And The Bride Vanishes

by Jacqueline Diamond

  There was a blurry photograph, probably decades old, of a woman with high cheekbones and tilted eyes. Twin braids circled her head, an outdated style that she carried off with dignity.

  The headline read, Local Singer Plans Concert Tour, and underneath: Reina Marinovskya to Visit Native Russia.

  According to the story, the soprano had recently resolved a dispute over the rights to her recordings, for an undisclosed sum. She was now being welcomed home with open arms.

  Marinovskya must have been arranging her return for some time. Concert tours didn’t materialize out of thin air; musicians had to be hired and theaters rented. Furthermore, with a settlement of rights to her recordings, she’d have had no motive to kill Sarah last night. Mentally, Linda scratched her name off the list of suspects.

  That left the D’Amboises and the Wangs. Janet’s great-uncle Yuri belonged there, too, but since he was in poor health, Linda was inclined to discount him. From what she’d seen, Yuri mostly seemed eager to spend time with his nephew’s family, particularly Janet, whom he regarded as the daughter he’d never had.

  Then there was Granville Lyme. As her boss, his gruff, imperious air had kept her at a distance, but as Avery’s father, he’d made it clear she was welcome into the family.

  He was also a longtime resident of Inland, a former city council member and a member of the art museum board of directors. Linda hated to think he could be involved in anything seamy.

  Her thoughts slammed back into the present as, right outside the house, someone coughed. The noise sounded as if it came from directly beneath the kitchen window.

  She hadn’t heard a vehicle approach or any footsteps, but she hadn’t been paying close attention, either. Could it be Wick? But if it were, she should have heard the motorbike.

  Her hands went cold as she fought to keep calm. Although sparsely occupied, this wasn’t a remote area. Someone might be walking by, or it could be a meter reader.

  She wanted to peek outside and reassure herself, but she didn’t. It was important not to let anyone know the cabin was occupied. Revealing herself to Mina had been risk enough.

  A metallic scrape sent her pulse into high gear. Someone must have brushed the loose drainpipe, the one her mother was always nagging her father to fix.

  Steps crunched on the sidewalk, moving away from the house. After a painfully long moment, a car started down the street and muttered away.

  Who had been here? What did he want?

  After several minutes, her heartbeat slowed, but she was left with a sense of vulnerability. Linda tried to tell herself that she hadn’t done anything wrong and had nothing to fear if spotted except a little embarrassment, but it didn’t help.

  She did have something to fear—the same person who had killed Sarah and tried to kill Wick. It was highly possible that she had joined the killer’s roster of targets.

  But why was he doing this? It might help if she at least understood what was at stake, but she had only vague guesses to go on.

  There was no point in standing here, tormenting herself with worries. In the kitchen, Linda busied herself inventorying the canned and frozen foods and figuring out what to cook for dinner.

  Concentrating on such mundane tasks eased her anxiety a little, but she stiffened when she heard a motorbike vrooming down the street. It stopped in front of the house.

  Wick, she thought with a rush of joy. He had come back.

  THE RELIEF on Linda’s face when he entered soothed Wick’s disappointment at having failed to turn up any evidence. It was still hard to believe she had willingly joined forces with him, but it was obvious she’d been worried.

  “Let me get you something to drink,” she said. “Iced tea?”

  “Anything cold.”

  A newspaper lay on the coffee table, he noticed as he crossed the living room. “Did you go out?”

  “That’s a throwaway, but as a matter of fact, I did.” Nervously, she pushed a strand of dark hair behind her ear. “Oh, Wick, I wore a scarf and sunglasses, but I ran into Janet’s neighbor, Mina Barash, outside the senior center. She recognized me and I had to tell her everything, and she’s going to try to help us, but I don’t know if she can keep a secret.”

  Mina Barash had spoken on the radio; he remembered her accented voice and her enthusiasm for the soap-opera story of an abducted bride. As he followed Linda into the kitchen and listened to her description of the encounter, he decided they might as well make the best of things.

