So Charleton was the ring bearer! I’m not kidding, honey. The dog walked down the aisle with a little basket hanging from his neck, with the ring inside.

He was perfectly well behaved until he saw your father’s toupee. Then all hell broke loose. He leaped up on Daddy’s shoulders and grabbed the toupee in his mouth, and after chewing it to shreds, started racing up and down the aisle with the remains in his mouth. I’m sure he thought it was a squirrel.

Finally Cindy managed to grab him, but not before he ripped her wedding veil. Then your father threatened to sue Uncle Fred, and before you know it, they were throwing punches at each other, only unfortunately Daddy wound up hitting the minister by mistake, and somebody called the police. I’m afraid the “bottom line” as you people out in Hollywood say, is that we may be getting sued by the United Methodist Church of Ohio.

On the plus side, that hideous toupee is chewed beyond recognition. I told your father that if he bought another toupee, I was leaving him. And that seemed to put the fear of God in him. He’s been quiet as a mouse, very kind and considerate; he even cleaned out the garage like I’ve been begging him to for months. And to make amends, he’s booked us on a two-week cruise to Bermuda.

So I guess all’s well that ends well. That is, if the church doesn’t sue us.

Love from,

Mom

To: Jausten

From: DaddyO

Subject: A Fabulous Product

Hi, pumpkin. Mother may have mentioned the teeny little upset at Cousin Cindy’s wedding. It wasn’t nearly as bad as she says, but she’s been under a lot of stress lately, so I’ve booked us on a cruise to Bermuda.

Incidentally, I’ve been giving a lot of thought to what you wrote the other day, and I’ve decided to give up wearing a toupee. It’s really not worth the bother.

Instead, I’ve ordered a fabulous product I saw on an infomercial. It’s like Christmas tree flocking. Only you spray it on your bald spot, and voila—it looks just like hair. I haven’t told your mother about it. I think I’ll surprise her with it on the cruise.

Chapter Twenty-Three

I woke up the next morning to the sweet sounds of Prozac howling for her breakfast. And considering that I hadn’t eaten in nearly twenty-four hours, I was a tad hungry myself. In fact, I came this close to nibbling on Prozac’s Fancy Fish Entrails. But you’ll be happy to know I did the sensible thing and ate some martini olives instead.

Then I threw on my jeans and a sweatshirt and drove over to Junior’s Deli, where I treated myself to bacon and eggs, french fries, and a toasted English muffin with strawberry jam.

Okay, two English muffins. With extra jam. I was famished.

I was just tucking into the first half of my second muffin when I looked up and saw an old man at the next table reading the morning paper. I could see the headline clearly: Local Artist Arrested in Kingsley Murder.