Double Jeopardy (Silent Partner series Book 3) Page 3

  “We’re going to Chateau Unique,” squealed Callie. “It’s all arranged. Charlie and Beau will go to the in-laws and we’ll have the weekend to luxuriate before you and Finn become Mr. and Mrs.”

  “Wow,” was all I could say. Then it occurred to me, “How can we afford this?”

  “Auntie Lee is one of their vendors. She provides herbs, elixirs of all kinds, plus their secret blend of tea. She pulled a few strings and voila!”

  I hugged my besties and sat down to let all of this sink in. I instinctively pulled out my I-phone with a check list. Was everything accounted for? I think so except for a babysitter for Nemo. Having him was a lot like having a baby.

  Weeks ago, Callie asked me to block that weekend supposedly to babysit Charlie but now it all made sense. I was about to burst to tell them that Finn and I were headed to Cuba for our honeymoon. Alas I was sworn to secrecy. Plus I wasn’t really deceiving them, Cuba is in the Caribbean isn’t it? I still needed the same clothes, sandals, and a pedicure.

  I left Callie’s excited but with a little guilt about not being completely honest. What would Maggie say? She wasn’t very good at keeping secrets either. My sister was the type who would write anonymous letters and absent mindedly sign them. Maggie was a push-over. I only hope I don’t disappoint Finn and spill the beans.

  10

  Fifteen days and I will be Ms. Phineas Latham, Jr. It’s a big name with a big reputation to match. I’ve had third and fourth thoughts about this match. I love Finn with all my heart but am I what he needs to succeed in business? My father’s questionable background could surely be a thorn in his side – not to mention a step sister-in-law who is certifiably nuts.

  Why these doubts now? I guess it’s better now than after the wedding or is it?

  I poured my heart out in the journal I started keeping in the New Year. One day when we have kids running all over the place, I’ll reread this piffle and laugh but I’m not there yet.

  Someone slid an envelope under the door. I opened it to find two airline tickets to Havana and a reservation at the Havana Riviera. I looked it up in Travel Advisor and it was rated as one of the best. The cruise ship stayed two days in the harbor so it worked out perfectly.

  Since Natalie and I spent a paycheck at Victoria Secrets, I at last had some decent lingerie for the honeymoon. I’m glad I also opted for a comfy robe and gown set. That would be a must for the spa weekend with the girls. Of course, it was in my signature color – bubble gum pink or as Callie dubbed it ‘Barbie pink.’

  My check list was growing smaller and that make me happy. I still hadn’t come up with a place for Nemo. I approached Finn with my dilemma.

  “Why don’t you ask Mom?” was his solution.

  “Phyl says she is allergic,” I answered.

  “But she takes pills for that. We had dogs when I was growing up,” Finn ignored my protests.

  “All the appropriate places are booked, and time is running out,” I moaned. “I have to find somewhere that he’ll be happy or I won’t enjoy our time away.”

  “I’ll handle it,” Finn said. He gave me the looked that said ‘no more talk about this.’ We finished our dessert and went furniture shopping.

  Finn and I had measured my apartment many times to see how our combination of furniture would fit. We decided to keep my bedroom suite and the sofa, but all else would have to be scaled down to accommodate his entertainment center, 60” flat screen with speakers, and a curio cabinet that belonged to a great grandmother somewhere in the Anderson lineage.

  We shopped for a dining table with leaf extensions that didn’t look like the 50ish green Formica one that I inherited. All of the ones that would be acceptable were out of our price range so we settled for a table that attached to the wall and could be let down when company came. Most of our dinners were eaten in front of the flat screen with our feet propped up on the ottoman. We’d buy some foldable chairs for entertaining and that was that until we could afford more.

  We had more than enough kitchen stuff – duplicates of coffee makers, toasters, skillets, and casserole dishes. The Andersons presented us with the family china so we were set. I boxed up duplicates, jelly glasses, and extra kitchen ware. We did the same for towels, linens, and pillows. I was the pack rat and he was the minimalist. Opposites attract and in our case - polar opposites. One of the Beacon’s interns was entrusted with delivering the boxes to Good Will.

