Tulle Death Do Us Part (26 page)

I couldn’t see the guy’s face, only part of a hand with the beginning of a scar that might just continue down between thumb and index finger. “My kind of sport,” he said, and if the scar did extend as far as I suspected, I could identify the speaker.

They were altering people’s lives, he and Vainglory, about to kill, a deadly accident likely caused by their utter selfishness. I wished Deborah could be arrested for the premeditated act of “grand theft lover.”

The man in the very expensive tux went down and spirited Robin away from the dance floor. I saw him get them drinks at the patio bar. Wynona kept flyboy busy flirting.
She
kept him from looking for his girl.

The airman finally abandoned his drink, and as Deborah leaned forward to call his name, she slipped and we fell a little too far over the balcony rail, teetering just enough to make people scream…and allow her accomplice to spirit Robin out of the room.

The scream became a siren in my head—Deborah’s head, with me inside her. When we caught our balance, and opened our eyes, the dance floor had shifted and changed, for me at least.

I stared down into the belly of the whale, which I now knew was that dirty old brick mill, in better shape back then. A sunrise lit the scene. The morning after. Everyone bedraggled. Tuxman was indeed Wayne. I’d seen
him
more clearly in the other morning-after vision, a few hours later than this, possibly, though in this same mill, the word “steam” on the inside brick wall being my touchstone.

Not that I recognized any other faces—forty years had changed them, body shapes, hairlines, and all.

Except for Grody, better known as Eric McDowell, who looked like he’d slept, or swam, in his tux. No wonder I’d named him Grody.

The stench of the sea remained as the night before, but the stench of guilt was ebbing. Daylight brought rationalizations and acceptance. “I won’t tell, if you don’t.” And “What if she had been walking along the shore when a huge wave…”

The view of them was, however, so sharp that one aspect struck me like a bolt of lightning: their shoes. Most wore formal footwear, heels and stockings, except for one tuxedoed chap who wore neither socks nor wingtips, but a well-worn, wet pair of sturdy Sebago boat shoes.

Behold the sailor. Behold the blood that had dried dripping down his hand and the hand of one other in the group.

I couldn’t get a name before I got whisked back to the present, to my shop’s dressing room, where Deborah continued to talk about herself and her accomplishments as if nothing had happened to any of us.

Werner, though, sat straight up in the lounge chair on full alert, watching me like he wanted to scoop me into his arms, right there in the chair.

I sent him a virtual kiss, with a here-I-am nod.

He saw I’d returned, fell against the back of his chair, and wiped his brow with a trembling hand.

“Take off your jacket, Detective, if you’re too warm.”

“Don’t mind if I do.”

“You’re all set, Deborah. You can go change,” I said. “Detective, come with me.” I reached behind me for his hand, and he clutched mine. Then, around the corner from the dressing rooms, I backed him against the wall to the
enclosed stairs and kissed him senseless, or he kissed me, or we kissed each other, each with something different to prove.

He wrapped his arms around me and held me against his shoulder while he kissed my ear, then he placed his brow to mine, his breathing thready. “I have never been so scared in my life.”

“I learned a few things,” I said.

“That you’re my Achilles’ heel?”

“That, too.” I couldn’t help the grin that split my face. Being so cherished was new to me. Not by family, but by a significant other who didn’t jaunt off and not call for months. “I learned that and more.”

He set me back half a step so he could look into my eyes. “Like what?”

“How they’d spirited Robin away.”

“Is that you being psychic?” Werner asked.

“No, just the psychometric facts, sir.”

He closed his eyes and shook his head. “I gotta get back to the station.”

I cupped his cheek. “My instincts say to find out who was still in the belly of the whale the next morning and why. Leave me the pictures and rosters so I can match names with faces, then I’ll call you.”

“I’ll leave the pictures, but bad news, Mad. There’s not one of Robin.”

“They stole the evidence?” I said.

“Fifty years is a long time,” Werner said. “Thatcher could have done it when he became chairman.”

