Page 26 of Tell Them Emily Sent You
A door to what he assumed was the office swung open just enough for a man in his midthirties to poke his head into the room.He stared at Corbin.
Corbin stared back.
“You here for the wedding?”the man asked.He was British, and obviously one of the wedding party.
“Emily’s wedding?More or less,” Corbin said, not wanting to appear like he was a family friend.
The man nodded.“We’ll be back later, when the heat is off.But keep your eye out.We need all the help we can get.”
Corbin didn’t have the slightest idea how to respond, but the point was moot, because as soon as the man finished speaking, he withdrew his head and quietly closed the door.
“Well, that was odd.”He thought for a moment, then decided it was nothing to do with him, and returned to dealing with business.
FANG BAXTER: Garden
“I’m worried.”
“Eh.”Devon, who had strolled around the hotel to the minuscule back garden, leaned on a waist-high fence and looked out into sunlit hills.“It’s just cold feet.We all get them.It’ll be OK once the wedding is over.Until then, just remind yourself that if it wasn’t for Emily, you’d end up marrying someone good for you.”
It took Fang a moment to work through the sentence, mostly because Devon had insisted on toasting the bride with a few nips of whiskey, and although Fang wasn’t close to inebriated, he could feel his normal level of reserve had melted away into nothing.“Actually, I’m not worried about marrying Em at all.She may not be perfect, but we suit each other.I’m worried that she’s going to regret not having her father here for the actual ceremony.”
“Now, that is a valid concern,” Devon said, plopping down at a white metal table, and pulling out a flask.
He offered it to Fang, who shook his head.He was as fond of a stag-do buzz as the next man, but he felt a bit more responsibility in the role of groom.
“Have you talked about it at all with her?”Devon continued.
Fang slowly pulled out a second chair and moved it into the shade before sitting.“Yes.And she insists that it’s what she wants.”
“It can’t be that she’s avoiding your question, because Emily always says everything she’s thinking, so either she’s lying or you’re worrying unduly.I’d say it’s the latter.”
It was on the tip of Fang’s tongue to tell his oldest friend that Emily had matured during the last sixteen years, but decided it wasn’t important at that moment.“I love the fact that she tells me everything, to be honest.I never have liked people who put on masks to go along with what they think you want.I may never know what Emily is going to say, but I do know that what it is will be truthful.”
Devon, still holding the flask, pointed at him.“You’re ripped, mate.You’d never let that sort of grammar by if you were sober.”
“Slightly ripped,” Fang corrected.“And since I want to enjoy the stag do, I think I’ll pass on any more right now, thanks.”
“Smart.I’m not nearly so sage,” Devon said, and took another swig.“So if it’s not the thing with Brother—no, wait, Emily said he’s going by a nom de plume for this trip.What’s his name?”
Fang felt a sigh rise up.“Detective Inspector Mortimer.I think.Something like that.”
Just as he was speaking, a van pulled into the delivery lot, and three men emerged.Fang didn’t pay them much mind, assuming they were bringing supplies for the wedding and meals.
“Right, so if it’s not DI Mortimer being on the trail of ...what, notorious jewel thieves?...thus missing your wedding, then what is really causing you to look a good ten years older than normal?”
“Christ,” Fang said, running a hand through his hair.“I had no idea I look like hell.Emily told me this morning that my bare chest—never mind.It’s not important.I just wish Henry—Detective Inspector Mortimer—would get here in time, but I guess I’m going to have to let it go.He’ll get here when he gets here.”
The first of the men from the van was staggering in with a large black bin but paused when Fang spoke, and shot him a wild look before turning to face the van.The man was dressed in black cargo trousers patterned with hot pink turtles.Or lizards.Or perhaps dinosaurs.Fang eyed him for few seconds, wondering if he was planning on wearing the same trousers at the reception dinner.
“It’s going to be hell having the ole inspector for a father-in-law, you know,” Devon said, leaning back in his chair, gazing out at the hilly fields that rolled back from the town.
The man with the turtle trousers scurried back to the van, still holding his bin.
“I don’t see why,” Fang said after several moments’ thought.His brain felt a little slow, like it was floating in molasses.He definitely needed to stay away from Devon’s flask.“Henry and I took each other’s number many years ago.We get along pretty well, although he does tend to get a bit bossy telling me that I’m far too young to think of fatherhood.”
Two of the other van men slid around the back of the vehicle, and stood with their heads close together as they faced the hotel.
“But you and Em don’t want kids,” Devon said, shooting him a questioning look.
