Read Killer Cuts: A Dead-End Job Mystery Online

Authors: Elaine Viets

Tags: #Cozy Mysteries

Killer Cuts: A Dead-End Job Mystery (7 page)

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Helen expected Cassie to be as gross as her father. But the young woman was small and slender with shiny gold hair. She wore only a little pink lipstick. Her peacock blue dress hugged her curves with out being too tight. How did the disgusting King spawn this elegant creature?

The older woman beside Cassie was a classic Boca babe. Even from a distance, Helen could see her forehead was smoothly paralyzed by Botox. Her eyes had an Asian slant from too many surgeries. Her beestung lips bulged with collagen. Her dress was almost the same style as Cassie’s, but it didn’t look as good on her.

“The older one is King’s ex-wife, Posie,” Honey whispered. “She’s furious that he divorced her to marry me.”

“King invited her, too?” Helen asked.

“Yes, it’s awkward, but I’m making the best of it,” Honey said.”King invited a lot of sex-industry workers, too. I’m not friends with them, but it’s good for his business. King pays strippers and hookers to find information for his blog and TV show. That’s what keeps this house going.”

Helen surveyed the huge pink Spanish-style mansion, the long green lawns and bright gardens.The house that sleaze built, one dirty little act at a time.

“Are your friends from the hospital here?” Helen asked.

“Uh, no,” Honey said. She hesitated, then added quickly, “They were busy.”

Or you were busy, Helen thought, dropping the people you knew before you climbed your way to riches.

“We had room for only two hundred guests,” the bride said.”I’m so glad we have good weather and didn’t have to cram the tables inside.We don’t have a backyard because of the Olympic-sized pool.”

The pool looked like something in a resort hotel, with a swim-up bar and a waterfall. Pool toys bobbed in the water, including a floating chaise with a drink holder.

“You can see the problem,” Honey said.

Nice problem, Helen thought.

“King bought the house next door and had it torn down so we could have the terrace and the fountain,” Honey said. “We needed to spread out a little.”

More not-so-subtle bragging. Waterfront houses on Hendin Island started at four million dollars. The land was so valuable it should have been sold by the inch.

A florist struggled to carry an overwrought bouquet of blue and purple flowers to a bridal arch covered with purple orchids and pea cock feathers.

“That’s a beautiful bridal arch,” Helen said.

“Thirty thousand dollars, and it will be dead tomorrow,” the bride said. Conspicuous consumption made her glow. A breeze rustled her skirt, and Honey’s sister, Melody, held it to keep it from blowing into the fountain. Helen grabbed the long veil as the wind caught it.

“Do we have time for more pictures?” Honey asked.

“Less than fifteen minutes until the wedding,” the photographer said, checking his watch.”You might want to freshen up.”

Honey gathered her skirts and hurried toward the house, her sister trailing behind her. Miguel Angel followed with his sponge. As Helen closed the makeup case, she heard the sound of a sharp slap. An angry young woman said, “Get your hands off me.You bought my pictures, not me.”

A red-faced Mireya charged out from under the stucco arches along the side of the house, her dark curls bobbing. King strolled off in the other direction, a red handprint on his cheek. Helen wondered if it would fade before the ceremony.

King chugged more bourbon and surveyed his kingdom.The rows of white chairs set up on the thick green grass were nearly filled.

Helen wondered which guests were in the so-called sex industry. She decided the men in the shiny suits were in the business. Some were lean, some were fat, but they all had a hungry, feral look, as if all the sex they could buy wouldn’t satisfy them. Many looked vaguely familiar, but Helen couldn’t put names with the faces. She assumed they were celebrities King had promoted or ruined—or both.

Peacock blue was the color this season for the women.There were so many dresses in that shade, Helen couldn’t keep the women apart. All had dyed blond hair. Many had leathery, tanned faces, lean bodies, and a slightly dirty look to their skin. Helen decided they were strippers or hookers.

The Latino photographer and his pretty assistant wandered every where with their cameras, taking pictures of the flowers, the food, the musicians and the wedding party. Many of the men gave young Mireya hungry looks, as if they were predators at a watering hole instead of guests at a wedding.

Phoebe was still giggling with the older gentleman guest.

“Helen,” Miguel Angel called from a window,”I need you here.”