I bit my lip for a disappointed minute. “Wait. She was
presumed dead, so I presume the police looked for her before that happened, right? So maybe you have the pictures of her in your old records department.”

“The basement. But I looked. Nothing on Robin O’Dowd.”

The two people coming out of the shower, me covered by an airman’s jacket. “Look for records on Robin Gilchrist.”

“What do you know?”

“Vision—not worthy of evidence. At some point, Robin married her airman in secret, I believe, and the police who investigated after the…quote ‘rogue wave’…might have figured that out.”

“Mad, are you here?” Aunt Fiona called from the door.

“Coming, Aunt Fee.”

Werner kissed me quick and let me go.

Deborah caught us at it. Her look said there was no accounting for taste, as she left with a silent afterthought of a wave.

“Right back at’cha,” I said.

Aunt Fiona carried a garment bag and looked guilty for it. “I know you’re busy, dear, and I’m here to help as much as I can, but I need a favor. I want to wear this to the Valentine’s ball, and it’s a little big.”

“Let’s see.”

She took it from the garment bag and hung it on an empty rack.

“Oh, Fee, it’s gorgeous, but is it—?”

“My mother’s wedding dress. I always wanted to wear it for my own wedding, but let’s face it: Your dad is never going to propose. He likes things the way they are.”

“Surprise him. Have a party, invite a justice of the peace, wear that. He’ll beg you to make it permanent.”

“I don’t want to coerce him into marriage, dear. I want him to want me, till death do us part.”

“Is he stubborn or what, my dad?”

“Oh, speaking about weddings, and the nonstarters like mine, I wanted to share something we uncovered in our
This Is Your Life
research.”

“Tell, tell.”

“Eric McDowell used to be engaged to Robin O’Dowd.”

“Hell-o.”

“Good sleuthing, Fiona,” Werner said. “Mad, I have to go back to work.” His hand caressed the nape of my neck and my eyes closed at the loveliness of his touch.

Fee cleared her throat. Werner cleared his throat, too, in embarrassment, I thought, as I walked him to the door.

“Lytton, can you look up a fifty-year line of ownership to the boat named the
Yacht Sea
? The pleasure craft, not the fishing boat.” I felt the heat on my face for my stupid mistake.

“Will do,” he said.

“I had really hoped you’d bring me a picture of Robin. I only got a quick glimpse when I zoned.”

Aunt Fee gasped. “Mad? He knows?”

Werner rolled his eyes. “Why does everybody say that?”

Aunt Fee touched his sleeve. “Because it means that your relationship must be serious. And not everybody loves her enough to believe her.”

“Serious, yes, and of course I love her enough to believe her.” Werner eyed me like I might be a giant Fudgsicle. Oh, I could feel the licks. Wicked thought.

“I at least hope I can find a match to Jay’s father’s photo in the batch you brought. Here’s a copy for you. I have my own.” I slipped it from my seventies-orange swing dress pocket and handed it to him.

“Wanna go dancing tonight?” he asked. “There’s a rock and roll club not far from the casino.”

“Can we request ‘Running Bear’?” I grinned. “Around seven?”

He hooked my hair behind my ear, kissed my lobe, and whispered, “Bring an overnight bag.” Then he left.

Before I started on Fee’s mother’s wedding gown, I moved Jay’s uniform to the to-be-altered rack. As I did, the hem of the jacket swung oddly my way and hit my hip, rather too hard to be made of fabric.

I hung it then searched the pockets. A breast pocket was entirely unsewn. I slipped my hand down through the open bottom and searched around in the hem. That’s when I found it. Metal and fabric. I pulled it out.

“Aunt Fee, look at this. Some kind of medal.”

“Some kind…it’s a Purple Heart, dear.”

“Does that mean Jay’s father’s dead?”

“I don’t know, dear. You tell me.”

“I can’t read objects.”

“I thought maybe the ribbon.”

I shrugged. “Not getting anything. Let me put it in my purse so you can show me that gown.”

