Page 154 of A Dead End Wedding

Driving . . . something about the parking lot . . .

"Bear!" I said, then wished it hadn't been out loud. All three of the men stared at me.

"There was a bear, too? Besides the alligator?" Connors said, making one of those "you've got to be kidding me," faces.

"No, Bear Anderson, my client. He, um, he stopped by last night, and he was kind of weird. Plus, he knew about my glass collection when he's never been in my house. I was a little creeped out, and he got upset with me."

I quickly filled them in, trying not to notice I just . . . you don't think he'd do something like this?" I looked at Mr. Ellison, the only one of them who knew Bear.

He pursed his lips, thinking, then nodded. "Oh, yeah. That glass thing. Don't worry about that. He called here to the office about getting you a present, and him and Max had a big long talk about glass and horses and chalkboards or something."

Now it all made sense, and I felt bad for my suspicions about poor Bear. "Chalk horses?"

"Yeah, that was it," he said, then he walked outside with Daisy.

"Okay, strike Bear off the list. He got the info about me from my office manager," I said. "December Vaughn, Queen of the Paranoiacs, I guess."

Jake shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans. "You've got good reason to be paranoid these days," he observed.

I smiled weakly. "Yeah. People reallyareout to get me."

By the time Mr. Ellison and Daisy came back inside, mission accomplished, Connors was ready to go. "You have my number," he said. "Call me if you have questions."

"What now?" Jake asked. "Do you want me to take you home?"

"No, we need to go eat barbecue down to the Seniors," Mr. Ellison said.

I looked at Jake and shrugged. "I don't have any better ideas. It's not like I want to hang out here."

As we locked the door and headed for our cars, I looked at Jake. "I just have one question."

He opened the passenger door of his car for Mr. Ellison. "What is it, Vaughn?"

"Do you know anything that will get alligator pee out of a carpet?"

40

We had to park a couple of blocks down from the newly renovated Orange Grove Senior Citizens' Center, because the parking lot and on-street parking were all full. From the lively sounds of conversation and laughter we started hearing when we were still half a block away, it sounded like Aunt Celia's group was throwing a fabulous party.

I wasn't sure I was up for a party, not even a fabulous one.

I trudged down the street behind Jake and Mr. Ellison, who still clutched Daisy like a talisman against evil. Or at least against alligators.

I couldn't believe the puppy was alive at all. She must have some serious lucky streak to have escaped that monster. I realized Jake had dropped back to walk next to me when the air currents around me charged up with electricity. The man must cause miserable static cling in the winter.

"What?" he asked.

I looked up at him. "What, what?"

"What about static cling?"

Oh, crap. That was out loud?

"Nothing. Never mind. My brain – or what's left of it – is wandering. I mean, Yankee go home? What the hell is that? Why do I feel like I'm in an awful movie?"

He shook his head. "I hate to play into melodrama, but I have to agree with you, Vaughn. Somebody is out to get you, and they've hired some low-rent thugs to do it."

"Some low-IQ thugs, if you ask me," I muttered.

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