Hitched

by Carol Higgins Clark

  “I don’t know. Honest. I don’t know. I didn’t tell them.”

  “Then who did?”

  “I didn’t tell,” Charisse said breathlessly. “The reporters called back a couple times last night while we were working on your dress, Regan.”

  “It’s coming along beautifully,” Alfred interjected.

  Regan ignored his weak attempt to smooth things over. “Was there anyone else with you last night?”

  “Our assistant who works with us once in a while. He came up for a couple of hours. He answered the phone for us while we were working. So many people were calling. There was so much excitement.”

  “There’s your leak,” Jack said matter-of-factly.

  Regan shook her head and looked down at the paper. “I hope Tracy doesn’t sue you.”

  The names of the brides were there for the world to see: Regan Reilly, Brianne Barth, Tracy Timber, Victoria Beardsley, and Shauna Nickles.

  The article continued:

  Regan Reilly was on the scene yesterday. Reilly, who happens to be a private investigator, is set to marry the head of the NYPD Major Case Squad, Jack Reilly, next Saturday afternoon at Saint Ignatius Loyola Church in Manhattan. She is the daughter of mystery novelist Nora Regan Reilly…

  “How did they find all this out?” Regan asked. Jack raised one eyebrow. “The same way you do, my sweet.” The elevator door next to the greenroom opened. Brianne hurried off, followed by a guy who looked like he would rather be anywhere else.

  Brianne introduced him. He was Pauly, her fiancé.

  Pauly said hello and immediately headed for the food. He helped himself to a donut and a glass of juice, inhaling both, then helped himself to seconds.

  “Regan, have you heard anything more about Joyce?” Brianne asked.

  Regan shook her head. “Did you see the paper this morning?”

  “No. It’s so early. I’m surprised I made it in time.”

  Regan showed them the article.

  “Look at that, Pauly,” Brianne said with a smile. “I’m famous.”

  “Uh-huh,” he mumbled as he read the story over Brianne’s shoulder.

  What’s with him? Regan wondered. He seems so nervous.

  “You’re the head of the Major Case Squad?” he asked, pointing at Jack.

  “Yes.”

  “Oh.”

  A producer’s assistant appeared in the doorway. “We’re ready for Regan and Brianne in makeup. Right across the hall.”

  “Make them look bridelike,” Alfred advised. “Nothing too harsh or dramatic.”

  The assistant pretended she didn’t hear him.

  A makeup artist and hair stylist worked side by side in the small room. Regan was always amazed at how fast those people could bring out the best in whoever ended up plopped in their chairs. Over the years she’d been to plenty of these studios with her mother. The hair stylist, armed with a blow dryer, round brush, and can of spray went to work on Regan’s crowning glory while the makeup artist skillfully and quickly touched up Brianne. Then they switched places. Within minutes they were being shepherded into the freezing cold studio.

  In one corner of the vast room, a seating arrangement for six had been set up. A life-size photo of one of Alfred and Charisses’s dresses was in the background.

  Alfred clapped his hands when he saw his creation. “Marvelous!” he cried.

  The attractive young hosts, Patrick and Jeannie, were set to do the interview together. Jeannie was tan and blond, Patrick was black-haired and blue-eyed, with chiseled features. They were dressed in their “weekend clothes”—designer blue jeans, boots, and sweaters. The show was trying to capture the segment of the Sunday morning television audience that would enjoy starting their day with the two fun and easygoing anchors. As viewers at home sipped their coffee and read the newspaper, Patrick and Jeannie would be doing the same, shooting the breeze with each other and their guests.

  Today’s guests were seated and miked.

  Patrick and Jeannie hurried over from the anchor desk with big smiles. They sat down and adjusted their mikes. Patrick winked at the group.

  When the cameras rolled, Jeannie introduced the segment.

  “It’s wedding season,” she began. “A time when brides are running around trying to get everything done. Well, how would you like to be a bride who, on top of all the other things that can go wrong, learns that her wedding dress has been stolen just a week, one week, before her wedding? It happened to two of our guests.”

