eb93c43e214c621f9157c05b4b6a6878

She finally sighed and slumped against the counter.“It’s Dewey. Yet another one of his old girlfriends came crawling out of the woodwork last week to warn me about him.”

“Not again,” said Shelley, her expression a vivid tableau of compassion.

Marsella nodded.“On Facebook this time. Sent me a friend request and a message out of the blue. Said she’d heard about the wedding and wanted me to know what kind of a man Dewey Toneu really is. Then if I still wanted to marry him at least I’d know what I was letting myself in for.”

“Did you tell Dewey?”

She shook her head.“Not yet.”

“How long ago was the affair?”

“Um, about… three years ago maybe? Apparently he was juggling five different girlfriends at the time, and they all accidentally found out about each other when Dewey sent a group email to all of them and forgot to put them in BCC. They actually got together one night and discovered he’d promised all of them he’d marry them. Or so she says, this Mary-Lynn.” She was trying hard to keep the bitterness and anxiousness out of her voice but judging from the look on Shelley’s face she wasn’t doing a particularly good job.

“You have to talk to Dewey, Marsella.”

“I did talk to him, when the first of his exes got in touch. He admitted dating her, but said that he’d been a different person back then.” She gave Shelley a hesitant look. “He says that none of those girls meant anything to him. That I’m the only one for him now.The one. That the moment we met he knew his old life of casual dating was finally over.”

“He could be right. Three years is a long time. He’s probably older and wiser now.”

“You think?”

“Has any of these girls dated him since you met?”

“No. Mary-Lynn was three years ago, and the other one, um… Francine—four years.”

“See? I’m sure that if Dewey was cheating on you, you’d know. It’s hard to keep this stuff secret in this day and age of social media.”

“Yeah, but if he really was dating some other girl she wouldn’t tell me, would she? She’d simply hope the wedding doesn’t go through. Or maybe she’s one of those girls who don’t mind dating a married man—even prefers it, for the lack of attachment.”

“Look, if you really wanted to be sure, you’d almost have to hire a private detective. Have Dewey followed around the clock to see if he’s as committed to you as he says he is.”

She gave the girl a keen look.

“Oh, no, you didn’t,” said Shelley, clearly shocked.

“No, I didn’t,” she admitted. “But I have considered it.”

“Well, maybe you should. Just to put your mind at ease.”

“It’s just that… he’s such a catch, you know. It’s very hard to date a man who’s as attractive and as successful as Dewey. A lot of insecurities suddenly start to pop up.”

“Hey, don’t sell yourself short, Marsella,” said Shelley, giving her a gentle nudge. “You’re quite a catch yourself, you know. In fact it’s Dewey who should be worried, not you.”

She smiled and felt her mood lift.“You always know what to say to make me feel better, don’t you?”

“Then it’s a good thing you made me your maid of honor.”

Just then, a family with two little girls walked into the office, and work beckoned, cutting their conversation short. But as she escorted the family out to take a look at the kennels, she found herself revisiting the idea of hiring a private detective. If it offered her peace of mind, why not? And so she decided to check listings for PIs in the area tonight.

Chapter 4

It had been a particularly lazy morning for us. Odelia and Chase had both left and gone to work, and for once all four of us had opted to stay home and relax instead. Lately Odelia hadn’t stepped out of the office much, since she was about to give birth any moment now, and so Dan had figured it was unwise for her to go out and interview people until after she’d delivered the baby. Odelia’s opinion in the matter was different, of course: she wanted to keep busy right up until the last possible moment, and her doctor hadn’t given her any indication why she couldn’t, which strengthened her in her view.

But with nothing much going on at the paper, and nothing going on at the police station, Dooley, Brutus, Harriet and myself had figured we should take advantage of these final days or weeks before the big change was upon us: the arrival of the new baby.

“So do you think it’s going to be a boy or a girl?” asked Dooley, not for the first time.

“I don’t know, Dooley, and Odelia isn’t telling, so speculation is pointless.”

“But why, Max? Why aren’t they telling us? We have a right to know.”

“Not really,” I said. “And besides, maybe they don’t know themselves.”

“I think they know,” said Harriet. “And they’re simply not telling anyone.”

“But why!” Dooley insisted. “We have to know, so we can prepare ourselves.”

“What difference does it make?” I said. “Babies are babies, whatever their gender.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, Max,” said Brutus. “There’s a huge difference.”