  “I suppose we can use an ally,” Wick said. “We have to take some risks.”

  Linda smiled gratefully as she measured iced-tea mix into a glass. “Did you find Granville?”

  He told her about Avery and Pierre, and his failed exploration of the D’Amboise property. “So we’re no further ahead than we were.”

  “That’s not exactly true. At least we have a better idea who the players are.” She handed him a frosty glass and he drained it in a couple of gulps. “Maybe what you saw was an innocent game of golf. But if Granville does turn out to be connected to Sarah’s murder, there’s a good chance Pierre is, too.”

  Wick was too tired to mull over the possibilities any longer. He mixed himself another iced tea and drank it more slowly, then went upstairs to shower.

  When he came down, the tantalizing odors of garlic and butter filled the house. In the kitchen, he found Linda sautéeing trout and cooking a package of frozen vegetables, while rice pilaf simmered on a back burner.

  Perhaps it was the wonderful smells, or the sight of his wife smiling as she worked in a flowered apron, but a powerful yearning twisted through Wick. This was the home he had only begun to enjoy before his brush with death. This was what he wanted and needed, and might not be able to keep.

  “I never expected such a feast,” he said.

  She turned toward him, her blue eyes startled. “Hi. You look great.”

  Wick could feel her gaze flick over his shaggy hair, temporarily tamed by dampness and a thick brush, and down to where moisture made the knit shirt cling to his shoulders and chest.

  The desire he’d been suppressing welled up like a great cry. He wanted to draw her rounded body against him and bury his face in her hair, and to tilt her mouth up and taste it slowly and deeply.

  As if she were reading his thoughts, the tip of Linda’s tongue touched her lips, and then she turned abruptly away. “I hope you like trout. I found these in the freezer—my dad must have caught them.”

  “Sure. Whatever.” It was too much to expect that she would fling herself into his arms, Wick told himself. But he didn’t know how long he could stay in such proximity to his wife without making love to her.

  To distract himself, he searched through the cabinets until he found the plates and glasses, and began setting the kitchen table. In the center he placed two small candlesticks and lit them with a match.

  Tonight, the two of them had all the time in the world. He intended to enjoy it.

  Turning to serve the fish, Linda regarded the candles with appreciation. “How romantic.”

  “Why not? This is our second honeymoon, isn’t it?” he teased.

  By way of an answer, she found some sparkling apple cider in the refrigerator and poured them each a glass. “It’s not quite champagne, but I can’t drink alcohol right now.”

  “It’s fine.” Wick didn’t need wine; he was giddy enough at being so close to her. As he held her chair and then switched off the overhead light, he felt like a teenager on his first date.

  Except that, as a youth, he’d never known a woman to glow the way Linda did. Maybe it was the effects of pregnancy, but he’d never seen her look so happy.

  As they ate, the twilight deepened, isolating them in a cosmos of candlelight. The flavors of the food, the distant sound of crickets and Linda’s sidelong glances filled Wick with a sense of well-being.

  When they finished, he carried the dishes to the sink and insisted on loading the dishwasher while Linda rested. She watched him from the tabl
e, her chin on her palm.

  “I guess we never thought of ourselves as adventurers,” she said. “But that’s what we’ve turned into, isn’t it?”

  He set their glasses in the top rack. “I didn’t feel much like Indiana Jones today. More like a clown act. I’ll bet I made a hilarious sight, scrambling away from those dogs.”

  “I wonder what Pierre thought when he found the teddy bear and the wrappings,” Linda said. “Maybe he assumed he’d just rousted a deliveryman, after all.”

  “I hope so.” After turning on the dishwasher, Wick drew her to her feet. “Let’s go somewhere quieter.”

  In the living room, they turned off the lamp and lounged on the sofa, legs tangling in the middle, enjoying the night vista. Beyond the window, lights sparkled in the shore club across the lake and the stars hung bright overhead.

