Gina Cresse - Devonie Lace 03 - A Deadly Change of Heart (7 page)

Bradley Parker studied me briefly, then smiled and shook my hand.  “Spencer Davis?” he replied, looking a bit confused.

“Yes.  He met you at the computer show up in Sacramento.  Cal Expo.  You offered him a job,” I explained.

The floodgates of remembrance opened.  “Right.  Right.  I remember him.  Bright kid.  Wish I could’ve talked him out of that State job.  He could be a real asset.”

I smiled and handed him my resume.  “He taught me everything I know
—
about computers, that is.”

Parker took the resume and glanced over it quickly.  “Unfortunately, I’ve already filled the position.  Last week.  Very competent fellow.”

The wind in my sails suddenly died.  I hadn’t considered the possibility that I’d strike out.  I didn’t have a backup plan.  How could I have been so confident that I’d just walk into the job?  I’d become very naïve since leaving the world of high-tech.  There’s more competition out there now.  Kids right out of school are writing their own tickets.  Nevermind that they have no business experience and will likely make mistakes that cost clients thousands, or maybe even millions of dollars.  They’re the computer-game generation; able to navigate an electronic maze filled with fire-breathing monsters and flying creatures so deadly they kill on contact.  They can collect all the gold coins, outmaneuver the mutant attackers and win the game, but they don’t understand the ramifications of providing inaccurate information to decision makers of multi-million dollar companies.

I frowned and nodded.  “I see,” I said, turning to leave. 

Mandy caught his attention before he returned to his office.  “Bradley, don’t forget you’re supposed to meet Pamela for lunch.” 

I slowly gathered my purse and briefcase, stalling my exit to listen to the exchange between Parker and Mandy.

Parker checked his watch.  “Today?  I’ve got a lunch appointment with…what’s his name…you know, the guy with the white BMW.”

“Mr. Axtell.  You want me to call Pamela and cancel?” Mandy asked.

Parker waved his hand in the air as if he were parting the Red Sea.  “Yeah.  We can go over the guest list some other time.  I don’t know why she needs me to be involved in every little detail of this wedding,” he complained.

My ears perked up at the mention of a wedding.

“Has Pamela gotten a dress yet?” Mandy asked.

Parker shook his head and blew out a sigh of disgust.  “You kidding?  She hasn’t even thought about it.  I told her Vegas was the way to go, but she wouldn’t hear of it.  When the day comes and she’s not ready, she won’t have a choice.”

I couldn’t believe my ears.  You can bet the girl has thought about a dress.  From the day she was twelve-years old, she’s thought about the dress she’d wear on her wedding day.  I dropped my purse and spilled all the contents on the floor, slowly gathering the items and neatly placing them back, one by one.

Parker returned to his office as Mandy dialed the phone.  She tapped a pencil on her desk as she waited for an answer.  She pushed the tip of her long, red, false fingernail against the hook and pressed some more buttons.  “I can’t reach Pamela at home,” she said into the receiver.  “Want me to call the restaurant and leave a message for her?  Okay.  It was Tucker’s Grille, right?”

I made a mental note.  Tucker’s Grille was about fifteen minutes away.  I finally got my stuff together and pushed my way out of the building.

I parked in the restaurant lot with a view to the front entrance and watched as patrons entered and exited.  I waited until I saw a woman walk in alone.  I didn’t give her too much not
ice because she was very young—
too young to be marrying Bradley Parker.  When she walked out less than two minutes later with a very frustrated look on her face, I changed my tune.  As she marched toward her car she looked as though she’d like to punch out a window or break a few antennas. 

I grabbed my cell phone, purse and the dress and piled out of the Ford.  I hoisted my purse on my shoulder, held the dress hanger over my head to keep it from touching the ground, and pressed the cell phone to my ear, trying to summon the most aggravated voice I could.  “What?  I’m already here at the restaurant,” I blurted into the phone, loud enough for the approaching woman to hear.  She glanced at me and immediately noticed the dress I held over my head.  “But I wanted to show you the dress.  Why can’t you make it?” I continued to whine into the phone.  The woman paused and gave me a concerned glance.  I acknowledged her sympathy and continued with my one-sided argument.  “It just would have been nice if you could have let me know a little sooner, that’s all.  You’re not going to do this to me on the wedding day, are you?” I said, laying it on thick.  “Fine.  Bye.” I said, flipping the phone off.  I struggled to open my purse when the woman offered to help.

