Page 125 of A Dead End Wedding

Body fluids . . . "The diaper," I said.

They both looked at me. "What?"

"The diaper. There was a smelly diaper under the seats near us. Maybe the killer was a parent who brought his or her baby along, and you can find a clue in the diaper," I said, not realizing until the words came out of my mouth how stupid they sounded.

Deputy Simmers rolled her eyes and stalked off. "I'll get some tea. You watch her for more shock or something."

Bethany shook her head. Her smile had vanished. "Ms. Vaughn," she said gently. "The body . . . releases after death, especially after a violent death like that. The smell was?—"

I held one hand up in the air, and the other near my mouth in case my now-roiling stomach gave up the fight to keep from shooting acid everywhere. "Oh,God. I get it. I get it. Please stop. Please stop. I've had such a long day."

When my fear of hurling on, well,neara crime scene passed, I wrapped my arms around my knees and rocked back and forth, waiting for someone to tell me I could go home.

I'd never wanted to go home so badly in my entire life.

27

By the time I'd quit shivering, the place was crawling with official-looking personnel. I'd never known how many people were part of a crime scene. Police and sheriff-type people were all over the place. Some hard-looking men in rumpled suits. A woman in a suit — I had her pegged to be an assistant State Attorney. Fire and Rescue. Crime scene investigators. People with FDLE – Florida Department of Law Enforcement – insignia.

A wave of unreality washed over me. It felt like I'd fallen through a rabbit hole into one of those TV shows with the fake corpses. I expected to see Marg Helgenberger show up at any minute.

"I love her," I mumbled.

"This is December Vaughn, sir. She found the body." Deputy Blissful was back, standing stiffly at attention next to an older man who had board-straight posture.

Murder makes for good posture, I guess. I stifled the hysterical laughter that tried to bubble up through my lips.

"I'm Detective Harris. Can you stand up now, Ms. Vaughn?" he asked

I realized I was still sitting on the floor. No wonder everyone seemed so tall.

"Yes, sorry. It's kind of . . . I never, well, I never saw a dead body before. I never smelled one, either."

"How did you know the deceased?"

"I didn't. Well, I talked to him on the phone. Maybe I talked to him on the phone. I'm not really sure. Who is he?"

Harris and the deputy traded a look, as if trying to decide what to tell me. "His name is Richard Dack. Sound familiar?"

I shook my head. "No, I never knew his name. If that is the man I was here to meet."

Simmers narrowed her eyes. "What are you saying? This was some kind of mid-day blind date?"

"No, that's ridiculous. I was meeting him to discuss a case. Again, if it's even the same man. The man I was supposed to meet works for Orange Grove Productions. He wanted to tell me about an invoice in a case I'm working on."

Harris's eyes had sharpened when I mentioned Orange Grove Productions. "Dack worked for that company. He had business cards in his pocket. You'd better tell us about the case."

I explained the little I knew about the invoice with the wrong date, but I got the feeling they quit paying attention to me about the time I said "clerical error." Then Harris stopped to talk in a quiet voice to one of his men, then turned back toward me. "Tell me about your drug seller associates."

Oh, crap. Here we go again.

Nearly two hours later, they finally let me go, with my assurances I wasn't leaving town soon. I almost threw up in the parking lot when I realized the last time I'd sat in the car, I hadn't known what dead bodies looked like.

Or smelled like.

My stomach calmed down enough that I got in the car and head for the office. As obscene as it seemed to me to be going on with my day when poor Richard Dack was lying dead in a morgue somewhere, I didn't know what else to do.

About halfway to the office, my cell phone started ringing. I glanced at my purse, wondering if I had the strength to answer my phone. After three or four rings, I finally dug it out with one hand and answered. "Max?"

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