Death, Taxes, and Sweet Potato Fries Read online

  Back at my town house, I showered and shampooed and did my best to conceal the swollen stings with dabs of makeup. Unfortunately, my best wasn’t good enough. My skin appeared to have sprouted miniature volcanoes all over the place. It was as if God had plagued me with boils for going after someone who worked at one of His schools. Oh, well. There was nothing I could do about it.

  As I headed back out to my car, my cell phone rang with a call from a number I didn’t recognize. I accepted the call. “Hello. Special Agent Holloway.”

  A woman’s voice with a thick accent came over the line. “The girls,” she said, “maybe they in cave in Telephone Canyon.”

  “Is this Camila?” I asked.

  “All I say,” the woman replied. “Girls maybe in cave. Telephone Canyon cave.”

  “Thank you, señora,” I told her. “Gracias. Would you be willing to tell me about Salvador Hidalgo?”

  “No. All I say is girls maybe in cave.”

  “If you change your mind,” I said, “and are willing to tell me more about Salvador Hidalgo, please call me back. Okay?”

  She hung up without responding to my question or saying good-bye.

  I immediately phoned Castaneda again. “I’ve spoken with a woman using the alias Camila Contreras. She mentioned Telephone Canyon, too. She said the girls might be in a cave there.”

  “Thanks for the information,” he said. “After you called earlier, I flew out to the canyon with a couple of agents. We didn’t spot anyone, but there’s lots of brush and washes and boulders out there and it’s easy for people to hide. Plus, we can’t exactly sneak up on them in the Black Hawk. You can hear that thing coming for miles. But we’ll try again tonight with the infrared cameras, and we’ll send agents out in the morning to check the caves.”

  “Good luck,” I told him.

  “We’ll need it,” he said. “Time’s running out, both for keeping Hidalgo in custody and for finding the girls alive.”

  My insides twisted at the thought.

  “Any chance the woman is willing to provide testimony against Hidalgo?” he asked.

  “At this point, no,” I said. “She said the information about the caves was all she’d say.”

  “Damn!” he spat. “But at least if we find the girls, maybe they can provide testimony against Hidalgo.”

  If. For a word of only two letters, it sure could pack a powerful, terrifying message.

  We ended the call, and I set off to deal with something much more pleasant. Dress shopping!

  I arrived at the Neiman’s bridal salon to find my mother and Bonnie already looking over a sampling of dresses. With her chestnut hair and petite build, my mother was essentially an older and slightly heavier version of me. Bonnie, on the other hand, was tall, with dark hair like Nick, though hers contained a gray strand here and there. Unlike Nick’s amber eyes, Bonnie’s were blue.

  “Tara!” my mother cried, rushing forward to embrace me. She’d driven three hours from our hometown of Nacogdoches in east Texas to be here for my dress appointment. I was lucky to have such a devoted mom, and I knew she’d help me pick the perfect dress.

  As my mother grabbed me in a bear hug, Bonnie caught my eye over my mother’s shoulder. The wide smile she bore turned into an open-mouthed shriek. “My lord, Tara! What happened to you?”

  My mother released me, pushing back but holding me in place by my shoulders to get a good look. “Have mercy! Are those boils on your face?”

  “Nothing so Old Testament, thank goodness. I had a run-in with some wasps.”

  “Wasps!” my mother cried, yanking me back into the hug. “Oh, my poor baby! Can I do something?”

  I squirmed in her arms. “You can let me go so I can breathe.”

  She released me again, shaking her head. “How do you always manage to find trouble?”

  Jeez. There’s that question again. “I don’t find trouble. Trouble finds me.”

  The clerk stepped over. “Is this the beautiful bride?” she asked, though the look of barely masked horror on her face belied her words. I was anything but beautiful at the moment. She probably wondered who in his right mind would agree to marry me looking like this.

  I explained the situation. “I upset a swarm of wasps and they let me know it.”

  “Wow,” she said. “That had to hurt.”

  “Like heck.” Fortunately, the Benadryl that Ajay had given me had kicked in and my stings no longer felt so itchy. My skin still throbbed and felt tender, though.

