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"We've got a few hours." I offered my arm and took her in.
Good thing I don't have a problem about walking into churches or dealing with religious stuff, or I'd have to conduct my investigation in the parking lot. Cooley stalked behind. Like all good mobsters he had a poker face, but I thought the farce with the interrupted neckers had amused him.
People in fancy clothes were gathered in the hall, and a gaggle of bridesmaids rushed us, flinging questions. I winced at the noise in the small space and felt Dorothy flinch, her hand tightening on my arm.
"Pick one to help you change. I'll handle the rest," I murmured out the side of my mouth.
When the first wave subsided, she called the maid of honor over for help, and we were soon whisked off to some females-only area in the back. I was left in the hall outside the changing room with Cooley, half a dozen girls in matching blue satin gowns, stray wedding guests, and a lot of curiosity. No one knew who I was, but as I began asking questions they took me for a cop, and I was disinclined to correct them.
I got a lot of information about the wedding and the confusion following the groom's vanishing. It added up to what I'd already learned from Dorothy. By then the bride's mother, a formidable long-boned woman, sailed past, sparing me a single grim look but making no comment. When she went in to see her daughter, Cooley visibly relaxed.
"What?" I asked.
"Tough broad—uh—lady," he said.
"Oh, yeah?"
"Wouldn't want to be in Schubert's shoes if she gets hold of him. Nobody makes her kids cry."
I took the opportunity to get more background from him on the family. The Huffmans had produced four daughters, Dorothy being the eldest. If Big Louie pla
"What's Schubert like?"
"Some college guy. He's okay. His people ain't hurtin'."
"What's their game? Jewelry?"
"Yeah."
I'd been kidding, thinking about the rocks Dorothy had worn. "You mean he's with Schubert Jewelers?" They were the biggest noise in five states for that kind of thing.
"Yeah, Siggy Schubert's only kid."
Good grief. "Has it occurred to anyone that he might have been kidnapped?"
From what I could read from Cooley's poker face, it had not.
"What'd you see tonight?" I asked.
"Usual stuff."
"How about unusual stuff?"
He shook his head. "I stuck with the boss. Didn't see nothin'. Dot started to get loud all of a sudden, yelling for Schubert, and next thing y'know she's ru
"Not to the door?"
"Fast cabbie. He'd turned and was comin' back empty, so we knew he'd dropped her off."
"How did you—?"
"Car by the curb, light was on upstairs. Only one on the block."
Smart guy. "Anyone got a problem with Jerome?"
"The old man likes him, so's the ol—Mrs. Huffman."
"How 'bout the Schuberts? Any problem with them about Dorothy?"
"Not that I know."
"How do you feel about it?"
"Makes no diff to me. Boss's daughter does what she likes. Always has."
"You work tor him long?"
"What're you getting' at?"
"The boss's daughter is one sweet pippin."
"I ain't blind, but she's not worth my kneecaps."
"Who thinks she is?"
He clammed up, lips going thin, gaze directed elsewhere. Not so long ago, before some bad things happened that ripped away the ability, I'd have hypnotized it out of him. That door was now shut forever. Any attempt to open it would probably kill me.
I could try beating it out of him, but there was a matter of mob etiquette. By having Gordy vouch for me, I was effectively his representative. One of Gordy's boys getting into a do
That aside, I now knew there was someone here who thought Dorothy was worth risking possibly lethal trouble. Chances were good they'd be on the Huffmans' side of the church aisle or Cooley would have given me a name. Better, he and his pal Becker would have quietly taken care of it themselves, and I'd never even have met Dorothy.
I knocked on the changing room door.
"Not yet!" Someone within yelled.
I'd seen undressed females before. The view never fails to fascinate. I opened the door two inches and called through. "Dorothy? You decent?"
"Let him in, it's all right," she said.
Her mother did the honors, reluctantly, not giving me much space to squeeze through. She'd provided Dorothy's somewhat hatchety face, but the grim look was all hers. Mama tigers were less protective. "She's not ready," she stated.
Dorothy was on a chair, using a shoehorn to lever her feet into some obviously new mules. She had on a graceful blue traveling dress, just the thing for a new bride to wear on her honeymoon trip. "I am now, Momma. Let him by."
"Just a few questions, ma'am," I said to Mrs. Huffman. My hat was already off or I'd have tipped it to her.
"You're the one," she said. Apparently her husband had had a word with her.
I didn't have a reply that would preclude getting my face slapped, so I smiled meekly and nodded.
The place looked like the backstage dressing rooms at my club, but much larger. A tornado had roared through, leaving behind all ma
My coat was draped over a table on top of some long flat boxes. Not knowing where I'd end up or for how long, I pulled it back on again. It smelled of Dorothy's perfume. Nice stuff.
The maid of honor was busy folding the wedding dress into another long box. She was enough like Dorothy to be a sister. From the near-smirk on her face, she would be the bratty one of the brood. She glanced past me, looking puzzled for a blank second. That's when I saw a full-length dressing mirror in a corner. I angled out of range before she got a solid gander and realized I was missing from its reflection of that part of the room.
Finished with the shodding, Dorothy stood, smoothing her skirt down. Her makeup had been repaired. Her eyes were still puffy, but clean of black tear trails. Nose powdered and with a fu
Mrs. Huffman's face twitched. Her daughter being on a first-name basis with the hired help was none too pleasing to the lady.
I guided Dorothy out of immediate earshot of family, taking care not to trip over a set of matched suitcases. They were monogrammed, one each for the bride and groom: D.H.S. and J.K.S., respectively. I'd have to pass that detail on to my girl. She'd think it was cute.
"Why did you pick Cooley over Becker for chaperone duty?" I asked.
"Uh-um—I just did." Dorothy blinked more than was necessary.
"For a reason."
She hemmed a little more, her voice going so low that I had to lean close to hear. "Becker likes me. But he'd never—I mean if he—well—Daddy would kill him."
"Becker likes you. How'd he handle you being engaged and married, then? You must have noticed."
Her face reddened under the powder. "Actually, no, I didn't. I was so caught up pla
"I don't know. What do you think?" Distracted or not by her nuptials, she knew more than I did about the household, what was normal and what was not.
"Now that you mention… he was hanging close during the cutting of the cake. And I don't remember seeing him afterward—but then I was looking for Jerome. We need to get him, make him talk!"