“Who’s the friend?” Luke asked.

“Ohhh,” the male’s voice said, sounding uncertain. “She really wanted this to be a surprise. It’s such an incredible gift.”

“Can I have your name and number?” Luke asked.

“If I could just confirm the time-”

“You can when I call you back.”

The person at the other end hung up.

Just as I thought, Luke mused as he replaced the phone in the receiver. Someone finds out about a wedding and figures that the bride’s parents’ house will be empty for several hours. So they scope out the situation, plan a break in, and hope that there are wedding presents around. If they’re lucky, good jewelry has been left out.

Nora got plenty of publicity and was often photographed wearing expensive earrings, necklaces, rings, bracelets, the whole works. She had said they should get someone to stay at the house while they’re gone next Saturday. Luke made a mental note to see if Nora had someone lined up for that.

Luke didn’t like the feeling that came over him. I gave this guy enough information even though I didn’t confirm the time of the wedding, Luke thought. Whoever was at the other end of the line could tell that this was the bride’s house. An owner of three funeral homes, Luke had seen plenty of trouble in his day. People often checked the obituary pages and burglarized the home of the bereaved while the funeral was taking place. You can’t get any lower than that, he thought.

Reaching into the refrigerator, Luke pulled out a bowl of what looked like chicken salad. I’ll get one of the guys from work to stay here all day on Saturday, he thought as he reached in the bread drawer for a roll. The Reillys had an alarm system, but Luke wanted someone he knew in the house.

The phone rang again. This time it was Nora.

“Hi, honey,” he said. “How’s it going?” He sat down at the table and listened to a Reader’s Digest version of what had happened. “That gown was expensive,” he joked halfheartedly. It wasn’t worth mentioning the phone call he’d just received. At least not now.

Luke flashed back to the picture of Regan in her first communion dress. She’d been so happy. Next week she was supposed to wear another beautiful white dress and veil. This time she’d be on Jack’s arm, and they’d be smiling together. It wasn’t fair that her dress had been stolen. My little girl, he thought.

“Tell Regan that she’ll look beautiful no matter what she wears,” Luke said, his voice a little husky.

“Jack already told her that. Alfred says he’ll make her another dress. But he’s in such a state that I don’t see how he’ll be able to get it done.”

“Maybe you should get a backup.”

Nora sighed. “It’s not that easy. We’ll figure it out. I just wanted to let you know what was going on. Regan is taking on this case. I tried to tell her not to when Alfred was out of earshot, but you know Regan. She’s determined. And Jack is busy with another bank robbery that happened less than an hour ago.”

These things come in threes, Luke thought as he looked around the kitchen and glanced at the back door. “You didn’t think it was going to be a typical week before the wedding with those two, did you?”

“No. But I didn’t expect this. Well, just as long as everyone is safe. That’s all that matters.”

“It certainly is,” Luke said as he glanced at the back door. He walked over and tested the lock. “It certainly is.”

7

“It took you over an hour to go buy cigarettes?” Francis asked Marco.

“I was doing some thinking,” Marco answered.

Francis had been thinking as well. He had planned to spend the winter in hibernation on the living room couch, with his leg up, watching television and collecting workman’s compensation. Joyce would cook him dinner every night. By the time spring rolled around, he’d be back to work. If you had to be laid up, winter was a good time for it.

But then Marco had shown up, and all Francis’s plans for a cozy winter’s rest were shot.

Marco had gone out immediately after they saw the story on the robbery. Joyce wouldn’t let Marco smoke in the house so all winter long he’d disappear for his nicotine fix. Sometimes he’d take a couple puffs in the driveway. When it was raining he’d get in his car and drive off. Francis was allergic to smoke and was grateful that Joyce was so strict with Marco. She said she’d throw him out if she ever caught him smoking in her house.

It was now after two o’clock. “If we’re going to Atlantic City, we should hit the road soon,” Francis called to Marco who’d gone into the kitchen and helped himself to a can of soda.

“I’ve been thinking,” Marco repeated.

“Good for you, Marco. I think, too.”

Marco ignored the remark as he returned to the living room and sat down on the La-Z-Boy recliner. “Francis, where do lots and lots of people get married?”

“Churches and synagogues. Open fields. Parks. Joyce said she wants to get married outside so people can bring their dogs.”

“That’s beautiful. I mean, in what town?”

Francis frowned. “I don’t know. My parents went up to Niagara Falls for their honeymoon.”

“I don’t mean honeymoon! Forget it. Listen, a lot of people get married in Las Vegas. They have tons of weddings there every day.”

“So.”

“So brides need wedding gowns. We have wedding gowns.”

Francis blanched.

“I have a buddy out in Las Vegas. We can send the gowns to him. He can unload them. I’ll give him a call. Plenty of people get married out there on the spur of the moment, and it’s too late for the bride to get her hands on a designer gown. We’ll make it easy. My pal Marty can go hang around the courthouse steps where they all go to get their licenses.” Marco took a sip of his soda. “It’ll be what you call an impulse buy. We’ll make a few extra bucks.”

“Who is this guy?” Francis asked.

“I met him in my travels.”

“Can he be trusted to turn over the money to us?”

Marco nodded. “He wouldn’t mess with me.”

I wonder what that means, Francis thought. “It’s Saturday,” he said quickly. “The post office is already closed.”

“So we’ll do it Monday. I want to get rid of those gowns. I don’t like riding around with them in the trunk. If we ever got stopped, and they checked the trunk, we’re dead meat.”

Francis waved his hands forcefully. “Why don’t we just throw them in a Dumpster and be rid of them?”

“Too dangerous. And not profitable. Did you call Joyce and tell her we’re going out of town tonight?”

“Not yet.”

Francis’s cell phone rang. His body twitched. I’m not cut out for this, he thought. I’m turning into a wreck. He looked at the caller ID. “It’s my mother.”

Marco rolled his eyes.

“Hi, Ma.”

Francis’s mother, Janice, lived out on Long Island with his father, who was an electrician. Janice worked part time as a waitress at the local diner. She was a sturdy woman with strong opinions that she never kept to herself.

“How’s your leg?” she asked. “With this rain I thought it might be bothering you.”

“I’m all right.”

“You don’t sound all right. Is Marco there?”

“Yes.” Francis glanced over at his friend who could tell that he was about to be disparaged.

“Hmm,” Janice grunted dismissively. “Joyce at work?”

“Yes.”

“I made a nice lasagna. Why don’t you and Joyce take a drive out when she gets home? I suppose you can bring Marco if you have to.”

“Thanks, Mom. But we can’t.”

“Why not? What are you doing?”

“Marco and I are…we’re…we’re going to Atlantic City.”

“Again? Weren’t you there last week?”

“Yes. We had a great time. I need to get out again and get some fresh air.”

“We’ve got fresh air out on the Island. What about Joyce?”

“I don’t think she’ll be joining us.”

“You just got off the crutches. Do you really think you should be walking around the casinos?”