  The camera focused on Regan and Brianne as Jeannie gave their names.

  I feel like an idiot, Regan thought.

  “We also have the incredibly talented designers, Alfred and Charisse, with us. In the last couple of years they’ve had write-ups in numerous fashion magazines because the wedding dresses they design are so gorgeous. Take a look,” Jeannie said, pointing to the life-size photo. “But, unfortunately for them, they made the wedding dresses that were stolen. Still, when I get married, I want you to make my dress!” Jeannie giggled.

  “We will,” Alfred promised with a big smile while Charisse waved demurely at the camera.

  Jeannie told the viewers the tale of the robbery, then turned with a look of wide-eyed sympathy to Alfred and Charisse. “How are you two doing today?”

  “We’re exhausted,” Alfred said. “We were up all night sewing. No matter what, we will have the dresses ready for Regan and Brianne. They’ve both been so wonderful and patient.”

  Patient? Regan thought. Brianne’s father threatened you, and I got two hours sleep last night because I’m out trying to solve this case. I don’t call that patient.

  Patrick leaned in. “We know that Brianne walked into your salon to find her wedding dress in a heap on the floor all slashed with drops of blood on it. Tell us what that was like, Brianne.”

  “Oh, please,” Brianne said, rolling her eyes. “It was unbelievable.”

  “I understand that you went home and dug out your mother’s wedding gown but it was full of bugs?”

  Brianne smiled and laughed like it was the funniest thing in the world. “My mother was so upset,” she began.

  After Brianne finished sharing her anecdotes, Patrick looked at Regan. “And here we have bride-to-be Regan Reilly, who is also a private investigator.”

  “Eeeww,” Jeannie said. “How fun!”

  “You’re working on this case, right, Regan?” Patrick asked.

  “As you can imagine, I have more than a passing interest in it,” Regan joked. “The NYPD is also investigating.”

  “Your fiancé is a member of the NYPD. I see here that he is the head of the Major Case Squad, Jack Reilly.”

  “Yes,” Regan answered with a genuine smile.

  Patrick looked earnest. “So you’re kind of a crime-fighting duo. The two Reillys!”

  Jack’s going to kill me, Regan thought. “We both enjoy our work.”

  “Tell us about this investigation.”

  “Basically, we’re looking for two men who came into Alfred and Charisse’s loft, tied them up, broke into the safe, stole a large amount of cash and jewelry, and made off with the dresses.”

  Jeannie’s face looked quizzical. “How did they get in?”

  “There was no sign of forced entry,” Regan answered.

  “I’m always losing my keys,” Alfred confessed dramatically.

  Regan became convinced Alfred would do anything to get camera time.

  “Gotta be careful about that, folks,” Patrick warned. “See what can happen when you lose your keys.”

  “Change your locks!” Jeannie urged the viewers. Then she turned to Alfred and Charisse. “Weren’t you scared when the intruders tied you up?”

  “Poor Charisse was terrified,” Alfred answered.

  Patrick looked down at his notes. “Three other brides were affected by this crime. Tracy Timber…”

  Regan cringed.

  “Victoria Beardsley, and Shauna Nickles. Where are they this morning? I’m sure they ha
ve interesting stories.”

  You have no idea, Regan thought. At this very moment Tracy is probably having another meltdown in Connecticut.

  “Alfred, do you know how they are coping with this?” Jeannie asked.

  Alfred started to stammer. Charisse cut him off. “Of the five April Brides, Regan and Brianne are the two we’re concentrating on right now. They are both getting married next Saturday. We have a little more time to replace the other dresses.”

  “Good luck,” Patrick said. He turned full face to the camera. “We want to help catch these guys. And you viewers out there, watching from coast to coast, often make the difference. If you see anything or have any information, please call our hotline. Help our April Brides, Regan Reilly, Brianne Barth, Tracy Timber, Victoria Beardsley, and Shauna Nickles, get their dresses back.”

