Hitched

by Carol Higgins Clark

  Teresa looked at her watch. “We have to go.”

  “Can I have your number?” Regan asked. “I’d like to call you later. I’m also going to be speaking to the other three brides whose dresses are gone. Will you please think about the times you were here—did you see anyone or anything that seemed suspicious? Also, I’d like to know if there was anyone who knew you were having your gown made here and might have wanted to try and ruin your wedding for you.”

  “Are you trying to blame this on me?” Brianne asked.

  “Of course not,” Regan answered. “I just want to explore all the possibilities. It’s hard to believe that this was a random crime.”

  “Everyone makes enemies,” Teresa declared.

  That’s a sweeping statement, Regan thought. Brianne must have more than a few.

  “Let me tell you something, Regan,” Brianne said. “I’ve gone out with a lot of jerks. Like everybody else…”

  Regan noticed that Kit was nodding vigorously and a slight smile came over Jack’s face. He’d met a few of Kit’s questionable beaus and obviously agreed with her assessment of them.

  “But I don’t think any of those losers are smart enough or would have had the nerve to pull something like this off.”

  “That’s for sure,” Teresa agreed.

  “I’d still like to call you.”

  “Fine.” Brianne pulled out a business card from her large purse and handed it to Regan. “I work for a decorator. My cell phone number is on there.”

  “Thanks.”

  Brianne leaned down and picked up her other bag that contained everything she needed for her final fitting: brideworthy strapless bra and underwear, control-top panty hose, and her white wedding slippers. “A waste of energy carrying this up here today,” she muttered with disgust.

  Alfred flinched, ever so slightly, then escorted the mother and daughter out to the elevator. When he returned, he collapsed dramatically onto the couch by the window. “Look at how gloomy it’s gotten outside. It’s starting to pour. It’s a dark, dark day…”

  Jack’s beeper went off. His office was trying to contact him. He quickly called back and Regan watched as a look of frustration came over his face. He hung up the phone and turned to her. “I’ve got to run. It started raining uptown twenty minutes ago and our rainy day robber struck again.”

  “We’re all doomed,” Alfred cried. “Doomed!”

  6

  Luke Reilly was enjoying his Saturday. He had just played an early round of golf with a couple of his buddies who teased him about being the Father of the Bride. Getting in his car, he knew that he was going home to an empty house. He didn’t like that much but smiled at the thought of Regan and Nora picking up Regan’s dress and enjoying their day in the city with Kit. It was hard to believe his little girl was getting married. As he drove, a slight feeling of sadness came over him. To be expected, he thought. It’s natural at a time like this.

  When he pulled into the driveway, he parked the car, hurried up the path, and unlocked the front door. The weather had suddenly taken an ominous turn, clouds had rolled in, and it started to rain.

  Luke stepped inside and glanced at the family picture on the table in the front hall that was taken a couple of years ago at Christmastime. She takes after me, he thought. His hair was now silver, but Regan had clearly inherited her Black Irish looks from Luke. His eyes moved to the picture of Regan taken on her first communion day. She’d been so excited about that little white dress and veil, he remembered, and the anklets with the ruffled trim and patent leather shoes that completed the outfit.

  She was standing in front of their fireplace with a big smile, clutching her prayer book, one of her front teeth missing.

  Who knew? he thought. Who knew that she’d grow up and take on the task of tracking down criminals?

  Next to the first communion picture was a photo of Regan and Jack taken right after they got engaged. They both looked so happy. If Luke had had a son, he would have wanted him to be just like Jack—responsible, smart, loving, with a good sense of humor. Now he’d have him as a son-in-law.

  Life was good.

  Luke had bought himself a new tux and, Luke being Luke, had picked it up two months ago. He didn’t know about Regan and Nora but he was ready for the wedding if they wanted to get married tomorrow.

  I’ll see what I can dig up for lunch, he thought as he headed into the kitchen. There was plenty of food left over from the shower, and he’d put together a plate.

