Wedding Belles. Beth Albright

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      4

      Vivi and I flew back to her house, not even caring about the speed limit. We had a serious appointment with Google on my laptop.

      We went inside, and Vivi got the going-to-war food of cookies and iced tea, while I ran up and grabbed my computer. After a couple of hours of snooping, I located one Tressa Mae Hartman in Birmingham, Alabama. Her age matched the woman we were looking for, and when we clicked on images after entering her name, we both nearly fell out of our chairs.

      The picture that popped up on my screen was of a woman in her early thirties, brassy reddish-blond hair, frosted lips and a pound of eye shadow in shiny blue. Her pink cheeks made her look like the Little Drummer Boy, and she was wearing a bedazzled string bikini in camouflage...with a beeper from about 1990 attached to her hip. She was pointing at the camera like her finger was a pistol.

      Vivi and I were physically unable to close our mouths. For several seconds.

      I broke through my shocked stupor first. “Wow, I sure as hell thought Lewis had better taste than that, bless her heart.”

      Vivi shook her head. “I’d say she’s had a nip and tuck and then some.”

      “I didn’t even know implants came in those sizes,” I mused. “Surely they’re not real. How does she even stay upright?”

      “Somehow, I don’t think upright is her favorite position,” Vivi groused.

      “Now, Vivi, come on...” I chided, but I couldn’t hold back the fit of giggles that burst out of me. Once we’d managed to get our breaths back, Vivi turned back to the screen.

      “It says here she’s a bar singer. And who names her kid after a shampoo, anyway?”

      “I do believe there’s a bar singer in Birmingham who’s fixin’ to get the surprise of her life,” I said. “We’re gonna have us a road trip.”

      My cell phone rang. It was Sonny Bartholomew, Tuscaloosa’s chief homicide investigator, my old high-school sweetheart and now full-time man of my dreams. As with the news of my separation, I’d been trying my best to keep my deepening relationship with Sonny under wraps while Harry was running for Senate, because, well, news of the candidate’s wife embroiled in a smokin’-hot love affair with the chief of Homicide doesn’t really help the campaign.

      But the minute that election was over, my life would begin again.

      “Hey, handsome,” I said. “I hope you’re having a better day than we are.”

      “Well, it’s a hard day for a cop, too. We’re at the boat, and we’ve turned up some pretty substantial evidence on the Walter Aaron case.”

      “Oh, my God, Sonny, I forgot to tell you. I have a meeting with them in just a few minutes!”

      “What’s going on?” he asked.

      “Well, it’s a bit much to go into over the phone. If you’re going to be at the river for a while, I could meet you after the Aarons leave.”

      “Okay, beautiful, I’ll be here.” He hung up.

      I loved how Sonny treated me. I know he couldn’t go into a lot of detail on an ongoing case, but, as much as it was allowed, he was willing to mix business with pleasure. He was able to work with me on some things, but he never demanded all the credit for something that I discovered. He always let me shine, too. So completely different from Harry.

      “Vivi, sweetie, I gotta run out to the river for this case I’m working on. You and Lewis are still okay as far as time to file for the wedding license goes. We will get this girl to sign the annulment papers, and everything will be all right. I promise. We’ll go up to Birmingham as soon as we can. Just hang on tight. I’ll call you later.” It was already late in the day and I still had my real job to get to.

      * * *

      I arrived at my office and parked in the back, as usual. Heat rose up in shimmering waves from the pavement. СКАЧАТЬ