Janet Evanovich - Notorious Nineteen

“Me too,” Briggs said. “I look like an idiot. Security at this hospital sucks.”

“Count me in,” I said. “Vinnie bonded Pitch.”

“Walk me through it,” Morelli said. “What do I need to know?”

“There were two nurses on duty,” Briggs said. “Norma Kruger and Julie Marconni.”

“The same nurses that were on duty when Cubbin disappeared,” I said.

Briggs nodded. “Yeah. And the times were the same too. Kruger checked on Pitch at two in the morning and he was sleeping. And then when she went in just before going off shift at seven he was gone.”

“I was on the floor,” Morelli said. “There are security cameras covering all exits.”

“I watched the video,” Briggs said. “I didn’t see Pitch leaving.”

Morelli looked like he’d had heartburn. If he had had Briggs downtown, locked in a little room, he’d have run over him like a four-ton dump truck. Sitting in Briggs’s office on the first floor of Central Hospital required more diplomacy, and diplomacy wasn’t Morelli’s strongest attribute. I suspected Morelli wanted to grab Briggs and shake him like a rag doll until Briggs remembered seeing Pitch leave the building.

“I’d like to see the videos,” I said to Briggs. “Maybe if we all look at them together something will pop out at one of us.”

“Yeah, sure,” Briggs said. “Good idea. I can pull them up on my computer.”

Morelli shot me a look of gratitude that promised a back rub next time we were alone together, and we scooted our chairs around so we could see the screen.

Briggs brought four camera views up at once. Two cameras on the fourth floor and two cameras that covered the exits. He ran the videos at high speed. When they were done we all sat there in silence for a full minute.

“Well?” Briggs asked. “Did you see anything?”

Morelli and I shook our heads. No one had left the floor. It was a snooze fest. Dim light. Nothing happening. Nurses occasionally walking around in uniforms that looked like they were designed by Disney. Very casual and cheerful. What ever happened to the starched white look with the hats? The only time you saw those uniforms anymore was in porno films.

Morelli turned to me. “Is there anything else I should be looking at here?”

“You should talk to the two night nurses. I never interviewed Julie Marconni, and it wouldn’t hurt for you to grill Norma Kruger. I’m pretty sure Kruger is involved somehow.”

“Who works security here on the night shift?” Morelli asked Briggs.

“Mickey Zigler. He’s worked the night shift here forever. He comes on at six and goes off at six. We both do twelve-hour shifts.”

“We’ll be back at six to talk to him,” Morelli said.

I glanced over at Morelli. “We?”

“We’re in this together, Cupcake.”

I thought Morelli was sexy as heck. And I was almost positive I loved him. Whether I could live with him was still up in the air. Whether I could work with him was highly unlikely. We’d tried to work together before and it hadn’t turned out wonderful.

Morelli got Julie Marconni’s and Norma Kruger’s addresses from Briggs and stood to leave.

“Do you want to ride shotgun?” he asked me.

“No. You’ll do better interviewing them without me. I’ll catch up with you later this afternoon.”

I carted Tiki back to the Buick and returned to the office.

“How’d it go?” Lula asked. “Did you have to get Briggs injected with happy juice?”

“No. Briggs was fine. We all watched the security videos together.”

“Who’s all?”

“Morelli was there. Pitch was his collar, and he’s not comfortable that Pitch might have walked away.”

“Oh boy,” Lula said. “You’re not gonna have to work with Morelli, are you? Last time you tried that he had to stop carrying his gun so he wouldn’t be tempted to shoot you. And remember the time he chained you to a pipe in his cellar?”

On the positive side, the possibility that I’d be set on fire was a lot slimmer when I was with Morelli.

“I don’t have much choice,” I said. “We’re after the same guy. And Morelli might be helpful. It’s not like I’m making a lot of progress on my own.”

“Long as I don’t get caught in the crossfire,” Lula said. “Where is he now? He in the Buick with Tiki?”

“He’s doing his own thing for a while.”

“How did the fitting go?” Connie asked me. “What does the dress look like?”

I squinched my eyes closed and smacked my forehead with the heel of my hand. “I forgot all about it!”

“That’s one of them subliminal things,” Lula said. “You keep forgetting because you don’t want to do it.”

This was true. “I’ll go now,” I said. “And then I’m going to Atlantic City to get the guy at the nudie beach.”

“I don’t want to miss either of those things,” Lula said. “I’ll go with you.”

The bridal shop was on Hamilton, not far from the Tasty Pastry bakery. I’d been there before on a couple other excruciating occasions when I was a bridesmaid. It was presided over and owned by Mary DeLorenzo. She had coal black hair pulled back in a bun. She was in her fifties. And she ate way too much pasta. She employed two cousins who served as seamstresses. They were imported from Italy and spoke no English beyond S’cusa me when they stuck you with a pin or pushed your breast out of the way to adjust the bodice.

The walls of the shop were lined with gowns in zippered plastic bags smushed together on racks. One side was bridal and the other bridesmaid. Mother of the bride was in a separate room.

“This might not be so bad,” Lula said, following me through the front door. “You got to look on the bright side. It could be a pretty dress. If I was getting married I’d have my bridesmaids in animal print. Zebra or leopard.”

Mary DeLorenzo rushed over to me, all smiles, hoping for a new bride. I explained who I was and the smile faded a little.

“Of course,” she said. “We’ve been expecting you. Let me get the dress. I’ll bring it to the dressing room at the back of the shop.”

Lula looked around at the cocooned dresses. “You want me to come back there with you? You might need a second opinion on this.”

“Whatever.”

“And remember to have a good attitude. You don’t want to prejudge stuff. You go in expecting it to be bad and that’s all you’ll see.”

“You’re right. I need an attitude adjustment. I need to look forward to this. It could be fun. I’ll be with Ranger. It’ll be a party.”

“Yeah. And I bet the dress is real classy. This is a pretty classy place in an Italian kind of way.”

Mary bustled back with a zippered bag and ushered me into the dressing room. “This is so beautiful,” she said. “We had to special order the fabric. And the bride was very specific about the color. She wanted something romantic.”

“Romantic is good,” I said. “Right?”

“Of course. It’s a wedding.” She pulled the dress out of the bag and fluffed it up. “This is going to be stunning on you.”

It was a floor-length Pepto-Bismol pink taffeta dress with big puffy cap sleeves, a huge bow at the waist in the back, and a bell skirt.

I felt my eyes get wide and my mouth drop open.

Have a good attitude, I told myself. It’ll look better once it gets off the hanger.

Lula was on the other side of the dressing room door. “How is it?” she asked. “Do you love it? Is it pretty?”

“I don’t have it on yet,” I said, swallowing down panic.

“Well, hurry up. I can’t wait to see it. This is exciting.”

Mary dropped the dress over my head and zipped it up. I had my eyes closed. I was afraid to look.