  The clerk turned to the long racks of wedding dresses behind her. “What kind of dress did you have in mind? Traditional? Contemporary? White? Ivory?”

  “I have no idea,” I said. “Other than that I want something that’s not too froufrou.”

  “A simple dress,” she said, nodding in agreement. “That’s perfect for someone with your petite frame. Too many ruffles and poofs can swallow someone your size.”

  She stepped over to a rack and slid several aside before pulling out a strapless mermaid style made of white satin. She held it up.

  I looked it over. “Maybe,” I said. “It’s pretty and I like the style.” Of course, I’d have to see it on to be sure. I knew from years of cruising the clearance racks that some things looked better on the hanger than they did on me and vice versa.

  She carried the gown over to a large dressing room and hung it on a hook inside before returning to the dresses. “When is the wedding?” she asked.

  “We haven’t set a date yet,” I replied. “We’ve got to check with the churches and reception venues first. But we’re aiming for sometime this fall.” Or at least that’s what I had in mind. I was ready to begin my life with Nick now. Nick was an easygoing guy, and he felt the same way I did. We’d agreed to get hitched. Why wait any longer than we had to?

  “A fall wedding,” she said. “Maybe something with a longer sleeve would work then.” She pulled out a dress with a round neckline, full-length sleeves, and a lace overlay.

  I reached out to touch the fabric. A little scratchy, but none of the lace would be touching my skin. “This one’s pretty, too.”

  By the time we’d looked over the selections, I had a dozen dresses to try on, ranging from a slinky and sophisticated halter style to a bohemian number with long flowing sleeves to another with cap sleeves, a lacy beaded bodice, and a handkerchief hemline that looked like something from a medieval fairy tale. Perhaps I could convince Nick to get a tux made of chain mail to wear as the perfect complement. He could ride down the aisle on a black steed and sweep me up in his arms like a marauder. That would be romantic and make the wedding memorable, huh?

  Bonnie and my mother sat on chairs outside the dressing room, sipping the champagne the sales clerk had offered and chatting excitedly while the woman expertly helped me in and out of each dress.

  I tried the mermaid style first. Frankly, the tight fit made it feel as if my thighs were trapped together. I could only move the bottom half of my legs, which made walking awkward. I wasn’t sure I wanted to go down the aisle in little baby steps. It would take me half an hour and a thousand steps to get from one end to the other. And how would I be able to dance the two-step, schottische, or cotton-eye Joe, not to mention the chicken dance, if I couldn’t move my legs independently?

  “What do you think?” I asked my mother and Bonnie, hoping they wouldn’t like it. I didn’t want to insult their taste.

  There’d been no need to worry. They both gave the dress a thumbs-down, too.

  “It’s not you,” my mother said.

  “It looks confining,” Bonnie added. “You want to be comfortable on your big day, especially if you’ll be dancing.”

  Oh, I’d be dancing, all right. No way would I throw a party without giving the guests the opportunity to get their groove on.

  I tried on the next gown, which was the round-neck with the longer sleeves.

  My mother scrunched her nose. “That one looks…”

  Bonnie found the word my mother was searching
for. “Prudish.”

  “Yep.” Overly sexy wedding dresses always struck me as being in poor taste, but I didn’t want to look frigid, either.

  Back into the dressing room I went.

  The halter style seemed better suited for someone with a larger bust, while the bohemian model reminded me too much of Lu’s sixties-era wardrobe.

  But the medieval fairy-tale dress? The instant the fabric slid over my body I knew.

  This is it! This is the one!

  A glance in the mirror confirmed it, as did the nodding head and smile on the attendant. The dress was a size larger than what I normally wore, so the clerk grabbed a few fabric-covered clips to cinch the dress up in the back and give us a better idea how one in my size would look.

  I opened the door to the dressing room and stepped out. Both my mother and Bonnie rose instinctively from their seats.

  “Tara!” my mom cried, tears welling in her eyes as she rushed over. “That’s it! That’s the dress!”

  Bonnie, too, had grown misty. “You look beautiful, honey! Nick’s eyes are going to fall out of his head.”

