“Officer,” Charlie cut in quickly, his tone unusually harsh, “if you’re trying to insinuate that Mr. Poe holds any responsibility for this tragic accident, you’d best be careful.”
“Who are you?” Duplin scoffed disgustedly.
“Charlie Swenson,” he said fiercely, “wedding planner and concerned citizen. I don’t think it’s very professional to go around lobbing accusations at innocent bystanders like Mr. Poe here.”
“No one is accusing anyone—” Duplin began.
“Really? Because that’s not what I heard!” Charlie smiled sweetly. “And that’s not what I’ll tell the press that is certainly going to be gathering outside at any moment.”
“Why in the hell would anyone believe you?” Duplin snarled, standing up and reaching for his phone.
“Because I speak with an English accent.” Charlie batted his eyes. “People love accents. Plus, I look amazing on camera.”
“I’m calling this in,” Duplin said with a roll of his eyes. “You three, get comfortable.”
Jimmy remained huddled on the floor and ducked his head down. He still felt sick, and he hated that he was missing the arraignment. He hoped Cold was able to get out, but he wasn’t sure.
Was this some terrible part of Cold’s plan? Did he know this was going to happen?
Jimmy didn’t know what to think.
The scene was cleared, and Duplin was kind enough to let Jimmy step outside so he wouldn’t have to watch the body being taken away. He stayed close to Jerry, and he was surprised by how calm Charlie was.
All signs of Charlie’s earlier panic were gone, and he was patiently waiting with them out on the sidewalk. He stepped away only briefly to smoke a quick cigarette.
Cloves, Jimmy thought absently, judging by the smell.
A police officer that Jimmy didn’t know approached them to take their statements. Jerry pretended that he didn’t speak English, yelling in French and refusing to cooperate.
“Look, we walked in, the clerk screamed at us, grabbed the gun, and... and then he shot himself,” Jimmy said quickly. “That’s it.”
“What did he say? What did he say exactly?” the officer pressed.
“I don’t know!” Jimmy cried, shrill and angry. “I don’t remember!”
Charlie’s arm was suddenly around his shoulders and turning him away from the officer. “Can’t you see that he’s in shock? You bloody insensitive prat!”
Jimmy blinked when a camera flash suddenly blinded him. Charlie had inadvertently moved him to be in the line of sight of one of the gathering reporters. Great, he thought, some miserable-looking photograph of him to find in tomorrow’s paper.
“We’ll take their official statements later,” Duplin said briskly, approaching to dismiss the officer. He stared hard at Jimmy and muttered flatly, “Your husband is waiting for you at home. Work this shit out with him. We’ll be in touch, very soon.”
Jimmy’s heart fluttered despite the traumatic situation he was currently stuck in. Cold was home. He was free for now at least, and Jimmy couldn’t wait to run into his arms. He brushed Charlie aside, taking a deep breath as he said firmly, “We can work it out with my lawyer.”
“You heard him, mate.” Charlie grinned smugly and gave Duplin a little wave. “Later.”
“Let’s get you home,monsieur,” Jerry murmured, doing his best to get Jimmy safely into the limo without too much harassment from the press.
Jimmy melted into the seat and glanced up when Charlie joined him. “Thank you. You know, for all of that.”
“It’s my job to keep my grooms happy,” Charlie said cheerfully. “I’m glad to help.”
“You take your job way too seriously.”
“It’s why I’m the best,” Charlie said with a bright grin. “Now! Maybe we can discuss a color theme...?”
He looked so hopeful, and Jimmy couldn’t refuse. “Fine,” he sighed. “What about something with blue and white?”
Charlie was positively gleeful, and he immediately launched into a long lecture about how chic a monochromatic color scheme was and how it could work so well for a contemporary wedding.
