“I guess so.” She turned away from the mirror to smile at Emma. “We’d better get started. It’ll take a while to wrestle me into this thing.”
***
To put the dress on didn’t prove to be much of a challenge. By the time they finished, Becky’s sisters had arrived—all three of them. Emma stepped aside to let them apply Becky’s makeup and fix her hair. Becky’s older sister Britney, who had gone to cosmetology school for a semester, worked on Becky while the other two sat in the ruins of the living room. Brandi lit a cigarette and then put her feet up on a box of CDs.
“So you’re going to be alone after this, aren’t you?” Brandi asked.
“Yes, I guess so,” Emma said.
“That’s too bad. Are you going to find someone else?”
“Not right away.”
“You can probably afford to live by yourself, being an assistant director and all.”
“Why don’t you leave her alone?” Bambi said. “Emma can live by herself if she wants.”
Brandi shrugged. She snuffed out the cigarette with the same precision as Lieutenant Donovan. “I was just curious.” Brandi shifted in her dress. “I’ll be glad when I can get this thing off me. It’s going to be so annoying though to get repierced.”
“You don’t have to get pierced again. It’s gross,” Bambi said.
“To a stuck-up bitch like you it’s gross.”
Becky interrupted this argument when she swept into the living room. She raised the veil enough so they could get a look at her face, which showed no signs of the previous night’s wild outing, due to Mrs. Chiostro’s potion and the ministrations of her sister. “What do you think?”
Not even Brandi had anything negative to say. Emma had never seen Becky look so gorgeous before. There was too for perhaps the first time in her life an inner glow of confidence as Becky realized she wasn’t the fat girl others had made fun of in high school. “You look great,” Emma said. Her sisters nodded in agreement.
“Then I guess we should be going.”
Emma took Becky in Steve’s car to St. Michael’s Cathedral in the heart of the city. Becky had never held with any religion but had agreed to convert—at least for today—to Catholicism for Steve’s family. The cathedral was the largest in the city, built fifty years ago after a fire ravaged St. Patrick’s two miles down the road. Emma had never been inside the cathedral, though she had been on its roof a few times as the Scarlet Knight.
She looked up towards the ceiling some two stories overhead. Sunlight beamed through the stained glass to cast puddles of color about the floor and on the altar where Becky and Steve would soon be married. The priest already waited for them, a nervous little man called Father Jacoby. “You look wonderful, Ms. Beech. And as you can see, God has blessed us with a perfect day for the ceremony.”
“It certainly is nice outside,” Becky said with a touch of irony; she had wanted to hold the wedding outdoors. Steve’s parents had insisted on the wedding in the cathedral and Becky had given in.
“If you’d like to follow me to the rectory, where you can wait until we’re ready to begin.”
“Right, we wouldn’t want him to see me first. That’s bad luck.” Becky turned to Emma and said, “Can you make sure nothing goes wrong?”
“I will.” Emma gave her friend a parting hug, careful not to crush the dress, and then planted herself at the church’s doors. As expected, Steve was two hours early; she had never expected him to get cold feet. “She’s already here, in the rectory.”
“Great.” Steve adjusted the bowtie for his tuxedo. “How is she feeling?”
“She’s really excited.”
“I didn’t get a wink of sleep last night.” He dabbed at his face with a handkerchief. “I hope I don’t screw anything up.”
“You won’t.”
“I hope not. I know how much Becky has been looking forward to this.” He cleared his throat as an older couple came up the steps. The woman was heavier than Becky had ever been. She leaned against a man who looked like an older version of Steve. It was no surprise then when Steve said, “These are my parents. This is Dr. Emma Earl. She’s my boss at the museum. And Becky’s best friend.”
“Oh, you must be the one who got Steven that job. Thank you so much,” his mother said.
“I didn’t do anything. He did it himself. You’ve got a very talented son.”
“Yes, that’s what we’ve told him,” his father said.
An awkward silence followed this. “Well, I think we should be going,” Steve said.
