Wedding Day of Murder
Prologue
Epilogue
Copyright
©
2013 Vanessa Gray Bartal
This is a work of
fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the
author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual
persons, living or dead events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
She was everywhere. Her face peeped
smilingly from the photos, taunting. Not all the pictures were from a frontal
view. Some were bisected bits and pieces—a hint of chin here, a dimple
there, one eyebrow quirked in laughter, mocking. There was no end to the
torment. Why wouldn’t it end? Peace, sweet peace, that was all anyone could
wish for.
There were other people in the
photos, of course, but they didn’t matter. Only she mattered; only she could
make the hurt burn like acid. The whispered voice came with the pictures, her
voice. The things she said were awful—cruel, taunting, vindictive things.
Why did she say such awful things? She needed to be stopped.
The rocking chair moved faster and
faster. Sometimes the rocking helped. Not tonight. Nothing helped tonight.
Tonight there seemed to be only one solution. She would have to be stopped; the
voice would have to be silenced. It was the only way to make the pain stop, to
make her stop.
The latest picture was a close-up
of her face. She was holding a muffin and smiling, always smiling. The time had
come. She needed to be stopped; things needed to be put right.
The picture went on the board; a
pin pierced the center of her face. A little of the pain leaked away. How much
better would it feel when she was gone completely?
This time the whispered words
weren’t hers, but they echoed dully around the room just the same. “Goodbye,
Lacy.” When the words died down, the rocking started again. Maybe it would
help. Maybe it would buy some time for Lacy.
“I don’t think we’re ready for
this.”
“We’re ready.”
“It’s too soon.”
“Lacy, we’ve been dating for
months; we’re ready. Other couples do this way before now. I’ve been patient,
but it’s time.”
“Could we at least wait until after
dark? I don’t want you to see me.”
“No, it has to be now.”
“Jason…”
He put his hands on her shoulders,
his tone turning solemn. “We’re ready for this. Past due, really. There is
nothing, absolutely nothing that can change my feelings for you. Now put on
your shoes and let me see you run.”
She stared uncertainly at her sneakers.
“How bad can it be? What’s the
worst that can happen?”
The worst that could happen was
that he would finally realize they were all wrong for each other. He, with his
natural grace and athleticism, shouldn’t in any realm be with someone as clumsy
and awkward as she.
“Trust me,” he prompted.
It was a common refrain, one he
said far too often. How could he think she didn’t trust him? She trusted him
with her life, her heart—everything. Allowing him to see her run was the
last thing she had kept to herself. Until today.
Jason smiled in approval as she sat
and laced her tennis shoes. “That’s my girl,” he said.
She paused to give him a petulant
frown.
“When this is over, I’ll buy you
some ice cream.”
“Don’t want ice cream,” Lacy
muttered.
“I’ll buy you a cookie.”
She finished tying her shoe before
answering. “Okay,” she muttered. With the promise of a cookie, she could get
through anything. They started to run using the same circuitous three-mile
route Lacy had been using all year. By all rights, it shouldn’t have been
difficult for her, but every step was still a struggle. There were copious
amounts of panting and sweat—all on her part. Jason didn’t break stride,
wheeze, or pause to bend over and moan every half a mile.
At last it was over. Lacy rested
one palm against an oak tree to try and draw a breath. Jason hovered anxiously
nearby.
“Do you, uh, need an inhaler?” he
asked.
“I…don’t…have…asthma,” she puffed.
She was almost afraid to recover, afraid to see his expression after she
stopped seeing double. When she finally straightened and the spots disappeared
after every blink, he was standing nearby, biting his lip. She had never seen
him bite his lip before. That must mean it was worse than she thought.
“Okay?” he asked.
She nodded. He pulled her close and
kissed her, crushing her in his tight embrace. “I’m sweaty,” she blurted when
she could get a breath. The intensity of the kiss had only made her perspire
more.
“Disturbingly so,” he said. “At
this point dehydration is a grave concern.” He gave her a squeeze before easing
his grip. “Do you have any idea how much I love you?”
“N-no,” she stammered, taken aback
by the first utterance of the L-word. There was a part of her that wanted to
say,
Really? Now? You have to put that
out there when I smell like a walrus?
“When I look at you, I see this
beautiful and sexy woman who is so far out of my league, and I think, ‘Geez,
what is she doing with me?’ And then you open your mouth or try to do anything
other than walk, and it’s all so awkward and funny and sweet, and I still
think, ‘Geez, what is she doing with me?’”
“Um,” she started but he kissed her
again. She was glad for that because she had no response.
