We got married in Vegas at Treasure Island. Scott was the best man. Kelly, having recovered her equilibrium, was the matron of honor. Kayla was the flower girl and ring bearer both. Mel doesn’t do sexism even for weddings. In addition to the kids, the only other guests were Lars—and, Lars being Lars, the joke-wielding Iris Rassmussen. Ralph Ames convinced me to charter a jet and fly everybody in, and that’s what I did.
The wedding was in late afternoon. Mel wore an ivory silk suit and was absolutely stunning. I wore my tux. After all, I had already paid for the damned thing and it seemed reasonable to get a few wearings out of it. I had fairly low expectations about the kind of wedding ceremony we’d have at a Vegas hotel, but I shouldn’t have worried. Vegas is full of showmen, and the hired reverend delivered his memorized lines with a kind of heartfelt sincerity that left everyone in attendance in tears—well, almost.
The wedding supper was next door in a small private room at Morton’s. Then, while everyone else went out to party, Mel and I returned to our bridal suite, where someone had strewn our bed with rose petals, for Pete’s sake!
I was lying in bed when Mel emerged from the bathroom, having removed her makeup. She flopped onto her side of the bed.
“Ouch!” she exclaimed, sitting up and rubbing her head. “What the hell’s wrong with the pillow?”
I love being married to a plainspoken woman.
Reaching under the pillow, she removed the small gift-wrapped box I had hidden there. “What’s this?” she asked.
“Open it and find out,” I said.
Inside was a model car, and not just any model car, either—an arctic silver Porsche Cayman.
“What’s this?” she asked.
“It’s a wedding present,” I told her. “Some people register at Macy’s. When I get married, I prefer to give and receive Porsches. So that’s your present. A Cayman. It’s on order. We’re scheduled to take European delivery in Stuttgart in early September. I already cleared it with Harry so we can both have the time off.”
Mel looked both astonished and bemused. “You’re really giving me a Porsche for a wedding present?”
“Yes, I am,” I told her. “Your BMW was starting to look a little worn around the edges.”
“And I get to drive it on the autobahn?”
“Yes,” I said, shaking my head. “God help us all, you do.”
About the Author
J. A. JANCE is the New York Times bestselling author of the J. P. Beaumont series, the Joanna Brady series, and four stand-alone thrillers. Born in South Dakota and brought up in Bisbee, Arizona, she lives with her husband in Seattle, Washington, and Tucson, Arizona.
www.jajance.com
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Also by J. A. Jance
J.P. BEAUMONT MYSTERIES
Until Proven Guilty
Injustice for All
Taking the Fifth
Improbable Cause
A More Perfect Union
Dismissed with Prejudice
Minor in Possession
Payment in Kind
Without Due Process
Failure to Appear
Lying in Wait
Name Withheld
Breach of Duty
Birds of Prey
Partner in Crime
Long Time Gone
JOANNA BRADY MYSTERIES
Desert Heat
Tombstone Courage
Shoot/Don’t Shoot
Dead to Rights
Skeleton Canyon
Rattlesnake Crossing
Outlaw Mountain
Paradise Lost
Partner in Crime
Exit Wounds
Dead Wrong
AND
Hour of the Hunter
Kiss of the Bees
Day of the Dead
Edge of Evil
Web of Evil
Copyright
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
JUSTICE DENIED. Copyright © 2007 by J. A. Jance. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
ePub edition June 2007 ISBN 9780061746116
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