B004183M70 EBOK (18 page)

"City Hall! Darlene Roland!" I
exclaimed, standing up, my hands on my hips. "You will not exchange
wedding vows in some poky hole-in-the wall wedding at City Hall! Haven't you
dreamed about being married in a beautiful white—or, um, ivory—dress in a
church filled with flowers, with bridesmaids, all your friends, a wedding cake,
and champagne toasts? What about all that?"

"Girlish dreams, nothing more."

Darlene got up and made her way into the
kitchen. She reached for the whiskey bottle, but I said, "How about some
ice cream?"

"Sounds good," she said, then
slumped at the tiny table, looking all of twelve years old. Without makeup, her
freckles stood out across her nose.

I scooped generous amounts of chocolate ice
cream into two green bowls, got out the spoons and napkins, and sat across from her. All the while, my head spun. I
didn't believe for one second that Darlene thought a nice wedding with all the
trimmings was just a "girlish dream." But that was not the critical
point. First I had to pour more doubts into her head about this crazy idea of
marrying Cole. Ever since she'd met him, he'd tried to change her, mold her
into something she wasn't. Darlene needed to be who she was.

I passed her her bowl, spoon, and napkin,
and said, "So you'll be busy on Tuesday. Then on Wednesday you're working
the flight to the Virgin Islands. Maybe in the tropical setting, you'll be able
to think over this engagement."

She took a tiny bite of chocolate, then
dropped the spoon into the bowl. "Cole bought a ticket for the flight. He
said that way we could consider our honeymoon in two parts: one in the hot
sunshine and beach, and the other in the cool spring of Paris."

"With the City Hall stop-off somewhere
in between," I said sarcastically.

Darlene rose. "Listen, I can't talk
about this anymore. I need to lie down. Would you come in my room and talk to
me? I want to know how your investigation is going, not to mention your
date."

An idea came to mind. Darlene would hate
me, maybe even smack me or tear my hair out, but one day she'd be on her knees
thanking me.

"All right, let me get out of this
dress, and I'll be right in. You're not going to fall asleep on me, are
you?"

"Honey, don't be silly. It's only ten
thirty. I'm not at death's door." She moved into her room, and I went into
mine.

I shut the door, peeled off my dress,
girdle, and stockings, and flung on my pink chenille robe, the one decorated
with big coffee cups. Looking widly around my room, I spotted the purse I'd
taken to work that day on the Banana chair. I grabbed it, opened it wide, and
retrieved my trusty little notebook. Flipping through the pages, I found what I
needed. I made a quick trip to the kitchen, noisily putting the dishes away,
then strolled into Darlene's bedroom.

She reclined on her bed, a box spring and
mattress on the floor. Red chiffon material formed a tent that gathered at the
top over the bed. On a narrow, rickety table sat a phonograph and a collection
of albums. Darlene had Patsy Cline playing. I closed my eyes, thinking of how
we'd lost dear Patsy just last year in that awful plane crash. Her magical
voice sang the words to "Why Can't He Be You." I was sure Darlene had
thoughts of Stu on her mind, just as I couldn't get Bradley off my brain. From
the attention of the young actor at Pierre's gala showing and my date with
Louis, I felt my confidence growing.

Darlene scooted to the far edge of the bed.
"Come on, honey, tell me about your date."

I lay down next to her. We both stared at
the top of the red, see-through chiffon. "I will, but don't think I've
finished talking to you about Cole. You're just getting a break."

"You're the best, Bebe."

I poked her left arm. "Bradley was
there."

She gasped, rolled to her side, and propped
herself up on her left elbow. "On your date? How in blue blazes did he
manage that?"

I rolled on my side to face her. "He
got the information out of this sweet girl from the typing pool who took over
for me at lunch. Can you believe it? Then he showed up at the Phone Booth with
a model he'd had me help him contact."

Darlene shook her head and smiled.
"I'm telling you, Bradley considers you his; otherwise he never would have
followed you like that! I've been in the Phone Booth. Did he come up to your
table, or—no, don't tell me—he called you for a dance."

"All right, I won't tell you, but
that's what he did," I said, and grinned.

Darlene and I fell to giggling.

"Get this," I said, "he
recognized the My Sin perfume and told me never to wear it again!"

Darlene burst into laughter. "Lord have mercy! That man
is trying so hard not to act on his feelings."

"I don't know about that, but he also told me never to
wear that hot-pink lipstick again." I snickered.

"You can have my tube. It doesn't look right on me. As
for the My Sin—"

"I'm buying a big bottle."

We laughed, and I felt a surge of happiness that Darlene
thought Bradley considered me his.

Then Patsy started singing "Crazy" and the smile
faded from Darlene's face.

"Do you want to know about my date with Louis?" I
asked, hoping to keep her mind off the "engagement."

"Yeah, how was he?"

I looked down at the red bedspread. "He's handsome,
polite, paid for a very nice dinner—"

"If that's all you have to say about him, he was
dull."

"He kissed me, kinda, and asked me out again."

"How was the kiss?"

"It was a first date; I couldn't expect much."

"Dull. Did he dance with you?"

"Gee, no. I hadn't even thought of that, but he didn't.
I danced with Bradley; then Louis and I had our meal. I'll go out with Louis
again if he asks. I hardly know him, though he seems hard on himself and
others. I gave him a modeling assignment, which he appreciated."

"I'll bet he did. Bebe, I think you do know him, but go
ahead and give him another chance."

"I'll be seeing him tomorrow on a photo shoot for B.
Altman's. What's better is that Bradley will be there—"

The sound of the intercom buzzer cut me off. I said,
"Here, Darlene, hand me your engagement ring."

With her brows together, she did as I asked, then said,
"Why do you want the ring? The buzzer for downstairs went off. Didn't you
hear it? Someone's here to see one of us."