“Here.  Can I help?  I’ll hold the dress for you,” she offered, taking the hanger from me.

“Thanks,” I said, handing the dress over so I could drop the phone in my purse.  “I’m so angry.  Sorry you had to hear all the gory details,” I said.

She smiled.  “That’s okay.  We have more in common than you know.  My fiancé stood me up today, too.”  She admired the dress through the clear plastic.  “This is gorgeous.  Where’d you get it?” she asked.

That was all it took.  We’d both been stood up at the last minute by our inconsiderate fiancés, we were both planning weddings, and we were suddenly and unexpectedly free for lunch.

Chapter Eight

P
amela Smythe
had
met Bradley Parker at the bank where she worked as a teller.  She spilled all the details of their whirlwind courtship over appetizers at Tucker’s Grille.

Her youthful innocence amused me.  I guessed her age to be around twenty-five.  She had short blond hair and big blue eyes that batted like butterfly wings.  Her petite figure, though too short to be a model, complimented her expensive designer outfit.  If she was wearing makeup, I couldn’t tell.  Her complexion was clear and smooth and slightly flushed.  Her dainty hands boasted a French manicure, and if I were a betting woman, I’d say her toes were done the same way.

Pamela didn’t classify her thoughts into compartments.  She didn’t separate intimate personal details from the subjects more commonly considered safe, like the weather.  She was an open book, withholding nothing, even from me, a perfect stranger.  There was no filtering of thoughts going on before she allowed them to flow freely from her lips.  I would call her child-like in that regard.  She obviously had never been betrayed.

For every personal anecdote she conveyed about first kisses and long romantic walks on the beach with Bradley, I’d return some comment about Craig’s shoe size or the color of his hair.  I knew in my heart that I’d found the greatest guy in the world, but I didn’t want to boast about it.  I just knew the instant I felt the least bit smug, somehow I’d lose every good thing that Craig had brought to my life.  Lucky.  That’s what I felt
—
lucky that the years of empty searching were over.  My mind drifted for a moment and I had to snap myself back to reality.  Pamela was chatting away and I’d missed her last sentence.  I blinked my eyes and refocused on the conversation.  

She informed me that her wedding was to take place in three weeks, and she was nowhere near ready.  I already knew this, of course, but I feigned total astonishment.  Nothing would make me happier than to upset Bradley Parker’s underhanded scheme to squash her wedding-day dream by dragging her off to Las Vegas.

I watched her covet the dress I’d hung from a hook on the end of our booth and I suddenly had the unfamiliar feeling of being a big sister.  I found the thought of Bradley Parker subjecting her to the same ordeal he’d put Diane through almost unbearable.  I wanted to grab her and shake her and tell her what a terrible mistake she’d be making by marrying such an awful man.  Tact forced me to keep my mouth closed.  After all, wh
at if I was wrong about Bradley?
  Maybe he didn’t kill Diane.  Maybe he was really a nice guy.  Maybe he was just misunderstood.  Maybe the Earth is flat.

“You know, I could help you get ready for your wedding,” I offered.  “I have the time and you certainly seem to need the help.”

Pamela breathed out a heavy sigh of relief.  “Would you?  I’d be so grateful.”

I smiled and nodded.  “I’d be happy to.  It’ll be fun.  We should start by finding a dress right away.  After lunch, I’ll take you to Ann Marie’s.  That’s where I got mine.” 

For a moment, I thought Pamela was going to cry.  “That would be wonderful.”

I removed a small notepad from my purse.  “Let’s make a list of what you still need to do before the wedding.”  I clicked the end of a ballpoint pen and waited, poised and ready to write.

She studied the ceiling.  “Let’s see.  I guess I should have some flowers,” she said.

I raised my eyebrows and proceeded to write.

“Do you know a good photographer?” she asked.

“You haven’t found a photographer?” I marveled.

“No.  Is that bad?” she asked.

“Three weeks?  I don’t know if we’ll find a reputable one on that short notice.  Is money an issue?”