  The house seemed so quiet, especially compared to the way it was last night. The phone on the kitchen wall rang. Luke raised his eyebrows. It’s never quiet around here for long, he thought. I should have savored the moment.

  “Hello.”

  “Is this the Reilly residence?”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “Is this the home of Regan Reilly, who is getting married next week in New York City?”

  Luke frowned. “Who’s calling?”

  “I’m calling from an engraving company. A friend of hers is sending her a very special present and wanted to have the date and time of the wedding engraved on the gift.”

  “Wouldn’t the friend know that information?” Luke asked skeptically.

  “Of course, but we can’t reach the friend, and our engraver is here now. We weren’t sure whether it was at 9 A.M. or 4 P.M. We can’t read the handwriting of the clerk who took the order and we just wanted to be sure of the exact time of the wedding.”

  “Who’s the friend?” Luke asked.

  “Ohhh,” the male’s voice said, sounding uncertain. “She really wanted this to be a surprise. It’s such an incredible gift.”

  “Can I have your name and number?” Luke asked.

  “If I could just confirm the time—”

  “You can when I call you back.”

  The person at the other end hung up.

  Just as I thought, Luke mused as he replaced the phone in the receiver. Someone finds out about a wedding and figures that the bride’s parents’ house will be empty for several hours. So they scope out the situation, plan a break in, and hope that there are wedding presents around. If they’re lucky, good jewelry has been left out.

  Nora got plenty of publicity and was often photographed wearing expensive earrings, necklaces, rings, bracelets, the whole works. She had said they should get someone to stay at the house while they’re gone next Saturday. Luke made a mental note to see if Nora had someone lined up for that.

  Luke didn’t like the feeling that came over him. I gave this guy enough information even though I didn’t confirm the time of the wedding, Luke thought. Whoever was at the other end of the line could tell that this was the bride’s house. An owner of three funeral homes, Luke had seen plenty of trouble in his day. People often checked the obituary pages and burglarized the home of the bereaved while the funeral was taking place. You can’t get any lower than that, he thought.

  Reaching into the refrigerator, Luke pulled out a bowl of what looked like chicken salad. I’ll get one of the guys from work to stay here all day on Saturday, he thought as he reached in the bread drawer for a roll. The Reillys had an alarm system, but Luke wanted someone he knew in the house.

  The phone rang again. This time it was Nora.

  “Hi, honey,” he said. “How’s it going?” He sat down at the table and listened to a Reader’s Digest version of what had happened. “That gown was expensive,” he joked halfheartedly. It wasn’t worth mentioning the phone call he’d just received. At least not now.

  Luke flashed back to the picture of Regan in her first communion dress. She’d been so happy. Next week she was supposed to wear another beautiful white dress and veil. This time she’d be on Jack’s arm, and they’d be smiling together. It wasn’t fair that her dress had been stolen. My little girl, he thought.

  “Tell Regan that she’ll look beautiful no matter what she wears,” Luke said, his voice a little husky.

  “Jack already told her that. Alfred says he’ll mak
e her another dress. But he’s in such a state that I don’t see how he’ll be able to get it done.”

  “Maybe you should get a backup.”

  Nora sighed. “It’s not that easy. We’ll figure it out. I just wanted to let you know what was going on. Regan is taking on this case. I tried to tell her not to when Alfred was out of earshot, but you know Regan. She’s determined. And Jack is busy with another bank robbery that happened less than an hour ago.”

  These things come in threes, Luke thought as he looked around the kitchen and glanced at the back door. “You didn’t think it was going to be a typical week before the wedding with those two, did you?”

  “No. But I didn’t expect this. Well, just as long as everyone is safe. That’s all that matters.”

  “It certainly is,” Luke said as he glanced at the back door. He walked over and tested the lock. “It certainly is.”

  7

  “It took you over an hour to go buy cigarettes?” Francis asked Marco.

  “I was doing some thinking,” Marco answered.

