Walk With Me Part 8

"Do you think they'll still let you guess?"

I had become distracted with my thoughts about him, so he lost me with that question. "What?"

"I bet they will. I mean, if you're going to be there, you should get a chance to figure out the killer and the weapon. It'd really suck for them to make you attend and not let you play." He paused. "You don't think they'll do that, right?"

He sounded so genuinely disappointed at the prospect that I found myself trying to make him feel better. "No, I'm sure they won't," I said. When he didn't respond, I added, "But even if they do, I can still try to figure it out on my own and then I'll know if I got it right."

"Yeah, I guess."

I could see the pout over the phone lines.

"I had no idea you were such a big Clue fan, Eli."

"Uh." He hesitated. "I don't know if I'd say I was a big big fan. I mean, my family used to play a lot when I was a kid but-" fan. I mean, my family used to play a lot when I was a kid but-"

Eli wasn't the only person with observational skills. I'd learned a good bit about him during the time we'd spent together when he came home to Emile City and on phone calls in the intervening periods. And that knowledge told me that my comment had made him feel embarra.s.sed or ashamed.

Wanting to remedy that mistake, I said, "That sounds really nice."

"It does?" he asked hesitantly.

"Yes. I love board games. My family played them too, but we didn't have Clue. Maybe we can play when you're here this summer."

"Seriously?" Excitement made Eli's usually warm, rich voice sound high-pitched. He cleared his throat. "I mean, yeah, that'd be cool."

I was grinning from ear to ear in response to his reactions.

"Good. Now go study."

"You're not my dad, Seth," he reminded me for what felt like the hundredth time.

"I know, Eli," I responded with my usual line. "But I am your friend, and I want you to do well in school."

"Yeah, yeah, fine. But I'm done studying for the night. My brain is fried. I'm going to watch some p.o.r.n and hit the sack. But don't worry, old man, I'll go to the library first thing in the morning and hit the books again."

"You study in the library?" I asked, hoping to sway the conversation away from Eli watching p.o.r.n, and my brain away from what Eli would be doing while he was watching said p.o.r.n.

"Yeah. Where did you study when you were in school?"

"Uh, I went to the library if I needed to look something up, but usually I studied in my room."

"Oh." He sounded surprised. "That totally wouldn't work for me."

"Why not?" I asked, mostly just to keep the conversation going. I really enjoyed talking to him.

"'Cause if I were by myself in my room, I'd end up beating off all day instead of studying. Seriously. I'd probably fail all my cla.s.ses and get carpal tunnel or something."

At that point, I mentally declared Operation Topic Change a complete and utter failure.

AFTER A A thorough interrogation ("Avi, please tell me I don't have to be a character in this wedding"), Avi a.s.sured me all I had to do was give my usual spiel, declare the happy couple husband and wife, and then I could leave ("Suck it up, Seth, you'll be fine"). So off I went in my best suit, which had at one time been my least favorite suit but had moved up in the rankings after I got horse dung on one suit, squirrel entrails on another, and my own blood on a third. thorough interrogation ("Avi, please tell me I don't have to be a character in this wedding"), Avi a.s.sured me all I had to do was give my usual spiel, declare the happy couple husband and wife, and then I could leave ("Suck it up, Seth, you'll be fine"). So off I went in my best suit, which had at one time been my least favorite suit but had moved up in the rankings after I got horse dung on one suit, squirrel entrails on another, and my own blood on a third.

The wedding was being held in an old mansion in EC South. It wasn't a part of town I frequented often, so I made sure to leave extra time in case I had trouble finding the place. As it turned out, I needn't have worried. Once I got off the freeway and made the first two turns, there was nothing visible except empty fields and a lone house. It was creepy to the point where I wondered whether they used the place as a haunted house for Halloween. I couldn't imagine there was a lot of call for murder-mystery wedding venues.

A long, winding path took me from the road to a large brick parking lot already filling with cars. I parked my Honda and considered whether I needed to wear the suit coat. Summer was just getting started but it was unseasonably hot, so even at six, it was sweltering outside. Deciding that being professional at work took precedence over my own comfort, I got out of the car and shrugged into the jacket.

I took a deep breath, readied myself for handshakes and smiles and Mrs. White with a candlestick, and then headed over to the group gathered by the tall doors at the front of the mansion. I recognized several congregants from the temple, so I said h.e.l.lo and caught up with them. It wasn't long before the bride and groom pulled me aside to go over the schedule-introductions, murder, ceremony, then dinner and investigation with the killer unveiled after the cake cutting.