Pamela shook her head.  “No.  Bradley’s paying for the whole wedding.  He said to just send him the bills.”

“Wow.  Guess your folks must be relieved,” I said.

Pamela frowned.  “My parents died when I was sixteen.  I don’t have any other family.  Bradley’s all I have.  He’s my family now.”

My heart sank.  This poor kid, I thought.  I didn’t know what to say.  I gave her the most sympathetic look I could.  I’m sure she thought it was in response to the fact that she’d lost her parents, but if I had to be honest, it was really because she was about to chain herself to Bradley Parker.

She shook the brief moment of sorrow off.  “Don’t be sad.  I’m happy.  I’m in love with the most wonderful man in the world, and in three weeks, I’m going to have the most beautiful wedding ever.”

I put the pen back to the paper and made a note.  “I’ll check with my photographer.  Maybe he has an opening, or knows someone who might be available.  What else?”

The waitress brought our food.  I cleared a spot for my salad and asked for a refill of my water.  Pamela spread a pat of butter on a warm roll.  “A caterer would be a good idea.  At first, I was just going to have a cake reception, but if we have an evening wedding, we should probably feed the guests.”

I set my fork down.  “You don’t know if you’re having an evening wedding?” I asked.

“I haven’t decided.”

“You mean you don’t have the church reserved?” I asked, sounding more like a mother than a helpful acquaintance.

“Oh, no.  Bradley doesn’t want a church wedding,” she replied.

Right.  Someplace where he won’t be struck down by lightning the second he steps foot in the place
, I thought.  I set the pen down on the table.  “Maybe we should take a different approach.  What
have
you taken care of so far?”

Pamela appeared slightly injured.  “I’m sorry.  I’m really embarrassed.  I’m just horrible at planning and organizing.  It’s one of those things that, if you don’t learn by a certain age, you never will.”

I felt like a heel.  This poor girl hadn’t developed the callused scars around her heart that life tends to create, and I’d managed to unwittingly hurt her feelings.  “It’s okay, Pamela.  Everything will work out.  Have you considered a Nevada wedding?  Not Vegas, but maybe Lake Tahoe?”

She shot me a horrified look, her eyes as big as saucers.  “No.  I refuse to get married next to a slot machine.”

I could tell she was adamant and there was no point explaining that it wouldn’t have to be the way she imagined it, marching down an aisle flanked by one-armed bandits to a minister who doubled as a black-jack dealer.  I picked up my pen.  “Okay, then we better get busy.  Tell me what we have to work with.”

“I have reserved the day at Bay Vista.  Have you seen it?  It’s spectacular.  We’ll have the entire Pacific Ocean as a backdrop.”

I jotted it down and nodded with approval.  “Good.”

“And I have a Justice of the Peace arranged.  He’s available any time that day.  I just need to let him know the time.”

I flipped the page on my notebook and started on a fresh sheet.  “Okay.  Here’s what we still need to do.  Invitations?”  I looked at her with raised eyebrows.  She nodded.  I wrote it down.  “Flowers.  Photographer.  I think you should go for the cake reception and forego the caterer.”

“Okay,” she agreed.

“Cake.  Chairs for the guests.  How many?” I asked.

“About a hundred.”

“One hundred chairs.  A table for the cake.  Punch.  Wine?”

“Champagne,” she said, decisively.

“Champagne.  Glasses.  Plates.  Forks.  Do you like chocolate covered strawberries?” I asked.

Pamela rolled her eyes.  “I love them.”

“Good.  Me too.  They’ll go great with the champagne.”  I continued adding to the list when a thought popped into my head.  “You’ll need favors for the guests.  You know what would be really cool?  Bubbles.  It’s outdoors.  It’s perfect.  What do you think?”

Pamela giggled.  “Bubbles?  Like what I played with as a kid?”

“Yeah.  They’re really popular for weddings now.  Rice makes such a mess and people slip and fall all the time on it,” I explained, repeating what I’d learned when looking for favors for my own day of bliss.

“I like it.  Yeah.  Bubbles,” she said, beaming.

I wrote it down.  “Good.  Let’s go find a dress.”

