Dark Chocolate Demise (6 page)

There was nothing she could say. She felt like a voyeur watching Scott smooth away the hair from his bride's face with trembling hands. The zombie makeup she wore made a sick joke of the vicious crime that had befallen her. Standing this close, it was easy for Mel to see that the blood on her gown came from one bullet hole right through her heart.

Uncle Stan knelt beside Scott. It was a few moments before Scott realized he was there. He looked like an abandoned child, dazed, bewildered, and crushed. Stan spoke softly to him in a calm, reassuring voice that made Mel want to cry because it was the tone Stan used when he had to deliver the worst possible news. She knew because the day her father had died, Stan had used that voice on her.

Manny leaned close to Mel and whispered in her ear. “You know him?”

She nodded and cleared her throat. She turned towards him and said, “His name is Scott Streubel, and that's his wife, Kristin. He's a law clerk in Joe's office.”

Manny rocked back on his heels. Mel could tell the news was a surprise. Manny took her by the elbow and dragged her away from the crime scene.

“I want you out of here,” he said. His expression was dark and a little scary. “Have Tate, Marty, and Oz take you back to the bakery. You don't stop anywhere; you don't split up. You stay together and when you get to the bakery, you call me.”

“What?” she asked. “What's going on?”

“Just do it, Mel!” he snapped. “For once in your life don't argue with me, and do what I say.”

And then Mel knew. “You think it was a hit, don't you? She was shot. You think one of Tucci's thugs did it, don't you?”

“Not here, not now,” Manny hissed. He turned and stomped over to Tate, dragging Mel behind him. He said the exact same thing to Tate, who met his intense stare with one of his own.

“We'll leave right now,” Tate said.

“What about the cupcakes, and the van?” Angie protested. “And the coffin?”

“The coffin is evidence and is going back to the crime lab,” Manny said. “Angie, I really can't emphasize enough how much I want you out of here. Right now.”

Angie met his gaze and then her chin went up. Her face was pale and her voice shook when she spoke. “You think they meant to shoot me, don't you? You think because she and I are both dressed as brides that they meant to kill me.”

“It's a definite possibility,” Manny said. His tone was gentle but grim. “You need to go.”

“Come on, Ange,” Tate said. “We can pack up and get out of town for a while.”

“Leave town?” Angie sounded outraged. “I can't leave. Not while Joe has this huge trial going on.”

“How is you being at risk helping your brother?” Manny asked. His voice was exasperated now.

“I'm supporting him,” Angie argued.

Mel felt her neck get hot. Manny and Angie had always had a tenuous relationship. Primarily, because Angie tried to be accepting of Manny's interest in Mel, even while hoping that Mel and Joe got back together.

“He doesn't need your support,” Manny said. “He needs you to be safe.”

He looked at Mel when he snarled this last bit, and she nodded. She agreed with him completely. Besides, he was right.

“I am safe!” Angie snapped. “You don't know that this was meant for me.”

“I don't,” Manny conceded. “But guess what I do know? Frank Tucci is one sick bastard, and he's going to do everything he can to rattle Joe's cage until he can't think straight, never mind argue his case in front of a judge and jury. Killing you sure would destroy your brother, wouldn't it?”

Angie blew out a breath. “You're trying to scare me.”

“Damn right I am,” Manny said. He shoved a hand through his hair. “Tucci is an animal. He'd think nothing of shooting you; hell, this is a guy who cut off his goomah's right hand when she refused to make him a sandwich.”

Mel felt dizzy, and when she glanced at Tate he seemed to wobble on his feet, too. Angie didn't even blink. She nodded as if she'd heard it before, and Mel realized she had probably gotten an earful from her brothers.

“Fine, I'll leave the festival,” Angie said. “But I still don't believe that this was about me. She doesn't even look like me.”

Manny looked at Mel. His black eyes were intense when he said, “Go and be careful.”

“I will,” she said. “I promise, but what about Scott?”

“I'll take care of him,” Manny said. “I promise.”

Tate signaled to Marty and Oz to fall in, and the next thing Mel knew, she and Angie were being escorted out of the park.

It wasn't a walk back to the bakery so much as it was a jog. The only time Mel had been pushed this hard was when she'd signed up for fitness boot camp, in a not-very-well-thought-out plan to work off some excess buttercream. When the vein in her forehead had gone 3D and throbbing on her, she'd quit.

They circled an in-ground fountain near the edge of the park and stopped as two men squared off in what was obviously an altercation. The bigger of the two men had arms the size of hams. Mel could tell just by looking at him that he was a gym rat, the sort of guy who checked his muscle definition in every reflective surface he passed.

Tate tried to usher them around the men, but Angie stopped him. “We might be needed.”

Tate opened his mouth to protest, but the two men shouting drowned out whatever he might have said.

“Do you have any idea how much I spent on this?” the bigger man shouted as he grabbed the smaller man by his scarf. “You're going to give back every dime!”

“Hey! Let me go!” Mel recognized Chad Bowman, the coordinator of the zombie event, by his scarf and his rectangular glasses. “Listen I can't be held accountable for something like this. How could I possibly know a woman was going to be shot?”

“I don't know and I don't care, but you'd better be insured, because I want every cent I spent on promo, swag, and merch back. I mean who the hell is going to want a souvenir T-shirt from an undead event where a woman was actually killed?”

“You might want to let him go,” Tate said as he approached the duo. “There are cops everywhere.”

Muscles, as Mel had started to think of him, glared at Tate as if he was ready to engage in another fight, but then he shook his head and shoved Chad away from him. He ran a hand through his close-cropped blond hair in exasperation, making it stand up on end in aggravated tufts.