“It was nice to meet you,” Emma said. She shook his parents’s hands before they made their way into the cathedral. It took another half-hour before the rest of the wedding party showed up. Steve had recruited his cousins for ushers, none of whom seemed particularly pleased with this. Emma remained at her station by the door to make sure everything went smoothly. This unfortunately meant she had to watch Dan pull up in his car and then hurry around to open the door for his wife.
Isis didn’t look any worse for wear after her night out with Becky. If anything, Isis looked refreshed and rested. “Hello, Dr. Earl. I thought you would be back with Becky.”
“Not yet. I’m making sure there aren’t any problems.”
“Yes, we wouldn’t want anything to ruin her big day.” Isis said this with a smug grin that set off warning bells in Emma’s mind.
“No, we certainly wouldn’t.” She cleared her throat and then asked in a whisper, “What did you two do last night?”
“Oh, we had a few drinks. Shared a little girl talk. Nothing interesting.” The smug grin remained; Isis no doubt relished how she had split Becky from her best friend. “Did she make it home all right?”
“Yes.”
“Good. I’d hate for anything to happen to her.”
Dan came up the steps and flashed a smile at Emma before he kissed his wife on the cheek. “I guess today’s the big day. I hope it goes a little better than our wedding.” Dan squeezed Isis’s hand before he continued, “We were getting to the vows when a sandstorm came up. The priest had to shout the rest of the ceremony so we could hear it.”
“That’s awful.”
“It certainly made it memorable.”
Isis leaned against her husband. “We’d better not take up too much of Dr. Earl’s time. We’ll see you inside.” They turned away, but before they went inside, Isis looked back and winked.
***
Through binoculars, Lieutenant Donovan watched as Captain Kramer kissed his wife and then patted his son on the head. It was a scene from Leave it to Beaver, but Lieutenant Donovan wasn’t fooled. She knew Kramer was up to something; she didn’t know what yet.
She waited until he’d pulled his unmarked cruiser onto the road before she eased away from the curb. She kept far enough back where he probably wouldn’t notice her unless he was paranoid, which may or may not be the case. When he took a left turn at 41st Street it was obvious he wasn’t headed to the station. As he continued to wind his way through traffic deeper into the city, she started to wonder what he was up to. Maybe he had seen her and wanted to lead her on a wild goose chase or set her up for an ambush by internal affairs.
If IA found out what she was up to, she’d probably lose her badge. To tail a superior officer without a warrant or some kind of proof was not something looked upon favorably by the department. At the moment she didn’t have anything in the way of proof, just a hunch that Kramer was up to no good. It wasn’t nearly enough to go to internal affairs for a warrant to search his office and home for more clues.
She had called in sick today, the first time in fifteen years she had done so. If anyone asked, she was out for a leisurely drive, which just happened to coincide with Kramer’s leisurely drive. It was a flimsy excuse that wouldn’t hold up for more than a few seconds in any discipline hearing.
Despite this, she knew she had to find out what Kramer’s role had been in the evidence room fire. It couldn’t be a coincidence he had disappea
red moments before the fire started. She had never trusted Kramer. Maybe he was on the don’s payroll; there certainly were enough cops who already were. It wouldn’t surprise her to find out a senior officer was as well; if anything it would explain how the don had managed to remain free all these years.
Before she left the previous night and come down with a sudden illness, Lieutenant Donovan had reviewed the surveillance tapes. These showed nothing. One minute the evidence locker was fine and the next it was on fire. The arson investigator was examining the scene, but Lieutenant Donovan didn’t expect him to find anything. Someone who could find a way to infiltrate the room unnoticed by the cameras wouldn’t be dumb enough to leave a calling card.
This left her to grasp at straws. Or just one straw. She didn’t expect Kramer to lead her to the fire starter, but he might at least confirm her suspicions about his ties to the don. If her suspicions were correct.
She started to doubt this as Kramer pulled off into the parking lot for a fast food joint. She pulled off to the curb and got out her binoculars to watch him. Kramer went inside; he returned a short time later with a bag of greasy food and a soda. He ate these at a table outside.
