Hitched

by Carol Higgins Clark

  Joyce tried to scream but her voice was paralyzed. She took a deep breath, held onto the cabinet, crouched down, grabbed the handle of the enormous metal pot, and flung it toward the dog. Lukewarm liquid spewed all over the counter and all over the dog. The pot bounced off Mugsy and landed upside down on the floor.

  The pot could now serve as a launching pad for the crazed animal to hop up on to reach her. Except it was slippery.

  “Let’s all go back out,” Regan said. “We’ll meet back here at—”

  “Excuse me!” a male voice called from the doorway. Everyone fell silent as he made his way over to Regan. She looked at him and waited.

  “My name is Jay Stone and I own the pharmacy a couple blocks from here. This girl here with the clipboard,” he said, pointing at Tracy, “came into my pharmacy today. She kept asking if anything at all had struck me as odd lately, anything at all that had happened around the neighborhood. I said no. But since she came back three times, I thought I should come in and mention something that happened this morning. It probably means nothing—”

  “What is it?” Regan asked quickly.

  “One of my customers is an eccentric older woman who has five dogs, including a dog she inherited from her friend who died recently. Her friend’s dog is very dangerous. Anyway, today she came in and bought an Ace bandage and then looked over a pair of crutches. She obviously doesn’t need crutches so it got me to wondering. She’s a little eccentric to start with, but today she really seemed different. When Tracy showed me the picture of Joyce holding the dalmatian, it made me think of this woman again. She has a dalmatian. Then this afternoon I saw her go up the block with her four dogs. On Sundays, she brings them to Central Park but she always leaves her friend’s dog home because he is so hard to handle. It occurred to me that if Joyce is in some way injured and ended up in her apartment alone, that dog could be dangerous.”

  “Regan!” Wally called out.

  Regan turned. “Yes?”

  “A young girl just called here with an anonymous tip. Said she was with a group who found a purse last night belonging to a woman named Joyce. One of her friends took the money and ditched it on the street. She’s not sure if it’s the same Joyce.”

  “Where did she find it?” Regan asked quickly.

  “Around the corner from here. On Maple, the little tree-lined street. She said they found it halfway down the block on the sidewalk. Next to a set of stairs.”

  Jay grabbed Regan’s arm. “My customer lives on Maple.”

  As Cindy screamed, Regan tried to remain calm. “If she’s trapped in there with the dog, we’re going to need something to distract him.”

  “I’ll grab a couple of steaks from the kitchen,” Wally yelled. “I’ll be right behind you.”

  Regan, Jack, Tom, and Jay raced out the door.

  Followed by the entire search party.

  “It’s around the corner to the right,” Jay instructed.

  They all ran to the corner, turned right, ran down the block to Maple, and turned right again.

  “She lives at number 10!” Jay shouted.

  “Here it is,” Regan cried. She and Jack raced up the steps of the building, Jay beside them. Jay quickly scanned the names next to the doorbells. “She’s in the basement apartment.” He started buzzing while Regan and Jack raced down the steps, turned, and hurried down more steps to Hattie’s apartment.

  Inside, when Joyce heard the buzzer, she was finally able to scream.

  “Help me!” she sobbed. “I’m going to die!”

  Joyce’s left shoe was drenched, and she felt herself starting to slip. Mugsy was baring his fangs as he kept trying to jump on the slippery pot and hoist himself onto the counter. But Joyce had no strength left. Her left leg was giving way under her.

  “She’s in there!” Cindy screamed. “Break down the door!”

  The sound of the dog’s frenzied barking and growling was terrifying.

  Jack, Regan, Tom, and Jay started to kick the warped wooden door. Finally, the wood started to snap. Jack and Tom threw their weight against it, and the door broke open.

  Regan’s heart stopped when she saw Joyce starting to slip off the counter.

  Jack fired a shot in the air.

  The dog turned toward them.

  Jack fired again as Regan grabbed one of the steaks from Wally and threw it toward the bathroom. It landed inside the door. The dog turned his head in the direction of the steak.