He
thought
she
was out of
his league? Had he ever seen him? The kiss ended and his face was cupped in her
hands. “Experts say exercising together brings a couple closer. If I had any
idea it was true, I would have run with you a long time ago,” she said to cover
the awkwardness. Why couldn’t she say the words as easily as he? They were
there, lingering on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn’t force them past
numb lips.
“Yeah? If that’s so, we’re going to
start working out together every day.”
“How much closer do you want to
get?”
“If you have to ask the question,
then you wouldn’t understand the answer,” he said. He edged her toward the tree
and kissed her again. The combination of oxygen loss from the run and dizzying
emotions from his proclamation made Lacy feel like she was having an
out-of-body experience until Jason pulled her back to the present.
“Your hips are ringing,” he said.
“Your biceps are alluring,” she
returned.
“No, I meant that literally. Your
phone is going off. Are you going to get that?” He let her go so she could
reach in her pocket.
“Hello,” she said without looking
at the display.
“Lacy, it’s Joe. We have a little
problem. I think you should come here.”
“Wha…” she began, but Joe had hung
up.
“What’s wrong?” Jason asked.
“I don’t know. Something’s up at
the Stakely building.”
“I’ll give you a ride,” Jason said,
his eyes narrowing to let her know he was putting his cop face on. He was ever
on the alert for danger or criminal activity, sometimes to the point of being
paranoid. Lacy didn’t protest the ride, though. Her knees were still weak from
the run.
The drive to the Stakely building
was blessedly short. Lacy was thankful there was no time to return to their
earlier subject. Jason didn’t seem to be waiting on her to return his
pronouncement, but how could he not? Declaring an unrequited statement of love
was never fun.
“What in the world?” he murmured as
he put the car in park. Lacy craned her neck to see a bedraggled group of
people standing in front of the Stakely Building. Joe Anton, her makeshift
security guard, sat sullenly on the steps. He stood when he saw Lacy.
“What’s the problem, Joe?” Lacy
asked as Jason steered her around the group, eyeing them as he gave them a wide
berth. It was obvious they didn’t belong in the town; with their layers of
clothing and unkempt hair, they looked like no one Lacy recognized.
The group, stirred to action by the
arrival of Lacy and Jason, began to chant. “What do we want? Equal rights for
every person who has been suppressed by the ongoing and insidious tyranny of
corporate greed in all its forms. When do we want it? Now!”
Lacy had to hear it a few times
before she caught all the words. The group, though enthusiastic, was not
cohesive.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” she called,
waving her arms to grab their attention. “What is this about?”
A woman who looked to be about Lacy’s
age spoke up. “It’s about ending corporate greed.”
“What corporate greed?” Lacy asked.
“What are you talking about?”
The woman jutted a finger at the
Stakely building. “It’s greedy corporations like that who prey on the weak;
they ruin everything.”
“That’s not a corporation,” Lacy
said. “In fact, everything in there is locally sourced and locally made.”
That gave the woman pause, but only
for a second. “Whatever, tell it to the man.”
“I am the man,” Lacy said. “I own
this building.”
They hissed at her, this time in
unison.
Jason put himself between Lacy and
the hissers. “Stifle, weirdoes. Who are you, and where did you come from?”
“I smell bacon,” the woman said.
Behind her, a few people began to snort.
“I do, too,” Lacy said.
“Lacy!” Jason exclaimed.
“No, I really do.” She turned and
squinted at the building, sniffing. “I think one of the doctors has a
contraband hot plate. The fire marshal would have a coronary.”
“I’m still waiting for an answer,”
Jason said.
“Keep waiting, pig. We’re well
within our first amendment rights.”
“Only if you’re not blocking
entrance to the building, which you are. Move over.”
“It’s a big sidewalk.”
“It’s also a big jail,” Jason said.
“If you think I won’t haul all of you in for disorderly conduct, then you are
mistaken.”
The snorting and squealing
intensified to fever pitch. “Oh, we have no doubts that you would do that,” the
group’s spokeswoman said. “But you’d better know that the ACLU would be down
here so fast. And some news crews and anyone else we can get to cover the
egregious invasion of our rights.”
She looked too excited over the
prospect of getting arrested and drawing publicity. Lacy tugged Jason’s sleeve.
“You’re going to be late for work,” she reminded him.
“I’m fairly certain I’m already
doing my job here,” he said.
“It’s okay,” she said, running a
gentle hand down his arm. “This is no big deal. I’m sure they’ll go away soon.
I’ll call you if anything develops.”
“The pig and the greedy corporate
leech are in love—how apropos,” the woman said. Lacy did her best to
ignore her, and Jason followed suit.
“I’ll wait here until you go
inside,” he said.
