2 Unholy Matrimony

by Peg Cochran

  Flo finally recovered. “Who . . . who . . . someone’s dead?” She stared at Lucille. Her eyes were as round as a couple of pizzas.

  “Donna DeLucca,” Lucille said before Sambucco could open his mouth.

  She noticed the brief look of satisfaction that crossed Flo’s face. It may have taken more than thirty years, but Flo was finally one up on Donna.

  “What do you two know about the lady?” Sambucco kept his gaze on Flo.

  Lucille started to talk but he still wasn’t looking at her. She gave him a poke and he looked as if he’d forgotten she was there.

  “We went to high school with Donna. She got a good job in New York City, married Alex Grabowski and moved back here to New Providence. Not that we saw all that much of her. She’d become too la-di-da to hang around with us regular people. It wasn’t until her Taylor met my Bernadette and the two of them became engaged that Donna lowered herself enough to talk to me.”

  “Sounds like you didn’t like her much.” Sambucco snapped his gum.

  “Eh,” Lucille made a so-so motion with her hand. “She was okay, I guess.”

  “Did you argue? Fight about the wedding preparations or anything like that?”

  “Sure we had a few disagreements. That’s normal, isn’t it?”

  “Sure, that’s normal,” Sambucco said consolingly. “What’s not normal is killing someone because you don’t see eye to eye. Know what I mean?”

  The look he gave Lucille chilled her to the bone.

  “You don’t think I—”

  “No, no,” Sambucco said soothingly. “Nothing like that. Don’t you worry about a thing.”

  One of the men called to Sambucco and he went over to join them.

  “Sounds like you’d better lawyer up,” Flo said.

  “Whaddya mean? You don’t think I . . . what about you? You’re the one who hated her guts.”

  “But I wasn’t the one heard arguing with her at the rehearsal dinner.”

  “Oh, that.” Lucille waved a hand. “I didn’t mean nothing by it.”

  Flo put an arm around Lucille’s shoulders. “Don’t worry. I’m not letting you go down.”

  Lucille glanced at Flo out of the corner of her eye. “Yeah, you can use your seductive powers of persuasion to convince Richie I didn’t do it.”

  “He did seem quite taken with me.” Flo patted her hair. “But I have my eye on one of the doctors at work.” She stopped suddenly and turned to Lucille. “You’re not jealous, are you?”

  “Me, jealous?”

  “Well, yeah. Richie used to be quite keen on you.”

  “Nah. I’m a married woman, remember?” Lucille waved her ring finger in front of Flo. And sent up a prayer to St. Vincent de Paul, the patron saint of spiritual help because if she didn’t stop lying like this she was sure to go to hell.

  Chapter 5

  “Come on. Let’s go outside. I can’t stand it in here no more.” Lucille took Flo by the arm and began to lead her out of the church.

  They sat on the steps, and Lucille ran a hand around the collar of her top. She was glad she hadn’t already changed into the long gown she was going to wear for the ceremony. She’d die in it in this heat.

  “Sure is warm out,” Flo said, taking a tissue from her purse and pressing it against her face.

  Lucille glanced at her. Flo was wearing next to nothing—a dress cut down to there and up to here. She didn’t have nothing to complain about.

  Lucille was about to say something when she saw Father Brennan coming down the path from the rectory, gliding along in that way he had so that he didn’t make no sound at all and always scared the heck out of Lucille when he would suddenly appear.

  “Yo, Father Brennan.” Lucille waved him over. She glanced at Flo and made a gesture for her to cover herself up some.

  Father Brennan glided toward her with infuriating slowness.

  “Lucille. What’s going on?” He fingered the cross around his neck.

  “I came over to see if everything was okay in the church. For Bernadette’s wedding, you know. And I found Donna DeLucca. I swear I didn’t have nothing to do with it.”

  Father Brennan grasped his cross more tightly. “What do you mean you found her? What are the police doing here?”

  “She’s dead,” Flo said, her arms crossed over her chest.