"I'll give you back the ring." Now I was shaking.
Should I really be meddling in Darlene's life like this? Was I turning into
Debbie Ann, well-meaning but intrusive?

This time didn't count. I sprang out of the bed, scrambled to
the intercom, and buzzed for Stu to come up. I knew it was him, because I'd
called him and told him to come over. I couldn't let Darlene marry Cole without
her hearing Stu's side of the story.

Darlene was right behind me. "Who is it, Bebe?"

I held up my hands as though I were being arrested, and put
the pink sectional between us. "Now, Darlene, don't get mad. This is for
your own good."

Her eyes popped. "Tell me you didn't call Stu."

I stood mute.

"Tell me!"

She tried to come to my side of the sectional, a look of fury
in her eyes, but I dodged her.

"I'm going to kill you, Elizabeth Bennett," she
hissed at me.

A knock sounded on the door.

Darlene ran into the kitchen, came back into the living room
with a pen in her hand, and scrawled Bebe on the bottom painting.

"Darlene! You can't do that!" I cried.

"That's just the beginning of what I'm going to do to
you for calling Stu," she promised.

I finally made it to the door and flung it open. Stu, dressed
in a midnight-blue evening suit, his dark hair styled like a movie star's,
strolled into the room.

He looked at Darlene with concern blazing in his brown eyes.
"Darlene, are you all right? Bebe called me and said you were sick. That I
should come right over."

She shot me a look that might have felled the Empire State
Building. Then she gazed at Stu for a long moment, her arms crossed over her
chest.

No one spoke.

Finally I said, "Stu, I love Darlene, and I'm very fond
of you. I wanted the two of you to talk, but if you don't want to, maybe you could just watch TV together.
Oh, look at the time, all the stations are off the air. 1 guess you'll have to
talk."

Stu said, "Hey, if I'm not wanted
here—"

Darlene interrupted. "Bebe, will you
excuse Stu and me?"

"Yes," I said, and dashed to my
room. I closed the door behind me, then mentally kicked myself for doing so. I
wasn't going to hear them well with the door tightly shut.

That didn't stop me from sitting on the
floor, my right ear pressed to the wood.

Darlene started the attack. "You spent
the weekend with that stewardess Peggy in Paris. Why did you come here?"

"Bebe said you were ill, that's why.
And if you would only listen and trust me, I can explain why the rumor of my
so-called infidelity got started."

"Start talkin', buster," Darlene
instructed. I could picture her, arms crossed, glaring at Stu.

I could still hear Stu's voice, but not
enough to make out what he was saying. I remembered him telling me when I saw
him at the World's Fair how Peggy, a chief stewardess, had made up the story of
a fling with him, wanting to make Darlene jealous. I figured he was explaining
this to Darlene.

She stayed quiet while he spoke, thank
heavens.

When it was her turn to talk, she spoke too
softly for me to hear, much to my frustration.

At least they were talking, I thought. I
hoped Darlene wasn't dumb enough to tell Stu she was engaged to Cole.

Suddenly Stu must have walked around the
sectional, closer to my door. I heard him say, "Okay, doll, if you want
to think about it, that's fine by me. I'm damn glad we talked. When you get
back from your trip to the Virgin Islands, give me a call. You know I'll be
waiting for you."

Another little spell of silence; then I
heard the apartment door open and close. I crawled over to my albums,
pretending to look through them.

Darlene knocked on the door, and I said, "Come in unless
you're going to kill me."

She opened the door and stuck her head around it. "I
don't like your tactics, Bennett."

"It was for your own good, Roland."

We smiled at each another.

"Well, do you believe Stu now?" I asked.

"I told him I'd think it over," she replied.
"Toss me that rock of a ring. I'll need it tomorrow."

I complied and Darlene caught it in one try. I said,
"Did Stu kiss you?"

She licked her lips, then shook her finger at me. "No
more information for you, Miss Nosy."

"Stu did kiss you, or you wouldn't have licked your
lips."

Darlene came around the door. "We never talked about the
murder investigation."

I shrugged. "It's really late. I need to get to bed. But
I will say there are three, maybe four suspects on my list right now: Pierre,
Gloria, Lola, and a photographer named Scott Roberts. Plus, Bradley's uncle is
going to kick him out of the company if the killer isn't caught within ten
days."

"That's nice of him. What can I do?" Darlene said,
yawning.

"Nothing tomorrow. Come to Suzie's memorial on Wednesday
and help me check people out. When we get to the Virgin Islands, hopefully we
can nail the killer."

"So you're sure the police won't let Bradley leave town
by Wednesday afternoon?"

"I'm sure, but I'd love to be surprised."

"And you think he'll let you go in his place?"

"He'd better."

Darlene yawned again. "Whew, crying takes a lot out of a
body. I'm going to bed." She turned to leave the room, then peeked back at
me. "Stu said he knew the bottom painting was of me. I wonder how we could get
Bradley to see it and get his opinion."

She closed the door before I could fling a slipper at her.

"Oh, and your daddy called," Darlene yelled.
"You'd better call him back." I put my head in my hands and groaned.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Tuesday morning at Ryan, I sat at my desk typing letters for
Bradley. His door stood open, and when I'd brought him his coffee he hadn't
said a word.

Before I'd gone to sleep last night, I'd called Daddy back,
deliberately not reversing the charges so he'd have to be quick. I suspected
why he wanted to talk to me, and I was correct.

"What in tarnation is going on up there, Bebe? I told
you that Williams fella was nothing but a playboy. Now look what he's gone and
done, murdered that cute girl. Tell me you're not working at that place
anymore—"

"Daddy!" I interrupted. "Mr. Williams didn't
kill Suzie Wexford. He hasn't been charged with her murder. It's only a
misunderstanding."