Love Can Be Murder

the guests like a swarm of bees.
    Dee's best fake laugh rang out. "Everyone, this is just a little misunderstanding. The children are under a great deal of stress." Angora didn't turn around, but she knew her mother was on her feet, directing.
    "Yes," the priest said, recovering. "Perhaps we should take a little break."
    Angora began to shake violently. The single most important day of her life was being shattered because Trenton was stricken with a lousy bout of cold feet? "Why are you doing this to me?" she managed to squeak in his direction.
    "I'm in love with someone else."
    She swallowed hard. Oh, Gawd. "Who?"
    "It doesn't matter—"
    "Who?"
    He sighed. "Darma. When I saw her walk into the church, I knew I couldn't marry you, Angora."
    No one had ever accused her of being smart, but some things were obvious even to her. "Trenton, Darma's already married."
    He shook his head. "Her husband died two weeks ago. Cut himself with a scalpel and gangrene set in."
    Ergo the black dress. Damn, if fate didn't have a fiendish sense of timing. "What are you saying, Trenton?"
    "The wedding is off," he said, his voice loud enough to carry. Silence burst around them. "But feel free to hock the ring."

Chapter Five

    THANKS TO THE MICROPHONES suspended around the altar, Roxann heard the groom's declaration just as clearly as Angora probably had. Feel free to hock the ring? Someone needed to rearrange the man's wedding tackle.
    Old feelings of protectiveness roused in her chest. Despite Angora's silver-spoon upbringing—or maybe because of it—she seemed to always have an emotional bull's-eye painted between her wide baby-blues. During the drive to Baton Rouge, Roxann had divided her time between looking over her shoulder, and wondering how much her cousin had changed over the past decade. But as soon as Angora glided into the church sporting the crown and a nerve rash, Roxann realized Angora was still the insecure daughter of Dreadful Dee. And Roxann's hopes that Angora was marrying a kind, sensitive man with a good bedside manner now seemed far-fetched at best.
    Everyone stood rooted to the spot, as if waiting to be told how to diplomatically dismantle a wedding party. Run, she urged her cousin silently. Get out before the vultures descend.
    But Angora stood frozen, her pink mouth slightly ajar. Sensing that pandemonium was about to erupt, Roxann stood and sidled to the end of the pew, compromising a slew of expensive shoes along the way. Then she dashed up the aisle and grabbed Angora's hand, a cold limp thing, with a strange orangish cast to the fingers.
    "Angora? It's me, Roxann."
    Her cousin turned toward her, but her eyes were so full of tears, Roxann doubted she saw her.
    "Come on, I'm getting you out of here."
    Angora nodded dumbly.
    "Hey, who are you?" the groom had the nerve to ask.
    "The black sheep of the family," Roxann said, and made a snap decision, no matter how unfair, that pretty Dr. Trenton would bear the brunt of her pent-up male-directed frustration. "How do you do?" Forgoing a round-off kick in deference to her skirt, she balled up her fist and popped him square in the nose. He reeled backward like a windup toy, blood spurting, and fell off the altar. The wedding party scattered and the guests lunged to their feet for a view.
    Roxann shook her stinging hand while she yanked Angora forward. "Let's go."
    "Wait just a minute," screeched a voice she recognized as her aunt's. "What do you think you're doing?"
    Roxann turned and the sight of her father's sister put a crimp on her intestines. "Hey, Dixie, what's shakin'? Besides your chin, I see."
    Dee gaped and the fuchsia monstrosity on her head bobbed. "What are you doing here?"
    "Rescuing Angora."
    "Take your hands off her, you, you, you... dyke."
    Gasps chorused around them. Roxann lifted an eyebrow. "Dyke? Did you say dyke?"
    Dee took a step backward. "Y-yes."
    "You got a gay radar under that sombrero?"
    Her aunt pulled herself up, her face mottled. "Get out!"
    She saluted. "Gladly." She tugged on Angora, who seemed to be in shock, staring straight ahead, her bouquet hanging from her arm by an elastic strap. Roxann sighed, then gathered the absurdly long train, threw it over her shoulder, and herded Angora toward the exit The climate outside the church looked even less promising than inside. Clouds rolled overhead, and thunder boomed, drowning out Dee's screeching behind them.
    Roxann urged Angora to hurry, but they were only halfway across the parking lot