  “Oh, dear Lord.” Father Brennan made the sign of the cross. “I’d better see if I can at least give her a final blessing.”

  He started to walk away but Lucille grabbed his arm.

  “What, Lucille?”

  “What about Bernadette? She and Taylor was supposed to get married this afternoon. We can’t wait much longer on account of . . .” Lucille held her arms out in front of her belly. “Do you think you could just do a short ceremony? Real quick-like?” Lucille thought of Donna’s body sprawled in front of the altar. “Maybe in your office or something?”

  Father Brennan shook his head. “A Catholic wedding must take place in the church unless you have express permission from the bishop.”

  “Maybe in the back of the church then? By the baptismal font?”

  “But the police . . .”

  “I’ll square it with Richie. He’s the detective on the case. I’m sure it will be okay.”

  The sound of a car kicking up the loose bits of macadam that littered the church parking lot drew Lucille’s attention, and she swiveled around. It was the limo they’d rented to bring Bernadette and Frankie to the church.

  Lucille held her breath as the door opened.

  Bernadette stepped out, and Lucille let out her breath in a loud whoosh. That was one good thing at least. And Bernadette had had her hair done, too, and put on some makeup. They’d found a lovely dress—soft and lacy—with thin straps and a full skirt. Lucille almost didn’t recognize her daughter. She felt tears pricking at the back of her eyelids. Her baby—getting married. As long as Lucille kept her gaze trained on Bernadette’s face and didn’t let it stray any lower than chest height, she could almost fool herself into thinking that this was the wedding she’d always dreamed of for her only daughter.

  She was lost in thought when Flo touched her on the arm. Lucille jumped.

  “What?”

  “People are starting to arrive.” Flo motioned toward the parking lot, where several cars had pulled in. “What are we going to tell them?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Frankie got out of the limo and strode over to where they were standing.

  “What’s happened?” He jerked his head toward the front of the church and ran a finger around the collar of his shirt. “Why are the police here?”

  Lucille explained about Donna.

  Frankie whistled. “I can’t say I liked her all that much, but still . . .”

  A couple had gotten out of a car and were walking toward them.

  “Listen, how about I tell everyone to go on over to the church hall.”

  “But Father Brennan said he might still be able to marry Bernadette and Taylor. As long as the police don’t mind.”

  “I’m pretty sure they aren’t going to let over a hundred people crowd into the church. We’ll just have to have the reception before the wedding. I’ll stand by the entrance to the lot and tell people as they pull in.” Frank loosened his tie and slipped out of his jacket. “Geez, it’s hot.” He opened the back door of the limo and threw the garments inside.

  Sambucco came out of the church holding his cell phone. Lucille ran over to where he was standing.

  “I can’t get any reception on this thing.” Sambucco waved the cell at Lucille.

  Lucille paused for a moment to catch her breath. Sambucco began to turn away, but Lucille grabbed him by the arm.

  “It’s about the wedding,” she said, still panting slightly. Sheesh, she really had to start working out. Monday, for sure. As soon as Bernadette was married and off on her honeymoon.

  Sambucco scowled. “What about the wedding?”

  “Father Brennan said h
e can still perform the ceremony only it has to be inside the church or it doesn’t count as a Catholic wedding. And seeing as how Bernadette was baptized in the Catholic church, made her First Communion and was confirmed there—”

  Sambucco put up a hand to stop her. “We’ve got the area around the altar all blocked off, and it’ll be a couple of hours before we finish processing the scene.”

  Lucille shook her head. “No, no, we won’t get in your way. They can be married in front of the baptismal font in the back. And it won’t take long, I promise.”

  Lucille batted her eyelashes at Sambucco, but he just scowled again.

  “I suppose it can’t hurt nothing.” He waved a hand toward the church. “Sure. Go on ahead. But make it quick, okay?”

  Lucille trotted back to the limo, where Bernadette was leaning against the rear fender. She waved for Frankie to join them.