"So the typical wedding itinerary, then?" I said to them. They didn't laugh. I a.s.sumed the problem was my delivery. Whatever the reason, I was grateful when I saw my old friend Micah Trains walking over. "Micah, hi. I didn't know you'd be here."

"Hey, Seth." He held his hand out and I shook it. "Elizabeth works for one of my clients, and she threatened me with bodily harm and loss of future income if I didn't come to her wedding. I said no, but then she put Darrell on the job and said she'd cut him off if he didn't come through. I didn't want to be slapped with a loss of consortium claim, so here I am."

The bride and groom were right behind me, so I widened my eyes in horror and tried to think of what I could say to soothe over what I was sure would be ruffled feathers. But then Micah winked at me, looked over my shoulder, and said, "Oh, Elizabeth. I didn't see you there. You look lovely."

"f.u.c.k you, Micah," she said, but she was smiling, which was more than she'd done in response to my attempt at humor, so I knew she wasn't mad. She stepped over to Micah and gave him a tight hug. "It's not like you had anything else going on, and spending one night away from your office isn't going to kill you."

"Don't knock my work ethic, Lizzy-it helps keep your company in the black. In fact, I doubt your boss would appreciate knowing I'm here instead of toiling away on his case."

She arched her eyebrows. "My boss is over there"-she tilted her chin in the direction of the front steps-"wearing a cape and a fedora. I don't think he's going to complain about anything having to do with this party."

I followed her gaze, and sure enough, there was a tall, thin man wearing a red cape, houndstooth fedora, and, though Elizabeth had left it out of her description, black knee-high boots.

"Their whole firm is a little off balance," Micah mock whispered to me.

I secretly agreed, but I kept my opinion to myself.

"How are you, Micah?" the groom asked.

Micah shook his hand and slapped his back. "Better than you right now, man. It's not too late, you know. I can hide you away in my trunk, and we can make a mad dash for the border. She'll never find you."

Darrell laughed.

The bride rolled her eyes, and said, "Quit monopolizing our time with your unique brand of flattery and charm. We need to go say h.e.l.lo to our other guests before the doors open and the mystery begins."

"Better make it snappy," Micah said. "It's hotter than h.e.l.l out here, and your boss is wearing layers. If he pa.s.ses out, I'm going to get a new case across my desk."

She flipped him off and then tugged the groom away. A few minutes later, the doors opened and we made our way inside. A man playing the part of the butler welcomed us to the Heritage House and showed us to the drawing room, where c.o.c.ktails and appetizers were being served by candlelight.

"What do you think this is?" Micah asked as he held out a tiny puff pastry covered in something white and purple, which was overlaid with a gelatinous yellow substance.

I squinted and tried to identify it. "I have no idea. It's hard to see in here."

He shrugged, put it in his mouth, and promptly spit it into his napkin. "That's disgusting," he coughed.

I handed him my water and he chugged it down. "What was it?"

"I don't know," he said, and then he coughed again. "But I think it moved."

"Maybe you should try something else," I suggested.

"I can't see anything else."

He had a point. My stomach growled, but I decided to ignore it. I could eat when I got home. It seemed safer.

"Hopefully they'll turn on the lights later."

"I doubt it. Lizzy never got over her goth phase." Micah smiled fondly as he looked across the room at the bride. "I'd bet you anything her toenails are painted black."

"So you two are pretty good friends?" I asked.

He nodded. "Uh-huh. Darrell too. I represent his father's firm. That's how they met, actually."

"You set them up?" I asked in surprise. "I had no idea my workaholic friend had a romantic bone in his body, and here you are responsible for a successful shidduch."

"Oh please." He snorted. "My firm had a holiday luncheon for clients, and both of them came. I'm no matchmaker. h.e.l.l, I can't even find a guy for myself."

I knew Micah was gay, and because we'd gone to the same youth group growing up, I must have known him when he'd come out. But we hadn't been close enough for me to hear the details or even remember them. It wasn't something I had wondered about back then, but with my own thoughts and feelings leaving me confused, I suddenly wanted to talk to him about how he knew he was gay.

"Hey, Micah, can I ask you something?"

He arched his eyebrows. "You just did."

"Elizabeth is right," I said sarcastically. "You are quite the charmer."

"All right, all right." Micah smiled broadly. "Ask away."

I looked around, leaned a little closer, and steeled my nerves. "How did you figure out that you're gay?"

His expression hardened. "How did you figure out that you're straight?"

"That's just it," I admitted quietly. "I'm not sure I am."