  “Oh my God!” Regan cried as Joyce started to fall.

  Jack flung the other steak into the bathroom. It landed in the tub. The dog dove after it. With his gun drawn, Jack rushed over and slammed the bathroom door shut, as Joyce fell into Tom Belfiore’s arms.

  63

  After Joyce stopped crying, she refused to go to the hospital. She insisted on going back to Club Zee to be with everyone who had searched for her.

  “And I left there last night without saying good-bye,” she said. “It’s only right that I explain what happened.”

  “Allow me to carry you back,” Tom said gently.

  Joyce smiled up at him and nodded. He was so attentive and kind, she could barely speak. And good-looking, too! He scooped her up once again, and with his dog accompanying them, they sauntered back to Club Zee.

  The television cameras were rolling.

  At the club, Wally broke out the champagne. “Joyce, I don’t want you to ever again leave my place unhappy.”

  They all raised their glasses to toast Joyce’s safe return.

  “Thank you, everyone,” she said. “I never thought I’d make it out of there alive. I owe a debt of gratitude to each and every one of you.”

  Tom hovered over her protectively.

  On the television behind the bar, a live shot of Victoria Beardsley coming out of her apartment building filled the screen.

  “The missing April Bride!” Regan said, surprise in her voice. “No one’s heard from her today.”

  A reporter called out to Victoria. “We’d like to ask you a few questions.”

  Victoria looked at the camera with a deer-caught-in-the-head-lights expression. She started gesturing nervously.

  The man who had followed her out of the building scurried out of camera range.

  “That’s Jeffrey!” Tracy screamed as something in Jack’s eyes registered recognition and then disbelief.

  “It couldn’t be,” Jack muttered as he stared at Victoria.

  “Is he with her? Where does she live, Regan?” Tracy screamed. “Where? I’ve got to go find them!”

  “I’ll pull the car around,” Catherine, her ever-faithful friend, cried.

  “And, Regan,” Jack said quickly as he continued to stare at the screen. “Do you know where she works?”

  Regan looked from one to the other. “She lives on the Upper West Side and she works at the Queen’s Court Hotel in Midtown.” She knew why Tracy was reacting the way she was. But why was Jack so interested? He pulled out his cell phone and dialed his office.

  “Where on the Upper West Side?” Tracy asked Regan. “I want her address.”

  Kit blurted it out.

  Tracy turned to go.

  “Wait just a minute!” Jack said to her. “I think I’m going to ride up there as well. You can come with me.”

  “What about my friends?”

  “I can fit five people. The others will have to follow us.”

  “Jack, what’s going on?” Regan asked as Jack finished his call.

  Jack leaned over and whispered in Regan’s ear. “That little lady up there,” Jack said, pointing up at the frozen picture of Victoria on the screen, her index finger pointing upward as it rested on her cheek, “works at a hotel where the guy who owns the stolen credit card stayed. A receipt used by the thief of that stolen credit card was found on the floor of the bank that was robbed yesterday.”

  Regan’s eyes widened. “You don’t think…?”

  “I don’t know, Regan.”

  “Kit and I are going wit
h you.”

  Tracy, Kit, and Catherine jumped in the back of Jack’s car. Regan and Jack were in the front. Claire and Linda were in a car right behind them.

  “That idiot!” Tracy cried. “He must have met her at Alfred and Charisse’s salon!”

  Wait till Alfred hears this, Regan thought. And wait till he hears that he might have vouched for the integrity of someone who’s been robbing banks for the past three months.

  Two of his April Brides are criminals. And the third is in hysterics in the backseat.

  Jack had ordered a police car to keep watch on Victoria’s block. She had rushed back inside her apartment building after blowing off the reporter. Armed with her description, they were to contact Jack immediately if she came back out.

  Now as they sped up the West Side Highway, Jack’s mind was racing. If Victoria was the bank robber, she did a great job of passing herself off as a man. And if indeed she had stolen Tracy’s fiancé, she knew how to make good use of her feminine wiles. But I can’t prove anything, he thought. Not yet. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do.

