Mob Wedding Mayhem (3 page)

A
ll of Stacy’s
promises began to unravel quickly the next morning with the discovery of a body floating face down in the water trap on the fourth hole, its old-fashioned plaid golf knickers billowing out around its legs.

She’d met the club’s manager bright and early for an in-depth tour of the club and the golf course. It was truly one of the area’s gems, and had been written about in every magazine covering golf and more than a few publications that focused on Southern charm. After spending a solid two hours in the club house, the dining room, the kitchen, the pool deck, and the spa—where he insisted Stacy have a complimentary thirty-minute massage while he took a phone call—he’d suggested a golf cart tour of the fairways.

Stacy had been feeling completely relaxed—gelatinous, almost—after the intense and much-appreciated massage, and the pleasant zippy ride through one of the South’s most prestigious and adored golf courses had lulled her into a state of bliss the likes of which she hadn’t felt since her honeymoon. But no sooner had she started to let her mind wander to thoughts of said honeymoon than the club manager slammed his foot on the brakes, throwing Stacy forward towards the dash of the small electric vehicle.

“This will not do!” he grumbled angrily, pushing down hard on the brake pedal to engage the parking break and climbing out of the driver’s seat, already reaching for his radio. “To find garbage floating in the pond… why, that’s unacceptable! Someone’s going to pay dearly for this!”

As if by instinct, Stacy knew she shouldn’t look. Somehow she just knew that the object in the pond couldn’t be good, but she also couldn’t stop herself from following behind the club manager. She traced his steps slowly, keeping her eyes focused on the ground in front of her. The manager’s sharp intake of breath told her everything she needed to know.

“But… I don’t understand,” the manager, Todd Sanders, said quietly. “How did… I mean… what?”

The older man began to shake slightly, but enough that Stacy noticed. She put a hand on his arm to steady him, and nearly shrieked when she felt him cling to her forearm in a panic. She looked at Todd’s face and saw the pale visage of horror that had replaced his perpetually happy, tanned face.

“Here, let’s call someone, right?” Stacy said, realizing for the umpteenth time that she was in charge of calling the police about a crime. It was starting to become a thing with her, and that knowledge was unnerving.

For a split second she thought about calling her friend, Detective Rod Sims, but then thought against it. This body didn’t have anything to do with her or her company. Heck, it might not even be a crime. The man could have drowned going in after his ball, he could have been struck by lightning and rolled down the hill, he could have been dragged to the water by a hungry alligator… the possibilities were practically endless.

Stacy dialed 911 and waited for the operator to pick up. She described the situation and their location, then agreed to wait on the line with the operator until help arrived. Unlike most emergency situations that seem to drag on forever before any help came, the wails of sirens in the distance made Stacy wonder if two squad cars and an ambulance didn’t follow her everywhere she went, just in case.

Don’t be stupid! This isn’t your first dead body, but it’s also not your hundredth!
she told herself. It only made her feel a little better.

Two uniformed officers, their bullet-proof vests causing their shirts to bulge out in a way that made them resemble water beetles, jumped out of their cars and approached Stacy and Todd. They’d made a point to turn around and stand with their backs to the water and the body, but with the police here there was nothing to be done but see the unthinkable.

“You found the body, miss?” one officer asked, his notebook already in hand, his pen poised and ready. Stacy shook her head.

“No, actually this gentleman did. We were taking a tour of the golf course and just… found him.”

“And you don’t know who he is?”

“No, I’ve never been out here before. Todd? Do you know him?” she asked, trying to divert some attention away from herself.

“Well, we only have one member who still wears those old-style golf pants, you know, these knee breeches here. Most gentlemen just wear a collared golf shirt and khaki pants, but a few of the old holdouts still cling to the way the game used to be played. I’d have to say that was one of our oldest members, Livingston Pierce.”

“Pierce? The doctor?” the officer asked, pausing in mid-sentence with his pen still scraping the paper.