  Jeannie nodded. “Take another look at this spectacular vintage-style dress behind us. This is Alfred and Charisse’s creation. All four of the stolen gowns look similar to this one. Those dresses have to be somewhere! Our hotline number is…”

  Patrick held up the copy of the New York Post for the camera. WEDDING DRESS BLUES. He sighed dramatically, then shook his head and smiled. “I can tell you right now my wife wouldn’t have been happy if this had happened a week before our wedding. Folks, we’ll be right back.”

  The segment was over.

  Patrick pulled off his mike. “Thank you all for coming in this morning. I’m sure there will be quite a reaction to this story.”

  I have no doubt about that, Regan thought.

  “Thanks so much,” Jeannie echoed as the twosome hurried back to their anchor chairs.

  Jack and Pauly were inside the studio. They’d been invited to watch the segment live instead of waiting in the greenroom and seeing it on the monitor.

  Regan walked up to Jack and smiled. “Sorry, Batman.”

  Jack put his arm around her and whispered in her ear. “We make a great duo. And not just as crime fighters.”

  The phone lines of Tiger News were already lighting up.

  Jack and Regan, Pauly and Brianne, and Alfred and Charisse all got into the elevator together and descended to the lobby.

  They were exiting the building together when an assistant came running after them. “Miss Reilly, my boss thought that you might be interested in one of our callers…

  38

  In the large and tasteful guest room of the Neys’ apartment, Tyler and Shauna were just waking up. Tyler picked up the remote control, as he did on most mornings, and flicked on the television. As usual, he constantly changed the channel, giving each program about a nanosecond to grab his attention. If it didn’t, he kept going.

  He almost missed the segment on the April Brides. Almost, but not quite. He had already started to push the remote when Regan Reilly’s face appeared onscreen.

  “Shauna,” he said, tapping her back. “Look at this!”

  “What?” Shauna asked drowsily.

  “Look!”

  They both watched the segment. When the news anchor read Shauna’s name they slowly looked at each other. Shauna threw back the covers and got out of bed. She looked at the clock. “Pamela should be getting ready for church right now. I’m going to go in and see if I can help her.”

  “That’s a great idea,” Tyler said quietly.

  39

  Pamela and Arnold could always be found in the front row of St. Bartholomew’s Episcopal Church on Park Avenue at the nine o’clock service on Sunday mornings. But today they had gotten there a little late and were seated toward the back.

  So already things felt a little off.

  After all the excitement last night, they got off to a slower start this morning. Pamela had prepared Arnold his oatmeal and coffee, grateful that Shauna and Tyler were late sleepers. It was wonderful having them stay at the apartment, but sometimes she felt the need for more elbow room.

  Now they were going to have a child. And it will be named after one of us, Pamela thought as Father Tully preached to the congregation about God’s grace. It would be wonderful to hold a baby in her arms. So why was she feeling so unsettled? It should be a happy day.

  Pamela smoothed back her hair with her left hand and realized that her earring was missing. Quickly she felt her other ear. That earring was in place. It was one of her favorite pairs, the large diamonds in a gold setting that Arnold had given her on their wedding anniversary last year. Did I drop it, she wondered in a panic. She looked around her seat. I shouldn’t be worried about jewelry when I’m in church, but that pair is so special.

  I hope I find it when I get home.

  Pamela sat back in her seat. She thought about the dinner last night. They had toasted the baby. Shauna had had several glasses of wine. Maybe it was because they were celebrating, Pamela thought, but she shouldn’t be drinking if she’s pregnant.

  If she’s pregnant.

  Pamela’s hand went back up to her left ear. This morning when I was getting ready, Shauna came into the bedroom. I had the safe open. Arnie was calling for me to hurry. Shauna was going on and on about the baby. I didn’t want to be rude so I tried to listen, but it was so distracting. I left the bedroom before Shauna, mostly to get away from her constant chatter.

  But I don’t remember closing the safe.