  Of course, he hadn’t revealed his suspicions to Tracy and her friends.

  The car exited the highway at Seventy-second Street, headed over to Broadway, and turned left. When they got to Victoria’s block, they turned right. A patrol car was parked on the corner. Jack stopped the car and called out to the patrolman in the driver’s seat.

  “All’s quiet, Jack,” the cop reported. “A woman came out with a couple of kids. That’s about it.”

  “Okay.”

  “Someone’s coming out of her building,” Kit exclaimed as a car passed them on the left, pulled up to Victoria’s building, and stopped.

  “That’s Jeffrey’s car!” Tracy screeched.

  “Oh my God!” Jack breathed.

  “What?” Regan asked as they all watched a bearded, mustached man wearing a dark raincoat scurry over and open the door to Jeffrey’s car.

  “Is Jeffrey with a man?” Tracy cried.

  “No, Tracy!” Jack said swiftly. “That’s a woman behind that beard.” He gave the signal to his patrolman, and they both turned on their sirens. At the end of the block, Jeffrey had no choice but to pull over. When Tracy got out of Jack’s car, Jeffrey turned white as a ghost. Television cameras seemed to appear out of nowhere.

  But when Jack announced that he wanted Victoria to answer a few questions about their investigation into a string of bank robberies, Jeffrey almost passed out, the first of many times in the coming days when he’d be in need of smelling salts: When the television stations repeatedly ran the videos of Jeffrey and a bearded Victoria getting out of the car. When Victoria was officially accused of robbing the banks. And the clincher: when Jeffrey found out that she didn’t dump her fiancé to be with him.

  Frederick never existed. Victoria had visualized a husband. That’s why she bought the dress. She figured if she really felt like a bride, she’d end up one. And it had almost worked. She’d nabbed Jeffrey in the elevator at Alfred and Charisse’s salon. Only problem was that she not only visualized herself as a bride, she visualized herself as a bank robber so she could afford Alfred and Charisse’s prices. And she was a credit card thief to boot.

  All in all, Victoria Beardsley was not the answer to Jeffrey’s dreams.

  She was the beginning of his downfall.

  And Tracy Timber loved every minute of it.

  64

  The celebration at Club Zee started to die down at around five. They’d all watched the footage of Jeffrey and Victoria getting out of the car. The image of a bearded Victoria throwing her arms around Jeffrey was a sight to behold.

  Joyce thanked Wally for his hospitality and everyone else for being part of the search party. “I’m going to have my foot checked out at the emergency room. But please. Come out to my house anytime after eight tonight. We’re ordering pizzas. I feel like I have a new lease on life and I don’t want to stop celebrating!”

  At the hospital, Joyce was examined and her foot was X-rayed. Other than a bad sprain, she was given a clean bill of health.

  Tom and Cindy were with her. “Let’s go get my car,” he said, “and I’ll drive you home.”

  Joyce started to say something, then stopped.

  “Is something wrong?” he asked.

  Joyce smiled up at him. “Nothing at all.”

  Cindy decided it was time to interfere. “I think Joyce wants to warn you that her ex-boyfriend might show up. But we plan to pack up his things and throw them out on the street.”

  “Thanks, Cindy. You have a gift for getting straight to the point,” Joyce said with a smile.

  “Your ex doesn’t worry me,” Tom said with a strength that made Joyce feel tingly.

  An hour later, Joyce was settled on the couch in the living room, her foot on the coffee table, her crutches leaning on the edge of the couch, and most important, Tom right next to her. Cindy called the pizzeria and placed a big order, then opened up a few bottles of red wine.

  By 8:01, Joyce’s house was bustling with activity. Romeo was going crazy.

  “Hello!” he called from his cage. “Hello!”

  Regan and Kit and Tracy and her friends arrived together. Like Joyce, Tracy was enjoying a new lease on life. “Let’s turn on the TV,” she said, reveling in the images of Jeffrey’s public humiliation.

  Brianne was sitting on Pauly’s lap, looking like a woman in love.

