The Shoes Come First: A Jennifer Cloud Novel

by Janet Leigh

  ~

  We passed a few more lovely houses, and then all hell broke loose. I heard a van door open through my headset, and Jake began cussing. Ace’s microphone was stuck in the on position again, and I could hear him trying to explain the situation.

  “What can I say, accidents do happen,” came Ace’s reply.

  “Jen, you do not go into that wedding,” Jake commanded.

  He was shouting orders in my ear. I pressed my pretty lapel pin, then tapped my fingers on the top. “Sorry, come again? I am getting static. I can’t hear you.”

  Marco laughed. “You’re sneaky—no wonder he worries about you. So which one is it?” he asked, gesturing with his palm. “The cool superagent or the bad-boy defender?”

  “Neither,” I replied, listening to Jake complain in my ear. “They both seem to end up with other women, so I am currently off men.”

  “Maybe I can change your mind.”

  “What about the no-contact policy you had with Ace?”

  “Babe, that only applies with Ace. You are full contact.”

  Yikes!

  We pulled through tall, black iron gates into the circle drive of a huge stone mansion. A valet dressed as a monkey helped me out of the car. As we started toward the front door, a photographer jumped out of the bushes and snapped a picture. I threw my hands over my face in surprise. A big burly man dressed head to toe in black came and grabbed the photographer.

  “No paparazzi. This here’s a private party.”

  “Who is she, Marco?” the photographer yelled. “Is it the French princess or the Greek tycoon’s daughter?”

  Marco tucked his hand in mine and ushered me inside.

  “Sorry about that,” he said, sulking.

  “Well, sounds like you have your fair share of women too,” I said.

  Marco was about to respond when a lovely girl dressed as Alice in Wonderland came up and gave him a big smack right on the lips. I smirked at him.

  “Marco, where have you been hiding?” she asked, grinning ear to ear. “Mother said you haven’t called in over a week.”

  “I’ve been out of town. I just returned late last night.”

  “Well, you’d think you could have at least worn a costume.” She pressed two pouty lips together. “Everyone will recognize you in your racing gear.”

  Marco shrugged, then the girl noticed me standing next to Marco.

  “Hi! I’m sorry, I am being completely rude. I don’t know if I have ever met you with the costume and all. Who is this, Marco?”

  “Sorry, Jen. This is my sister, Evangeline.”

  His sister! I exhaled, not realizing I was holding my breath. This got a smile from Marco.

  “Nice to meet you.” I extended my hand, which she took, and then she pulled me to her and kissed my cheek.

  “Everyone calls me Angel,” she explained. “Ooh, your hands are so warm.” I felt a zing of warmth run up my arm. Marco eyed me curiously and quickly pulled his sister away.

  “C’mon, you can sit next to me and Mother. She will be so excited to see Marco.” Angel locked elbows with Marco and me, then escorted us into the house.

  We came through the foyer, which opened up into a huge entry with an enormous Scarlet O’Hara staircase that ascended up a story, then split into two staircases that continued in opposing directions. Red velvet brocade carpeting covered the stair treads. Centered on the landing at the top of the first set of steps was an arbor decorated with a variety of roses in every color. As we moved farther into the hall, I could see that the red carpet transitioned from the stairs and began creating a wide aisle. White chairs were set up on either side of the red carpet runner. My shoes clicked on the Italian marble tile as we made our way to the chairs.

  Ushers were seating people, and a harpist was playing in the corner. Everything looked like a normal wedding except for the fact that everyone was in costume and the court jester was making his way over to seat us.

  “Yous with the bride or groom?” he asked.

  I remembered him from Trish’s wedding. He was a cousin or something to Vinnie.

  “Joey, you’re so funny.” Angel gave him a punch on his skinny bicep. “You know we are with the groom. Seat us next to Mother.”

  “I knows, but I’m sposed to ask; it’s the rules. Hey, Marco, nice costume, very original. Who’s the dame?”

  Marco grabbed my hand and said curtly, “A friend.” I smiled apologetically.

  “OK. Jeez, I get it. She’s an actress or someone famous. Yous knows I can keep a secret. Ya know, Enzio is my cousin on my mother’s side. That’s why I’m offerin’ my services as usher.”

  He offered an arm for Angel. Marco and I followed her down the aisle. Joey dropped us off at seats about halfway up, where a gorgeous blonde sat in a white Chanel suit. She had the same nose as Marco and Angel and smiled politely when Marco introduced us. She was carrying a mask on a stick.

  “Who are you supposed to be?” Marco asked his mother.

  “I am myself in a mask,” she responded with a slight accent. “I think these things are silly. A wedding should be done in a church before God, not at a costume party.”

