Cop

THE ANGRY SHOUTS began just as J.C. Riley was finessing the bride into the spun sugar gazebo on the top of the wedding cake. Startled by the raised voices, she dropped the figurine, then watched in horror as it ricocheted off a pink butter-cream rose and nose-dived to the floor. Dammit! She'd spent five full minutes fashioning that rose. Not only was the flower ruined, but the little plastic bride now wore a pink veil. As she stooped to pick it up, the shouting grew louder and J.C. heard a loud thump. Years of experience growing up with four crashing into a wall. A door slammed. More thumping followed, punctuated by muffled grunts. Maybe she ought to think about rescuing the real bride. Striding to the door of the rectory dining room, she peered down the hall to the covered walkway that connected Father Mike's residence to St. Peter's Church. The door to the church sacristy was shut. Strangeit had been open when she'd brought the cake in from her van. So far, the whole wedding had been strange. Father Mike had ordered cake and champagne for five peoplethe bride and groom, two witnesses and himself. That made it the smallest wedding that J.C. had catered at St. Peter's, and the first one where she'd yet to meet either the bride or the groom. Father Mike hadn't even given her their last names. He'd called them by their first names only onceJuliana and Paulo. Then he'd seemed upset that he'd let the names slip and had asked her not to mention them. A very secret wedding, he'd explained. If word got out, there could be...consequences. Maybe that was what was going on now in the sacristyconsequences. She glanced back at the table she'd just finished arranging. The cakenow minus a rose and a bridewas in the center. An arrangement of white flowers flanked it on one side, along with linen napkins, crystal plates and silver forks. At the other end, candlelight flickered off of a silver bucket and champagne flutes. Scattered along the whole length of the table were little bowls of sugar-coated almonds. Moving to them, J.C. popped an almond into her mouth. She'd made them, adding a chocolate layer just to please herself. She always got so hungry when she was nervous. Thump. Crash. None of her business. Besides, she had to get the plastic bride into the gazebo. She figured Father Mike had been talked into marrying a pair of minor celebrities. With all the reality and become-a-star TV shows, fifteen-minutes-of-fame people were popping up all over the place. Father Mike had become a minor celebrity himself. A few months back the Sunday paper had run a feature article on the hip priest who'd turned St. Peter's into a very popular church for young people in the area who wanted to get married. Since then, St. Peter's had become the "in" place to have your weddingwhich was working out very well for her fledgling catering business. Thump. Thump. J.C. glanced at the door, then popped another almond into her mouth. The extreme secrecy of tonight's wedding reminded her a bit of Romeo and Juliet. So did the continuing sounds of a fight in the sacristy. Hadn't it been a stupid fight that had spun events out of control for Shakespeare's lovers? Thump. Crash. Enough. J.C. strode through the door of the dining room and down the hall. Someone had to do something, and she had more than a little experience in breaking up fights. The sacristy was a small room, about the size of a boxing ring, but it was certainly not meant to be used that way. Most of the space in the room was taken up with cupboards, the largest of which stored Father Mike's vestments. Whoever was rolling around in there on the floor ought to be ashamed of themselves. They were probably scaring the bride to death. Stepping into the covered walkway, she picked up her pace. She'd caught a glimpse of the ySummers, Cara is the author of 'Cop ', published 2007 under ISBN 9780373793402 and ISBN 0373793405.