Fee’s mother’s wedding gown was a fifties beauty, with three-quarter sleeves, a wide fifties lace-shawl collar, cinched waist, and large lace flowers around the flared, ankle-length hem with leaf fronds that flowed three-quarters of the way up the skirt. Pure white with layers
of white tulle poufed beneath. A breathtaking fashion statement for a beautiful and loving bride.
Tulle death do us part
.

“I assume that the veil became the train?” I asked.

“Yes, it’s got a pristine pillbox hat that’s packed away in my back closet. I don’t want to give your dad a heart attack. He probably won’t even realize this is a wedding gown. It’s nothing like today’s gowns or even the satin beauty your mother wore. Hers always reminded me of the gown that Julie Andrews wore in
The Sound of Music
.”

“You’re different people. If I were to pick a vintage gown, though, I’d pick this one—no offense, Mom,” I said, looking up and around until I smelled the sudden scent of chocolate. Fee’s eyes glistened.

“Fee. she’s happy for you.”

“Well, your dad hasn’t asked to marry me, so
she
has nothing to worry about.”

“Mom, give him a kick where it counts, will you?” I called. “Get him moving on this.”

We laughed until we both had to dab our eyes.

Eve came back to help. She sorted dozens of outfits and thanked me numerous times for her Valentine date. Eventually, I chose the final three outfits for the
This Is Your Life
segment of the Very Vintage Valentine ball. They were all formals that were, to my knowledge, not connected to the scavenger hunt, aka the Robin O’Dowd case.

Frankly, things were beginning to percolate in my mind, and I wanted to run a few errands. I did some mighty thinking while driving. “Aunt Fee, can you call the next three
This Is Your Life
rs and tell them to come for fittings tomorrow? Schedule them for the morning, if possible. I
need all the time I can get. The event is creeping up on us fast, and it would be helpful to have tomorrow afternoon to work on the alterations.”

I drove to Aunt Fee’s house in search of my father and found him in the backyard singing Italian opera at the top of his lungs while building the herbal potting shed of her dreams.

I crossed my arms and watched, standing stock still to absorb the wonder of this man, who practically raised his four chilren alone. How lucky was I?

He spotted me and clamped his lips tight, looking like a shy pup. “Hey, Madeira. Didn’t see you.”

“No kidding. But why be shy about it? You sing in the shower, you know.”

He shook his head and swooped in for a hug. “What brings you home in the middle of the day?”

“Well, this may be your home, but mine is down the street until Alex and Trish move in.”

“I mean, the neighborhood type of home.”

“No, you didn’t. You think of this as home now, and that’s okay. Dad, we have got to talk.”

“You want to move in with your detective?”

“When the time’s right, and speaking of timing…”

“Uh-oh.”

“You listen, I’ll talk. No quotes allowed.”

We went inside and sat on the sofa together. I took his hand. He squeezed it occasionally and took my observations well, I must say, even if they came with a rap on the knuckles, though I added a kiss to soften my blow.

He looked rattled when he stood, but he went to his jacket pocket and took something out.

“Fee should see these first, but I couldn’t stand you thinking that I would do what you told me to.”

I chuckled because I’m the same way.

He opened a paper and handed it to me.

“A marriage license? Fee signed it but she doesn’t know what it is, does she?”

“No, and don’t you tell her. I tricked her. I told her it was the building permit for the potting shed to get her to sign.”

I screamed at the top of my lungs and threw myself at him. He twirled me, and I adored the robust sound of his laughter.
Oh, Mom, he’s happy again
.

“How you gonna do it?” I asked.

“I don’t know.”

“Can I see inside that tiny square box?”

“No. This, Fee gets to see first, and she never
ever
hears about this talk, got it?”

I raised a hand. “You beat me to the punch.”

“Damn straight I did.”

He set an arm around my shoulders. “‘While we try to teach our children all about life, our children teach us what life is all about.’ Angela Schwindt said that. Thanks for caring enough to try, kiddo.”

After I left my father, I went back to the house to get ready for my date and overnight with Werner.