  One more item checked off. Now I was ready for the spa weekend. Finn was babysitting Nemo which seemed to make them both happy. I had my items packed and it was off to Chateau Unique for two glorious days of pampering, pummeling, and polishing. Gosh I could have been an ad writer.

  11

  Crimson, our borrowed van, bulged with us. Beau had enough breast milk to tide Charlie over until next year. Nemo was happy with Finn. Natalie was the only one who didn’t have a dependent. We were heady with the possibilities ahead. I was elated. The closest I’ve ever gotten to a spa was a loofa sponge from Dollar General.

  Chateau Unique had done a big campaign about their V-steam special and mugwort tea. I was anxious to try both – of course I had no idea what either of them entailed. The spa was owned and run by Korean ladies who wore tiny black silk robes which barely covered the ‘subject.’

  At Chateau Unique we were ushered into changing rooms and greeted by an Asian lady whom everyone addressed as adjuma. Adjuma disrobed revealing only a black bra and panties. I later learned that adjuma is a Korean title for middle-aged mother.

  Adjuma motioned for us to go into our separate stalls and disrobe. I requested a towel and was given something akin to a potato sack that covered nothing including my embarrassment.

  Next door I heard a lot of scuffling accompanied by Korean words. Callie yelled, “What is this foolishness? I want a real towel. Don’t touch me. I just had a baby.”

  More raised voices came from next door with the words JjimJil Bang bandied about. When Callie joined us in the massage room, she was grasping several of the burlap bags to cover her middle. Stretch marks are not attractive even in a size four. We averted Callie’s gaze, she was NOT a happy camper.

  Natalie fumed and mumbled some unladylike language as her adjuma pointed to a table in the treatment room. I stretched the scratchy, jute rag over my genitalia and joined Callie on what looked like a slab. We were a not-very-merry company lying on slabs staring at the ceiling. All of us were butt naked in front of God and everybody. Privacy was not in our wheelhouse. No one spoke. It was quiet, way too quiet.

  Our female version of an Asian Hitler was to be my masseuse. I was mortified when she removed my loin cloth and washed me vigorously everywhere and I DO mean everywhere. Meanwhile I calculated the number of ceiling tiles. Afterward, our little group was herded into a crock pot and cooked until fork tender or a dangerous shade of red – whichever came first.

  The sauna awaited us after being exfoliated within an inch of our lives. Our benevolent despot finally served the mugwort tea that they advertised so widely. It tasted like boiled socks. Ah but the best was yet to come.

  After the tea, we were given another vigorous salt rub down. This removed another layer of epidermis. Each of us was then pummeled and massaged like Kobe beef. Adjuma then took a paintbrush and bathed me in what I can only describe as a mixture of green tea and skunk.

  When our pores had absorbed the stench, we were marched off to the shower like mindless robots, still in the buff. Finally we were given a genuine terry cloth towel.

  Just when I thought we were on the homestretch, another underwear model led us to a room containing pots of steaming herbs. The pots were low to the ground. I pondered how my face would reach it. The pondering was short-lived as our Korean despot reappeared to take away the rest of our dignity. She motioned for us to sit down. I was first in line and I balked.

  Adjuma yelled, “Chai-yok.”

  “Tea?”

  Another mug of tea was not her meaning. She only pointed and shouted “Chai-yok”
louder. Why do these people always sound mad?

  “Chai-yok. Chai-yok.” She motioned for me to sit.

  Like a flash of enlightenment, I remembered the V-steam special. These supposed vaginal cleansings were gaining popularity in the U.S. especially among celebrities. Gwyneth Paltrow gave v-steam high marks for holistic cleansing and sexual stimulation.

  I trusted Gwyneth so I put my tooty at risk and with much hesitation, I eased my naked koochie over the steaming cauldron. The adjuma spread my cheeks and adjusted my crotch. OMG! My pubic area hadn’t had this much attention in twenty years.

  “Not bad,” I lied to my besties.

  “For real?” Natalie asked. I nodded clenching my fists as hyperthermia engulfed my lady-parts. This was not the experience I had imagined. Nevertheless, here we were, now to make the best of it. I hid my face as my girlfriends each straddled the steaming pot of herbs. No one was willing to admit that their twat was baking. We were all playing a game of chicken with the winner having a singed vagina.

