Something was definitely up.

Jane’s blond mane shone from the middle of the crowd. Carlos stood right beside her. Grins and high-fives were exchanged; laughter echoed out across the parking lot. As I got closer, I saw the silhouette of a suspect in the back seat of one of the sheriff’s cars. Even from a distance and in the shadow, I could tell the handsome profile was Tony Ciancio’s. Unbidden, a surge of sympathy washed over me.

I parked, and tried to extricate myself and my billowing skirt from the Jeep without showing off my ruffled pantaloons. By now, all eyes were on me, except for Tony’s. Head bowed, he stared at the floor in the back of the cruiser. I could only imagine what was running through his mind. Whatever it was, it was far more serious than the picture I must have made, mincing across the parking lot in lime-hued ruffles from bonnet to matching high heels.

Somebody began to hum “Dixie.” Snickers rippled through the crowd. One of the sheriff’s deputies doffed his uniform hat and performed a courtly—if smirking—bow. “How ’do, Miz Scarlett?”

“Very funny.” I pointed my parasol at the sheriff’s car. “I see y’all caught your man.”

Himmarshee Police Officer Donnie Bailey, my former babysitting charge, stepped forward. “You wouldn’t believe it, Mace.” His words tumbled out. “One of the county deputies was pulled off along 441, clocking speeders, when the BOLO came over the radio about the Lexus …”

Jane’s eyes burned holes into Donnie. Maybe he smelled the singe coming off his uniform, because he clamped his mouth shut so fast he surely bit his tongue. I looked around at some of the other familiar faces in the crowd. Most of them stole nervous glances at a glowering Jane. Lips were zipped; chins aimed to the ground.

The fact that testosterone apparently provided no vaccine against fear of Detective Smith made me feel a little better about my earlier reactions to her. She looked me up and down, an amused smile tugging at her lips. “Nice parasol. What would you call that color? Minty green?”

I ignored her.

“I’d say it’s more like unripe banana. A little yellow in the green.” Carlos winked.

“But pastel, right?” Jane said.

“Oh, yes.” He winked again. “Definitely pastel.”

“Carlos, you ought to see somebody about that twitch in your eye,” I said. “And the dress is lime sherbet, as any fool can plainly see. Now, if you two are finished with the fashion commentary and the Two Stooges comedy routine, maybe you can tell me: Did Tony confess to killing Ronnie?”

“He hasn’t said jack,” Carlos said.

“Waiting for his mob lawyer,” Jane added.

“Be sure and ask him why he didn’t come armed with his own knife to kill Ronnie, the way he did with that man back in New Jersey.”

“What a surprise. Another civilian who watches Law & Order,” Jane said.

“Thanks for the advice, Mace.” Maybe Carlos noticed the steam coming out of my ears because he managed to keep his mocking tone to a minimum. Jane didn’t even try.

“Don’t you have some cotton to hoe or corn pone to eat, Scarlett? You can run along now. We’ll be sure to take your concerns under advisement.”

“You do that,” I said.

I could almost see the headline: Southern Belle Batters Jersey Cop. But I knew Mama would kill me for ruining my bridesmaid gown, so I gave Jane Smith a long, mean glare instead.

And then I flounced away, ruffles rustling, ringlets jiggling, parasol swinging.

“Oh, for Gawd’s sake! The flowers need to go at the ends of the serving table, not in the middle. That’s where the prime rib carving station goes! Do I have to show you people how to do everything?”

Foghorn voice blasting, C’ndee stalked by me as I entered the foyer of the VFW hall. She snatched a floral arrangement from a cowering brunette, who wore the white blouse and black slacks of a catering staffer. If C’ndee knew about her nephew’s arrest, it wasn’t apparent from her screeching, typically abrasive manner.

The stop at the police department had made me late. But we still had nearly two hours before the wedding. The VFW bustled with activity. A black-and-white clad army shook out tablecloths, set up chairs, and created a path for the bridal party from the back of the hall to the stage at the front. That’s where the ceremony would take place, with the Reverend Delilah Dixon from Abundant Forgiveness officiating.

I was just about to pull C’ndee aside to tell her about Tony, when I spotted Mama across the room. Her eyes were wild as she frantically waved me over. Please, Lord, not the on-again-off-again wedding, off again.

“What is it Mama?” I grabbed her shoulders. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost!”

She heaved a shuddery sigh. Tears were imminent. “It’s Husband No. 2, Mace. He’s here.”

And I’d been worried about something as minor as a murderer maybe showing up.

“C’ndee hired him with all these other servers out of Orlando. He’s supposed to be the bartender tonight.” Her voice shook. “He swears the names in the wedding party were never mentioned. He didn’t realize it was me getting married until he walked in the door.”

“What are you going to do?”

She blew her nose into a length of toilet paper, and the first tear rolled down her cheek.

“I meant, what are you going to do besides cry?”

“I can’t help it, Mace.” She dabbed under each eye, trying to catch the tears before they mussed her mascara. “This is horrible. Marty ran off as soon as she saw him. I don’t think she ever got over witnessing all those awful fights we had.”

Marty wasn’t the only one.

“Your big sister’s on the telephone right now with the Speckled Perch, trying to see if one of their bartenders is available to work the wedding.”

“Where’s the VFW’s usual bartender?”

“C’ndee said something about him having emergency surgery.” She wrung her hands. “Oh, Mace, why does everything happen to me?”

I could have mentioned that the VFW bartender might quibble with Mama’s assessment of misfortune’s victim. If he survived his surgery, that is. But I gave her a pass owing to how upset she was over the sudden reappearance of No. 2.

“If Sal finds out who he is, he’ll kill him. We exchanged our stories when we first started dating. Sal knows all about how Two did me wrong.” Mama raked a hand through her hair, unsettling her perfect ’do. “Please, Mace. You have to do something.”

“Don’t worry, Mama. I’ll go have a talk with him.”

I found No. 2 in the back parking lot, smoking a filterless cigarette and leaning against a gleaming white convertible. The man never had a dollar in the bank, but he always drove a new convertible.

“I see those cigarettes haven’t killed you yet.”

“Hello, Mace.” He took a long drag, coughed as he exhaled. “Nice dress.”

He was still a handsome man, though thinner than I remembered. His full head of hair was mostly gray; a few more lines marked his forehead. His eyes were the same: small, dark, and mean.

“You know you can’t work the wedding, right?”

“Hell, yes. I’ve been to a few of your family’s shindigs. I want to stay as far away from this one as I can.” He tapped a long ash onto the ground. “I’m just waiting to make sure they can get someone to replace me.”

“That’s nice of you.”

“I figure I owe it to Rosalee.”

“That and a lot more.”