“You're right, it's not worth it,” the man said.

“You know who is behind this, don't you?” Chad asked.

They all looked at him in surprise.

“Chad, if you know something, you really need to go to the police,” Mel said.

“They won't believe me,” he said. “But just so you all know, it's the government.”

“The government killed that woman?” Tate asked, clearly thinking he had missed something.

“Yes,” Chad said.

“Why?” Marty asked, his voice full of derision. “Why would the government kill her?”

“To break up the event, because it's too close to the truth. The dead being reanimated, it's going to happen,” Chad said. He smacked a fist into his open palm as if to emphasize his point.

“You're crazy.” Muscles just shook his head and walked away. Apparently, he'd heard enough.

“I'm not. There's a gas that if unleashed on the masses would render us all zombies,” Chad said. “The government is keeping it a secret.”

“Oh, brother,” Marty groaned and began to walk, pulling Oz and Mel with him. Tate and Angie fell into step behind them and, undeterred, Chad walked with them.

“It's true,” Chad said. “They don't want the people to have zombie walks, because then we might know how to deal with the real thing when they attack us with it. They want to keep us stupid.”

“They don't need to help with that,” Marty muttered under his breath, and Oz snorted.

“Only the government has the cure, man; I'm telling you unless we figure out a way to stop them, we're going to become brain-eating crazies,” Chad exclaimed. He spread his arms wide to emphasize his point.

“One of us is already there,” Oz said and this time Marty guffawed.

Marty, Oz, and Tate closed ranks around the girls, making it very clear that they were leaving and Chad was not welcome to come along.

“Lord-a-mercy, that boy is dumber than dirt,” Marty said as soon as they were out of earshot.

“Conspiracy theorist,” Tate said. “I hear they have issues.”

He glanced around at the mass of people pressing their way out of the park with them and then exchanged a cautious look with Marty. The three men became abruptly serious. Tate picked up the pace as they continued walking back to Old Town.

Once inside the bakery, Tate hustled the remaining customers out of the building and closed and locked the door. He was pulling the shades closed when Joyce, who'd been behind the counter, looked at them all and asked, “What on earth is going on?”

No one answered. Joyce glanced at their faces and then clutched her chest.

“Oh, no, not again,” she cried. She looked at Mel as if she just couldn't believe it. “You found another body, didn't you?”

“Not just a body,” Tate said. “A body that looked just like Angie.”

“No, she didn't,” Angie protested. “If you looked beyond the wedding dress and the long brown hair, we really didn't look much alike, and I bet after all of the makeup is off, you'll find we looked nothing alike.”

“Angie.” Tate's voice was impatient. “We're not arguing about this. You and I are leaving town.”

“Again with this?” Angie asked. “Where exactly are we going to go?”

“I don't know,” he said. “But we're out of here. I want you out of Frank Tucci's reach until this case Joe is trying is over.”

“You have lost your mind,” Angie said. She looked at the others as if expecting backup.

Oz and Marty both looked up as if the ceiling's paint job suddenly needed a visual inspection.

“I think he's right,” Mel said. She braced for Angie's rebuttal, which predictably came out of her like cannon fire.

“Aw, come on,” Angie argued. “Not you, too. How can you agree with this?”

Mel looked at her friend and gave her a sad smile. “It's simple, really. When I thought that was you in the coffin, I died a thousand deaths. I never, ever, ever want to feel that way again. Ever.”

“But—” Angie started to protest but Tate cut her off.

“No, this is not negotiable,” he said.

Angie turned to look at him, and something in his fierce expression must have tipped her off that this was not the time to argue.

“My clothes are up in your apartment,” she said to Mel. “Okay if I grab a quick shower and change?”

“Go for it,” Mel said. She felt the tension in her shoulders ease. Angie was going to be smart about this. It was going to be all right.

“I'll walk you up,” Tate said. Angie nodded.

“I'll lock the back door behind you,” Oz said. He followed them into the kitchen. As soon as the door swung shut behind them, Mel and Marty collapsed into seats at a center table.

Joyce went into the kitchen and came back minutes later with a steaming pot of coffee and three mugs. Oz came in behind her and joined them.

“You three look like you could use a pick-me-up,” she said. “Now can you tell me what happened exactly?”

Marty gestured to Mel. “You saw more than I did.”

Mel nodded. She told her mother everything, only pausing when Joyce gasped and covered her mouth with her hand as if to keep from crying out. When Joyce nodded, Mel continued right up until they arrived at the bakery.

“What did your uncle say?” Joyce asked. “Does he think Angie was the target?”

“I didn't get a chance to talk to him,” Mel said. “Manny pretty much threw us out of there. I don't even know when we'll be able to go and get the van.”

“We'll go back and get it,” Marty said, gesturing between himself and Oz.

The door to the kitchen opened, and Tate and Angie reappeared. Gone was any trace of their zombie makeup, Mel noted with a prick of jealousy. Her own skin felt shrink-wrapped, as if it couldn't breathe through the heavy makeup, and she felt greasy and grubby all over.

A knock on the front door made them all jump. Mel rose to go answer it, but Joyce grabbed her arm.

“Mom, if it's a hit man, I'm pretty sure he's not going to knock,” she said.

Joyce let her go with a quick nod.

Marty and Oz both stood and crowded Mel all the way to the door.

“Really?” she asked. Having them breathe down her neck was not helping her nerves in the least.

“Yes, really,” Marty said. “Until we know who it is.”

“Mel, it's us, Al and Paulie, open up,” a man's voice shouted.

“How do we know it's them?” Joyce asked.