  Pamela’s heart started to beat faster. She felt light-headed. All my jewels are in there, she thought. They’re worth several hundred thousand dollars. Was Shauna distracting her on purpose? All of a sudden the story of Shauna’s pregnancy didn’t ring true. Pamela tried to calm herself. But she couldn’t. She was starting to feel physically ill. She tapped on her husband’s arm. God will forgive me, she thought. “Arnold, I don’t feel well. I have to get home.”

  Shauna and Tyler were throwing their things together as fast as they could.

  “A bird in the hand,” Tyler crowed as he held up the bag they’d swiped from Pamela’s closet and filled with her jewelry. “I thought we’d have a bigger payday from Pammy and Arnold but we’ll have to make do with these gems.”

  “I should have used a different name,” Shauna said. “But when we met them I had no idea it would come to this.”

  They zipped up their suitcases.

  Regan and Jack followed the assistant up to the newsroom at Tiger News Network. They were ushered into a private office. The news producer, a woman in her forties, was waiting for them. Her glasses were resting on top of her head, a large cup of coffee was next to the stack of papers on her desk. She got up quickly and introduced herself.

  “My name is Dana Mansley. We’re getting a lot of calls about the piece on the missing dresses,” she said. “Most of them probably won’t amount to anything. But this guy sounded like someone you’d want to talk to.” She picked up her phone, pressed a button, and handed it to Regan.

  “Hello, this is Regan Reilly.”

  “Hello there, Regan. This is Horace Banks. How are you?”

  “Good. How are you?”

  “Most things are good, but I’m still legally married to a Shauna Nickles who disappeared a couple years ago. I want to get a divorce because I have a little lady I’d like to marry. By the way, she thinks that dress they showed today was really pretty.”

  “I’ll tell the designers,” Regan assured him.

  “Anyway, it takes a while before you can declare someone legally dead, you know what I mean?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “If this is my wife, Shauna Nickles, I’d like to get in touch with her. I heard she’d taken up with a younger guy. She shouldn’t be getting married anyway if she’s still married to me.”

  “No, she shouldn’t. Let’s see if we have the right Shauna Nickles. Can you describe her to me?”

  “She’s forty-eight years old but doesn’t look it. She’s cute, or at least I used to think she was cute. She’s petite, with light brown hair, and big green eyes. I always called her a sparrow with a good figure.”

  Interesting description, Regan thought. But it sounds
like Shauna. “Do you have a description of the guy?”

  “All I heard was that he was young, dark, and handsome,” Horace laughed. “The opposite of me. I’m just glad that he’s not rich! The two of them supposedly wander around like a couple of gypsies.”

  As Regan processed this information, she could hear a woman in the background assuring Horace that he was as handsome as could be.

  “Where are you calling from?” Regan asked.

  “We live in northern Texas.”

  Not that far from Santa Fe, Regan thought. “The Shauna I met said she didn’t have family.”

  Horace groaned. “She used that line on people when she wanted to gain their sympathy. For the stupidest things. Let me tell you something, she’s bad news. A real trickster. Truth be told, I wasn’t sure if I should call because she doesn’t seem like the type to bother with a fancy gown for her wedding. But I had to. If it’s her, I want my divorce.”

  Regan’s pulse quickened, but she kept her cool. “Horace, let me take your number. I’ll find out what I can and get back to you.”

  When Regan hung up, Dana looked up at her questioningly. “I’ll check into this,” Regan said diplomatically. The last thing she wanted to do was slander Shauna to a news producer. “Please keep me posted about any other calls.”

  Dana nodded. “Keep us in the loop, too. We’d like to follow this story.”

  “Sure thing,” Regan promised.

  But when Regan and Jack were on their way out, she turned to him. “Jack, let’s pay a visit to Fifth Avenue. Fast. If Shauna is this guy’s wife and she’s heard her name’s out there in the newspaper and on television, there’s no telling what she and her fiancé might pull on the Neys. It’s obvious they’re very wealthy and would be a perfect target for a couple of crooks.”

  When they got in Jack’s car, he turned on his siren. They sped across town to Madison Avenue, made a left, and headed uptown.

  Shauna pressed the button for the elevator. “This place was nice while it lasted,” she said to Tyler in a low tone.