  Wick shoved away the thought that, had he not intervened, Linda would have been sitting here with Avery. Seeing his old friend today had reminded Wick of how much, at times, he had relied on Avery’s steadiness. He couldn’t blame Linda for doing the same thing.

  Besides, the light pressure of her legs against his was stirring a hot, smoky sensation. He could feel himself tightening and growing ready for her, and yet he felt curiously shy.

  He had never fully believed that Linda belonged to him. Signing a marriage license meant a lot—to both of them—but in his heart he doubted that he came before all the other people that had enriched her life before they met.

  A longing filled him to possess her again. He wanted Linda in deeper and fiercer ways than he’d ever wanted any other woman. He didn’t care how long it lasted, or perhaps the truth was that he didn’t believe anything so pure, so overwhelming, could possibly last, so he would take what he could get.

  Slowly he rubbed his knee against hers and waited for the response. She stretched, arching her back and shifting her leg so it lay directly alongside his.

  Wick leaned forward, his hands stroking Linda’s thighs until he reached her rounded abdomen. A low moan escaped her. It was all the encouragement he needed.

  With a swift movement, he poised over his wife, drinking in the heat of her skin and the warm sweet fragrance of her hair. His mouth covered hers, gently at first, then with growing command as she wrapped her arms around him and returned the kiss.

  After such a long separation, his need was almost overpowering, but he forced himself to go slowly. He didn’t want to risk hurting her, especially in her condition.

  It was Linda who drew his hips against her pelvis while her mouth sought his again and again. A moment later, she smoothed his jeans down along his hips, caressed his buttocks and reached underneath to grasp his masculinity.

  He gasped, unable to believe her directness and barely able to restrain his passion. Bracing above her, Wick lifted her top and pushed up her bra. As his hands cupped her breasts, he discovered that pregnancy had increased their lushness.

  Flames of desire licked through him as he tasted the taut peaks. Almost without conscious intent, he pushed inside Linda, and heard her cry of delight.

  He needed her so intensely that he thrust into her over and over. Finally he stopped to catch his breath, torn between a compulsion to drive onward and the need to make sure he wasn’t going too fast for her.

  She cupped his buttocks and drew him back into her. Her nipples pressed against his chest, and her rapid breath seared his cheek.

  With a roaring in his blood like a dam bursting, Wick yielded to masculine urgency. As he stroked to a climax, a white light flashed through him so exhilarating that he could scarcely believe it would ever end.

  Beneath him, Linda writhed in a pleasure matching his own. Her sighs and gasps excited him further, and it was with joy that Wick felt her stiffen and then relax beneath him as his own pleasure peaked.

  They were united not only in flesh but in spirit. She was his wife again, at least for tonight, at least for this moment.

  Wick wanted to take her once more, as soon as he recovered, but held himself in check. After such a long separation, he might be pushing her too hard.

  They lay in each other’s arms for a long time, dozing. At last they wandered upstairs to the bedroom, where he discovered that her desire for a replay was indeed equal to his.

  THE NEXT MORNING while they were finishing breakfast, the doorbell rang. When Linda peered out the window, she saw Mrs. Barash standing there, carrying a canvas bag hand-lettered with the words Avon Lady.

  It seemed a bit obvious as a cover, but at least the woman was trying, Linda reflected as she opened the door and ushered her inside. “Is something wrong?”

  “No! No!” The woman’s broad face creased with a smile as she spotted Wick in the kitchen doorway. “I am so happy to see the lovebirds reunited. But look what I have!”

  From a pocket, she produced two gilded tickets. Linda recognized them at once. They cost two hundred dollars each and guaranteed admission to tonight’s masked ball. “What on earth?”

  Her visitor was nearly hopping with delight. “One of the ladies at the senior center, she is a docent at the museum. They gave her these, for a thanks! But she is too shy to go. So she gives them to me!”

  Wick’s eyes narrowed. “Exactly what do you think it would accomplish if Linda and I went to this? We appreciate your concern, Mrs. Barash, but—”

  “You misunderstand!” The woman clucked her tongue in mock rebuke. “Here, look.” From inside the bag, she pulled a series of garments. Some were blackand-white and fuzzy, but there was also a gray uniform with a black stripe on the pants.

