The Wedding Caper Read Online Free Page A

the middle of the wall at the
drive through. Mental note: Come back at night when there aren’t so many people
around. Be sure to bring a flashlight.
    With
frustration threatening to eek its way into my pores, I turned to begin the
walk home. This morning’s verse ran through my head, taunting me, “You will
know the truth and the truth will set you free.”
    In all
honesty, I felt like a failure. Sure didn’t have much to write in my notebook.
I tried to cheer myself with happy thoughts, but the ever-present image of
Warren in prison garb reminded me of my dilemma.
    So, I had
to get cracking. Had to at least speculate. If the truth refused to present
itself, I’d continue on in my quest to find it. I would get to the bottom of
this, if it was the last thing I did.
    If I had
to solve this riddle right here, right now, I’d still lean toward Nikki. I’d
watched enough episodes of whodunit television to know you couldn’t trust the innocent-looking ones as far as you could throw them. And
what was all that stuff about being unnerved? What did she have to be nervous
about, if not the obvious?
    I allowed
my thoughts to ramble that direction as I continued the journey toward home. By
the time I turned onto our street, excitement had risen to an all-time high. I
couldn’t wait to settle down with my notebook to make sense of the facts now
swirling through my head. Yes, Nikki had surely done this thing, and I would
watch the cards as they stacked against her.
    No sooner
had I walked in the front door than the phone rang. I answered it with a hint
of frustration, wishing I could just stick to my work and avoid interruptions.
I was startled to hear Warren’s anxious voice. “Um, honey?”
    “Yes?”
    “Did you
forget something?”
    Forget
something? I looked down into my bag to figure out what I might have left. Got
the deposit receipt. Got my notebook and pen.
    “I’m
clueless,” I spoke into the phone.
    His
“obviously” did little to set things straight in my mind.
    Until
I heard the barking in the background.
     
     
     

 
    Chapter Three
     
    Hardly a
secret goes untold in our tiny town of Clarksborough ,
P-A. Whether it’s the high school football coach’s clandestine crush on the new
postal carrier or Mayor Hennessey’s eyebrow and chin lift—we hear it all.
And “all” can be a lot to swallow, especially when you’re not sure it’s “all”
the truth.
    Now me, I
avoid gossip like the plague. Always have. I mean, I’ll occasionally chat with
Sheila about this little thing or that—but most of our conversations
revolve around prayer requests for the needs of others—like Mary Lou
Conner’s failed marriage or Betty Sue Anderson’s good-for-nothing son who can’t
seem to stay out of the local jail.
    But this
thing about my husband stealing $25,000 I’ve managed to keep to myself. There are
some stories you just don’t need to have spread around. People might get the
wrong idea. And besides, I have my reputation to uphold. I’ve been a fine,
upstanding member of the Clarksborough Community
Church for over twenty years. And as president of the Clark County Ladies
Political Action League, many depend on me for social guidance.
    That’s
why, when I opened my e-mail box after fetching Sasha from the bank, I knew I’d
struck gold. The title of Lesson Two jumped off the
page: A GOOD INVESTIGATOR DEVELOPS SOCIAL GRACES. I could scarcely control my
enthusiasm.
    The more
I read, the more intrigued I became. Turns out, a skilled
investigator needed more than just a keen intuition. She needed to be
trained in the art of proper etiquette. Dinner parties, political gatherings,
public events—a socially adept investigator should find herself at home
in them all. I rubbed my hands together in anticipation. Now this, I could sink
my teeth into.
    With my
back perfectly straight and my right ankle delicately crossed over the left, I
scanned the lesson to review the basics of etiquette. I doubted there would