  Dang, I couldn’t remember the last time I had gone to church. My palms started to sweat, and I began mentally making a list for confession. I looked over my shoulder and caught Caiyan coming in unushered. He sat toward the back. Not too far behind him entered a woman dressed as a showgirl. Her headdress was tall with feathers molting off of it. She was arguing with Joey about having to sit in the back because people couldn’t see over her costume. After a few words, I realized it was Cousin Trish. I took in a quick breath and grabbed Marco’s arm. He turned to see what caught my attention. Vinnie had come up behind her, not really in any form of costume.

  “What are they doing here?” I asked. “I thought they were Mafia enemies.”

  “Enzio is related to Vinnie, which means common ground during the wedding. Don’t worry, they probably won’t recognize you in the wig.”

  My heart rate escalated a couple of notches. How could Mortas hold Gertie captive in this house, while her mom and stepdad were guests? I was in awe at the criminal world. Things didn’t make sense. The bad guys were all mixed up with the good guys. Finally Cousin Trish compromised by taking off the feather headpiece, and they were seated closer to the front on the groom’s side.

  The ushers finished seating everyone, and I recognized several of the guests as people I had read about in People magazine or seen on TMZ. Their costumes didn’t disguise them well enough to hide their identity, which I think was precisely the point. The joker was present, but with very little face paint, allowing me to place him as one of the cast of a TV sitcom. Looking at it from a famous person’s perspective, I realized there was no point in attending a function if you didn’t get the notoriety that came along with it.

  A band appeared from I don’t know where and began to play. The mother of the bride was escorted in wearing an I Dream of Jeannie costume. Not bad abs for a woman her age.

  I was contemplating starting an exercise program when Marco whispered, “There’s the Mafuso elder, Gian-Carlo Mafuso.” A silver-haired man in his seventies walked down the aisle and took a seat next to the mother of the bride. He was either not in costume or dressed as a mortician; I couldn’t decide but opted for the former.

  “Is he a brigand?” I asked.

  “Yes and no. I heard he just flew in from Italy tonight.” Marco’s breath was warm on my neck and made the hair on my arms, among other things, stand at attention. I looked over at him, and the wicked grin had reappeared on his gorgeous face. He knew exactly what kind of effect he had on me and was totally playing it up. Men, geesh!

  “What do you mean yes and no?”

  “He has already passed his key to Mortas. He only directs the show now. His grandchildren have the starring roles.”

  “How many of his grandchildren have the gift?”

  “So far as I know, the three Mafusos you have met, who are Gi
an-Carlo’s son, Dominic’s kids.”

  Marco pointed to a stocky man with dark hair and a round face. “That’s Guido his other son. He has two children but I don’t know if they have the gift. It doesn’t matter because they are out of keys.”

  “No wonder they want mine.”

  “They can’t do anything without the vessel.”

  The music changed to trumpets played by three knights. Their costumes clanked as they moved into their places at the side of the big hall. A priest appeared under the arch dressed as himself. The catholic church probably frowned on a costumed master of ceremonies. Three groomsmen, fully clad as lords, came down the stairs on the right to stand on the groom’s side of the arch. One at a time, each bridesmaid came flouncing down the aisle until three bridesmaids, dressed like tavern wenches from medieval times, were standing opposite the groomsmen. I realized the second wench was Mahlia. Perfect outfit.

  A young girl dressed as a peasant came in throwing red rose petals. She was followed by a young boy in a squire’s costume. He carried in his chubby hands a purple satin pillow with a ring sparkling in the center. Halfway down the aisle, he stumbled and tilted the pillow. The ring slid off and rolled under my chair. I jumped up, and we were all scrambling to find it. The boy was crawling under my chair. Marco and I were trying to bend down, but the seats were too close together to allow us to see under the chair. The boy announced very loudly that he had located the missing ring, backed out from the chair, and stood up under my skirt.

  “Oops,” he said.

  In my haste I accidentally pressed my brooch and said, “Get out from under there, you little shit.”

  Jake’s voice returned in my ear. “Who is under where? What’s Marco doing? I’ll kill him.”

  I couldn’t deal with the voice in my ear or the child under my dress, who was pulling the fabric down instead of up—my boobs were starting to come out the top. I looked up, frantic, and saw Mahlia staring at me. Recognition came over her face, and anger lit up her eyes. Marco leaned over and pushed the kid’s head down until he was out from under my dress. There was applause from the crowd and a few boos, mostly from the men.

  The ring bearer was red-faced and looked up at me, loudly asking, “Jeez, lady, don’t you wear any underwear?”

  I sat down fast and didn’t look up until he made it to the stairs.

  Caiyan’s voice purred in my ear. “Lucky lad.”

  Then Jake’s: “Stifle it, McGregor, or your ass is mine.”

