Alan Cook - Honeymoon for Three

He turned toward the door and looked at her one more time before he stepped outside. She had picked up the receiver of the phone and was already dialing. Good.

The sun was shining as only a high desert sun can shine, and the day had warmed up nicely. Gary took off his suit coat so he wouldn’t get too sweaty. He glanced at his watch. It wouldn’t be long now.

He might have felt funny waiting here with Penny on the courthouse steps, with both of them dressed in their wedding clothes, if another couple hadn’t been doing the same thing. Apparently this was normal for Reno.

A uniformed policeman walked up the steps toward them. Well, this was the courthouse. He was undoubtedly here as a witness for a trial. Gary thought he was going to walk around them to the front entrance when he stopped and said, “Which one of you is Gary Blanchard?”

“I am,” Gary said.

“I need to ask you a few questions. Come with me, please.”

“Questions about what?”

“I’ll let you know when we get to the police station.”

“But-”

“I don’t want to have to put the cuffs on you.”

“What’s going on?” Penny asked, fear in her voice.

“Routine questions,” the officer said.

“I’m going along.” Penny walked down the steps with them.

“Sorry, miss. Can’t take you in the patrol car.”

“Where’s the police station?”

“On Second Street. Up that way and turn right.”

“Keys. I don’t have the car keys,” Penny almost screamed.

Gary reached into his pocket. Then he saw the officer make a movement toward the gun strapped to his belt. He said, “My keys are in this pocket.”

The officer watched him warily as he pulled out the keys and handed them to Penny. She looked so frightened that he said, “It must be a misunderstanding. Don’t worry. I’ll get it cleared up.” His voice sounded shaky, even to himself.

The officer opened the back door of a patrol car that was sitting at the curb. Gary slid into the recesses where there were no door handles or window cranks and a metal screen separated him from the front seat. The door slammed shut.

Alfred looked approvingly at his reflection in the mirror of the barber shop. He saw a different person. His beard was gone; his hair was as short as Gary’s. If that’s the kind of person Penny liked, that’s the kind of person he was going to be.

He thanked the barber and tipped him. He walked out of the shop to the clothing store the barber had told him about, determined to upgrade his wardrobe. It was only a few doors away. Once inside, he quickly found two decent-looking, long-sleeved sport shirts on sale. He held them against his body in front of a mirror, not wanting to take the time to try them on. Then he found a pair of washable pants in his size.

The only problem was that his body didn’t look like Gary’s. He had this potbelly, and he was at least six inches shorter than Gary. Not to mention his outie bellybutton. He hoped Penny would come to her senses and leave Gary. A nice girl like her wouldn’t want to be associated with a jailbird. He would show her that external looks were superficial.

Alfred had watched the drama unfold from his parked car. He retreated there after telling the story to the receptionist at the chapel. He saw Gary being driven away in the police car. Penny remained, alone and vulnerable, left at the altar in her wedding dress. She looked as if she might cry. He had an urge to confront her right then and there-to console her, to let her know he cared about her.

Something inside told him that would backfire. Then she got into the VW and drove after the police car, and the opportunity was gone. That’s when he knew he had to change his appearance. Leaving his car parked where it was, he found the barber shop by asking a clerk in a store.

The barber had told him where the police station was located. He carried his package of clothes back to the car and drove to the police station. He parked a block away and put on his new pants and one of his new shirts in the car. The receptionist at the chapel wouldn’t recognize him now. He donned dark glasses to complete the transformation.

Alfred walked to the police station. In its parking lot he saw the Volkswagen. He was glad and sad at the same time. Glad because he knew where Penny was. Sad because she hadn’t left that jailbird yet. He took up a position across the street from the police station to await developments.

Penny had never been inside a police station before. She didn’t like it. Most of the people who came in looked like losers. They had the haunted appearance of victims. Victims of crime, victims of being associated with criminals, either by blood or romantically, which was worse because they were in the relationship by choice.

She sat on a wooden bench, conspicuous in her wedding dress, waiting for information. She had been told nothing. The officers on duty would tell her only that Gary was being questioned. About what? Had he not told her everything? Was there a dark secret lurking in his past? It was hard to believe, and yet she supposed it was possible. She put her head in her hands.

“You look like you got a problem, honey.”

Penny lifted her head and saw the woman who had sat down beside her. She was double the size of Penny and wore a black dress the same color she was. She looked like the mammy that Penny’s grandfather had had, at least based on how he had described her.

“You don’t belong here, neither,” the woman continued. “Wearing that fancy white dress and all.”

“I’m supposed to get married today.” Penny’s voice faltered.

“That do looking like a wedding dress. What happened, your man get busted?”

“He’s being questioned, but I don’t know about what.” She wanted to place her head against this woman’s ample bosom, be enveloped in her huge arms, and make the world go away.

“Well, one of two things is going to happen. Either way, it’s for the best. Either he’s innocent or he’s guilty. If he’s innocent, you can go ahead and get married. If he’s guilty, it’s better you find out now. I know because I been through it. More than once.”

This made a strange sort of sense. The woman’s name was Rowanda. She began talking about her own husbands-plural. Right now she was here because her son was in trouble. As Penny listened to her sad story, she felt a little bit better about her own situation. Then she remembered Emily.

When Rowanda paused in her story, Penny said, “I may be jinxed. My best friend was murdered a year ago, just before she was going to get married. She would have been the perfect wife. Sometimes I have the feeling that because she couldn’t get married, I can’t either.”

“That’s silly talk.” Rowanda took Penny’s hand in her own baseball gloves and patted it. “If the Lord means for you to be married, you will get married. It don’t matter what happened to your friend.”

Gary didn’t know why the young police officer whose badge said his name was McGinty and who had thick eyebrows that gave him a perpetual scowl kept asking him about Kentucky. He had never even been to Kentucky, as he tried to point out. He certainly hadn’t killed anybody there.

“I grew up in Western New York-near Buffalo.” This wasn’t the first time he had said it. “That’s where my parents live. They’re both alive. You can call them and verify it.”

“We’ve been calling the number you gave us. There’s no answer.”

Gary suddenly remembered that his parents were in Europe. He had completely forgotten that. His heart sank. Who else could vouch for him? His brother, Tom, was a grad student at Harvard. He was in L.A. for the summer, working as a FORTRAN programmer for an aerospace company. He lived in an apartment, but Gary didn’t know his phone number. The youngest of the three brothers, Archie, was with his parents. He had just finished his undergraduate work and was taking some time off before getting serious about life.