“Yes, that’s him. Only he hasn’t practiced in at least ten years. He’s a mainstay out here, especially since losing his wife a year ago. He comes every morning, has his breakfast, takes a brisk walk along the cart path for some exercise, then plays at least thirty-six holes. If he’s got a foursome scheduled for the afternoon, he might play a little less in the morning, but he’s here every single day.”

Todd seemed to get choked up for a minute, a luxury he allowed himself now that he knew help had officially arrived and it was no longer his domain. He tried to avert his eyes as the paramedics who’d arrived began to extricate the victim from the pond, rolling him face up before sliding him on a gurney. Stacy turned away just in time to not get a clear view of the victim’s face, but not soon enough to avoid seeing his open glassy eyes and his pale blue skin.

“Officer, we got a problem here,” one of the paramedics called. Both officers joined them at the water’s edge. “I hate to break it to you, but this just turned into a crime scene. The victim’s pockets are loaded with rocks, not enough to keep him all the way underwater, but enough that it weighed him down some. It could mean someone planned this.”

Stacy and Todd exchanged a confused look and started to speak, but the officer interrupted them. “How old did you say this guy was?”

“I’d say at least in his seventies, but I can’t be sure. I know it was long enough ago that he was retired, and that he’d served in the Korean War. How old would that make him?” Todd asked, straining to do the mental math while still reeling from the shock.

“Old enough not to be our dead guy,” the officer answered bluntly. “This guy can’t be thirty years old yet. Come take a look.”

“No thanks, I’m good,” the manager said, backing away as though the body would sit up and come after him.

“Sir, we need you to check him out and tell us if you know him. Unless you’ve got somebody else around here who can identify the guy, it looks like it’s all you. You are the manager of this place, right? We could call the owner, I suppose…”

“No! Mr. D’Argenzio is a very busy man and the absolute last thing he needs right now is to handle this. I’ll do it.” Todd took a deep breath, held it, then let it go in one long whoosh before following the officer around the small pond to where the ambulance and gurney waited. Stacy couldn’t think of any reason why she had to attend their introductions, so she stayed firmly put, keeping the scummy water safely between her and the deceased.

Stacy watched from her vantage point as Todd stood beside the gurney and took another breath. The paramedic lifted the corner of the sheet and held it up, blocking her view, but it was the view of Todd that was the most perplexing. He looked ready to collapse in a faint for a moment, but then suddenly his expression seemed more confused than anything else. He turned his head this way and that, appraising the body as though he was trying to tell if his sandwich bread was moldy. Finally he shook his head, said a few words to the officer, and walked back to the golf cart where Stacy was waiting.

“That was bizarre,” he said, sliding behind the wheel and turning the key to fire up the cart. “I don’t know who that was.”

“Really? It was a guest?” Stacy asked as Todd drove back in the direction of the club house.

“No, it couldn’t have been. I have a record of all our guests, and I even know most of them personally. They have to be accompanied by a member at all times, too, and I know all the members who’ve signed in guests in the last few days. No one was short his guest!”

“So someone who snuck in to play golf?” Stacy suggested, although she couldn’t fathom why anyone would choose to wear those hideous plaid pants.

“Not with our security guards, it wouldn’t be. Or let me put it this way… once word got out, it wouldn’t happen again, if you catch my meaning. No, there has to be some explanation we’re not thinking of.” Todd slowed the cart as they reached the club house, then let it roll to a stop altogether a good distance from the door. He turned to Stacy and lowered his voice. “Mrs. Prudell, I do hope we can count on your sense of discretion and decorum in this matter. It wouldn’t do to have any talk of this unfortunate situation out in the community.”

“Oh Mr. Sanders, you don’t have to worry about me saying anything.” She hated to burst his bubble, especially since a hint of a smile had crossed his face. “It’s those guys you have to be careful of.”

Todd looked where she pointed and his face fell again. A news van had already pulled up and a camera crew was unloading their equipment. Todd hesitated only for a second before reaching for the radio on his belt and ordering his security detail to come to the front to head the crew off. He then adjusted the channel and sent out a message to all staff members who could hear him that no one was to speak to a news outlet on pain of termination.