  Marco just sat there with a wicked grin on his face. Damn, I shouldn’t have worn the new Victoria’s Secret thong Ace made me buy.

  The band changed tunes again, and a very Italian-looking man dressed as a prince came down the right staircase and joined the groomsmen.

  I didn’t see Mortas, but maybe he was in costume. The music changed again, and a brass section played Madonna’s “Like a Virgin.”

  I looked over at Marco. “Seriously?”

  He smiled and draped an arm around the back of my chair, stroking the back of my neck with his fingers. I could feel things heat up down south, so I clamped my legs together to extinguish the flames.

  The bride flowed in from the left staircase dressed in a princess gown and tall, pointed hat with matching veil. I could feel Mahlia’s eyes on me throughout the ceremony, but I avoided looking at her. I didn’t want to screw up Gertie’s rescue. The ceremony concluded with the bride singing a solo and all members of the royal bridal party providing backup. We were asked to move to the grand ballroom so photographs of the wedding party could be taken. Fine by me—I needed a drink.

  Marco took my elbow and led me down a hall on the right, which opened to a huge ballroom. Polished wood floors gleamed under my feet, and huge gilt-framed paintings adorned the walls, making me feel as though I had walked into the Louvre. At the far end was a stage, where another band was set up and already playing. A long table extended down one side of the room and was set up for the bridal party.

  Several guests were making their way to the round tables scattered about the room and to the tables set up on the patio outside. Each table had a small glass centerpiece shaped into a pumpkin surrounded by colorful fall leaves. Candles glowed from the center, creating a romantic atmosphere. The chandeliers were dimmed, making me feel a little less conspicuous about being discovered. Marco grabbed two flutes of champagne off a passing tray carried by Lurch from The Addams Family.

  “Thanks,” I said as he handed me the glass. We stood next to a Cezanne painting entitled Temptation of St. Anthony as we sipped the champagne and watched other guests enter the room. I didn’t see any sign of the Mafusos. I assumed Satan’s bitch would have to get her picture taken with the rest of the bridal party. I spotted Marco’s mother across the ballroom in deep conversation with Vinnie and Cousin Trish, then she pointed in Marco’s direction, and they headed our way. I grabbed Marco’s arm. He saw them approaching as well.

  “What do you think we should do?” I asked.

  “Dance,” Marco replied. We dumped our champagne glasses on a passing tray, and he swung me out onto the dance floor. I tried to protest, because I wasn’t a very good dancer. The music was kind of a slow swing, which I managed without falling down.

  “You are a good dancer,” I said to Marco.

  “My mother made me take lessons, which have turned out to my advantage since I am always attending some kind of charity function.” I spotted Trish and saw Marco’s mom make an “oh well” sort of gesture, and they grabbed some champagne and headed off toward the patio.

  He spun me around again. “So, what is the gift you have that no one can talk about?” I asked off the cuff.

  “Well…” He smiled. “I’m not supposed to tell you, but I can show you.” He waved his hand in the air not unlike he was performing a Jedi mind trick, and the entire room seem to slow down like a warped record. Time had slowed for everyone except for him and me. Marco spun me in tight. Then everyone clicked back up to speed. The effect was only for a few seconds, and no one in the room seemed to notice. Well, almost no one. Caiyan tapped Marco on the shoulder.

  “Mind if I cut in, lad?”

  “Be my guest; my work here is done. Later, Jen.” And Marco was gone, leaving me with the Scottish Don Juan. The music slowed, and Caiyan pulled me in tight. I pushed against him, trying to put a little distance between us.

  “Marco should naugh have done that—the Mafusos could have been in the room,” he said, drawing me to him.

  “But they weren’t, so no harm done.” I pushed back away.

  “Mmmm,” was Caiyan’s response as he pulled me to him and nuzzled my neck. He smelled really good, and the mask was putting my hormones in overdrive.

  “I thought we were supposed to keep a distance from one another?”

  “Aye, but Mahlia has already spotted me, and your display with the ring bearer certainly caught her attention.”

  “That wasn’t my fault. He lost the ring, for Pete’s sake.”

  “The boy’s name is Francisco, nephew of the groom.” Caiyan smirked at me.

  “Humph,” was all I could muster as a response.

  As we danced, Caiyan told me we needed to split up and look around. I was to stay on this level, because it would be easier to explain that I was a lost guest. He would go upstairs and check things out. When the music ended, we strolled outside, and he left me on the patio overlooking the gardens. I gave him a minute, then I wandered back inside, keeping a lookout for family members. The bride and groom were making their entrance, so it was the perfect time to duck out.

  I turned around, and Julia Child offered me an hors d’oeuvre. I politely refused and asked where the ladies room was located.

  “Down the hall on the right,” Julia replied in a very deep voice. I wondered if maybe he knew Ace.

