Without looking at me, Detective Finelli said, "Do you wish to confess to the crime, Miss Bennett?"
For a split second I actually considered it. Finally I said, "What about Mr. Pickering? Why is he allowing this to happen?"
"That's enough, Miss Bennett," Bradley said.
"You know what I think?" I asked Finelli, then didn't wait for a reply. "I think Pickering's a bastard who hasn't investigated this case properly. And neither have you, Detective Finelli. The two of you looked pretty chummy that day at the jail."
"Miss Bennett!" Bradley said through gritted teeth.
Detective Finelli ignored me and brought out a pair of handcuffs. He turned Bradley around and snapped the cuffs on him.
The sound of that click made tears run down my face.
"You son of a bitch! You killed my daughter! I hope they fry you!" screamed Mr. Wexford. Mrs. Wexford held her head high, staring at Bradley with a frigid expression.
Security guards rushed to Mr. Wexford, making sure he stayed in his place.
Without warning, Jeff Granford charged toward Bradley, emitting a horrible, animalistic howl. Three police officers restrained him, putting Jeff in handcuffs too. Still, with three men holding him down on the floor, Jeff yelled, "I'll kill you, Williams! I swear I will!" Two other security guards ran over to assist the police.
Detective Finelli said, "Let's go, Williams."
Bradley said, "Give me three minutes with Miss Bennett."
I drew in several breaths, wiped my face with a tissue pulled from my purse, and glared at Detective Finelli.
"Three minutes, and I'm not moving," the detective grunted.
Bradley said, "Could you turn around?"
Finelli held Bradley by the handcuffs and shifted position, so that Bradley faced me. I moved closer.
"Stop crying and listen to me, kid," he said in his husky voice.
"Yes," I said, but my tears had a will of their own.
His gaze locked with mine. "I'm sorry for what I said earlier about you and me going up to a room. I was way out of line—"
"You don't have to apologize."
"Will you be quiet and let me say what I have to say? Because my hands aren't free to throttle you."
I let out a half laugh, half sob.
"I know very well that you aren't that kind of girl." He looked away. "I, ah, live my life the way I do because . . . well, dammit, because although I believe in marriage, I've become jaded over the past ten years. I don't know if I'll ever change. This thing with Suzie didn't help."
"You need to pick the right woman," I said, then wished the words back, afraid I'd said too much.
But Bradley only nodded. "Someday. Maybe."
He looked at me again. "I know you're ready to take over the shoot in the Virgin Islands."
More tears. He did believe in me.
"Make me proud, kid."
"I will," I managed.
"And don't let the words bastard and damn come out of your pretty mouth again. You're not the kind of girl who swears."
I could only nod, drowning in his eyes.
"No more of that perfume you've got on again today despite what I—"
"Let's go, Williams," Detective Finelli demanded.
"Hang on a second," Bradley told Finelli. Then to me, "No more crying. Pickering will get me out on bail."
"He'd better!" I said fiercely.
Bradley smiled. "That's my girl." Detective Finelli led him away. The officers took Jeff with them. I watched until Finelli escorted Bradley out of the ballroom.
Debbie Ann, standing a short distance away, said, "I did try to tell you, Bebe." I collapsed into Darlene's waiting arms.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Darlene had a tight grip on me. A good thing because, as she led me through the ballroom, the gold-colored carpet kept rising up and down.
From behind us, Cole said, "What's the matter with Bebe? Why is she so upset about a killer being arrested?"
Darlene said, "He's her boss, Cole."
"Not anymore."
Darlene halted our progress long enough to turn her head and say, "Cole, shut up."
Then I heard Maria's voice. "Bebe, the truth will come out. Keep that knowledge close to your heart."
I nodded and accepted my black pillbox hat from her. "Maria, would you tell the management that Ryan will settle the bill on Monday?"
"You know I will."
Outside on the sidewalk, the street noises of honking horns and crowds of people talking jolted me. A cool wind brushed my face. I raised my head and took a deep breath. Thank goodness there were no photographers around. Still, I felt sick, overwhelmed, and frightened. And dark clouds remained over the city.