“I’ll wait here until you drive
away,” she countered.
“I’m not leaving until you’re
inside that building.”
She could never win when he had her
safety in mind. She knew the loons were harmless, but he wasn’t so sure. She
gave up, turned, and went inside, hurrying to a window in Michael’s store so
she could watch Jason. He bypassed the jeering group of protesters, ignoring
them as he made his way to his car.
“Aw, I was hoping for a fight,”
Michael said. He leaned on his elbows and peered through the window, his
disappointed gaze fastened on Jason’s retreating backside. “It would be
interesting to see who would win between your boyfriend and Mother Jones.”
Something in his tone caught her
attention and she whirled to face him. “Do you know anything about this?”
He gave her a sheepish and
therefore very un-Michael expression. “I sort of dated the one with the mouth,”
he said.
“Is that why she’s here? Is this the
hippie version of
Fatal Attraction
?”
Lacy asked.
“No, the date was a bust, but I
happened to mention where I worked, and she was intrigued. I was flattered by
her interest, and I may have embellished things a bit.”
“Things, what things?” Lacy asked.
“Your totalitarian regime, for
one.”
“My what?”
“It’s possible that I labeled you
as a fascist dictator,” he said.
“Why would you do that?”
“Because I was trying to find
common ground and because I was irritated with you. It was the night you took
away my hot plate.”
“But the hot plate rule isn’t mine.
The fire marshal said…”
“What the fire marshal doesn’t know
won’t hurt,” Michael argued. “And I never thought she would follow me here and
set up shop. She was safely ensconced in the capital at the time, but they ran
her out.”
“
Michael,
”
Lacy hissed. She ground her fist against her temple. Work had become her refuge
since her mother came to town. Now she had Norma Rae to deal with. “How did
they run them out of the capital? If you say cattle prod, know that I’m not
necessarily opposed to using that option.”
“I have no idea,” Michael
confessed. “I wouldn’t have spent so much time chatting her up if I thought she
would follow me here. I thought I made it clear that I needed my space.”
“This must be so hard for you,”
Lacy said with mock sympathy. “How awkward that one of your psychopathic dates
followed you home.”
“I’m glad someone understands,”
Michael said. He tweaked her hair. She batted his hand away and shoved his
shoulder.
“I should make you deal with this
mess, but I’m afraid you would only make it worse.”
“I’m tempted to join them,” Michael
mused as he stared through the window. “I haven’t been part of a good protest
for a long time. We could make banners. Nothing draws a group of crazy people
together like some artfully designed, passive-aggressive signs.” After a few
beats of staring wistfully out the window, he turned his attention to Lacy.
“Don’t take this the wrong way, love, but you look like you’ve been turned
inside out and you smell worse.”
“How could I possibly take that the
wrong way? I went for a run. I’m going to go shower. Send someone to get me if
the protest picks up.”
They watched as one of the
protestors turned in a circle three times, lay down, and prepared to take a nap
on the lawn. “You can probably take your time. In fact, I demand it. Three
customers have left the store since you came in.”
“That is not tr…” Lacy began, but
saw someone leave the store, easing past with her hand over her nose. “Am I
really that bad?” She plucked at her shirt, sniffing.
“All I can say is that your
boyfriend must love you very much. Or his nose committed suicide. Tell me, has
he ever had a brain injury that may have dulled his senses?”
“You’re still talking to me,” she
pointed out.
“I am a man of great fortitude,” he
said. “Plus, I also love you very much.” He kissed his first two fingers and
tapped them to her forehead.
“This is my day to hear it,
apparently. Fine, I’ll go get cleaned up.” She turned. He watched her go with a
smile before turning his attention back outside to the lame-duck protest.
Installing a shower on the fourth
floor of the Stakely building had been a stroke of genius, or so Lacy believed.
The idea hadn’t occurred to her until her mother came home and took over her
grandmother’s bathroom. How was it possible that a woman twice her age spent
twice as long getting ready?
After Lacy showed up to work a few
times with wet hair and no makeup, she called her contractor and arranged to
have a bathroom installed. It was still only half done. The plumbing consisted
of some exposed pipes with a showerhead in the middle of a roughly constructed
room. She always felt a bit surreal—a tiny dot in the midst of a vast
landscape. So far her makeshift bathroom was the only thing that had been done
to the warehouse atmosphere of the fourth floor, and it was only a bathroom by
the loosest interpretation. She had dragged a full length mirror into the room
and propped it against a wall that had been drywalled but not mudded or taped.
There was no toilet or sink, but the space served its purpose and got her out
of her mother’s reach for a few minutes every morning.