Catching Micah Trains off guard wasn't easy. He was the type of guy who always seemed prepared for anything, but I was pretty sure he hadn't seen that answer coming.

"You're gay?" he whispered.

I shook my head. "No, I'm not gay. I've had girlfriends," I said. He opened his mouth, probably to point out that the same could be said for many gay men, but I kept talking. "And I was attracted to them. It wasn't an act."

"Huh," he said, looking thoughtful.

"You don't feel that way?" I asked.

"About women?"

I nodded.

"No. I mean, I'm not blind. I can see a woman and think she's pretty or beautiful, but as far as being attracted to women emotionally or physically, no. Not even once."

It wasn't the answer I had been hoping to hear. Not that I knew exactly what I wanted him to say, but something to make me feel like I wasn't alone would have been nice.

I sighed.

"Do you think maybe you're bi?" he asked.

I shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe." I lowered my gaze. "I, uh, looked around online, and it seems like a lot of people think that's not real. They say bis.e.xuals are just scared to admit they're gay, or they're people looking for reasons to sleep around."

"Yeah, that's stupid," Micah said bluntly. I raised my gaze and met his. "Seriously, people are idiots, and I don't need to tell you that you can't believe everything you read on the Internet. Besides, how can they know how you feel? They're not you. h.e.l.l, they don't even know you."

"I know. But how else am I supposed to figure out what I am?"

We were both quiet for a few seconds, and then Micah said, "Why does it matter?"

"What do you mean?"

"Gay, straight, bi. They're all just labels we use to make things easier, put us into neat little categories everyone can understand. But what really matters is understanding yourself, right?"

"Right," I agreed.

"There you go. Stop focusing on the labels and start focusing on your feelings. If you-"

A piercing scream cut off whatever he was saying. It was chaos after that, with every person in the room trying to get a good look at the source of the noise-a buxom blonde collapsed on a settee in a corner. Her arms were splayed to the sides, her legs were situated so her dress showed a good bit of thigh, and her eyes were closed. It looked like her head had some blood on it, but it was too dark to see much of anything. Plus, the twinkling candlelight was casting weird shadows.

None of that stopped the guests from furiously scribbling notes on little pads that had been handed out at the entrance. I wondered what they could be writing: possible blood on forehead; incredibly fake scream; nice rack.

Eventually the butler appeared and led us into an adjoining room set up in traditional wedding fashion-aisle in the middle with chairs on either side. I walked up the front and took my spot in the center. A round table draped with golden fabric and holding an a.s.sortment of flowers and a tall unlit candle was behind me and a little to the left. Unlike the short white candles in the candelabras attached to the walls, this candle was a vivid purple.

Darrell walked down the aisle first. He carried a lit blue candle.

Elizabeth followed him, carrying a lit red candle.

When they both reached the table, they lifted their candles and, in unison, lit the purple candle.

"The flames of our love join together today," Elizabeth said.

"The light we shine together is much brighter than those we had apart," Darrell added.

Then they both blew out their candles. Even though the purple candle was huge, with no natural light and the candelabras on the walls being our only other sources of illumination, it was really hard to see. Not wanting to tell the happy couple that the light of their love wasn't literally bright enough to shine on much of anything, and thinking that the visual impediment was probably a good idea because it prevented us from seeing people rolling their eyes or silently laughing, I started the ceremony.

Everything was fine at first. But then, during the moments when n.o.body was talking, I heard a strange noise. I couldn't identify it right away, but eventually I realized it was a steady dripping sound. I was trying to focus on the bride and groom, so I didn't give much thought to the source of the sound, chalking it up to a leaky pipe in an old house.

Then, sometime between "I now p.r.o.nounce" and "husband and wife" the guests started shouting. I don't mean the high-pitched clearly fake scream from the faux murder-mystery victim. I mean people were leaping out of their chairs, and there were so many voices at once it was impossible to understand what they were saying. At first I thought maybe they were cheering, but then I noticed the panic on their faces. When I felt something hotter than the summer temperature beating against my back, I turned around and realized what they were screaming-"Fire!"

As in, the purple candle had dripped wax hot enough to catch the flowers and the tablecloth on fire. As in, sparks were flying and the drapes behind us were starting to go up. As in, the train on the bride's dress was about half the length it had been at the beginning of the ceremony and that ratio was getting smaller by the second.

After a moment to a.s.similate what I was seeing into something that made sense in my brain, I stripped off my suit jacket and got to work beating the flames out of the bride's dress. Once that was handled, I attacked the drapes alongside the groom. The red aisle was next.