Darlene said, "Cole, Bebe and I are taking a cab home."
"But I thought the two of us were going to Bonwit Teller to buy those shoes you liked, then get your suitcase and go to the airport."
Darlene tapped her stiletto on the sidewalk. "Those plans have changed. I'm going home with Bebe—"
"Please, you don't have to," I said softly.
"See there," Cole said. "No reason to ruin our—"
Darlene went on as if no one had spoken. "And Bebe and I are going to change our clothes. My suitcases and Bebe's are at the apartment, so we'll get a cab to the airport together. You can meet us at the Skyway gate."
"What?" Cole said, his voice tinged with anger. "Bebe's coming with us on what's supposed to be the first part of our honeymoon?"
"Bebe is running the photo shoot for Ryan now that her boss is temporarily inconvenienced," Darlene said impatiently.
Cole laughed. "You have to be joking."
Before I could gather the strength to sock Cole a good one, Darlene said, "No, I'm not joking, Cole. Bebe was the only reason I did another stew a favor by working this flight. You're the one who turned it into part of our honeymoon. I'll see you on the plane."
With that, her arm still linked with mine, Darlene walked us to the street and whistled for a taxi. We got in, and I stared sightlessly out the window the whole way home. Bless her, she left me in peace.
Arriving at East Sixty-fifth, we got out of the cab.
Harry lounged on our front stoop. "Who died? The two of ya look like old crones . . . uh, crows."
Boozed again. "A woman we knew, Harry," I said.
"Let's go, Bebe," Darlene commanded.
I opened my purse, and a tissue flew out. Digging into my wallet, I said, "Harry, I'm going away for a couple of days." I reached out to hand him a dollar. "Please get some food and coffee."
Darlene tried to block my hand that held the money. A struggle ensued. I almost fell to the stoop, but I was determined that Harry not beg on the street. In a fast move, I ducked my arm under Darlene's, and Harry got the money.
"Thank you, Miss Sweet Face," he said. A bleary eye gleamed at Darlene. "Redheads. Nothing but trouble."
"You take advantage of her kindness," Darlene shot back.
Now I was the one leading Darlene as we passed Harry, entered the building, and walked up the steps to our apartment.
"I don't know why you give that bum money," Darlene complained, closing the door behind her.
"He needs help," I replied. "One day I'm going to find out why he lives on the streets."
"Because he's a wino, that's why," she said. Then, "Oh, honey, let's not argue. I know it was horrible watching Bradley being taken away by that stubborn mule Detective Finelli. But you have to be strong for Bradley now. We'll find the killer."
"I think Lola killed Suzie. She had the most to gain, that I know of. At the reception, Lola was almost giddy with happiness."
Darlene raised a brow. "Really? Then it's just peachy that she'll be along for the trip. We need to talk about this."
"We will. You're my best friend, Darlene, you know that. Thanks for taking me home. But once we get on that plane, I'm going to be Lola's best friend."
Darlene smiled. "I like it when you think deviously." Then, "Honey, no offense, but your face is a mes
s. We need to change clothes and freshen up fast. Being a stewardess, I have to be at the airport no later than five to sign in and get the plane ready."
"Hey, check it out! I wanna fly with you, sweetheart!"
"Baby, tell me where you're going so I can buy a ticket."
"Red! Over here! Coming home to the city? I can show you a good time. I've got lots of money to spend on a gal like you."
And so it went, all through the airport. Darlene smiled at the guys, but kept walking, me by her side.
I had on my prettiest pink suit, but I couldn't compare to the striking picture Darlene made in her Skyway uniform of a bright, sky-blue suit, dyed-to-match high heels, white gloves, and a tall sky-blue pillbox hat, which she had placed on her red curls at a jaunty angle.
"So this is what you meant by stew-bums?" I asked.
"Airport johnnies, hostess-hoppers, stew-bums, whatever you want to call them, they're always around. That's how Stu and I met."
"Have you talked to Stu?"
"No. I told him I'd speak to him when I got back," Darlene said stubbornly. "You know that, Bebe."
"It's not exactly a secret that I want the two of you back together again."