Ann Marie’s had one dress in the entire store that fit Pamela perfectly, needing no alterations at all.  Luckily, it also made her look like a princess.  She actually cried when she saw herself in the mirror.  I warned her to stop or she’d get mascara on the white satin.  My suspicions were confirmed when she told me she wasn’t wearing any mascara.  She was a natural beauty.  Ann Marie’s would have it pressed and ready to pick up in a week.

Pamela invited me to dinner at Bradley’s house that evening so we could go over the guest list.  I offered to print the invitations and envelopes with my computer to save time.

“Oh, and be sure to bring Craig along.  I’m dying to meet him,” Pamela said.

I smiled and agreed to extend the invitation to him.  I hoped she’d spend one evening with a truly decent man and realize the creature she was about to walk down the aisle with was nothing but a snake trying to pass himself off as a human being.

The dinner invitation was a stroke of luck.  It would give me a chance to snoop around and see what I could find out about Diane.  We drove around the La Jolla neighborhood, searching for the address Pamela gave me.  The homes were gorgeous.  Views of the Pacific were spectacular. 

“Parker’s business must be doing well for him to keep his home here,” I said. 

Craig pulled into the driveway and set the brake.  “You’re not kidding about that.  These are some expensive places.” 

I wondered about the trouble with his business, mentioned in Diane’s letter, and how he managed to recover so quickly.

Pamela answered the door and let us into the house.  “Hi.  Come on in.  You must be Craig,” she said, holding out her hand.

“Nice to meet you,” Craig replied, shaking her hand.

She led us past the entry, where I picked up the scent of garlic cooking.  We followed the wonderful smells through the living room and into the kitchen, where she was putting the final touches on a German Chocolate cake.

“I love German Chocolate cake.  Can I help with anything?” I offered.

“Nope.  Everything is just about ready, believe it or not.  I can’t plan a wedding, but I can cook like
Emeril
,” Pamela boasted.

Bradley strolled into the kitchen carrying a brandy snifter half full of the amber liquid.  Pamela flashed him a huge smile.

“This is Devonie and Craig, sweetie,” Pamela said.

I put my hand to my chest and put on a look of total surprise.  “Well, we meet again.  What a coincidence.  I didn’t know you were engaged to Pamela.”

Pamela gawked at the two of us.  “You’ve met?” she asked.

“I applied for a job today with your fiancé’s company.”

“Wow.  What a small world,” Pamela said.

“Isn’t it?” Craig replied.  He winked at me. 
I’m sure h
e enjoyed this little game
, even if he didn’t want to admit it
. 

Bradley forced a smile.  “Hello,” he said, regarding me with a look I would almost have called irritation.  He offered a hand to Craig and shook it like a boy being forced to shake hands with his enemy after getting in trouble for fighting.  He never offered to shake my hand.  I guess that’s an honor only extended to other men, certainly not to women who threaten his underhanded schemes.  I’m sure Pamela explained to him how I was going to help her with her wedding plans so she wouldn’t have to resort to a Vegas wedding.

He turned his attention to Pamela.  “How long till dinner?”

“Not long.  Why don’t you give Devonie and Craig a tour of the house while I put the finishing touches on this cake,” she said.

We followed Bradley into the living room where he stopped at the bar to refill his glass.  “Drink?  Brandy’s my poison, but I can give you just about anything under the sun,” he offered.

“No, thanks,” I replied.

Craig shook his head.  “I’ll wait till dinner,” he said.

The room was large and heavily furnished.  There was too much furniture to comfortably walk around.  The wall facing the ocean must have been mostly windows, but the curtains were drawn and the room was a little too dark for my liking.  I inspected the framed photos on the fireplace mantel.  I recognized the two teenage boys from the pictures in Diane’s purse.  There were photos of Bradley and Pamela, but nothing that even indicated Diane ever lived there.  I suppose that could be understood.  The new fiancé would not want reminders of the previous wife around, no matter how bad the relationship had been.

“Good looking boys.  Yours?” I commented, nodding toward the graduation pictures.

“Yeah.  Both are at UCLA.  Costing me a fortune,” he complained.

Why don’t you just push them off a cliff and solve your problem?
  The wheels began turning in my head and I got down to the business at hand.  “Does their mother help with their expenses?” I asked in an effort to bring up the subject of Diane.