Page 127 of A Dead End Wedding

"Then who is? And where is my car? I really don't want to be obligated to anybody for the loan of that Beemer anymore, Jake. I can't even pay my rent yet. Plus, who knows when somebody will decide to paint this new car?" I took a deep breath. "I hate coincidences. I don't believe in coincidences. Something is totally going on here."

He narrowed his eyes. "I'm thinking you need a security camera that covers your parking lot, especially if you're going to work late. I'll have Wrench stop by and set you up."

I shook my head. "I can't afford it. Seriously, I'll keep an eye out, but no more help or hardware, Jake."

"Okay. No more free rides. When you need investigative services, you use my firm. It's like a referral network. How's that?"

I wasn't too proud or too stupid to take advantage of the easy fix for my pride. "Okay, if you're really sure. I have to admit I'd be glad to have a little extra security. This is all getting to me in a big way."

"All right. I'm out of here. But if you need something, call me. You have my cell phone number."

I stood up to shake his hand. "Thanks, Brody. I mean it. You've been great, for whatever weird reasons you have."

He ignored my hand and reached out and tugged gently on a strand of my hair. "I'm just a weird guy, Vaughn. And you're welcome."

Then he left, leaving me standing there, staring after him, trying to think of all the reasons getting more deeply involved with him on any level was a bad idea.

At that very moment, I couldn't think of a single one.

28

Since I couldn't concentrate, I didn't stay long at the office. We all packed up and left together at around five. Then I went home and climbed into bed and stayed there the rest of the night, only waking up long enough to drink a glass of milk and take a couple of Tylenol.

Maybe it was the shock, or maybe it was the sheer exhaustion, but I didn't dream at all.

In the morning, I woke up before the alarm went off and stared at the clock, wondering what had happened to me. Stalkers, humiliation in court, and dead bodies. I thought that leaving my boring life, boring job, and boring husband in Ohio had been the worst mistake of my life.

I showered and got ready for work in a weird funk, unable to shake the sadness and feeling of loss that swamped me. I had to work on Charlie's case today and file for a restraining order in Mrs. Zivkovich's case, and work on any number of details in mypro bonocases. I didn't have time to feel sorry for myself, or homesick, or whatever I was feeling.

One mental pep talk and one stale English muffin later, I was out the door, only to stop dead and stare in surprise. The BMWwas gone, and my ugly Honda was back in my driveway. Except it wasn't as ugly.

It was . . . pink.

Hot pink.

Emily stepped outside and waved hello, then started across her lawn toward me. I met her halfway. "Let me guess – you have my keys again?"

She laughed. "Yes, I saw that very nice Jake Brody when I went for my morning jog. Here are your keys, and he said to tell you the cameras are installed, whatever that means."

"Did he explain why my car looks like a giant bottle of Pepto-Bismol?"

We both looked at the car. "I think it looks cute," she said. "Plus, you'll never, ever have to worry about confusing it with somebody else's car at the mall. That happens to me all the time with the minivan."

I blinked. "But . . . it's pink. PINK! I'm a trial lawyer. I can't drive a pink car. I'll be laughed out of court."

I remembered the fiasco of the day before. "Again.

Emily laughed again. "I'm sure all the other lawyers will be jealous. Anyway, I tried to call you but your cell phone said messages over the limit or something. Did you turn it off?"

"Well, kind of. It was a long day. What's up?"

"Oh, we just wanted to see if you felt like going to a picnic with us this weekend. No rush to decide; just let me know sometime by Saturday." A sudden shriek pierced the air from her house, and she rolled her eyes. "Guess I'd better go. That was the 'Joker is ready to hit Ricky in the head with something' shriek. Have fun in your cool car."

She walked back toward her house. Only Emily would think a hot pink car was cool. Then again, she was a poker queen, so shewaskind of trendy . . .

Shrugging, I headed for my neon car, chanting my new mantra: "Minor detail. Minor detail. Minor detail."

By the time I made coffee and turned on my computer, Mr. Ellison showed up at the office and came thundering down the hall to my office, yelling my name. "December! December, are you here yet?"

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