Hitched

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.”

“Then they tied you up?”

“I should have fought them off,” Alfred said with disgust. “But it all happened so quickly. Everything was a blur. After they tied us up, one of them bashed the safe in our closet with I don’t know what! The sound was awful!”

“Neither of them said anything?” Regan prodded.

They both shook their heads. “That safe didn’t do us much good,” Alfred moaned. “It crumbled like a tin can. I used to try hiding our money and jewelry but then I could never remember where I put it.”

Like your keys, Regan thought. “You told the police both intruders seemed to be about the same height and weight,” she continued.

“Not too tall, not too short,” Alfred answered.

How helpful, Regan thought, glancing down at her notes. Sight, sound, taste, and touch, she thought. Charisse and Alfred hadn’t gotten a good look at the intruders, hadn’t heard them speak, could only have tasted the gags in their mouths, and had already mentioned they were wearing leather gloves. One sense left to explore.

“Did you notice any particular smell?”

Charisse wrinkled her nose. “At least one of them must have just smoked a cigarette.”

Regan jotted it down. “You don’t have any idea in the least who would have wanted to do this to you?”

“I can’t think of a single soul!” Alfred insisted.

“Have you had any displeased clients lately?”

“No, Regan!” This time it was Charisse’s turn to get excited. “No matter how difficult any of our clients have been during the process, I promise you that they’ve all been thrilled with our dresses. We have a scrapbook of wedding pictures with letters thanking us…” She started to get up.

“We don’t need that right now,” Regan assured her. “Let’s concentrate on who might have been displeased. The break-in could very well relate to one of the brides whose dress was stolen. I’ll talk to each of them. One bride is due in a little while, you said. Is that right?”

“Yes. She’s the worst bride I’ve ever had. She makes Brianne look like a saint.”

Nora and Kit reentered the room carrying two trays. As they poured tea, Regan kept focused on Alfred and Charisse. She knew Alfred got distracted easily and had to keep him focused-especially if another bride-from-hell was about to arrive. “I’ll question the bride who is on her way,” Regan said, “and I want the names of the other two. We have to let them know what happened right away before they hear about it through the media. That would not be good. When are all their weddings?”

“You, Brianne, and the witch coming in now-I mean the girl coming in now-are all getting married next Saturday,” Charisse answered sweetly. “The other two are in three weeks. The five of you are our April Brides.”

I knew Jack and I should have gotten married in March, Regan thought. But Nora was worried about snowstorms. Regan’s grandmother had been born during a big blizzard in March. Her parents had barely made it to the hospital on time. It became part of the family lore-March is a very unpredictable month weatherwise. Don’t plan any big occasions. “Do you have time to replace all the dresses?” Regan asked.

“The thing is…” Alfred put his hand to his chest. “What about our May brides?”

“I’m not too worried about them at the moment, Alfred,” Regan said a touch impatiently. “They have at least another month.”

“Oh, Regan, I know!” Alfred cried. “It’s just that it’s wedding season and we took on more than we can handle as it is. We wanted to strike while the iron is hot. People are talking about our designs…we work sixteen hours a day!”

“We’ll get the dresses made,” Charisse said firmly. “It will be difficult, but we’ll get it done.”

“That’s good,” Regan answered. “I’ll talk to the other April Brides and see what I can find out. See if they noticed anything that might be helpful in this investigation. I plan to be on this block tonight at around the same time the thieves broke in.”

“Regan…” Nora began.

“Don’t worry, Mom. Jack will be with me. I want to question people who are out at that time and find out if they saw anything. Maybe someone who walks his dog at that hour every night noticed something. Alfred, I want you to think really hard. When did you last have your keys? If whoever was here last night used them to get in, it would certainly be helpful to know where you might have lost them.”

Alfred looked up at the ceiling. “We’ve been working so much. It’s like we never leave here. When did I last see the keys? Hmmmm.”

“Did you have your keys in Atlantic City?” Charisse asked him softly.

“ Atlantic City?” Regan repeated, her voice rising. “When were you in Atlantic City?”

Alfred waved his hand. “Last Saturday night we needed to get out. So we took a drive down there. I gambled for a few hours. No big deal.”

But you never leave home, Regan thought. “Did you win anything?”

“Yes.”

“How much?”

“Twenty thousand dollars.”

“Twenty thousand dollars! Isn’t that how much money you said you had in the safe?”

“Exactly. I put my winnings in there for safekeeping.”

“Did you tell the police that?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I was embarrassed. I thought they might think I have a gambling problem. And believe me, Regan, I report my winnings to the government. I don’t want any trouble there. I once worked for a designer who didn’t pay his taxes, and they closed him up right before a show! He was ruined!”

“You don’t know whether you had your keys with you?”

“Alfred, you did!” Charisse said quickly. “Remember? We were hurrying to get out of here and you ran to get your business cards and the keys were in the drawer with them and you shoved them in your pocket.”

“That’s right!”

“And you haven’t seen them since?” Regan asked.

Alfred shook his head. “No.”

“Did you hand out any cards that night?”

Alfred smiled. “Lots of them. You never know who’s going to fall in love and suddenly need one of Alfred and Charisse’s gorgeous gorgeous gowns.”

Oh great, Regan thought. You handed out business cards to strangers in the same place you lost your keys. Something told her that she and Jack would be taking a drive to Atlantic City.