Blissful
people made Pete Toleffson want to puke. Normally, he spent
his days
getting bad guys convicted and saving good people from
being victimized.
He considered that world to be the real world and "bliss
world"
to be something like a parallel universe for the clueless.
Blissful
people lived in la-la land. Blissful people needed to be
rapped upside
the head.
Which
was unfortunate because his brother Cal was currently the
most blissful
person in Konigsburg, Texas. Well, maybe the second most,
after his
fiancée, Docia Kent.
Pete
studied his brother as he sat smiling beside him in the
booth at the
Dew Drop Inn. Cal was so blissful he made Pete’s teeth
hurt. At least
Docia hadn’t come in yet. The two of them together could
induce sugar
shock.
Pete
felt like telling them to get a room, but they already had
one, or rather
they had a house together on the edge of town. Pete was
staying in Docia’s
old apartment above her bookstore in downtown Konigsburg.
Of course,
his residence in Docia’s apartment was strictly temporary.
He was
only here for the wedding. After that he’d head back home
to Des Moines
and the real world again.
Konigsburg
was closer to something out of Disney. He kept expecting to
see cartoon
bluebirds twittering around over Docia’s head, and maybe a
couple
of bunnies hopping along at her feet. A far cry from the
Polk County
Attorney’s office.
Pete
took a swig of beer and ignored the urge to check his cell
phone messages
that he felt every time he thought about being an assistant
Polk County
Attorney.
Guts
up, Toleffson. They’ll get along without you
somehow.
A
buzz arose from the corner of the room behind him,
accompanied by the
dull thonk of a dart hitting the wall. Pete turned
and squinted
through the gloom. If he really looked hard he could just
make out the
target. God only knew how somebody could actually see
enough to hit
anything in the dim light of the Dew Drop.
For
the life of him, Pete couldn’t figure out why Cal was so
fond of the
place. The Dew Drop was a joint, a dive, a honky tonk.
Hell, he’d
helped to close down better places than this when he got
court orders
for the Des Moines vice cops.
He
turned back for another swallow of beer. Across the table,
Cal’s friend
Wonder Dentist (and what the hell kind of nickname was
that?) was squinting
at the far wall too. "Bullseye. Ellison’s been practicing,
I see."
Cal
grinned at Wonder. Cal grinned at everybody. Pete wondered
briefly if
he ever stopped grinning these days. Maybe at night, in
bed. But then,
considering he shared that bed with Docia, maybe not.
Pete
surveyed the Dew Drop denizens, what he could see of them.
Even though
the late afternoon sun had still been shining when he’d
entered the
bar, only a few dim beams penetrated the smeared windows at
the front.
The chandeliers overhead weren’t much help since half of
the bulbs
looked to be burned out. A dive. A dump. Depressing as
hell.
Pete
clenched his hands on the table in front of him. He did
not
need to check his messages.
Cal
raised his chin. "There she is."
Docia
Kent stood framed in the doorway, red hair curling around
her shoulders
in tendrils, her denim shirt knotted beneath her
breasts.
Pete
sighed. Cal had all the luck. If he’d seen a woman like
Docia Kent
sitting in a dump like the Dew Drop, he’d have thrown her
over his
shoulder and headed for the hills, which, apparently, was
more or less
what Cal had done.
Docia
started toward their table, trailed by a couple of other
women Pete
could barely see. Hard to notice other women when Docia was
around.
When they got closer, Pete recognized the first woman as
Wonder’s
girlfriend, Allie Maldonado.
He’d
been introduced to the other woman, and now he ransacked
his memory
for her name. Jane something. Okay, Janie Dupree, the
assistant manager
of the bookstore. Docia’s maid of honor.
Pete
sighed again. He was going to have to listen to wedding
talk. He’d
listened to wedding talk for the past two days, ever since
he’d arrived
in Konigsburg. Not that he begrudged Cal or Docia their
wedding, but
did they have to discuss it so much?
So
happily?
Docia
slid into the booth beside Cal while Allie slid in beside
Wonder. That
left Janie Dupree perching on the edge of the seat beside
Wonder and
Allie, given that Pete, Cal and Docia were taking up the
other side.
Putting three very tall people together side by side was
probably not
a good idea. If they’d been on a boat they’d have capsized
by now.
Pete
frowned. He was shoved up against the wall to make room for
Cal and
Docia. Did couples naturally expand to fill any extra
space? Them and
their stupid happiness?
"I
got the cake topper," Allie cooed. "It’s perfect."
Docia’s
eyes narrowed. "The one Janie found? Or Mama’s?"
Allie
chuckled. "Janie’s, of course. That china bride and groom
your mama
wanted would have thrown the cake proportions all to
hell."
Allie
owned the bakery that would produce the cake for The
Wedding. Somehow
whenever anybody mentioned The Wedding, Pete always thought
in capital
letters.
"A
cake topper?" Cal frowned. "What’s a cake topper?"
Wonder
pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and
forefinger. "Think
about it, Calthorpe. It’ll come to you."
Janie
Dupree smiled. "It’s the thing that goes on top of the
wedding cake.
Flowers or hearts or bells or—"
"Twenty-inch
porcelain figurines of the bride and groom." Docia
sighed. "Lladro.
Limited edition."
Cal
blanched.
Janie
leaned forward, patting his hand. "It’s okay. That was
Reba’s
idea, but I found something a lot smaller. Docia likes
it."
Cal
blew out a quick breath. "Good to know."
Janie
Dupree had a nice smile, Pete reflected. He hadn’t noticed
before.
Of course, he hadn’t really paid much attention to her at
all before.
Which was probably a mistake since he was the best man and
she was the
maid of honor. He was probably supposed to be working with
her on something.
Planning stuff. Whatever the hell a best man was supposed
to do.
He
clenched his hands on the table again. No cell. The office
could get
along without him. He probably should be directing all his
attention
to The Wedding anyway.
Behind
him he heard another muted thonk followed by a
chorus of groans.
"So
you got the topper." Janie turned to Allie. "What about the
matchbooks?"
"Those
too." Allie sipped the glass of wine Wonder had ordered for
her. "They
even managed to spell ‘Docia’ correctly."
Docia
grinned. "‘Cal’ too?"
"I
think so." Allie’s eyes danced. "‘C-a-l-e’ right?"
"That’s
my boy." Docia patted his hand, smiling.
Pete
felt slightly nauseated.
Janie
Dupree blew out a quick breath. "Great! That’s two more
things off
the list."
"You
have a list?" Pete stared at her.
"Of
course!" Janie’s brow furrowed. "I can’t keep it all in my
head.
Don’t you have a list?"
"Not
for this!" Pete grimaced. He had a list for the office.
Which he’d
left back in Des Moines.
"But…"
The furrows in Janie’s brow grew deeper. "What about the
stuff you’re
responsible for? How do you keep track?" Her bright brown
eyes studied
him, her expression grave.
Pete
was suddenly—uncomfortably—aware that everyone in the booth
had
turned his way. He shrugged. "What’s there to keep track
of? If
Cal wants me to do anything, he can yell. I’m here to
serve."
Janie’s
lower jaw dropped a fraction.
There
was a moment of silence at the table, then Allie
guffawed. "Fantastic.
Have any of you males thought to check out what exactly
happens at a
wedding? Or were you going to wait until the day
before?"
Cal
looked affronted. "Hey! I’ve been keeping up. Docia fills
me in
on what’s going on. I figure if I need to do anything,
somebody will
let me know."
"Sounds
reasonable to me." Wonder took another swig from his bottle
of Spaten.
Janie,
Docia and Allie exchanged glances. "Testosterone gives them
wedding
immunity," Allie muttered.
Wonder
nodded. "Good thing too. Do you really want a bunch of men
trying
to decide what kind of music to have at the reception?
Hell, you’d
probably end up with either ZZ Top or Metallica."
"Personally,
I’d favor Ray Wylie Hubbard, but that’s just me." Cal
turned to
Docia. "I’ll do anything you need me to do. Don’t worry
about
it. It’s going to be the wedding to end all weddings."
"Would
that it could," Wonder muttered. Allie narrowed her eyes at
him.
Cal
paid him no attention, keeping his gaze on Docia. "Dinner
at Brenner’s
tonight? I know you had something you needed to talk to Lee
about."
"Right."
Docia leaned across him to Pete. "You want to join us?
Brenner’s
is that restaurant we took you to the other day—Lee’s the
owner
and chef, remember?"
"Right."
Pete managed a faintly sour grin. Brenner’s had the best
food he’d
tasted in at least five years. If he went there, he might
not worry
about the office anymore. On the other hand, he was so used
to worrying
about the office he wasn’t sure he wanted to try out
another mood
just then. "You go on. Maybe I’ll catch up with you
later."
Cal
grinned happily. Pete gritted his teeth.
Docia
turned to the other side of the booth. "You want to come,
Janie? Lee’s
got some new tapas to try out for the reception."
Janie
shook her head. "Not tonight. Mom’s waiting dinner for
me."
"I’ll
come," Allie said, decisively. "I need to talk to Lee
anyway. We
have to firm up the cake logistics. You want to come,
Steve?"
Beside
her Wonder gulped down the last of his Spaten. "Taste
testing with
Lee? Any time."
Janie
stood to let them slide out of the booth as Cal and Docia
joined them.
Cal turned back to Pete. "Come on down when you finish
here."
For
a moment, Pete thought he saw a flash of concern in his
brother’s
eyes. His jaw tightened. Cal was four years younger—his
little brother,
no matter how tall and broad he’d turned out to be. Concern
from him
wasn’t acceptable. "Yeah, okay," he growled. "Shouldn’t
take
long."
Cal’s
brow furrowed, then he shrugged. "Okay, then, see you
later."
Docia
was already headed for the door, Allie at her elbow. Pete
watched Cal
catch up to her so that he could open the door before she
got to it.
She turned slightly to look back at him, her lips curving
up in a faint
smile as their gazes met.
Well,
goddamn. He hated being jealous of his little
brother.
Across
the table, Janie Dupree cleared her throat.
Pete
started. He hadn’t noticed she was still there.
Janie
gave him a smile that didn’t entirely reach her eyes and
wasn’t
nearly as charming as Docia’s. "I thought maybe the two of
us should
touch base, just to make sure we’re taking care of all the
things
that need to be done before the wedding."
Pete
picked up his bottle of Bud, feeling a slight prickle
around his conscience.
"What ‘things’ would those be?" He took a long pull,
letting
lukewarm beer slide down his throat.
Janie’s
smile tightened to a thin line. Her eyes narrowed
further. "You mean
you weren’t kidding? You really haven’t got a clue about
what you’re
supposed to do?"
"I
know what I’m supposed to do," Pete snapped. "I’m supposed
to
stand next to my baby brother, carry the ring for him and
stay out of
the way. Like I said, if he needs anything else, he’ll let
me know."
Janie
looked down at the table top, tapping her fingers in a
tight rhythm.
"Carry the ring? Do you even know what their plans are
about a ring
bearer? Why do I bother to ask—obviously you don’t. At one
point
they were going to use Cal’s dog."
The
beer bottle almost slipped through Pete’s fingers, but he
managed
to catch it before it hit the table top. "His dog? That
rodent?"
Janie’s
eyes blazed. "Pep is not a rodent. He’s a sweetheart. He
may be
a Chihuahua, but he’s got the heart of a tiger."
Pete
raised his hand, leaning back slightly. "Okay, okay. He’s a
champ.
But you’re telling me they’re going to have the dog carry
the ring
instead of me?"
"They
talked about it." Janie shrugged. "I think they changed
their minds.
The point is, you need to find that stuff out. It’s your
job."
Pete’s
shoulders tightened. His job. Actually, his job was
handling a case
load that would have flattened the average county attorney.
His job
was putting low-life assholes where they couldn’t do any
more damage
and making sure they stayed there. His job—which he
currently wasn’t
doing because The Wedding had demanded all his time.
"My
job," he said through gritted teeth, "is to do anything Cal
asks
me to do and otherwise stay out of the way, like I
said."
"You’re
not going to help at all?" Janie’s hands were spread on the
table
in front of her. Her eyes bored into him like laser beams—
he figured
he should have been a pile of ashes by then.
He
shrugged. "Hey, if you think something needs to be done, go
to it.
Doesn’t look like you need any help from me. You’re doing a
hell
of a job here, tiny."
He
watched Janie Dupree’s hands turn to fists. She almost
looked like
she might slug him. For a moment, Pete wondered if that
last crack had
gone too far. She wasn’t all that short. Maybe five feet or
so. Instead
of slugging him, she pushed herself up from the booth and
stood looking
down at him, her lips a grim line. Then she turned and
stalked toward
the door.
Oh
well, just another client he’d disappointed. These days
that was par
for the course.