She noticed how he checked his watch every few minutes as if he expected something to happen. The answer to what that might be didn’t come until the call came over the radio. Kramer was already in his car and on his way to the scene as if he’d known all along.
***
Emma stood at the entry of the cathedral again, this time to stand next to one of Steve’s friends from Rampart State who served as the best man. She didn’t know the best man’s name, nor at this moment did she care. She was concerned not to trip over the skirt of her dress or collapse on the high heels as she walked down the aisle.
And she kept an eye on where Isis sat in the middle of the cathedral. That wink had remained in Emma’s mind, along with the smug grin and comments that she didn’t want anything to ruin the wedding. She was up to something, but Emma couldn’t be certain of what. Or perhaps she had read too much into the situation again. Maybe her jealousy had colored things again, bent words and twisted gestures into something evil.
At a time like this she wished Marlin were here. But he didn’t venture into churches, especially Catholic ones, for fear some priest would spot him and try to exorcise him. The exorcism wouldn’t kill him, only banish him for a short time until he found his way back. Then Emma was certain he would complain about it for days on end.
The first notes sounded from the organ to signal it was time to march in. Becky’s sisters and the other groomsmen went in first to take up their positions on either side of the altar. Emma waited until Brandi and her groomsman had gone before she took the best man’s arm and then stepped forward. Her heels didn’t collapse and she didn’t trip over the hem of her dress as she awkwardly slid down the aisle. The best man did nearly topple her when she paused at Isis’s pew. The other woman winked at her again before she turned away to stare at the altar.
Emma made it the rest of the way without incident and took her place beside Becky’s sisters. They all turned to face the entrance to the cathedral as Steve appeared. He proceeded as carefully as Emma had, obviously self-conscious in front of over a hundred family and friends. When he took his place at the altar, he sighed with relief.
The organist struck up “The Wedding March” as Becky reached the entrance to the cathedral. On her arm was Percival Graves, who had been elected to give her away. Becky didn’t know where her father was, nor did she have any male relatives who could fulfill the job. Though she didn’t know Mr. Graves very well, she had agreed to Emma’s suggestion that he walk the bride down the aisle. Mr. Graves had jumped at this chance. “I might never get another chance to walk a pretty girl down the aisle.” As the former Scarlet Knight, he of all people knew how unlikely it would be for Emma to get married, at least not until she retired from the duty.
They walked slowly up the aisle; Mr. Graves clung to Becky so he wouldn’t put too much weight on his bad leg, a leg injured by the Black Dragoon on his last mission as the Scarlet Knight. He wore a huge grin as he limped up the aisle with Becky; his wink to Emma prompted her to blush instead of shiver.
The priest waited until the bride and Mr. Graves reached the head of the aisle to ask, “Who gives this woman away?”
“I do,” Mr. Graves said. There would of course be no mention of Becky’s mother, who was barred from the wedding. Emma wondered if perhaps Isis had invited her to ruin the ceremony. Maybe that was what her winks and smug grin had been about.
Emma didn’t focus on the rest of the ceremony. She looked around the cathedral for any sign of trouble. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t shake off the bad feelings from her brief conversation with Isis. Something bad was about to happen, she could feel it. She fidgeted at her post next to Becky and wished she could put on the red armor to make sure nothing went wrong.
The ceremony proceeded without incident. Becky and Steve read the traditional vows and then exchanged rings. The priest asked if anyone objected to their union. Emma waited for someone to say something, but no one did. She watched Isis’s face during the silence, but the woman betrayed nothing.
“Then by the power vested in me, I pronounce you man and wife,” Father Jacoby intoned. With a smile he added, “You may now kiss the bride.”
Steve leaned forward to pull up Becky’s veil and kiss her on the lips, their first kiss as husband and wife. Before his lips could touch hers, a shot rang out. It was a muffled shot, more like a cough, but Emma knew what it was. She threw herself into Becky to knock her to the floor. They lay tangled for a moment as screams rang out in the cathedral.