As we walked on through the airport, the guys continued their catcalls.
I said, "I see you're not wearing your engagement ring.
"I'm not permitted to. Stewardesses are supposed to be swinging singles. We're not allowed to marry, and if we get engaged, we get six months' notice and we're out."
"Gee, that means if you marry Cole—"
"Whew! We're here right on the dot. I have to sign in, Bebe. I'll be just a minute." Darlene went behind the long Skyway counter and through a door, dodging my remark.
I stood holding my light blue suitcase, forcing that scene of Bradley being led away in handcuffs from my mind. Instead I focused on what had been New York International Airport until last Christmas Eve. On that day, in honor of our assassinated president, the airport was renamed John F. Kennedy International Airport.
Lots of people were flying these days. Darlene had told me the latest figures showed almost nine million people—more than the total population of New York City!—used an airplane for travel.
Oh, it was no use. All I could think of was Bradley. Someday. Wasn't that what Bradley had said? Someday he'd choose the right woman. I'd wait for him, even if he didn't want me to. What alternative did I have? I loved him. In that instant I thought of Louis. I couldn't go out with him again.
Other Skyway stewardesses arrived, including a harsh-faced, tight-lipped busty stewardess with brassy blond hair, but I didn't think any of them could hold a candle to Darlene.
I realized I needed to check my suitcase with the Skyway clerk and did so.
A few seconds later Darlene emerged and came to my side. She wasn't smiling. "Let's make tracks, honey. We need to go to the gate. I'll board the plane, but you'll have to sit in the waiting area," she said in a tight voice.
"Darlene, what's wrong? You've got a murderous expression in your eyes," I said as we walked along.
She adjusted her features. "Did you see the bottle blonde bursting out of her Skyway uniform who came in after me?"
"Yes, I did notice her."
"That bitch is Peggy. I can't believe my luck, Bebe! She's chief stewardess on our flight. Keep the knives away from me."
"Oh, gosh, Peggy's the one who claims to have had a fling with Stu in Paris," I said.
"You got it, honey."
"Stu wouldn't have such bad taste," I assured her. "Darlene, you're not going to beat Peggy up, are you?"
"I'm not making any promises. Here's the seating area. I see from your empty hand that you got your suitcase checked. Make yourself comfortable, and I'll come out and get you when the plane is ready."
Darlene disappeared through the boarding door.
I sat trying not to think about the weather. The dark clouds over the city had finally let loose their contents. Rain poured down outside the large window. Tonight, after an emotional day, my nerves were on edge. Did airplanes have windshield wipers?
Around six Cole arrived, his legs spread as if he were riding an invisible horse. He sat directly opposite me, one leg crossed over the other, a black Stetson on his head. At his side was a leather briefcase, obviously custom-made. He folded a newspaper and began to read.
Neither of us spoke.
Next to arrive was Lola. I knew before I saw her from the flashbulb lights going off. My eyes popped at the sight of her printed silk minidress in oranges, pinks, grays, and black. Wild, concentric circles danced on a geometric background. The dress had cutout arm-holes and a folded down collar. On her feet were mid-calf black patent-leather boots.
People stared. Lola's appearance screamed high- fashion model. Looking at those black boots, I mentally chided myself for not daring to wear my white go-go boots. As soon as I got home, I would be sure to correct that mistake.
"Hello, Bebe," Lola greeted me in a chipper tone.
Remembering my determination to be her new best friend, I replied, "Come and sit next to me, Lola. You look stunning. Where did you get that groovy dress?"
"Oh, a friend in Italy sent it to me. Emilio Pucci. You might have heard his name," she said.
"I have. His designs are so different, they explode with life," I said.
"Don't you think wearing Pucci right now is in bad taste?" Pierre said, appearing in his entirely black uniform of pants, shirt, sports coat, and beret. He carried a large bag that probably contained his cameras. "It was a Pucci scarf that was used to strangle Suzie."
Lola lit a cigarette. "Was it? I didn't pay attention to the details of the murder. I only know she was strangled. Forgive me, Pierre."