  “Good news.” She smiled at Bernadette. “Father Brennan can marry the two of yous in the back of the church. I know it’s not what we’d planned, but with poor Donna lying there dead, we have to make the best of things. At least you guys will be married.”

  Bernadette smirked. “Yeah? There’s only one problem.”

  Lucille frowned. “What’s that?”

  “Taylor isn’t here. And I don’t know where he is,” Bernadette added with a satisfied tone.

  Chapter 6

  “What do you mean you don’t know where he is? He’s supposed to be here, now, getting married. It’s not like you would forget something like that.”

  Bernadette shrugged. “Maybe he’s changed his mind.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m going to unchange his mind.” Lucille clenched her right hand into a fist.

  “What’s going on?” Flo tottered over to where they were standing. She was wearing a pair of ridiculously high sandals, and Lucille couldn’t imagine how she could walk in them. She’d given up wearing heels when she was pregnant with Bernadette.

  “We don’t know what’s happened to the groom,” Lucille said. “I just hope he didn’t have no accident.” She sent up a quick prayer to St. Genevieve, patron saint of disasters. Because if they didn’t find Taylor, this was going to be a disaster for sure.

  Flo put a hand on Bernadette’s arm. “Maybe he went to get a drink to steady his nerves?”

  Bernadette shrugged. “Could be.”

  “Where would he go?” Lucille asked.

  “I dunno. The Peacock, I suppose.”

  Lucille scowled. “I never heard of it. Do you know where it is?”

  “Yeah. It’s in Springfield. Morris and Essex Turnpike.”

  “We’ll take my car.” Flo began digging in her handbag. “I’ve got GPS.”

  “Is that one of those things where the lady tells you which way to turn and all that?” Lucille couldn’t imagine Flo listening to anyone, especially not a voice from a box.

  Flo nodded. “I parked in the back.”

  They were turning to go when Sambucco came up to them. Lucille watched him look Flo over like she was a prime piece of evidence or something.

  “Anyone know where the deceased’s husband is?” Sambucco pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and swiped it across his forehead. “Geez, it’s hot.” He stuffed it back in his pocket. “I sent a patrolman over to the church hall to see if he was there, but no one has seen him. I mean, he’s the father of the groom. He ought to be here, right?” He looked from Flo to Lucille and then back again.

  “Yeah, well, the groom ought to be here, too.” Lucille’s lips tightened. Just wait till they found that so-and-so. She was going to give him a piece of her mind. Putting everyone to all this trouble and breaking Bernadette’s heart. Lucille glanced over to where Bernadette was still leaning against the limo. She had her cell phone in her hand and was busily texting. Lucille didn’t think she looked like her heart was broken, but with kids you never could tell. Maybe she was putting on a brave front.

  Lucille followed Flo to her car—a low-slung, bright red Mustang. She wished they could take the Olds. She had to bend nearly in half to get into Flo’s car, and when she did manage to fall into the passenger seat, she felt like she was sitting on the ground.

  Flo got into the driver’s seat and reached for a small black box attached to the window with a suction cup.

  “This here’s my GPS.” She powered it on and began pushing buttons. “If you get a new car, one of these will probably be built right into your dash.”

  Lucille grunted. “I don’t want a new car. The Olds is fine. She can still get up to speed as fast as she used to.”

  Flo gave Lucille a quick sideways glance. “I’d think you’d want something new.”

  Lucille shook her head. She didn’t like change—she’d had the same house, the same husband, the same hairdo and a lot of the same clothes for years now. She found comfort in knowing what to expect.

  Flo turned the key and the Mustang came to life with a low growl. “Ready?”

  “As I’ll ever be.” Lucille grabbed for the door handle as Flo turned out of the parking lot, tires squealing.

  “Turn left,” came the disembodied voice from the GPS.

  “She talks funny,” Lucille said, closing her eyes as Flo turned left in front of a tractor trailer that was a little too close for Lucille’s comfort.

  “She’s English,” Flo said, following the directions to make a left turn at the light. “Real classy, don’t you think.”