  It took a while to piece the plan together from their visitor’s gush of words, especially with her accent. Two things were immediately apparent, however. Mina had gone to a lot of trouble, and she was thrilled at the prospect of playing lady detective.

  Her scheme called for her and Linda to attend tonight’s party at Granville’s estate, costumed as pandas. They were similar enough in height and build to make a matched set, and, according to Mrs. Barash, people would find them so amusing that no one would get suspicious. Wick, dressed as a chauffeur, would wait in the car.

  “What’s the point?” Wick asked. “Exactly what are you planning to do there?”

  “Linda said that Granville Lyme has a safe at home,” she explained. “Is this not true?”

  “Is it?” Wick turned to Linda.

  She was beginning to recognize the method behind Mina’s madness. “I saw him use it a couple of times, once when I picked up some documents at his house and once when I was with Avery. It’s in the library.”

  “What kind of lock?” the woman asked.

  Linda hadn’t paid much attention, but she could picture the wheel with its numbers and ticks. “A combination.”

  “You see? If there are secret papers, they might be there!” crowed Mrs. Barash. “Perhaps this is the evidence you need.”

  “You’re not seriously suggesting that you two could break into a safe?” Wick demanded.

  The woman spread her hands expressively. “It is our best hope, no?”

  “No,” Wick said. “It’s dangerous and besides, how on earth would you figure out the combination?”

  The older woman smiled. “In detective movies, when people make a combination, they use something familiar so they will not forget. Like their address or part of a telephone number. I think Linda will figure it out.”

  Slowly, Wick nodded. “That does make sense. But I’m the one going in with her, not you.”

  Mina clucked again. “A tall man in a panda costume? It would look strange. People will ask questions.”

  “Then I’ll wear something else.”

  “What can cover you so completely?” Mina persisted. “Do you think your friend and your boss will be easily fooled? Not when they know you so well!”

  Reluctant as she was to walk right into the lion’s den, so to speak, Linda could see Mina’s point. Their movieloving friend appeared to have given the situation a lot of thought.
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  “There’s a certain irony about the panda costumes that appeals to me,” she admitted. “A life-and-death mission in a bear suit. Who would suspect anything? Besides, we may need a getaway driver who can floor it in a hurry.”

  “You’re willing to go along with this?” Wick studied her edgily. “Linda, this is dangerous.”

  “What’s the worst that could happen?” she said. “Even if we get caught, there’ll be a lot of people around, so I doubt Granville would try to hurt us. And you’d still have a chance to escape.”

  “I don’t like it,” he said. “There has to be a better way.”

  “If we don’t go tonight, we will never get into that house again,” Mina told him. “If Granville is the bad guy, how else can we prove it?”

  “I’ll think about it,” Wick said.

  Mina retrieved her costume, leaving theirs on the sofa. “I will return at eight o’clock. Really, do not worry. In one evening we could solve all our problems!”

  Already their new friend was identifying with them, Linda reflected with mingled amusement and concern. This idea seemed like a good one, but there was no telling what other screwball antics Mina might come up with.

  On the other hand, if they found what they hoped for tonight, there might be no need for further scheming.

  “Eight o’clock,” Mina repeated, and went out the door.

  WICK PLUCKED a piece of lint off the chauffeur’s uniform and wondered if he’d taken leave of his senses. It went against all his instincts to let Linda subject herself to danger while he waited outside.

  Yet Mina’s arguments had been compelling. The panda costume, once Linda fixed the mask in place, covered her so completely that even her own mother wouldn’t recognize her. Besides, the woman had been right, a pair of more-or-less matched pandas would be cute, while even if he could fit into the other costume, he would look bizarre in it.

  He still wasn’t convinced the two women could get the safe open, but he supposed it was worth a try. Since they didn’t have to breach security to get into the house, they would be at risk only for the few minutes it took to sneak into the library.