  While the dress was perfect, I didn’t want to go bankrupt paying for it.

  “How much does this one cost?” I turned to the three-way mirror, reaching back awkwardly to try to find the price tag.

  My mother gently pushed my hand away. “Don’t you worry about the price, Tara. Daddy and I will take care of it.” She consulted the tag. “Apparently by selling a couple of kidneys.”

  “I can keep looking, Mom.”

  “You’ll do no such thing,” she said, running her gaze over me again and smiling from ear to ear. “This dress is absolutely perfect. And your wedding is the last chance I’ll get to splurge on my only daughter.”

  “If you insist,” I said, grinning back at her. Do I have the best mother or what?

  I made arrangements with the clerk to have the dress ordered in my size and made a later appointment for a fitting. She brought out several pairs of shoes for us to try with the dress, and we all agreed the lacy pair with the medium heel looked the best with the dress and would be comfortable enough for me to stand in for an extended period.

  Our work done, I suggested we go out for dinner and drinks to celebrate. A half hour later, we were seated at a nearby Chinese restaurant, sipping green dragon cocktails and eating egg rolls and lo mein.

  My mother took a dainty sip of her bright green drink and dabbed at her lips with a cocktail napkin. “Have you thought about where you want to have the wedding? Will it be here in Dallas, or do you want to have it in the church back home?”

  Nacogdoches was a nice town situated in the beautiful piney woods of east Texas. But given its small size and limited tourist attractions, it was hardly the kind of place where you’d plan to have a destination wedding. Still, it was my hometown and I couldn’t imagine anyone other than Pastor Beasley officiating at my wedding. He’d been the pastor at our Baptist church since I was a kid. He promoted a loving, laid-back version of our creator in which the almighty expected little more from us humans than for us to be kind to each other and avoid being assholes. Not hard to get on board with that.

  “Back home,” I said, turning to Bonnie. “You think Nick would mind that?”

  She smiled. “Nick will want whatever you want, Tara.” She raised her glass. “You know how that boy is. He’ll be happy if all he has to do is show up. He’d gladly leave all the planning up to us women.”

  We shared a chuckle and clinked our glasses together conspiratorially before taking another sip of our drinks.

  “What about the reception?” my mother asked, a hopeful expression on her face as she squirmed in her seat.

  She was so obvious it was all I could do not to laugh. “Any chance Holloway Manor is available?”

  She squealed and clapped her hands in delight.

  When my parents had bought the dilapidated Victorian farmhouse I grew up in, my cash-strapped yet clever mother had named the house Holloway Manor, had it designated as a mixed residential and commercial property, and obtained a grant from the local economic development bureau to help finance the renovations. Soft blue paint graced the exterior, with the shutters and trim in a contrasting ivory. The roof was shiny tin, classic though quite loud on rainy days. The wide front door bore a welcoming floral wreath, and each window was adorned with curtains of Battenburg lace. The mismatched wooden rockers that lined the front porch gave the place a comfy, folksy feel. My mother regularly rented out the downstairs for teas, bridal and baby showers, and wedding receptions. It seemed only natural the house should host the reception for one of its former inhabitants.

  “What about food?” Bonnie asked. “Have you given any thought to the caterer or menu?” Bonnie was an excellent cook, and she made the best peach sangria on earth. It was no wonder food was one of the first things on her mind.

  “We haven’t discussed the menu yet,” I said, fighting the urge to remind them I’d been engaged for only two days. Really, I was ahead of the game, having already found my dress this quickly.

  My mother toyed with her napkin. “What kind of cake do you want? And what about the groom’s cake?”

  There was no time for me to reply before the two went into overdrive, peppering me with questions to which they supplied their own answers.

  “I know you’ll want Jesse to be your flower girl,” my mom said. “What kind of dress should she get? I’d advise against lace. If the dress is itchy she’ll stand up at the altar scratching herself the whole time.”

  “What about music?” Bonnie asked. “Do you want a deejay or a live band?”

  “We could get that band that always plays at the honky-tonk up the road,” Mom said.

