Carol Clark - Hitched

When Victoria was safely back in her apartment, she called Jeffrey.

“Are you all right?” he asked solicitiously.

“Yes, sweetie. But I want to get out of here.”

“I know. I’ll come pick you up.”

“I need some time to get ready.”

“I can’t wait to see you again-I’m leaving now. As soon as you’re packed, we’ll drive out to the country.”

Victoria smiled. “Just be careful. I have the feeling that everyone is watching.”

Twenty minutes later Jeffrey was hurrying up the first flight of steps inside Victoria ’s building. He was reminded of a quote by Guy de Maupassant, who wrote: “The best part of love is walking up the stairs.” How true, he thought. With Victoria it is so true.

He rang the bell and waited while Victoria unlocked all the locks. Finally she opened the door. The apartment was a mess. Victoria grabbed his hand, pulled him inside, and melted into his arms. When they finally let go of each other, Jeffrey looked around.

He smiled and made a joke. “You didn’t have to clean up because I was coming over.”

“You should see the bedroom,” she answered gaily. “But you really shouldn’t! Whenever I pack I have a hard time deciding what to bring. I end up throwing things all over!”

When she disappeared into her boudoir, Jeffrey sat on the couch. He felt restless. He didn’t want to turn on the television in case there were more stories about the wedding dresses. And he didn’t like to sit in such an untidy room. He looked around and noticed that dirty dishes were piled in the sink. A thought occurred to him. He stood and walked to the doorway toward the tiny bedroom. “ Victoria, have you talked to your parents about…?” he said as he pushed open the door.

Victoria turned to him and gasped. “I told you I’d be right out, honey.”

Jeffrey looked down at the floor, then back up at Victoria. Nervously, he asked, “What are you doing with that?”

Victoria giggled. “Jeffrey, I told you I love costume parties!”

As she leaned over to give him a kiss, Jeffrey felt a pit growing in his stomach. A very large pit.

Outside Club Zee, a crowd of about fifty people had gathered. Many of them had seen the story about Joyce on Patrick and Jeannie’s show.

“When I saw the picture of Joyce hugging that little dog, I knew I wanted to help,” one woman said as she snuggled with her little Yorkshire terrier. “Dog lovers are kindred spirits.”

Also in the crowd was the group Joyce had been with the night before and many of her customers from the pet store. Television cameras from several of the local stations as well as the cable news stations were there to cover the continuing story. As Regan was about to address the group, the door of the club opened. A husky man with a shaved head, tattooed arms, and rings dangling from his nose, ears, and lips emerged. He had on jeans and a tight black shirt.

“Hello, everyone. My name is Wally. I own Club Zee. Please come inside and use my place as your base of operations. I feel terrible that Joyce disappeared from here. I can’t understand why she wasn’t having a good time. Come on in.” He turned and started to go back inside.

“What about our dogs?” one of the crowd called out.

“They’re welcome, too,” Wally replied with a wave of his hand.

Once inside, Regan and Jack thanked him.

“No problem,” he answered gruffly. “The place is yours. But I’ll have to open the doors at ten tonight for my customers.” He went behind the bar and turned on the big-screen television.

Regan and Jack looked at each other. They both had the same thought. If they were still here at ten tonight, things would be very bleak.

Jack’s cell phone rang. “It’s the office,” he said. While Jack went off to take the call, Regan got up on a chair to address the crowd.

“Thank you all for coming,” she began. “In missing persons cases, the first twenty-four hours are crucial. I have maps of downtown that we’ve divided into six sections. So we’ll form six different groups that will fan out from here. Each group should cover the streets marked off on the map I give them. Put the flyers up everywhere. Don’t be afraid to talk to people. Ask them if they saw Joyce or anything out of the ordinary. Call my cell phone or the police if you have anything urgent to report.”

“You can call here, too,” Wally grunted.

“You heard that,” Regan told the volunteers. “You can call here. Please be careful. Don’t put yourself in danger. Call 911 if you have to. Okay, folks. We’ll meet back here at three o’clock. That’s in two hours. Good luck. Let’s form the first group.”

As the groups drifted out the door, Jack returned to Regan’s side. “They checked Joyce’s phone records and listened to her messages. Her cell phone showed no calls made or received at around the time she disappeared. Her boyfriend called earlier last nght and told her to call him on his friend’s phone because his battery had died.”

“But he hasn’t called Cindy back since she talked to him this morning.”

“He might have called the house. We don’t know. They’ve been trying his friend’s number, but no one is picking up.”

Tracy Timber hurried over to them. “My friends and I just got here, Regan. We’re ready to go.”

Regan smiled. “Thanks, Tracy.”

Cindy was nearby, handing out the flyers and assigning newcomers to the last group. Tracy took a stack and turned to her buddies. With determination on their faces, the sorority sisters headed out the door.

Jack put his hand on Regan’s shoulder. “Regan, I have to run over to the office. The police chief from Philadelphia is in town unexpectedly. We have a couple things to go over.”

“Go ahead, Jack. Kit and I will be walking around together. I have my cell phone.”

Jack leaned down and kissed Regan good-bye. “Be careful. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

After he left, Regan and Kit started out the door. A young man was hurrying down the street toward them. He was walking an Irish setter. “Excuse me, I just saw you on television. My name is Tom Belfiore. I’m the guy who found Joyce’s purse this morning. I’d like to help.”

“You already have,” Regan told him. “If it weren’t for you, we wouldn’t be doing this now.” She smiled at him. “I’d like to take a look at the location where you found the purse. Why don’t we start there?”

Tom nodded. “It’s this way,” he said. The three of them fell into step as they headed down the sidewalk.

It was in the opposite direction from Hattie’s apartment.

Hattie came bursting back into the small apartment. The dog in the bedroom, who had quieted down, resumed his barking and thumping against the wall. Within seconds all the dogs started barking again. Joyce was terrified.

“Hello,” Hattie said. “Quiet, fellas! Joyce, I got you a lovely donut and some fresh juice.” She set the bag down on the coffee table.

“Thank you. I think I’d like to go home.”

“Not yet!” Hattie cried. “You have to stay for Sunday dinner. I’m making stew. It’s delicious.” She turned to the barking dogs. “I said quiet or we don’t go to Central Park!”

“I’d love to go to Central Park,” Joyce said hopefully.

“You can’t walk around with that foot of yours,” Hattie said dismissively as she pulled the donuts out of the bag and opened up the carton of OJ. “I bought you an Ace bandage but I’ll help you with it later. Now eat! I’ll be back soon. First I have to walk my doggie that’s in the bedroom. He’s what you call antisocial. But he’ll guard you while I’m gone with the others.”