  “Wait till I tell the gals at work about this,” another client yelled. Yes there were others in the room besides us. Lot of others.

  “I’ll bet this is what hell is like for adulterers and prostitutes,” chimed another.

  I silently wondered if anyone had ever died sitting on this pot from perdition. After hours it seemed, a bell signaled our reprieve. One by one we were taken to yet another private room where the undie models handed us bottles of water – what I really needed was a tub of ice.

  Just when I thought our day was over. We were given yet another massage, still stark-naked, as well as a facial (actually on our face) by a member of the black bra and panties brigade. I was more than ready when we were dismissed. We bolted to the dressing room to examine our charred remains. My mood was between horror and laughter.

  Back in Crimson, Natalie summed up our day at the Korean spa. “I hereby decree that we never, I repeat, never speak about this humiliating experience to any soul.”

  Fortunately we had another 24 hours to recover from the twat singeing experience. I prayed none of my IMPORTANT lady parts weren’t injured. My honeymoon was only days away.

  “Wow that was some different spa,” I said when we got returned to our hotel room. Callie did an impersonation of our North Korean adjuma complete with gestures. Natalie and I roared until we almost peed our pajamas. The more we tried to change the subject, the worse the giggling became.

  Luckily the only thing left on the spa agenda was a hand and foot treatment complete with a spa pedicure and manicure.

  “Will you ever tell Finn about this?” Natalie asked.

  “Maybe one day, but not any time soon,” I replied.

  “You should write an article about the spa,” Callie mused, “and call it the Tale of the Red Hot Mamas, pun intended.”

  “Very funny, we’re late for our pedicures.”

  12

  By the next day my red bum was back to pink and I could sit down without too much discomfort. I would never trust Gwyneth again. How my twin would have enjoyed this ‘joke on us.’ Maggie was the only person I knew who could play a joke and then look perfectly innocent. Her reputation of being so pure and blameless got her out of many scrapes. Me – not so much. I always look guilty even if I didn’t do anything.

  Only five days until the big event. The Andersons had taken care of everything – the catering, the flowers, the music, the decorations, our wedding attire, the invitations, and the honeymoon. Finn and I hadn’t discussed the Cuba trip any more so I assumed that everything was ready. We updated our passports. I packed the tickets and the confirmation to the Havana hotel. I had a final fitting for my wedding dress. Finn’s best man, his dad, was charged with getting the tuxes for the groomsmen. When I raised the subject of Nemo, Finn assured me that it was handled.

  April came and with it the proverbial showers. Not to worry, Phyl had a plan B if the weather didn’t cooperate. But I shouldn’t have given it a thought, our wedding day was perfect – the weather, the ceremony, the service, the photographer, and the reception. The entire Anderson home was bathed in a soft pink light with flowers in every imaginable corner. Ivory calla lilies blended with the baby pink tea roses which cast a soft veil everywhere. Natalie’s olive skin glowed again her icy pink halter dress. She carried one calla lily and I was a little afraid she’d steal my thunder.

  Finn beamed as I joined him in front of Reverend Bender from First Church. We had agreed on a short service. Finn’s dad was nervous as best man. I didn’t have anyone to ‘give me away’ so we skipped that part. When we were pronounced man and wife, Phyl cried into her lace handkerchief. I tried not to cry so the pictures afterward would be decent. My thoughts for the moment went to Maggie and my mom. Please God let them look down on this my happiest moment.

  When the photographer was through with us, Finn and I mingled with our guests. The reception was held under an enormous white tent with lights and flowers everywhere. In the reception line Finn busied himself introducing me to friends from college and from his business venture in New York after graduation.

  Chief Harden and Mrs. Harden were coming through the receiving line to greet us. As they passed Phyl and Phineas, the chief received a phone call. He momentarily stepped out of line.

  “I hate to do this Finn, but I have just received orders that I have to arrest you for the murder of Richard Kenman. I know you aren’t guilty but forensics has evidence that you had access and opportunity to the thallium poison that killed him. Please come quietly. I won’t put handcuffs on you.” He looked at the Andersons and mouthed “so sorry.” We all had tears in our eyes.