He gave her a brief nod, put his bag down, and took a seat on my other side. Claiming both of my hands in his, Pierre said, "Ah, you never disappoint me, Bebe. How did you convince that monster of a boss that you were needed on this shoot?"
I smiled as Pierre released my hands, but when I opened my mouth to give him the explanation I'd planned, Cole spoke: "She's in charge of the shoot, if you can believe that. At the end of the reception, the Williams guy was arrested for murder and hauled off by the police in handcuffs," he said, tipping his Stetson back on his head.
Darn him! I had hoped to keep the news of Bradley's arrest a secret for a while.
Pierre jumped out of his chair and began to pace. "There is justice! I can never have Suzie again, but the one who took her life will be punished."
Lola blew smoke from her nostrils. "Damn. I wish Bradley hadn't been the one arrested. He's so handsome. I hope he's replaced by someone reasonable. I wonder if I should approach Ford."
"Ford Modeling won't take you," Pierre said with a grimace.
Lola tried for a hurt expression. "Pierre, I thought we had decided to be friends."
"And as a friend, I'm telling you, Lola, Ford will not put you on their talent list."
While Lola seethed, Pierre turned his attention to me. "You are in charge of the shoot, Bebe? Nothing could make me happier."
"Thank you, but I'm sure I won't have much to do. Everyone is a professional," I said, wishing I were correct and didn't have egos to juggle.
Lola put out her cigarette in the metal tray fixed in the armrest of her chair.
Pierre took my right hand and held it.
I began to hope a storm would hit Saint Thomas, the island chosen for the shoot, so the whole thing could be canceled without any blame on my head.
I could kill Cole.
I needed chocolate.
Gloria walked up to our sullen group carrying her big white makeup bag. "Somebody else die?" she cracked, placing her case on the seat next to Cole and sitting in the following seat.
Lola said, "No, but Bradley Williams has been arrested for Suzie's murder."
Gloria's brown gaze flitted to me, then to my hand in Pierre's before she answered Lola. "Mr. Williams? I didn't peg him for the killer."
"Who did you
think strangled Suzie?" Pierre asked sharply.
Gloria was in the hot seat, and I for one waited for her answer.
She hesitated, then assumed a rebellious air. "I don't wanna say. The police know what they're doing, I guess."
Her words hung in the air.
"If you don't think Bradley did it," Lola said, "then maybe you should voice your opinion as to who did."
"Maybe I already have," Gloria shot back.
Darlene joined the group. "Everybody ready to jet down to the island?" she asked cheerfully.
We all rose, Darlene giving me a "what's wrong" look.
I shook my head in response. To Lola, I said, "Would you sit next to me on the flight? Maybe you could give me some fashion and makeup tips. I admire you, Lola."
As I predicted, she fell for the flattery. "Sure, Bebe. We can talk about ideas for the shoot."
Oh, no, we wouldn't. Bradley had gone over with the Durden swimwear people exactly what they wanted: white-sand beaches, blue water, palm trees, and a fabulous girl in a sexy black bikini.
Everyone settled into their seats on the plane. Lola took the window seat, which was fine with me. Rain poured from the skies, quashing any wish I had to look outside during takeoff.
All our seats were in the front section of the plane, which carried a total of 115 people. Darlene had told me that earlier. She also said we'd be cruising at 610 miles per hour. It sounded way too fast to be safe.
I watched as people boarded the plane after us, hoping for a nun or priest for protection. Funny, though, neither appeared to be taking a trip to Saint Thomas. The majority were couples, young and old, seeking an island paradise.
Across the aisle from me, Pierre sat next to Cole, who was in the window seat. Pierre argued with busty Peggy about how fragile his cameras were. She finally wrapped his case in a blanket and took it to a special compartment in the staffs area.
Gloria sat one row back, sulking. A vague feeling of unease came over me. Did Gloria think Lola had killed Suzie? Was that why she was surprised Bradley had been arrested? Who did Gloria think had killed Suzie? Would she tell me?
As the plane engines roared to life, I noticed with pride that Darlene worked in a businesslike, hustle-bustle manner, smiling and friendly with everyone, not giving any particular passenger more attention than another.
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