  Francis had been thinking as well. He had planned to spend the winter in hibernation on the living room couch, with his leg up, watching television and collecting workman’s compensation. Joyce would cook him dinner every night. By the time spring rolled around, he’d be back to work. If you had to be laid up, winter was a good time for it.

  But then Marco had shown up, and all Francis’s plans for a cozy winter’s rest were shot.

  Marco had gone out immediately after they saw the story on the robbery. Joyce wouldn’t let Marco smoke in the house so all winter long he’d disappear for his nicotine fix. Sometimes he’d take a couple puffs in the driveway. When it was raining he’d get in his car and drive off. Francis was allergic to smoke and was grateful that Joyce was so strict with Marco. She said she’d throw him out if she ever caught him smoking in her house.

  It was now after two o’clock. “If we’re going to Atlantic City, we should hit the road soon,” Francis called to Marco who’d gone into the kitchen and helped himself to a can of soda.

  “I’ve been thinking,” Marco repeated.

  “Good for you, Marco. I think, too.”

  Marco ignored the remark as he returned to the living room and sat down on the La-Z-Boy recliner. “Francis, where do lots and lots of people get married?”

  “Churches and synagogues. Open fields. Parks. Joyce said she wants to get married outside so people can bring their dogs.”

  “That’s beautiful. I mean, in what town?”

  Francis frowned. “I don’t know. My parents went up to Niagara Falls for their honeymoon.”

  “I don’t mean honeymoon! Forget it. Listen, a lot of people get married in Las Vegas. They have tons of weddings there every day.”

  “So.”

  “So brides need wedding gowns. We have wedding gowns.”

  Francis blanched.

  “I have a buddy out in Las Vegas. We can send the gowns to him. He can unload them. I’ll give him a call. Plenty of people get married out there on the spur of the moment, and it’s too late for the bride to get her hands on a designer gown. We’ll make it easy. My pal Marty can go hang around the courthouse steps where they all go to get their licenses.” Marco took a sip of his soda. “It’ll be what you call an impulse buy. We’ll make a few extra bucks.”

  “Who is this guy?” Francis asked.

  “I met him in my travels.”

  “Can he be trusted to turn over the money to us?”

  Marco nodded. “He wouldn’t mess with me.”

  I wonder what that means, Francis thought. “It’s Saturday,” he said quickly. “The post office is already closed.”

  “So we’ll do it Monday. I want to get rid of those gowns. I don’t like riding around with them in the trunk. If we ever got stopped, and they checked the trunk, we’re dead meat.”

  Francis waved his hands forcefully. “Why don’t we just throw them in a Dumpster and be rid of them?”

  “Too dangerous. And not profitable. Did you call Joyce and tell her we’re going out of town tonight?”

  “Not yet.”

  Francis’s cell phone rang. His body twitched. I’m not cut out for this, he thought. I’m turning into a wreck. He looked at the caller ID. “It’s my mother.”

  Marco rolled his eyes.

  “Hi, Ma.”

  Francis’s mother, Janice, lived out on Long Island with his father, who was an electrician. Janice worked part time as a waitress at the local diner. She was a sturdy woman with strong opinions that she never kept to herself.

  “How’s your leg?” she asked. “With this rain I thought it might be bothering you.”

  “I’m all right.”

  “You don’t sound all right. Is Marco there?”

  “Yes.” Francis glanced over at his friend who could tell that he was about to be disparaged.

  “Hmm,” Janice grunted dismissively. “Joyce at work?”

  “Yes.”

  “I made a nice lasagna. Why don’t you and Joyce take a drive out when she gets home? I suppose you can bring Marco if you have to.”

  “Thanks, Mom. But we can’t.”

  “Why not? What are you doing?”

  “Marco and I are…we’re…we’re going to Atlantic City.”

  “Again? Weren’t you there last week?”

  “Yes. We had a great time. I need to get out again and get some fresh air.”

  “We’ve got fresh air out on the Island. What about Joyce?”

  “I don’t think she’ll be joining us.”

