Page 124 of A Dead End Wedding

Dead.

I fell back against the wall just outside the planetarium and stared at the people hovering near me. "I just poked the arm of a dead man," I said, then burst into tears.

"Can you tell me your name? And what you saw?" The woman frowning down at me was way too pretty to be a sheriff's deputy, but that's what her uniform said. Her hair, severely pulled back in a ponytail, said she was all business. Her name tag said her name was SMITH-SIMMERS.

Her expression said she was annoyed with me.

"Join the club, Simmers," I muttered.

"Excuse me, Ma'am?" she said, leaning closer.

"I'm December Vaughn. Is that your real name?" I asked her. "I mean, Smith-Simmers, really? Is it Deputy Smith-Simmers?"

She blinked. "Yes, it's Deputy. Or you can call me Brenda. Ma'am, are you okay?"

I clamped my teeth together to keep them from chattering so hard they broke. It was suddenly so cold in the museum. Freezing. "Deputy Brenda, when did they turn the air conditioning up so high? Was it to keep him . . . was it to keep the body fresh for evidence?"

I laughed. Or at least I think I was laughing. But the tears kept rolling down my face. The deputy's eyes widened, and she called out to somebody standing behind her. "Hey, Bethany! Get over here. I think she's in shock."

An EMT carrying a blanket rushed over and bent down to take my pulse. She smiled at me, all calm and peacefulness. "My name is Bethany Hilkert. Can you remember that?"

"How d-d-d-d-do you d-d-d-do it?" I asked while she wrapped a blanket around me.

"Do what?"

"How do you stay so calm when you see dead people? You must see a lot of dead people, and you're so calm, and that was my first one, and I d-d-d-don't . . . I d-don't . . ." I started crying again and scrubbed at my face. "Some tough trial lawyer, huh?"

She patted my shoulder. "We focus on the ones we can help. That's what keeps us calm. We have to stay calm to do a good job. Now, do you remember my name?"

I sniffled. "Brenda Smith. No, Simmers-Smith. No, Smith-Simmers." I gave up, frustrated. "I don't remember."

She looked over her shoulder at the deputy. "Bliss, she's a little confused. I'd like to get something warm to drink inside her before you ask your questions."

The deputy nodded grimly. "Fine, but she doesn't go anywhere. Her name is December Vaughn."

I wasn't quite following the conversation. I kept seeing the man's head falling to the side, with his neck gaping open in a way necks shouldn't gape.

Ever.

"Who's Bliss?"

The EMT smiled again. She was awfully cheerful, considering somebody had just died. "I'm Bethany, remember? Deputy Smith-Simmers is a friend of mine, and her nickname is Bliss."

A fresh wave of teeth chattering hit me, and my whole body was shaking so hard it felt like I had the worst flu of my life. But the name confusion seemed like the most important thing. I had to sort it out. I had to think about something other than the neck gaping and gaping and the blood . . .

"Bliss Simmers? Are you a stripper?"

The deputy looked kind of offended. "With a name like December, you have the nerve to ask me that?"

Probably a bad idea to tick off a deputy at a murder scene, right? Oh, crap."Am I a suspect? I watch CSI. I'll take a polygraph test. I'll take lots of polygraphs. You can have my fingerprints and everything. Do you need my DNA? You can scrape whatever you want out of my mouth."

I opened my mouth as wide as I could and sat there, mouth open, eyes clenched shut. Nobody scraped me, though, so I opened one eye.

Deputy Simmers stood there, hands on hips, sighing. "I hate that freaking CSI. Every freaking place I go, people are offering me their freaking DNA. Do you know how freaking much DNA tests freaking cost?"

Bethany laughed and stood up. "I think you should carry Q-tips around and swab everybody just to make them happy."

The deputy shuddered. "Like I want all those nasty body fluids anywhere near me. Get real."

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