Until Proven Guilty - J. A. Jance [81]
I wrapped a towel around me and went into the bedroom. Anne stood before the dresser in her slip and bra, piling her hair on top of her head. The result was a gentle framing of her face that reminded me of the late 1890s. It was old-fashioned and attractive.
“You look lovely,” I said, running my finger along the soft curve at the top of her lacy slip.
She caught my finger and held it to her lips. “Thank you,” she said. “You’re not so bad yourself.”
I lifted her chin and looked at her. Her eyes were quiet, subdued. “Are you all right?” I asked.
“I’m fine. Just a little nervous.”
“I’m a lot more than a little,” I told her. That brought a trace of a smile.
Ralph Ames came by the Royal Crest and drove the Datsun. Anne and I took the Porsche. She drove. The minister arrived in a pea green Volkswagen bus. Those were the only three cars in the parking lot at Myrtle Edwards Park when we got there about ten to six. The sun was just putting in an appearance over the hills behind us, while a fresh breeze blew off the water. I worried that Anne might not be warm enough in the shimmering blue suit with its flimsy blouse.
Anne introduced me to the minister. I don’t know where she found him. He didn’t push any creed, and it may well be that marrying people was his whole ministry. That was okay by me. When the minister asked, “Who giveth this woman?” Ralph stepped forward and said he did. I thought he had a hell of a lot of nerve, but since he was giving her to me, I didn’t complain. The ceremony took exactly six minutes. We were in the Four Seasons for breakfast by six-fifteen.
Anne was radiant. I could have slit my throat for not having a camera along, but once more Ralph rode to the rescue. He took pictures of both of us together, and each of us separately. He had even made last-minute arrangements with the hotel for them to produce a tiny three-tiered wedding cake with all the trimmings. It was a nice gesture. It pissed me off. I would have preferred him to be not quite so thoughtful or indispensable.
It was time for Ralph’s plane before we finished breakfast. I told Anne I’d take him to the airport in the Datsun. She could take the Porsche back to the apartment, and I’d meet her there later. We rode down the escalator together. The parking attendant brought the Porsche first. I could hardly blame him for that. I opened the door and gave her a hand inside. I leaned down so our heads were even. “I love you, Anne Corley Beaumont,” I said.
She smiled. “I love you too.” With that, she drove away.
Ralph Ames was standing beside me when I straightened up. “Ready?” he asked. We said little as we drove to the airport. We had nothing in common but Anne. “Did she give you the last chapter to her manuscript?” I asked as we pulled under the airport awning.
He patted his briefcase. “Last chapter? I’ve got the whole book right here. She’s been working on it for so long I can’t believe I’m finally going to get a look at it.”
“You mean you’ve never read any of it before? I thought she had already given you everything but the revised last chapter.”
“Not before today. I’m planning to take a peek at it on the plane.” He dragged his luggage out of the backseat and hustled off toward a waiting skycap with a brief salute to me from beside the car. “Best of luck to you,” he said.
I drove back out to the freeway, a little edge of worry gnawing at me. I could have sworn Anne had said the manuscript was already in Phoenix, that was why she couldn’t show it to me. Had I somehow misunderstood?
I was halfway back to Seattle when a state patrolman pulled me over. I got out of the car in a huff, ready to show him my I.D. and give him a piece of my mind. I knew damned good and well I hadn’t been speeding.
“You J. P. Beaumont?” he asked as he reached the car.
“What of it?”
“We’ve got an APB out for you. Captain Powell has been trying to get you at