  The mood was one of celebration.

  Joyce’s crutches fell to the floor. “Let me get them out of the way,” Regan offered. She picked them up. “I’ll stick them in the front closet.” She opened the door, and there was another pair of crutches staring her in the face. “Joyce, it looks like you didn’t need these.”

  Joyce waved her hand. “They’re my ex’s. He was hurt on the job and milked his injury for all it was worth.”

  “I personally think that limp of his is fake,” Cindy stated as she sipped her wine.

  Regan’s cell phone rang. She looked at the caller ID but couldn’t tell who it was. “You mind if I take this in the bedroom?” she asked Joyce. “It’s a little noisy in here.”

  “Go ahead,” Joyce said.

  Regan walked down the hall, flicked the light on in the bedroom, and shut the door behind her.

  Dana, the producer of the Patrick and Jeannie show, was on the phone. “Regan, I’m finally heading home but I thought you’d be interested in a call we received about the stolen dresses. An elderly woman says she found an antique-white lace button on the ground in a cemetery near Atlantic City. She was visiting her husband’s grave. It reminded her of the button from her wedding dress sixty years ago. It has a tiny logo on the back with the initials A and C. She took a picture of it and e-mailed it to us. You might want to take a look at it.”

  “I don’t know whether Alfred and Charisse have that logo on their buttons. But I can’t imagine what the thieves would be doing in a cemetery with the wedding dresses.”

  “I can’t either. But who knows?”

  Regan frowned. “Can you do me a favor, Dana, and e-mail the picture to Alfred? If it is one of his buttons, he can call my cell phone.”

  “Sure, Regan. We also received a call earlier from a woman who wants to make trouble for Brianne and her fiancé, Pauly. She said she was with him yesterday and wants to talk to Brianne.”

  “Oh, great,” Regan said. “Give me her name.” When Regan hung up with Dana, she went back to the living room and signaled for Brianne and Pauly to join her down the hall.

  “What is it, Regan?” Brianne asked as the three of them slipped into Joyce’s bedroom.

  “I hate to be the one to tell you this,” Regan said with hesitation. “But the producer of the Patrick and Jeannie show said someone named Monica called the station. I guess she wants to stir up some trouble.”

  “I already took care of her, Regan,” Brianne boasted as Pauly looked up in the air. “That’s the reason we were late getting down to Club Zee. Pauly told me the
whole story. Monica is Pauly’s ex. She went out with him right before he met me. He lent her money, and she refused to pay him back, especially after he dumped her for me. Yesterday he went to her place to try and get it back because he didn’t think we had enough cash for our honeymoon. He’s been out of work and money is tight, but that idiot didn’t care. She finally agreed to pay him. They went to the bank, and she withdrew the cash. Five thousand dollars, by the way. Pauly said she was threatening him, and then with all this publicity about the April Brides, he was afraid she was going to make trouble. She had thought they’d end up married. Then when I said on the show that all his ex’s were losers, he was sure that she wouldn’t keep her mouth shut.”

  Pauly was still looking up at the ceiling.

  Brianne broke into a wide smile. “I told him that no matter how hard she tries, I’m not going to let that witch come between us.”

  “That’s my Brianne,” Pauly said with pride. “That’s why I love her so much.”

  “And we’re going to have a good time spending that money on the honeymoon!” Brianne added. “It was Pauly’s right to get it back, and I’m glad he did. I can assure you, Regan, she won’t be calling the show again. I called her up and gave her a piece of my mind this afternoon.”

  “Well, I’m glad that’s settled,” Regan said. “Let’s rejoin the party, shall we?”

  When they went back to the living room, Romeo had just been let out of his cage.

  65

  Jack was down at his office where there was also a celebratory atmosphere. The Drip had been caught. Jack looked through his notes and found the number he was looking for. Wait till that poor bank teller hears this news, he thought as he dialed.

  Tara and Jamie were enjoying themselves in Las Vegas, trying to forget the trauma she’d been through the day before. When Tara’s cell phone rang, she grabbed it. “Hello.”