“What are you doing?” Becky shouted.
“I heard a shot,” Emma said. She checked her friend over, but saw no sign of a wound. Maybe the shooter had missed. Then she looked up and saw blood spread across the front of Steve’s shirt.
Chapter 9
The cathedral erupted into pandemonium. Guests stampeded down the aisles. The ushers quickly followed suit. Only Percival Graves remained calmly in his seat, used to such crises. Emma watched Dan take Isis by the arm and practically drag her towards the exit. There was no look of shock on Isis’s face, more like a knowing look. At least she didn’t wink before she disappeared into the throng that pressed through the exit.
Emma tried to keep Becky from seeing her new husband’s wound, but Becky wriggled from her grasp. “Oh my God!” she screamed. She pushed Emma away just in time to catch Steve as he collapsed. “Someone call an ambulance!”
Emma lunged forward to seize one of the guests. “Where’s your phone?”
“What?” the woman stammered.
“Your phone? We need to call for help.”
The woman fumbled in her purse until Emma snatched it away. She found the cell phone inside and then dialed 911. She gave the dispatcher the cathedral’s address and told them briefly what had happened. Then she pressed the phone into the woman’s hands. “Stay on the line until someone gets here,” she said.
Emma took off towards the entrance, but she didn’t go outside. Instead, she opened the door to the stairway that went up to the balcony. There was a chance the killer had already fled in the confusion of the stampede, but Emma didn’t think so. From the angle of the shot, the assassin had set himself up in one of the balconies used for the choir or excess capacity. Even if he had abandoned his weapon—this seemed unlikely unless he was a complete idiot—he would have needed time to get from the balcony to the front steps. It seemed more likely the assassin would disassemble the weapon and then either wait until most everyone left to slip away or find a back way out. If she hurried, she might still be able to catch him.
Her hunch turned out to be correct. In the west balcony she saw a figure hunched over the remains of a rifle. Emma slipped out of her high heels so she could sneak up on him and have better balance during a fight. As she closed in, the figure spun around to face her. He wore a black ski ma
sk so she couldn’t see the details of his face, only that he had brown eyes.
He didn’t waste any time to fling part of the disassembled weapon at her. While she ducked this, he flipped over the railing of the balcony. He had secured a rope to the rail, which allowed him to repel down the wall of the cathedral, down to the ground floor. Emma took off towards the stairs again, though it seemed unlikely she would be able to catch up to him.
She was a second too late; she opened the door as he ran through the entrance. “Stop him!” she shouted, but no one heeded this. Emma kept in pursuit along the sidewalk in her bare feet while she wished she had the magic armor. With it she could execute a simple jump to land ahead of him or perhaps on him. Or she might be able to hurl the Sword of Justice to cut one of his legs. It would take far too long though to put on the armor. She would have to do it the old-fashioned way and hope for the best.
The assassin shoved through the crowd of dazed people who had fled from the cathedral. Emma followed after him and pushed Steve’s parents out of the way. “Sorry,” she called over her shoulder. She forced her legs to find another gear as she plunged onwards. The assassin didn’t seem to be tiring, which meant he was in terrific shape, a fact she’d already deduced from that leap off the balcony.
He turned a corner into one of the network of alleys that ran throughout the city. Emma followed, though since she ran barefoot she had to be careful not to step on broken glass or other debris in the alley. The assassin pushed down garbage cans to make Emma’s pursuit even more difficult. She hopped over a can only to land awkwardly on her left ankle. She pitched forward into the muck on the ground. Pain shot through her leg when she stood up, but she continued to hobble on.
She was too late. Ahead, she saw the shadow of the assassin climb up a wall to drop over into another alley. He paused for a moment to toss her a salute. Then he disappeared. Emma stood there for a moment, her fists clenched in rage and frustration. She turned around to limp back to the cathedral. There she would have to find Isis.
Tales of the Scarlet Knight Collection: The Call Page 63