Free A Wedding and a Killing by Lauren Carr

think you’ll be the first to cut a deal.”
    Seeing the emergency vehicles lined up along the mountain road, the police chief said, “Looks like a full house.” He continued past the cruisers until he came upon a sheriff’s deputy he knew. Stopping, he rolled down the driver’s side window and held up his police chief’s badge. Since he was still dressed in plain clothes, David didn’t want to take a chance on being mistaken for a “civilian,” as if the cruiser he was driving was not enough of a clue that he was on official business.
    After the deputy indicated with a nod of his head that he recognized the police shield, David clipped it back on his belt. “What’s the situation inside?”
    “We got here to find a bunch of cars filling the driveway,” the deputy said. “The sheriff went in to check it out and he hasn’t come out yet. Deputy Chief Bogart is inside, too.”
    “Guess that means it’s safe,” Mac told David. “We might as well join the party.” He turned around to Gnarly. “Guard the car … and don’t steal anymore hats.”
    Inside the Harmon home, they found Abby Harmon’s living room filled with a dozen women taking up every available chair. They all sat with their fingers and toes gingerly extended while freshly applied nail polish dried. Some of the lucky ladies held their hands under one of the two driers set up in the kitchen to speed things along.
    Two of the women were soaking their feet in plastic tubs filled with sudsy water.
    Flustered to have her party interrupted by a team of uniformed officers, the beauty consultant, a busty redhead with big hair and heavy make-up clad in a white linen robe, offered a bowl of fruit on ice. “Grapes, gentlemen? I do have products for men, if you’re interested in a manicure.” She flashed a nervous grin.
    While Mac shook his head, David accepted a handful of the fruit. “We’re looking for Tina Van Dorn,” he said before popping a grape into his mouth.
    Instead of answering, she grabbed David’s hand. “You have great hands.” She squeezed. “Strong, and such long, elegant fingers.” An eyebrow arched. “You know what they say about men with long fingers, don’t you?” She wet her full lips.
    Mac stepped forward. “Tina Van Dorn, please?”
    She pointed toward the kitchen. “In there with her mother, talking to the sheriff.”
    After they brushed past her, she thrust a business card into David’s hand. “Call me to make an appointment. I would love to give your hands a massage.”
    “I don’t think she’ll stop with your hands,” Mac muttered while dragging David through the crowd of women, being careful not to mess up any of their freshly polished nails.
    In the tiny kitchen, they found a teary eyed young woman holding out her hands flat on the table. Her fingernails were painted bright purple. She sat with cotton balls wedged between her toes to protect the wet polish that matched her fingernails.
    Unable to move for fear of messing up the beauty treatment, Tina Van Dorn relied on her mother to dab the tears that seeped from her eyes.
    “I take it Chip Van Dorn isn’t here,” David whispered to Sheriff Christopher Turow, a middle-aged man with a military haircut.
    Bogie had taken a position near the kitchen window. Regularly, he would peer out the window to check in case Chip Van Dorn was planning to make a surprise visit.
    “She spoke to him first thing this morning,” the sheriff said.
    “He sounded really strange,” Tina sobbed. “I should have called the police, but … I guess I’ve been in denial about his sanity.”
    “What did he say when you spoke to him?” Mac asked.
    “He said that he was calling to say good-bye,” she answered.
    “I told her that he was leaving town,” Tina’s mother said. “I knew he was a jerk, but I didn’t think he was—”
    “Oh, Chip has a horrible temper,” Tina said. “It was scary sometimes. That’s why I was always glad that we didn’t have a gun. I