“-four dresses stolen, one slashed and bloodied. All the brides were to be married in the next couple of weeks. ‘I’m getting married in the morning…’ ” he sang, “ ‘but, I’ve got nothinggg to wear.’ Tell me, Jess, what should those brides do?”

“They can always look for a dress on the Internet. You’d be amazed how many gowns are sold there every day. At great discounts.”

“Why would someone sell their dress?” Kenny asked.

“Because somebody got coooold feet.”

“Gotcha. Eeeww…painful stuff.”

Jess cooed, “But I can’t imagine being one of those brides whose gowns were stolen. When I got married I spent months looking for the perfect dress. When I finally found it I had to go back to the bridal shop for several fittings. It was so much work! To have all that planning and preparation go down the drain is a crime in itself!”

“I wonder where those dresses are now. And what those thieves plan to do with them,” Kenny said in his playful radio voice.

“They’ll probably try to sell them. But they better not do it in the New York area. This story has been all over the airwaves today.”

Marco looked at Francis, smiled, and tapped his head with his forefinger. “You see? I’m always thinking. We’ll get rid of them in Las Vegas.”

“I’ve got an idea!” Kenny announced. “Let’s start a contest. See who can come up with the most original idea of where the thieves might be hiding those dresses.”

Francis turned white.

“That sounds like fun,” Jess agreed. “A scavenger hunt for our listeners. Call our phone lines if you have an original idea. And keep a lookout. If you notice anything unusual-”

“Or happen to spot four designer wedding gowns lying around in a Dumpster-” Kenny said as he laughed heartily.

“Then give us a call.”

“Let’s offer a reward!”

Francis snapped off the radio.

“I told you the Dumpster idea was bad,” Marco gloated.

“Marco! We’ve got to get rid of those dresses. Everyone is going to be looking for them. And I just thought of something. We can’t pull into the hotel parking lot. They do random checks of people’s trunks.” Francis’s leg was starting to hurt. “Let’s go back home.”

“No. That parrot drives me crazy. I need to walk on the beach.”

“Then we need to find a big box so we can pack them up and send the dresses off to Vegas.”

Marco was silent for a moment. Finally he sighed and agreed. “You’re probably right. We don’t need to be driving around with the evidence. As it is we’ve got all the cash and jewelry with us. But that’s easier to hide than four wedding gowns.”

“Where are we going to find a box?” Francis asked impatiently. “I can’t imagine there are too many box stores around here.”

“That means we have to buy something that comes in a big box.”

“Like what?”

Marco put on the blinker and pulled off at the next exit. “I know you’re nervous about leaving Joyce behind tonight-”

“I am,” Francis interrupted. “I’m beginning to think I should just marry her. That settled-down life is looking pretty good to me after hanging around with you.”

Marco nodded. “Suit yourself. Anyway, buddy, what I was starting to say was that I noticed her dishwasher is leaky. I mentioned it to her, and she said she needed a new one. Now’s the time to surprise her with one! When we arrive home tomorrow, you present it to her as a peace offering.”

“A dishwasher? That’s not the most romantic gift.”

“Those gowns won’t fit in a ring box! I’m doing my best here!” Marco yelled.

Francis rested his head back against the seat and closed his eyes. He could just picture Joyce’s face when he presented her with a new dishwasher minus the box. I’ll have to buy a big red bow, he thought.

And I’ll make a promise to her that Marco will be gone within the week. He opened his eyes, stole a glance at his partner in crime, then shut them again. I just hope that’s a promise I can keep, he thought miserably.

16

Regan pulled Nora’s car into the garage of the Reillys’ apartment building on Central Park South. For several years, they had kept a pied-à-terre in New York City. At this moment, Nora was particularly grateful that she didn’t have to drive all the way to New Jersey before she could collapse.

“What a day this has turned out to be,” she sighed.

Turning off the engine, Regan turned to her mother. “I have the feeling that the fun has just begun.”

Regan and Kit walked Nora up to the apartment that had a sweeping view of Central Park. The rain had let up, and after a long winter, the park was turning green again.

“Would you like a cup of tea before you head out?” Nora asked.

“I reached my tea quota for the month, Mom.”

“A little of Charisse’s lavender tea goes a long way,” Kit agreed. “You know, Regan, if I ever do meet someone I want to marry, I think eloping might be a good way to go.”

“Kit!” Nora laughed. “Your mother would never forgive you.”

“Yes, she would. If she thought she had to go through all this, she’d buy me a ladder.”

Nora pulled the sliding glass door that opened onto the terrace. “It’s nice to get some air in here.”

“I tell you what needs a good airing out,” Kit began, “Charisse and Alfred’s place. They need to bring in one of those experts to get rid of all the negative energy.”

“First let them concentrate on getting Regan’s dress done,” Nora commented.

“If I think there’s anything that they’re going to focus on, it’s getting those dresses made,” Regan stated. “Mom, Kit and I have to get going. We’ll take cabs to these other two brides’ apartments and see if we can catch them in. Jack went back to his office. We’re going to meet up with him later. What time will Dad get here?”

“He said by six. We’re going to go to Neary’s for dinner, then we’ll head home. This next week is going to be so hectic.” Nora paused. Hesitating, she began, “Regan, we have so much to do. I know you want to help Alfred, but this is your wedding. You can’t drop everything.”

“I know, Mom. We have another week to get ready.”

Nora made a face. “Not a whole week dear. We can’t figure out who’s going to sit where Saturday morning. That alone takes hours.”

“Mom, I promise I’ll give this case just a couple of days. Then we’ll focus completely on the wedding.”

Nora smiled at her only child. “You know, Regan, you have waited your whole life for this day. You’ve met a wonderful guy.”

“I know I have,” Regan said quietly.

“I want you to be relaxed and rested. There is enough stress to deal with anyway, without all this aggravation.”

“Regan can’t help herself,” Kit interjected. “Her wedding dress was stolen and she’s an investigator.”

Nora smiled wanly. “I know. It’s in her blood. It’s like someone telling me not to write. But, Regan, just promise me you’ll be careful.”

Regan looked at her mother. All of a sudden Nora seemed weary. Regan knew how hard she’d worked on taking care of so many of the details of the wedding while Regan was in Los Angeles. It wasn’t fair to make her nervous and worried now. “I promise.”

“Okay then.” Nora reached out her arms and gave quick hugs to both Regan and Kit. “At this time next week we’ll be at the church. Regan, you’ll be ready to come down the aisle. Jack will be waiting for you at the altar…”

A lump started to form in Regan’s throat. “I know, Mom. I know,” she said quickly. “I promise I won’t screw it up.” She gave her mother a kiss. “Let’s go, Kit.”

“I’m ready. I can’t wait to meet these other two brides. You know I was thinking, we should check out Tracy ’s ex sooner rather than later. Maybe he’d be good for me and he can be my date for your wedding.”

“Get out of here!” Nora laughed. “I’ll see you two later. But keep me posted!”

“We will.”

When they shut the door, Nora went out on the terrace and leaned against the railing. Central Park was so beautiful. A horse and buggy was clipclopping down the road below. Nora smiled. Regan and Jack will be taking one of those from the church on Park Avenue to the reception several blocks away. Jack was going to surprise her. He knew that Regan had loved riding in them when she was a little girl. He’d hired the most charming carriage and made sure the driver would be dressed in tails. It would be waiting outside the church when they came out.


Перейти на страницу:
Изменить размер шрифта: