When Regan and Kit stepped out of the cab at Jack’s apartment building in Tribeca, Kit looked up and sighed. “Your Home Sweet Home, Regan.”
Regan smiled. “I love it. I can’t believe this place used to be a warehouse.”
Jack’s paternal grandfather had been an extremely successful businessman who, when he died, left a generous inheritance to each of his grandchildren. Jack had wisely put some of that money in real estate, buying an apartment that he hoped someday to share with his soul mate. Until Regan came along, Jack had been afraid he’d never find her. Now, as the song went, he never wanted to let her go.
His maternal grandfather had been a police lieutenant. After graduating from Boston College, Jack decided that he, too, wanted to pursue a career in law enforcement. He’d risen quickly through the ranks of the NYPD, from patrolman to captain, and now was head of the Major Case Squad. His goal was to become the police commissioner of New York City. Few doubted that he would make it.
Jack was waiting for them upstairs in the roomy apartment. “How’s my bride?” he asked as he opened the door, leaned over, and gave Regan a quick kiss.
“Much better now,” Regan answered with a smile as she looked up at him, always amazed at how handsome he was and how happy he made her feel. “We’ve had quite the afternoon.”
“And our bridesmaid?” Jack asked Kit, planting a kiss on her cheek.
“I feel better, too, just knowing we’re on our way to Atlantic City. Maybe I’ll hit the jackpot at one of those slot machines. Then I can retire.”
“Maybe we’ll hit the jackpot and find out some useful information about our dress thieves,” Regan said hopefully as she walked into the large, airy living room. Several of the boxes she had sent from California were lined up against the wall.
“I talked to the head of security at Gambler’s Palace,” Jack informed them. “Stan Visoff is a former FBI agent I met a couple of times. He’s getting out the security tapes from last Saturday night for us.”
“Great,” Regan said as she silently admired her surroundings. Jack had decorated the apartment with oriental rugs, antiques, traditional furniture, and interesting artwork that he bought in the neighborhood galleries. Like Alfred and Charisse’s loft, the apartment had an exposed brick wall that gave a feeling of country charm. Regan felt completely at home. Blending her life with Jack’s felt so easy and so right.
“Wait till you hear about the other April Brides,” Kit began enthusiastically.
“I’d love to as soon as we get in the car,” Jack said quickly. “We’d better get going if we want to get back tonight at a reasonable enough hour to check out the activity in Alfred and Charisse’s neighborhood.”
Ten minutes later they were heading for the Holland Tunnel.
“So tell me,” Jack said, “how did the other brides take the news?”
“Surprisingly well,” Regan answered, “especially considering the reactions of the first two.”
Kit leaned forward from the backseat. “Besides your lovely fiancée, these April Brides of Alfred’s take the cake. The two we visited this afternoon were so blasé about their missing gowns, I couldn’t believe it. One of them is into visualization and inner peace. She’s into inner peace so much that she and her future husband don’t plan to live together when they get married. They’ll just pay each other visits.”
Jack chuckled and grabbed Regan’s hand. “That won’t be us.”
Regan smiled. “No way.”
“The other bride,” Kit continued, “well, talk about hitting the jackpot…” She told Jack about their visit to the Fifth Avenue apartment.
“Arnie Ney?” Jack asked. “That name sounds familiar.”
“He’s rich,” Kit volunteered. “And doesn’t want his name in the paper. He doesn’t want anyone else bugging him for money.”
Regan turned to Jack. “And how was the rest of your day? Any leads on the bank robbery?”
Jack shook his head and filled them in. “The bank teller is also getting married soon. Her fiancé came and picked her up. He was a wreck. He’s whisking her off to Las Vegas for a couple days of R and R.”
“Kind of makes the whole experience worth it,” Kit sighed.
“She was pretty upset. I just wish we could get this guy soon.”
“If by this time next week we have the bank robber and two dress thieves behind bars, we can fly off without giving a thought to our work,” Regan said.
Jack turned to her. “When we take off for Ireland, we have to make a pact to leave this all behind.”
They were planning to spend several days in Ireland, staying at two different castles in the countryside, and visiting some of their ancestors’ birthplaces. As an engagement present, a friend of Regan’s had given them a year’s subscription to [email protected], an Internet service that helped trace your ancestry. The card read, “To Regan and Jack-I hope you don’t discover you’re kissing cousins.” They decided to find out. Then it was on to London and Paris.
As Regan thought about their plans for Ireland, she mused aloud. “The bride who is into visualization said that her fiancé’s family went ‘wayyyy’ back. I’d love to be able to check them out on Roots@Relatives. When people imply how impressive their family lineage is, it makes me curious what they call impressive.”
“Please!” Kit gasped. “Anyone can put on a tiara and claim to be from royalty. I met a guy at a party who said he was a prince. I’d never heard of the country. I Googled it. They hadn’t heard of it, either.”
Jack and Regan laughed. “I’m just so curious about Victoria and Frederick’s relationship,” Regan said. “The few things she said about him give me the impression he’s pompous. Maybe I should call her and offer to look up his family in Roots@Relatives. They provide census records and birth certificates. It’s really interesting. They already sent me a picture of the boat my great-grandfather came over from Ireland on. If Frederick ’s family really is so grand, I bet he’d love to get copies of those old records.”
“He’d probably be afraid that you’d uncover a family scandal. Have you ever met anyone who doesn’t have at least one embarrassing relative?” Kit asked, then sat back in her seat. “As long as she’s not upset about the dress, leave well enough alone.”
Regan shrugged. “We’ll see. I’d better give Alfred a call and let him know that all the victims have been notified.” She pulled her cell phone out of her purse and pressed in his number.
“Alfred, it’s Regan,” she said when he answered.
“I was just about to call you!” he said excitedly.
“Is anything else wrong?”
“There’s always something wrong. But something right has happened, too.”
“Do tell,” Regan said. “I love good news.”
“That hot new cable network, Tiger News, wants to have us on their Sunday morning show, Patrick and Jeannie!”
“Us?” Regan asked.
“Me and Charisse and the April Brides! They’ve been doing specials on planning spring weddings. One of the producers is familiar with my dresses and absolutely adores them! She thinks this would be a great human-interest story.”
“Well, you know Tracy won’t do it. And you can forget Victoria and Shauna. Neither of them wants publicity.”
Alfred groaned. “Brianne couldn’t find another dress. So her father called and threatened me. He said I’d better have a new dress for her or else.”
“There’s a human-interest story for you,” Regan remarked.
“I’m afraid to call her. Would you call her for me?”
“And say what?”
“That we’re going to be on Patrick and Jeannie’s show tomorrow morning and she should join us.”
“I don’t know, Alfred.”
“Please, Regan! That show is so popular! They’re going to show pictures of my beautiful dresses. It would mean so much for my business. It might even help us get the dresses back. Please, Regan! This is national television!!!!”
“What’s her number?”
“Thank you, Regan. Thank you. I love you so much.”
“Love you, too.”
Jack turned and looked quizzically at Regan. She shrugged as Alfred gave her Brianne’s number. “What time do we have to be there?”
“Eight o’clock.”
“I’m not going to get much sleep tonight,” Regan commented.
“Charisse and I aren’t going to get any sleep for the next three weeks!”
When Regan hung up, she looked at Jack, then at Kit. “I’m going on TV tomorrow morning.”
“Huh?” they both answered at once.
Regan explained as she dialed Brianne’s cell phone number.
“Hello,” Brianne answered in the same gruff tone Regan had experienced that morning.
“Brianne, this is Regan Reilly. How are you doing?”
“I’ve had better days. But I’m at my apartment with my girlfriends. It’s one of my last nights here. We’re revving up to go out tonight.”
“That’s good. I know it’s been rough for you,” Regan said, trying to sound sympathetic, then asked her about the Patrick and Jeannie show.
“What?!” Brianne exclaimed. “Are you kidding me?” She called out to her friends. “Listen to this, guys! They want me on that new Patrick and Jeannie show tomorrow morning!”
Regan could hear a chorus of cheers and shouts of encouragement. “Brianne! You’re going to be a star!”
“The only bad thing,” Brianne continued, “is that I have to be there at 8 A.M.”
A chorus of boos erupted. “We’ll just have to stay out all night!” one of Brianne’s girlfriends cried. It was followed by another chorus of cheers.
They’re having no problem getting psyched up for their night out, Regan thought. “So you’ll do it?” Regan said loudly into her phone, hoping Brianne would hear her.
“Yes! Can I bring my fiancé?”
“Of course. The studios always have a greenroom that’s stocked with coffee and donuts. He can wait there while we’re on the air.”
“What about the other brides whose dresses are gone?”
“They all have their reasons for not wanting to do publicity.”
“Must mean they’re guilty of something.”
“No,” Regan protested. “It might be hard to believe these days, but some people aren’t interested in being on television or having their name in the paper.”
“It’s very hard to believe. Regan, this is my bachelorette party tonight. I might not look my best in the morning.”
“I’m going to have a long night, too. But don’t worry. They have makeup artists on these shows who can perform miracles.”
Brianne laughed as she warmed up to Regan. “We’re going downtown tonight to a new place called Club Zee. It’s in the Meatpacking District on Fourteenth Street. Drop by if you’d like.”
“Thanks, Brianne. I kind of doubt we’ll make it. But I’ll call you if there are any new developments before tomorrow morning.”
“Okay.”
“Remember, Brianne, next week at this time we’ll both be dancing at our weddings. We will!…Okay, bye.” Regan snapped her phone shut.
“Is she going to be your new best friend?” Kit asked from the back seat.
“Highly unlikely, Kit. But let me tell you something. Her group sounds as if they’re going to have a grand old time tonight. She invited us to stop by the club where they’ll be later on.”
“Maybe we should take her up on it,” Kit suggested.
Regan raised her eyebrows. “It might be a good idea to check in on Brianne. If she doesn’t make it to the show tomorrow morning, Alfred will fall apart.”
Jack shook his head as he steered the car onto the Jersey Turnpike. He turned to Regan and smiled. “Are all our Saturday nights going to be this exciting?” he asked.
“Till death do you part,” Kit answered from the backseat.
Somehow her words didn’t have the humor she intended.