  “Chief, you’ve known me all of my life. You know I didn’t do this,” Finn protested.

  “I know my boy, but we have to wade through all the protocols and do things by the book.”

  Finn took himself out of the line, kissed his mother, hugged his father and kissed me one last time. I was Mrs. Phineas Latham Anderson, III and my new husband was going to jail.

  13

  I was forbidden to go to the police station until the preliminaries were taken care of. So when I finished a good long crying jag, I went to our apartment and changed clothes. With nothing better to do I viewed the digital photographs that our photographer had taken. He gave me an advanced copy on a thumb drive.

  I inserted the thumb drive into my laptop and really got to ‘see’ the wedding. That’s one thing everyone forgets, the bride is cloistered during most of the goings on. Only now could I truly appreciate all the work and thoughtfulness that went into our wedding – both the planning and the execution. Also it was a good way to try and forget that my husband of a few hours was arrested for murdering a friend he hadn’t seen in decades.

  There was Auntie Lee in the mother of the bride position. She glowed in her aqua caftan. I couldn’t think of anyone else who could occupy that space. On the other side was Phyl also beaming in chartreuse silk. Only she could pull off that shade of green. Natalie was illuminated like I’d never seen her. That shade of pink really showed off her olive complexion – thanks in part to her Italian heritage.

  Callie was beaming in her pale-yellow empire waist as she still had a little pregnancy weight to lose. Charlie was so worth it though. Beau was at her side most of the time when he could pass off Charlie to his parents or other doting relatives.

  The chandeliers, candles, flowers, ribbons and lace were all done to perfection. What more could I expect? But wait there WAS a face in the back row – a familiar face. Where was that magnifying glass? It couldn’t be who it looked like. But it really looked like Merry Bell, my half-sister who was supposed to be locked up. Now how in the hades did that happen?

  I popped in a Hazelnut coffee pod and waited the two minutes for a cuppa. How could I be sure that this was my demented sister who had tasered my father and electrocuted a hand bell instructor?

  Drat. I needed a close up of some of these group shots. The thought that someone could get a ‘get out of
jail free’ card to attend my wedding was making me crazy. Where was that photographer’s business card?

  My cell rang and the caller ID showed Phylomena Anderson. I couldn’t talk to her right now. I had too many secrets and I was a blabbermouth when it came to a crisis. Everything I knew seemed to spill out. The caterers had made us up a basket for the honeymoon trip. I uncovered it now looking for chocolate to drown my sorrows. Poor Finn – in jail in a tuxedo – totally humiliated in front of most of the town. Chief Harden was nearly in tears as they pulled away. What to do about all of our reservations? And what new information had they found that put them onto Finn as the murderer?

  Our new king size bed had been delivered. I ordered the best 500 thread-count sheets and a quilt duvet that was way overpriced. Now I didn’t even want to go into that room. Nemo and I would bunk on the sofa together. Nemo – he was still at the Andersons. I suppose I should give in and phone Phyl back. Maybe they knew something and even if they didn’t I needed to retrieve my puppy.

  “Phyl, dear. It’s me returning your call. I need to retrieve Nemo and see if Chief Harden has relayed any news about Finn. I would love to go and pick Finn up and go on our honeymoon.” I was leaving a message on her voice mail. She must have been otherwise engaged. I didn’t feel comfortable just going over without a heads up. The household plus all the hired help for the wedding would be in clean up mode. Phyl probably took to her bed and Phineas is probably smoking a cigar on the patio and calling everyone he knows – like judges, lawyers, and the like. I wouldn’t want to be one of them. Mr. A can be a tough cookie and turn back into the Curmudgeon we all know and not love.

  About two hours later, I got a call back from Mr. A.

  “Mollie.”

  “Yes sir.”

  “Finn is in Precinct One. He is allowed visitation rights only from immediate family. Since you’re his wife, that’s you. I’ve had to call the doctor for Phyl. She’s not taking any of this well as you can imagine. Visiting hours are until 9:00 pm today so I thought you’d want to take advantage of the chance to see Finn. I’ve spoken with him. We have a plan and he’ll fill you in on what’s been decided thus far,” Mr. A paused.