  “Sure.”

  Lucille wasn’t sure she’d want someone talking to her in her car who was classier than she was.

  “Turn right,” said the disembodied voice.

  “She sounds awfully stuck-up.”

  Flo grunted. “Shit, I missed the turn.”

  “Recalculating,” said the voice with a hint of disapproval in its tone.

  Flo quickly turned around in a store parking lot and headed back to make the missed turn. Traffic was heavy and she couldn’t get into the left lane fast enough.

  “Recalculating,” admonished the GPS.

  Flo managed to find a place to turn around again, and in her haste to make the correct turn this time around, turned one street too soon.

  “Recalculating,” sniped the GPS.

  “Oh, shut up,” Flo said as she grabbed the GPS from its perch on the windshield, rolled down her window and heaved it out. “Bitch,” she yelled after it.

  “Now how are we going to find this place?”

  “We’ll find it. It can’t be that hard.” Flo stomped on the gas and they shot forward.

  • • •

  The Peacock had a brick front painted a dull gray with a small diamond-shaped window in the door. The Peacock was stenciled over it in very small letters. Lucille and Flo circled the block three times before noticing it.

  “Sheesh, you’d think they didn’t want no one to know the place was here,” Lucille said as they got out of the car and walked around to the front of the building.

  Lucille pushed open the door. The bar was very dimly lit and for a moment she couldn’t see. The walls were covered in blue and green peacock feathers interspersed with smoky mirrors. A spinning, mirrored disco ball rotated from the center of the ceiling, throwing tiny squares of light around the room.

  Waiters wearing frilly aprons circulated between the tables.

  Lucille poked Flo. “How come the waiters don’t have no shirts on?”

  “I don’t know, and I don’t care,” Flo said, ogling a tall, dark-haired man flaunting a six-pack.

  “Do you see Taylor?” Lucille stood on tiptoe trying to see into the darker corners of the room.

  “No,” Flo said, her gaze following one of the servers.

  Lucille smacked her on the arm. “Stop looking at the waiters and see if you can spot Taylor.” She glanced at her watch. “We don’t have much time. We have to get him to the church and him and Bernadette married before either of them changes their mind.”

  “It seems to me he’s already changed his mind.”

 
“Yeah? Well, when we find him, I’m going to unchange it for him.”

  Lucille continued to look around the room. “I wonder how come there ain’t no women here.” She stopped for a moment and sucked in her breath. “This here’s one of them bars where certain men go.” Lucille made a limp-wristed gesture.

  “Shit! I think you’re right.” Flo looked around again. “It is a gay bar. Taylor must be gay. You can’t let him marry Bernadette. She’ll never have—well, you know.”

  “I don’t care if he is gay, just so he marries my Bernadette. They can get it annulled later, but by then the baby will be born and she’ll have been a married woman when she had it.”

  “Is that all you think about? Nowadays, things are different. Women have—” Flo stopped abruptly as a young man approached her.

  Her hand went to her hair reflexively, and she batted her false eyelashes discreetly.

  “Hey, beautiful. Can I buy you a drink?”

  Flo giggled. “Sure. I’ll have a rum and cola.”

  “Don’t go anywhere”—he winked at her—“I’ll be right back.” He turned and headed toward the bar.

  “Well,” Flo exclaimed in a satisfied tone. “You see? It can be done. It just takes the right woman to turn them around.”

  Lucille frowned.

  “Don’t look so skeptical,” Flo admonished.

  Lucille shrugged and made her way to the bar. She signaled for the bartender, who looked at her strangely. Like the waiters, he was bare-chested and wearing a frilly apron. Lucille didn’t know where to look so she concentrated on a spot just to the right of his head.

  “Help you?”

  “Yeah. I hope so.”

  “We’ve got it all.” The bartender waved an arm toward the dozens of bottles arrayed behind him. “Name your poison.”

  “Actually, I’m looking for this guy,” Lucille said, although she had to admit the thought of a highball was pretty tempting what with everything that had happened that day already.