Stacy wondered if he meant their jobs, or their lives.

“
H
ave
you noticed that death has a way of following you?” Jeremiah remarked when Stacy got back to the office.

“How can you possibly know already? I just walked in the door!” Stacy cried in defeat. She fell back onto the chaise in her office and threw a hand over her eyes.

“Because I told him,” Rod said, turning around in Stacy’s desk chair and steepling his fingers under his chin. “By the way, the detective on this case wants to talk to you. I told her—”

“Her?!” Stacy shrieked, sitting up again. “Not that horrible woman who handcuffed me and let her guys destroy my office looking for something that turned out to be a prank?”

“No, not her. I promise. Her replacement, and trust me, you’re gonna wish it was the prank lady back again. This new detective gives even me the creeps. She’s always looking at you like she’s thinking of eight different ways to kill you using only objects within her reach.”

Stacy looked like she was on the verge of a panic attack, but Rod started laughing. “I’m just kidding,” he finally managed to say. “But the look on your face was incredible. No, I’m on this case. I’m here to ask you a few questions, but since I understand this is your first experience with murder… oh wait, you’re second… I mean, wait… carry the one… how many dead people have you been involved with again?”

“You’re not funny. You think you are, but you’re not. Now I’ll ask you to go, I have work to do,” she answered frostily, standing up and heading towards her desk. Rod stood up and blocked her path.

“Okay, all kidding aside, I really am the detective assigned to this case and I really do have some questions. Like why aren’t you cooking dinner for Nathan anymore? He thought you’d at least cook for him.”

“I am not answering questions about my marriage! Wait a minute, I take that back. I’m not answering your questions without my husband present. It’s an old Southern law, but it’s still on the books. I don’t have to say another word to you until my husband gets here.”

“Oh, well. Since you’re turning all anti-feminist on us, I guess I’ll just pull up a chair right next to your desk and wait.” Rod reached for one of the conference table chairs across from where Jeremiah was still sitting, watching their argument unfold. With the chair nestled as close to the side of Stacy’s desk as possible, Rod lowered himself into it, plopped his elbows up on her desk, and put his chin in his hands, staring at her intently.

“Nathan will be back later,” Stacy hinted. “Why don’t you just come back then? Mandy can even help you make an appointment for a time that is mutually agreeable for both of us.”

“Ah, but Nathan won’t be back until well after three o’clock. He drove down to the farmer’s market in Alphia.”

“How do you know that?” Stacy demanded. “Have you been following us?”

“No. He told me at lunch that’s where he was headed,” Rod said with a nonchalant shrug. Stacy fumed.

“You had lunch with my husband? What kind of detective are you? Are you the kind who digs up dirt on people with the express purpose of ruining their happiness, all because he has no happiness of his own?”

“No happiness of my own? Are you kidding? I’ve been dating Tori for over two months! You seriously think I’ve been spending my time here just so I can annoy you? Wake up, sister. And I’ll have you know, I had lunch with Nathan because I hadn’t given you two your wedding present. He was nice enough to meet me.”

Stacy’s fuming annoyance softened slightly. “You didn’t have to get us a present…”

“Oh, don’t worry. It’s nothing too big, just something from the evidence room auction. It’s a classic Corvette, we took it off a known drug dealer turned thug. You guys will want to get the blood out of the passenger’s seat before you drive it. Guy got his head blown off right in that seat. Made kind of a mess.”

“Aw, thanks for the blood-stained car! I was totally gonna register for that, but they didn’t have any at Griffin’s!” Stacy rolled her eyes at Rod before throwing herself into her chair hard enough to make it spin away from the desk momentarily.

“Don’t be cranky, and just answer my questions. Nothing too weird, just the usual. You should know them by heart by now.” He slid a piece of paper where he’d already written some of the questions down across the desk for her to read over. She sighed melodramatically, then answered them one by one while Rod took notes.

