Carol Clark - Hitched

“Those two are like children to us,” Arnie grunted. “When Pamela and I met them out in Santa Fe, they were so friendly. We felt like we knew them for years.”

Shauna smiled. “Tyler and I sell the best turquoise jewelry in the town square in Santa Fe. Arnie bought a beautiful necklace for Pamela and then invited us to join them for dinner.” Shauna paused. “Thank God we were there. Pamela started to choke on a piece of steak. Tyler saved her life.”

Tyler nodded and gave the thumbs up.

Arnie looked down, clearly uncomfortable that tears were welling in his eyes.

“So we bonded,” Shauna declared. “The next night we went out to dinner again. This time to a vegetarian restaurant. Pamela wanted to know why we weren’t married. We told her we were saving up but would probably end up going to a justice of the peace. Pamela had a fit! She said that we have to come to New York to get married in style. So here we are! Like a family.”

“How nice,” Regan murmured.

“They’re good kids,” Arnie grunted.

“I just feel so lucky about everything. So lucky. I love Tyler so much and then to meet a terrific couple like Arnie and Pamela…” Now it was her eyes that welled up with tears. “My parents passed away when I was a child. Maybe that’s why I never was interested in having a real wedding and settling down. To have met a couple who treat me like the daughter they never had…”

“And me like a second son,” Tyler interjected. “Right, Pops!”

“Stop!” Arnie ordered. “Or you’ll make me start bawling again.”

“I’m so happy for you,” Regan said.

Shauna nodded, her impish face caught between tears and a smile. “You must be very close to Alfred and Charisse,” she said as she batted her makeup-free eyes.

“I’ve gotten to know them a little over the last few months as they worked on my dress. But I’m also a private investigator so I can’t help getting involved in this case. I’ll ask you the question I’m asking all the brides who were affected by the break-in. Do you know of anyone who might have done this to hurt you and Tyler? Or Arnie and Pamela? Is there anyone who might not have wanted you to have that dress?”

Tyler looked befuddled. “No. Hardly anyone knows us around here.”

“Can’t imagine,” Arnie said dismissively.

“That would be so hurtful,” Shauna declared.

Regan took that for a no. “Okay. One more question. This case has attracted a lot of attention. Reporters are dying to write about the brides whose dresses are gone. It’s such an emotional subject. Shauna, would you be willing to talk to the press about your story?”

“Absolutely not!” Arnie barked. “I have enough people after me for money. I don’t need the world to know that we’re paying for the wedding. It would turn something nice that’s just between the four of us into something crass. And I’d have more people hounding me with their hard luck stories!”

“I understand,” Regan said. Did Shauna look disappointed? She wasn’t sure.

“Arnold Ney worked hard for every dollar he made! I don’t need any more solicitations.”

“Calm down, Arnie,” Shauna said soothingly. She hurried over and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

Regan and Kit made their escape as fast as they could.

“Whew!” Kit said when they were out on the street. “Out of the five April Brides, you and Brianne are the most normal.”

“Whatever normal is,” Regan said. “Let’s get a cab. I need to see Jack.”

“If you guys want to be alone tonight, and maybe even elope, it won’t hurt my feelings one bit.”

Regan smiled. “Don’t tempt me.”

Several miles off the Garden State Parkway, and not that far from Atlantic City, Marco and Francis wandered into a store that was nationally famous for its great bargains on appliances. A salesman approached them with his most winning smile.

“My name is Roy. What can I do for you this afternoon?” he asked.

“We’re looking for a dishwasher,” Marco said matter-of-factly.

Roy clapped his hands together. “A dishwasher? No problem. For some reason I thought you guys would be in the market for power drills or electric chainsaws.”

“We’re not,” Marco answered in a now unfriendly tone.

“The dishwasher is a present for my girlfriend,” Francis hastened to add.

“Fantastic!” Roy enthused. “I have a super-duper model she’s just going to love. It gets the dishes clean as a whistle and it’s so quiet you barely know it’s on.” He pointed to a large machine.

“Got one a little smaller?”

A half hour later Marco and Francis pulled the car up to the back of the store where they could load Joyce’s present into the back seat. Smiling Roy was waiting. He was an enthusiastic salesman who saw to it that his customer received the best possible service from the time they walked through the door until they pulled away with their purchases.

“Hey guys!” he boomed, tapping Marco’s trunk. “Pop this baby open and we’ll load you up.”

“Our trunk is full,” Marco said gruffly. “We’re going to put it in the backseat. First we want to take it out of the box.”

“Now?”

“Now. But we want to keep the box in case we have to return the dishwasher.”

“That’s all right!” Roy said, always eager to please. “If you bring it back, you won’t need the box-”

“I want the box!” Marco snarled.

“It’s all yours!” Roy blurted nervously.

They pulled the front seat all the way forward, wedged the dishwasher into the backseat, and crammed the cardboard box in next to it. Marco and Francis drove off, the sight of smiling, waving Roy receding from the rearview mirror.

They couldn’t hear the comments he was making under his breath.

“He was suspicious of us,” Francis moaned.

“No he wasn’t. All he cares about is his commission.”

“What now?”

“Time to find a secluded spot.”

Francis sighed. “Around here?”

“Hopefully.”

They drove around and around and around, not wanting to veer too far from their final destination of Atlantic City. Marco cut down side streets, but they couldn’t find anywhere that would give them the privacy they needed. Eventually, he turned onto a two-lane road that became increasingly wooded and suddenly took a sharp curve. Once around the bend, Marco whistled with satisfaction at the sign ahead.

WELCOME TO THE HEAVENLY REST CEMETERY

GATE CLOSES AT DUSK

The imposing, black-iron gate was wide open.

“Hurry!” Francis ordered. “I don’t know what time dusk is but I think it’s around now.”

Marco stepped on the gas. They sailed through the entryway, past a religious statue whose outstretched arms welcomed them, and glided down a sloping road. Rows of tombstones could be seen in all directions. At a fork in the road, they went left and up a hill. Large mausoleums were facing each other on either side of the narrow path. Marco pulled over and stopped the car. Without a word, they both got out.

All was silent except for the rustling of the breeze and the occasional chirp of a bird.

“Do you think it’s safe?” Francis asked anxiously.

“It’s closing time,” Marco said. “Everybody’s gone except maybe the guy who’ll lock up.”

They pulled the empty dishwasher box out of the backseat, placed it on the ground behind the car, and opened the trunk. The four wedding gowns were in a jumble. One by one they pulled them out and stuffed them down into the rough cardboard container.

“I hope they’ll all fit,” Francis fretted.

“We’ll make them fit,” Marco said resolutely as he gave a final squash to the dresses that Alfred and Charisse had labored over so lovingly. “Give me the tape.”