“So, you’re not married?” Mel gestured between them. She tried to make her expression sympathetic even though on the inside she was shaking her head. How did these two knuckleheads think this was going to play out for them?
“No, but you were right about how we feel for each other,” Mallory said. She stroked Anton’s hair again and he moaned. “We are madly in love.”
Mel really hoped Ray was getting this on his phone.
“But your husband’s ex-wife was murdered and you’re a suspect?” she asked. “Do you have an alibi?”
Mallory let loose a wail that shook Anton and he let loose a powerful stream of Italian that Mel was pretty sure was not happy words.
“No, because I was with him,” Mallory cried. “I can’t say anything or his wife will have him tossed out of the country.”
“Too bad you can’t prove your husband did it,” Mel said. “Then you’d be free and you could go with him.”
“I have video of my husband threatening Elise,” Mallory said. “But he said he has the same thing about me.”
“Did you threaten her?” Mel asked.
“Just once, but she totally deserved it,” Mallory said. She tossed her hair. “She called me ‘Child Bride’ one too many times. Ugh, I hated her.”
“Ice pack!” Courtney cried as she jogged on her high heels in little mincing steps towards them. “I have an ice pack!”
As Courtney bent over and put the ice pack on Anton with a familiarity that seemed more than that of coworkers, he took a moment to ogle her chest where her plum-colored jacket gaped, then he grabbed her hand and gave it a squeeze.
“Grazie, bella,” he said.
Mel looked at Mallory, whose eyes narrowed at the gesture.
“Yeah, you might want to let the police know about your alibi,” Mel said. “I’m just sayin’.”
When Mallory spun around and pushed Courtney away from Anton, Mel took it as her moment to escape. She jogged back over to Ray and Marty and said, “Let’s go. I think it’s about to get ugly around here.”
They ran from the tennis courts, through the country club, and out into the parking lot.
“That was nice work back there,” Ray said. “You got her wailing loud enough that I got video of her admitting they are having an affair, which is even better than a money shot.”
“You’re welcome,” Mel said. She tossed him her keys. “You drive; I need to change.”
“In front of us?” Ray looked scandalized.
“No, behind you,” Mel said. “I have to put on my outfit and stuff for the rehearsal dinner. Don’t be such a weirdo.”
“I do not think Joe would be okay with this,” Ray said. He stiffly climbed into the driver’s seat.
Marty shrugged. “You seen one pair of—”
“Ah!” Ray interrupted.
“Stockings,” Marty said. “I was going to say stockings, you pervert.”
Ray zipped out of the parking lot, making Mel’s attempt to get dressed more challenging than it needed to be.
“Slow down there, Andretti,” she said when he took a curve that almost put the Mini Cooper up on two wheels.
Mel slid across the backseat while she wrestled with the clothes she had tossed into a bag as they rushed out of the bakery. She changed out of her polo shirt and into her pretty floral blouse. She kicked off her shoes and grabbed her heels.
Ray took another corner hard and she slid the other way. Mel used the door handle to pull herself upright. Then she reached into the bag for her miniskirt. All she felt was the bottom of the bag. Oh, no!
“No, no, no, no, no,” Mel moaned as she checked the bag. Empty. She rifled around the backseat, hoping her skirt had fallen out somewhere. Nope. Damn it!
“What’s the problem?” Marty asked.
“My skirt,” she said. “I must have forgotten to put it in the bag. Now I have to wear this oversized pleated wonder to Tate and Angie’s rehearsal. Oh my god!”
“Relax,” Ray said as he turned into the parking lot of the church. “No one is going to notice.”
He parked in the lot. Joe was standing on the curb outside, waiting for them. No one else was in sight.
Mel glanced at her phone. They were fifteen minutes late. Angie was probably having a cow.
Joe opened the door for her and Mel climbed out. He tipped his head to the side and studied her.
“Going for the Catholic schoolgirl look?” he asked.
“Don’t ask,” she said.
“Mel, there you are, come on!” Judi Franko, Angie’s cousin, was standing in the open doorway to the church, waving for them to hurry up.
Marty and Ray joined them, and Joe looked at Marty’s outfit and then back at Mel. “Why do I get the feeling there is a story here?”
“Story?” she asked. “No story. More like a tale, a brief one, not even an anecdote, really.”
“Uh-huh,” he said.
Judi, clearly done waiting for them, dashed forward and grabbed Mel by the hand and said, “Maid of honor, focus!” She then took in Mel’s overly large pleated skirt and one eyebrow quirked up above the frame of her glasses. “What sort of outfit is that? Is it trending? Are my girls going to want to wear that? Because I’m not sold on it.”
“It’s more what you’d call a fashion malfunction,” Mel said. She glared behind her. “Isn’t that right, Ray?”
“How is this my fault?” he asked.
“Mel, there you are.” Uncle Stan was waiting just inside the church. He had his arms crossed over his chest and his expression did not have his usual happy-to-see-her glow.
“You look mad,” she said.
“I’m not mad,” he said. “More like irritated. Annoyed. Put out.”
“What did I do?” she asked.
“Why don’t you tell me, Sharapova?” he asked.
“Oh, you heard,” she said.
“Only because the undercover we had watching Mallory Cavendish happened to catch the whole thing on camera. Mel, you’re the niece of the lead investigator and you’re engaged to a county prosecutor. The defense will have a field day with this.”
“Oh.”
“I sense some familial issues happening here,” Judi said as she glanced between them. “I feel for you, I do,