  “You just got off the crutches. Do you really think you should be walking around the casinos?”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  “When are you and Joyce getting married?”

  “What?” Francis asked, astonished.

  “You heard me. I don’t approve of living together before marriage. You know that.”

  “I have to get back to work first,” Francis said evasively. He paused and licked his lips. “What made you ask that now?”

  “I just got home from work. Right before I left the diner it came over the radio that a bridal salon in Manhattan had been broken into and the dresses were stolen. Everyone started talking about the poor brides who were left in the lurch. They have to scramble to get new dresses. Whoever did that must have been a real louse. A real louse! They broke into a safe and made off with money and jewelry. So why did they have to steal the dresses? They couldn’t have been raised well.”

  “I guess not. Mom, I have to go. Thanks for calling.”

  “I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Call me.”

  “Okay.” Francis closed his cell phone. “I’ve got to get out of here. I’ll call Joyce from the car.” He stood quickly and almost lost his balance. Adrenaline was flowing through his body.

  “Hey, be careful,” Marco admonished as he rushed to grab Francis’s arm.

  It’s too late for that, Francis thought desperately. Much too late…

  8

  I can’t believe this is happening the week before my wedding, Regan thought. She had walked Jack out to the hallway, where he’d opted to take the stairs instead of waiting for the slow-as-molasses elevator. As she stepped back into Alfred and Charisse’s salon, Regan could see that her mother was getting that worried look, the look that came across her face when she was deep in thought, mulling over a problem. Or when she was trying to figure out a plot point in one of her books. This time the look seemed to say, “Regan, your wedding is in seven days and we’ve got a million things to do. Don’t get involved in this!”

  But my bridal gown is out there somewhere, Regan thought, stolen by a couple of thieves who could have harmed Alfred and Charisse. I need to find out who they are. She smiled to herself, thinking of Brianne’s thirst for revenge. I certainly wouldn’t want to meet her in a dark alley.

  “Alfred, I’d like to slowly go over everything that happened since the break-in.”

  “We already did that with the police,
” he answered as he sank further into the curved black leather couch. On the coffee table were the remnants of their lunch.

  “I’ll make a pot of lavender tea. It’s very calming,” Charisse said quickly. “With all the anxious brides we get in here, it comes in very handy.” She started to clear the table.

  “Kit and I will take care of it,” Nora offered.

  “Of course,” Kit agreed, not sounding like she really meant it.

  “Thanks, Mom,” Regan said. “Charisse, if you don’t mind, I do want to talk to both of you together. I know you both spoke to the police, but if we go over everything again, I think it could help.”

  Charisse pushed back her wavy hair, sat down next to Alfred, and reached for his hand. They’ve had some night, Regan thought. She couldn’t blame Alfred for being agitated.

  Regan’s notebook was in front of her. She’d already covered several pages with notes. She cleared her throat and began. “Obviously we want to find out who did this and hopefully get the dresses back.”

  Alfred moaned. Charisse squeezed his hand.

  “You say the two figures were dressed in black with stocking masks that covered their heads?”

  Alfred nodded. “When I heard the commotion I opened my eyes. Larry King had on a pair of his bright red suspenders. Then I turned and saw the thieves in their dark drab clothing. What a contrast.”

  “They didn’t say a word?”

  “No,” Charisse answered. “Alfred and I awoke at the same moment. The two men were in the bedroom, both holding the ropes they used to tie us up. One of them came running around the bed.” She paused. “Come to think of it, he moved kind of awkwardly.”

  “What do you mean?” Regan asked.

  Charisse developed a faraway look, then closed her eyes, trying to conjure up images from the previous night. “He was moving fast, but it was as if he was unsure on his feet.”

  “You’re right, darling,” Alfred said lovingly. “You see, Regan, movement is so important in our business. When we interview girls to model our dresses, we always want to see how they walk, how they’ll present themselves on the runway. We notice more than most people how a person carries themself. One of the thieves did seem to have a little limp.”