#WeWriWa ~ The Case of the Wedding Wrecker: Crushed Fingers

 

Welcome to Weekend Writing Warriors, where writers share snippets from their work-in-progress or new release. Thanks to everyone who stopped by last week. I really appreciate your support. 

I'm sharing snippets from the 4th Alex O'Hara cozy mystery, The Case of the Wedding Wrecker. This follows immediately after last week's snippet. Police deputy Dawson (aka Deputy Dawg, Alex's nemesis since 2nd grade) interrupted the wedding ceremony by arresting Nick for the murder Mike Amerson, Todd's stepfather.

BTW, since this is a work in progress, suggestions are always welcome.

Snippet:

The limo driver dithered, looking from us to Pop.

“Get back in the car,” I yelled, “and drive to the police station.”

“The what?”

Pop opened the door behind the driver’s seat.

“Po-op, get in front.”

“Oh, just scoot over.” He jumped in next to me.

The two guys squished me. My veil poofed up, fell over my head, and nearly smothered me. 

And a little more:

I shoved back the veil as the driver ran around the vehicle. Once inside, he looked over his shoulder. “Did you say the police station?”

“Yes,” I shouted, nearly buried in satin and tulle.

“Go, go, go,” Pop yelled.

“Are you folks buckled up back there?”

Buckled up? My husband had just been arrested, and this jerk of a driver was worried about us buckling our seatbelts?

“I can’t find mine,” I said. “I think I’m sitting on it. Just go.”

“I am, too,” Todd said.

“Hell’s bells,” Pop shouted. “I can’t find that damn thing. Take off, will ya?”

“I can’t leave unless everyone is buckled up. It’s the law.”

Damn driver. We had to get one who had to obey the traffic laws.

“Pop, get up in front.”

With a huge sigh of reluctance, he did. Todd and I scooted around until we found the seatbelts and buckled up.

“Okay back here,” I said with more than a hint of exasperation. “Now, would you please go.”

After glancing at Pop to make sure he was buckled up, the driver floored the accelerator. “What’s going on? I saw that cop race into the church. And then three guys came out, one in cuffs.”

“Never mind,” I cried. “Just get us to the station.”

Todd clutched my hand so hard, I feared for my fingers. “I don’t know what’s going on.” I tried to be calm for his sake. “I’m sure we’ll find out when we get to the station.”

“My mom.” He twisted in the seat, his back against the door, and gave me an anxious look. “Is she—”

I had no idea and little thought for the woman who abandoned Todd to the fists of a bully. I swallowed my disregard. She just lost her husband. I should have compassion for her. Todd had tried to get her to leave Amerson. She wouldn’t, couldn’t—too afraid of the consequences, maybe.

“I’m sure she’s okay.” I squeezed his hand.

Pop leaned over the front seat, reached for my other hand, and squeezed. “No speculation.”

Geez, I was going to lose both hands with the two of them cutting off circulation.

 

Be sure to check out the other WeWriWa authors. Stay safe and have a great week.