Kathleen Creighton: Eve’s Wedding Knight

At the intersection with the walkway that ran along the side of the rectory building, Eve paused once more. Several of the leaded casement windows were open, and she could hear the murmur of voices issuing forth on the warm autumn breezes. Her heart beat faster as she turned left, tiptoing now, making for the door at the far end.

The voices were directly overhead-men’s voices. And was that…? Yes, it was her fiancé’s voice. Sonny had such a loud, brassy voice, like a seventies Vegas playboy; she’d know it anywhere. But dammit all, he wasn’t alone.

Her lips formed a little pout of disappointment. Why hadn’t she foreseen the fact that the two “groomsmen” would be with him? Sergei and Picky-and Mirabella was quite right, they were Sonny’s bodyguards, and why not? Sonny was a wealthy man, and he’d made his money in a dangerous business-nothing illegal, though; Eve was certain of that. Although, to be honest, that little element of danger was part of why she’d been attracted to the casino owner in the first place. Anyway, it stood to reason that such a man would have enemies. That he would protect himself seemed to Eve to be only a matter of good sense.

But what was she going to do about this? She’d have to handle things so as not to embarrass Sonny in front of his men. He tended to be overly sensitive about that sort of macho nonsense, unfortunately. Okay, so nobody was perfect. Anyway, she couldn’t just go slithering in, champagne at the ready and sex in her smile. This was going to take some thought…

As she stood there beneath the window, pondering her course of action, the murmur of conversation drifting out over her head began to separate into words and sentences. She paid no heed to the words at first, her mind being full of other things. Until all at once two of them- just two-exploded in her consciousness with the reverberating impact of a Chinese gong.

“…Hal Robey. ”

Hal Robey? Eve’s sister Summer’s ex-husband, now her late husband, the compulsive gambler Hal Robey? But how did Sonny Cisneros, multimillionaire hotel casino owner, know a weasel like Hal? And to speak of him with such venom in his voice?

So loudly and shockingly did those questions and their implications clamor in her mind that she missed the next few words. When her senses once more connected to her brain, she heard, “…dead, Mr. Cisneros.” Sergei, with his Russian accent.

Then Rick, sounding like a character in a bad gangster movie. “Yeah, Mr. C-me and Serge, we both saw him go off that bridge. There’s no way he coulda lived through that. No way. It was Robey’s body they found-hadda be.”

And Sonny again, his voice so low and tense, Eve felt herself stretching taller, up on her tiptoes, straining to hear. “The fact remains-the little bastard stole those computer files from me. If he had ‘em on him when he went in that river, why weren’t they on him when they found his body? Huh? Tell me that. If they had been on him, or in his car, the feds have got ’em and I’m in jail by now. And if he didn’t? What’d he do with ‘em, huh? I’ll tell you what he did with ’em-he stashed ‘em somewhere, that’s what. Those damn files are sittin’ somewhere like a ticking time bomb, just waiting for somebody to stumble over ‘em. So where are they? Think about it… think about it…” After a prolonged and unresponsive silence, there was a disgusted-sounding snort, and then, “Okay, look-here’s what I figure. The little weasel wasn’t stupid. If he hid those files, he’d hide ’em someplace he’d be able to get back to without raising suspicions. Call it a gut feeling-I think he stashed ‘em with his ex and his kids.”

Sergei’s heavy voice interrupted. “No, boss. Rick and me we searched every inch of that trailer before we torched it. They were not in there, I would swear to it.”

Eve heard a faint whimpering sound and realized to her horror it had come from her own throat.

But now, incredibly, impossibly, there was Sonny’s voice again, edgy with annoyance. “No, no, no-not then. Robey had the files with him when he came back to the States. Hey-he must have. He was ready to deal. And where does he go? Straight to his ex. And what does he do? He leaves a package-a present, he says. For his kids.” He hissed a word so replete with disgust, it made Eve’s stomach cringe, then muttered, “You two choirboys…shoulda just done ‘em both and taken the smokin’ package while you had the chance.” Only he didn’t use the word “smokin‘,” but one he’d promised Eve faithfully he’d never use in her presence.

Rick said, “Don’t look at me. I was out cold at the time.”

Sonny’s laugh was derisive. “Yeah-tripped over a cat and took a header down a flight of stairs. I’d been better off if I‘da hired the Three Stooges.”

“Maybe it was only a present for his children,” Sergei muttered, sounding sullen. “If it was the files in that package, why did she not turn it over to the feds?”

“Because she obviously doesn’t have any idea what she’s got.” And Sonny’s voice, though still soft, was pure, cold steel. “It’s a damn computer disk-Robey coulda hidden it in just about anything. They just haven’t found it yet, is all. It’s just sittin’ there in that damn fortress-a smokin’ time bomb, is what it is.” He sounded as if his teeth were grinding together. “Do you know what it’s been like the last four months, waitin’ for that thing to go off? Here-help me with these studs, will you?”

There was a moment’s silence, then Ricky said, “Too bad Robey’s ex had to go and marry that damned lawyer-that house of his is like Fort Knox! If it hadn’t a‘been for that hurricane knockin’ out the power, we’d never have got in there.”

Sonny snorted. “I figure I’ll marry the sister, right? Then I can go in there as a member of the family-make some excuse to visit, you know?-so I can have all the time I need to look for the disk without anybody bein’ the wiser. And what does the broad do? She goes and gets it in her head she has to get married in Savannah, for God’s sake-in a blinkin’ church!”

Someone-Sergei or Rick, she couldn’t tell who-muttered something she couldn’t hear. Then Sonny’s voice came again, not loud, but tense and with a hard edge of fear. “I’ve got a bomb about to blow up in my face. If it does… if it does, I’m a dead man, you hear me? A goddamn dead man. I gotta find it, and I mean find it fast. Before-”

At that moment the two crystal champagne glasses slipped from Eve’s nerveless fingers and dropped onto the stone walkway, where they shattered with a horrible, splintering crash.

Eve never knew how she did it-it wasn’t a conscious decision on her part-but the next thing she knew she was running. Running for her life, not even aware of her feet touching the ground.

But running where? She had no idea; hers was a purely instinctive, adrenaline-induced panic flight, like the gazelle’s stampede, or the skyward leap of a flushed quail. And with as much real hope of escape.

OhGodohGodohGod…

They couldn’t help but see her. All they had to do was look out the window! They would know who it was, know she’d heard. How could they not know? She had nowhere to go, no place to hide, and in that damned white dress she’d stand out like flashing neon. Why was she even bothering to run? They’d chase her down in a minute, and what would she say? What could she possibly say? “Hey, guys, I didn’t hear anything, I swear. I won’t tell anybody, honest I won’t!” Yeah, sure.

OhGodohGodohGod…

Then she saw something at the end of the walkway, just past the rectory door. Something in the stone wall that extended between the sanctuary and rectory buildings and enclosed the garden, making of it a peaceful refuge, a world apart from the alley beyond. A gate. A wrought-iron gate that would be chained and padlocked after dark, but which now, in midafternoon with a wedding scheduled, stood open to allow access from the parking areas across the alley.