Helen hurried upstairs. I hope that worthless Phoebe marries the scrawny old guy with his skinny arms and flabby bottom, Helen thought, as she lugged the heavy case. Serves her right. She’ll work for that man’s money a lot harder than she works at the salon.

“Hurry, Miguel Angel,” the bride said. “The ceremony is starting soon.We don’t want to keep King waiting.”

“He might grab someone else,” Helen said.

Miguel Angel frowned at her. He must have noticed the groom’s wandering hands.

“Are you feeling better?” Helen asked Honey.

“Oh yes. My boy has a kick like a soccer star.That’s what I tell his daddy.” Honey paused, then said, “King didn’t mean any harm. He can be a little moody.”

Moody? Threatening to ruin a man was moody?

“He shouldn’t have been walking around without his clothes,” Honey said.”He’s so comfortable with me, he forgets sometimes. I’m a nurse, so I don’t count.”

“I understand,” Helen said. I understand that you will put up with anything for his money, she thought.

“Look!” Honey pointed out the window at a portly man in black robes.”There’s the judge who is marrying us.”

Helen remembered the groom’s threat that he knew people in gov ernment who could ruin Miguel Angel. King had at least one judge in his pocket.

“He’s a circuit court judge. King doesn’t associate with criminal judges.” Honey made it sound as if the judges were criminals.

“There’s Jonathan, the governor’s assistant.” Honey pointed to a pale young man sweating in a gray suit.”See that woman in the coral dress? She’s a city commissioner.The man in the Armani tux with the pretty gray hair is King’s lawyer, Harris. He’s giving me away.”

“Not your father?” Helen asked.

“My father’s dead,” Honey said.

“I’m sorry,” Helen said.

“It was a long time ago,” Honey said, and shrugged.”The short man in the shiny black suit with the red tie is King’s old partner from the strip club,Wyllis Drifford. He’s suing King.”

“And he came to the wedding?” Helen said.

“King says keep your friends close and your enemies closer.”

Helen looked at the colorful panorama spread out below them— the women in jewel tones, the men in drab suits—and wondered how many were King’s enemies.

The musicians began “Air on the G String.” Helen thought that choice was appropriate, considering the groom’s interest in strippers and strip clubs.

The bride got a panicked look, like Cinderella as the clock struck midnight. For one instant, she looked like she might run away.

“That’s the processional,” Honey said.”I have to be downstairs.”

Miguel Angel gave Honey’s face one last dab with the sponge and touched up her lipstick. Then he gave her a light kiss on the cheek. Honey squared her shoulders and picked up her white rose bouquet. Melody helped her sister down the carpeted stairs, holding the poufy skirt.

“Be careful you don’t catch your heel,” Melody said.”Those shoes are high.”

She tottered downstairs on equally high heels. In the living room, the florist handed Melody a star-shaped bouquet of blue flowers.

The wedding party lined up. The groomsmen waited by the pink stucco arch.The aisle was white satin, flanked by candles and swags of greenery.

King’s daughter walked down the aisle first, to murmurs of approval from the wedding guests. “Cassie has class, even if her father doesn’t,” Helen said to Miguel Angel.

Melody was next. She clutched her bouquet as if it might save her from drowning.

Handel’s “Arrival of the Queen of Sheba” announced the bride’s entrance. Helen thought it fit Honey’s newly exalted opinion of herself. The groom dropped his bourbon bottle in a potted palm and walked out to meet his bride. The bottle seemed nearly empty, but he didn’t stagger.

The bride promised to love King until death parted them.

“She doesn’t deserve this,” Miguel Angel said. “She’s too good for him.”

“But not too good for his money,” Helen said.

Miguel glared at her.

“I now pronounce you man and wife,” the judge said.”May I pres ent the new Mr. and Mrs. Kingman Oden?”

The wedding guests applauded. Someone yelled, “Long live the King!”

The musicians struck up Handel’s
Royal Fireworks
“Overture.” Helen wondered if the royal theme was deliberate. She guessed it was better than “Pomp and Circumstance.”

The triumphant Honey towed her red-faced, sweating groom down the aisle. Helen could see the relief on the bride’s face.

“Does she know that man is no prize?” Helen asked.

“Poor Honey,” Miguel Angel said.”Her troubles are just starting.”

Miguel Angel had delivered a prophesy on the marriage.