
Manny's family. Okay, I'll admit it; I had another reason for going as
well. I needed to talk to his sons, find out if they had any better
idea about what happened and why than I did. Intellectually, I knew
Colton, or one of the other detectives, had already talked to them, but
I had to try. I couldn't just sit back and rely on others to keep me
safe and figure out what happened.

Three quarters of an hour later, I parked outside the funeral
home,
my fingers once more drumming against the steering wheel. What had
seemed like a good idea just a few minutes ago no longer did. To begin
with, I wasn't dressed for a visitation. Yes, I prefer the jeans and
tee shirt I currently wore to more formal clothes. But my mother had
instilled in me from childhood how important it is to dress for the
occasion and I most definitely wasn't dressed for this.

Besides that, one look at my reflection in the rearview mirror
was
enough to give me pause. What little makeup I'd put on that morning was
gone, leaving the bruising visible in all its glory. The little voice
in my head that had been telling me this wasn't a good idea was now a
loud bellow. I couldn't ignore it. This wasn't the time or the place to
try to talk to Manny's sons.

"Shit!"

It was out before I could stop it, and I twisted in my seat at
the
sound of the loud rap on my window. Standing there, his usually
too-handsome face a model of sadness and concern, was Rod Alvarez,
Manny's eldest son. Cursing myself for being there and adding to his
worries, I pressed the control for the window. It slid down almost
silently and Rod crouched beside the door.

"I thought I saw you when I pulled in, Jess." He tried to
smile and almost managed it.

"I wanted to come and offer my condolences. Then realized I'm
probably the last person your family needs to see right now. I'm
sorry." And I was. I could only imagine what he must feel seeing me,
the person who didn't die with his father.

"No, please. Don't feel that way." He reached inside the car
and
rested his hand on mine where it lay on the steering wheel. "I'm sorry
we haven't checked on you. But, well…"

"Rod, no. You've had to worry about your family, as you
should." I
turned my hand over and gave his fingers a quick squeeze. "Is there
anything you need, anything I can do?"

"Other than help me find the bastard who killed my father?" He
paused and shook his head, visibly reining in his emotions. "I know
you've spoken with the police. Could you tell them anything?"

"Not really. I'd just gone inside the store when they shot at
me,
and I dove for cover. The one person I saw wore a mask. I really am
sorry." Tears stung my eyes, and I blinked them back. "I was hoping
there was something you might be able to tell me that could help me
figure out what happened."

Now it was his turn to shake his head. Whatever had happened
at the
store, whatever the reason, he knew no more than I did, and that didn't
make either of us happy.

"Rod, listen, if there's anything I can do to help your family
please let me know. Your father was such a good man. I want to do
whatever I can."