  I meandered in the direction he pointed, bypassed the bathroom, and slipped into the room at the end of the hall. I found myself in a large study. Floor-to-ceiling mahogany bookshelves lined the wall
s to my right. To my left were wood-paneled walls with strategically placed artwork of dogs hunting a fox. An enormous floor-to-ceiling stone fireplace encompassed the far wall. I was in awe. A fire burned steadily in the hearth. The Mafuso family crest was engraved in a stone block about halfway up the fireplace. A thick piece of wood formed the mantel, which held a large black marble urn and two brass candlesticks. I suddenly had a vision from the old Clue game…She was killed in the study with the candlestick by Professor Plum…

  “Jen, where are you?” Jake’s voice jarred me out of my hallucination.

  I pressed my brooch. “I’m in the study.”

  “Tell me what you see.”

  A huge mahogany desk hovered in the middle of the room. A computer, a cordless phone, a tray filled with papers, and an expensive marble pencil holder were neatly placed on the desk. I relayed this to Jake.

  “Look through the desk and tell me what you find.”

  I thumbed through the papers on the desk. Nothing exciting—a few bills, a racing program, and a couple of purchase orders. I powered up the computer, but there was a password. I shut down the computer and dug through the drawers. Nothing. No secret files. No hidden panels with ancient scrolls, and definitely no Gertie. I told Jake I would get back to him and listened as Caiyan reported in. He was probing around the second floor.

  A spiral staircase snaked up to the right of the stone fireplace. I went up, and it led to a library with a comfortable couch and chair. There were three bookcases, all containing very old books.

  The door to the study opened, and I heard footsteps below. I peeked over the banister and saw Mortas, Mahlia, and the Mafuso elder.

  “I tell you, it’s the other one,” Mahlia said with fisted hands.

  “Calm down, Mahlia,” said Mortas. “You knew they would come here looking for the transporter.”

  “She is not the one,” Mahlia said. “We have tried several times, and she refuses to call the vessel. The key does not light up on her neck.”

  “Just because the key does not glow does not mean she is not the one. Powers are deceptive. We still do not know all that exist.”

  The old man crossed the room to the fireplace and turned one of the candlesticks. The fire extinguished, and the interior wall of the fireplace opened. The three of them entered. I leaned over to get a better look. Mahlia, the last to walk through the fireplace, turned quickly, looking up in my direction. I pulled back, hoping she didn’t see me. She frowned, then told the others she would be down momentarily. I heard her cross the room and begin climbing the stairs.

  Panic. Mahlia was coming after me. I had to tell Caiyan about the secret room. I knew that’s where they were holding Gertie, but I was afraid Mahlia would hear me if I spoke into my brooch.

  I scanned my surroundings. The three shelves ran horizontally to the back of the room. I scurried behind the last row of shelves. Luck was with me: there was a door to the right of the last bookshelf, which I hastily went through, trying to be as quiet as possible. I found myself in a long hallway. There were two rooms to the right. I chose one and ducked inside.

  It was a small den. A leather sofa was situated in front of several flat-screen TVs. I looked around—nowhere to hide in here. The den connected to a bedroom that had a balcony overlooking the Olympic-sized pool. Several guests had ambled out and were indulging in before-dinner drinks around the pool. I checked the dresser. Keys, valet stub from the 40/40 Club, and spare change were in an oval metal dish. Nothing. I went into the bathroom and snooped in the closet, which was as big as my house, and found several men’s suits. I heard a shuffle outside and squeezed back between Armani and Ralph Lauren. Damn. Mahlia had found me.

  Jake wanted to know my location. I pressed the microphone and whispered for him to hang on. I recited my mantra: “I’m spunky and I’m fierce and I’m smarter than most men. Bad guys run and hide ‘cause here comes SuperJen.”

  The door to the bathroom opened, and footsteps crossed the marble floor. I heard the closet doors open, and someone entered the closet. I got ready to attack if necessary. I was about to jump out and surprise Satan’s bitch when two hands reached in and parted the suits in one quick swoop.

  Caiyan was laughing. I was shaking. He reached up and removed my hand, which had been pressed against my brooch since Jake had asked my location. Upon its release, I heard laughter from various voices.

  Caiyan helped me out of the closet. “SuperJen, naugh bad. I thought of you more as Sexy Jen, but I’ll call you whatever you like, yeah?”

  “Oh, shut up. It’s just a rhyme I made up as a kid.” I pressed my brooch. “If y’all would kindly quit giggling like schoolgirls, I’ll tell you where they are keeping Gertie.”

  Everyone gave me his undivided attention, and I explained about the fireplace. Caiyan agreed it was worth checking out. Jake decided we should go back to the wedding and wait for Mortas and Mahlia to turn up, then we could make our move.