“Is that it? Can I go now?” she asked pointedly, cocking her head towards the door and hinting to Rod that he needed to go.

“Almost. Tell me what to bring to dinner tonight.”

“Um, I don’t care what you bring since you’re eating it at someone else’s house. I’m sure they’ll enjoy whatever you come up with!” she answered brightly. Rod glared at her, but she matched his irritated expression perfectly.

“Nathan invited us. My date and I will be over at seven. See you then!” he called over his shoulder. He left her office, and Stacy could hear the sound of uncharacteristically high-pitched giggling coming from the hallway. She could only assume from what sounded like panting that Tori had agreed to be his dinner companion. At least there would be someone there to talk to while Rod and Nathan chest bumped and talked sports, or whatever it was those two were interested in when they got around each other.

Stacy tried to put the events of the morning behind her and focus on her work, but images of the body floating face down in the pond still haunted her. Every time she tried to shake it off, the image was replaced with the body on the gurney, its blue hand protruding from beneath the sheet.

“Boo!” someone said, causing Stacy to scream. She looked up to see Nathan’s surprised face before it melted into an apologetic expression. “Sorry, I didn’t know you didn’t hear me come in. Hey, are you okay? Stacy, you’re scaring me! What’s wrong?”

Nathan came around behind her desk and gathered her in his arms, leaning over awkwardly to semi-cradle her as tears ran down her face. She suddenly found herself telling him about the body at the golf course and how she’d had to give a statement, first to the police and then to Rod.

“Stacy, I don’t like this. You agreed to do a mob wedding, and the next thing you know there’s a dead guy floating in your lap. It can’t be a coincidence.”

“Why not? I don’t get it, how do you think these are related? The police and the club manager didn’t even know who the man is.”

“Look, I’m painfully aware that you have a way of attracting corpses, but I don’t think it’s unrelated this time. I’m not gonna go so far as to say ditch this wedding… yet… but I want you to know I’m officially being careful now.”

“Oh, are you?” Stacy asked, challenging him with a fixed stare.

“You can shoot daggers at me with your eyes all you want to, missy, it makes no difference to me,” Nathan shot back, accepting the challenge by staring down at her with his arms crossed.

“Married less than six months, and you’re already ordering me around. I see how it is.” She tried to keep her tone light and playful, but secretly it was something that had worried her all along. She’d waited a long time to get married, too long, by some busybodies’ standards. Giving up her independence had been one of her many worries, and now it was coming to pass right in front of her.

“I’m not ordering you around,” Nathan argued wearily with a sigh. “I’m begging you to be careful, to take extra special care of the most important thing in my world… you. And you seem determined not to do that so you can… what? Prove that you’re still an independent woman who doesn’t have to listen to a man? Because I don’t remember ever saying that you did.”

“You’re right,” Stacy admitted sheepishly. “I know you’re trying to be protective. But we can’t afford to lose this account, especially not over some unrelated but bizarre incident.”

“An incident? Walking up on a dead body is an incident? Geez, I’d hate to see what an actual catastrophe looks like.”

Stacy stood up and walked towards her husband, stopping in front of him and sliding her arms around his waist before pulling him closer and leaning her head against his chest. It took him a minute for his resolve to break down, but she finally felt his arms go around her, too.

“Are we actually mad about something? Because if we’re not, there’s no reason to be arguing,” she said without looking up. Nathan kissed the top of her head.

“I’m mad that Larry’s BBQ stopped offering their chipotle sauce, does that count?”

“No. The sign clearly stated that it was for a limited time only,” she answered with a light laugh.

“Well, they shouldn’t get people addicted like that and then rip it away from them. They’re like the crack dealers of barbecue sauce and I, for one, will not stand for it. Someone’s getting a nasty letter, just as soon as I can get you to write one.”

Stacy looked up at Nathan’s adoring face and met him halfway for the most tender kiss she could ever remember. He leaned back, and looked at her for a moment.

“Please take care of yourself. You’re all I have in the world.”

“I will. I promise,” she answered softly, nestling inside Nathan’s embrace.