  “Good idea,” I said. “Just don’t let ’em drink. Too much beer and they forget the words to the songs.” Once they’d even trapped themselves in a continuous loop, evidently having forgotten how to wrap up Willie Nelson’s country classic “Whiskey River.” As the lyrics said, the whiskey river must have taken their minds.

  “I’d keep an eye on the band,” Mom promised. “I’ve been looking for an excuse to put air-conditioning and a new floor in the barn. It’d be a perfect place for dancing.”

  “It sure would,” I said before polishing off the last egg roll.

  My mother whipped out a pen and began writing on her napkin. “We’ll need to think about the dinner menu, drinks, bridesmaids, and groomsmen. Do you want to send out those ‘save the date’ cards or just invitations? I’m thinking we should do one of those photo magnets with the date on it. That way people can put it on their fridge as a reminder.”

  “Don’t forget flowers,” Bonnie said. “We’ll need bouquets and boutonnieres.”

  Mom nodded. “We’ll need a few floral arrangements for the church and house, too. We could go with traditional roses. Or maybe we could try something different, mix it up a little.”

  I sipped the sparkling wine in my glass and eyed the two women. Maybe it was wrong of me to attempt to foist the planning on them, but they seemed to be eating this stuff up. Besides, as excited as I was about marrying Nick, I was too worried about Nina, Larissa, and Yessenia to put much thought into my wedding at the moment. “You two seem really on top of things. Any chance you want to work together on the planning?”

  The two exchanged thrilled looks, their eyes wide, brows lifted.

  “You’d let us take charge?” my mom asked, incredulous but overjoyed. “Really?”

  I nodded. “I’m swamped at work,” I said. “It would be a huge relief to me, and you two seem like you’d enjoy it.”

  “We would!” Bonnie cried with glee. “I just never thought I’d get a chance to plan a wedding, what with not having a daughter.”

  “Well, you’ve got one now,” I said, giving her a smile. “Besides,” I looked from one of them to the other, “I trust you two. Y’all know Nick and me better than anybody else. You’ll make it a day to remember.”

  “We sure will.” My mot
her picked up her glass and tossed back the remaining cocktail. “Finish that drink, Bonnie! You and I have got a wedding to plan.”

  chapter twelve

  TV Addiction

  My mother had planned to spend Tuesday night at my town house, but once I’d asked her and Bonnie to plan the wedding the two had been so eager to get started they’d tossed me aside like a bridal bouquet. She’d ended up staying at Bonnie’s house so they could set right to work on the details.

  I woke Wednesday morning, disappointed my mother wasn’t there to make me biscuits and gravy. But given that she was hard at work pulling my wedding together, I supposed I had no right to complain. Instead, I fished around in my purse, found the fortune cookie I’d tossed in there when leaving the Chinese restaurant last night, and cracked it open. I ate the crunchy bits while removing the slip of paper inside. It read, A smile can hide a thousand feelings. So true. A smile can also reveal fortune cookie remnants stuck between a person’s teeth. Better go brush and floss, huh?

  I fed my cats, got myself cleaned up and dressed for work, and headed out.

  Given that I’d gotten nowhere yesterday on the Hidalgo case, I knew I had to go out to Ellington Nurseries today and speak with Brett and the workers using the borrowed documentation. While I often took another agent with me to assist with interviews and to provide backup, Eddie had to attend a deposition and couldn’t accompany me today. I supposed I could’ve asked Josh or Hana or Will to come along but, to be honest, I didn’t want the fact that I was at Brett’s business to get back to Nick. He wouldn’t like it one bit. No sense getting him riled up over nothing. Besides, if Nick knew I was going out to Brett’s business, he’d insist on going with me. How awkward would that be, my former and current boyfriends going head-to-head, while I stood by trying to act nonchalant? No thanks. I also planned to make a quick stop on the way at MetalMasters, a company that, per my Internet search, manufactured household hardware items, such as doorknobs and drawer pulls and hinges and faucets. Really exciting stuff, huh? According to information contained in their tax records, two of the prize scam victims worked in the company’s billing department.