Fare Play (24 page)

Murtaugh reluctantly agreed. But he no longer addressed the other man by the friendly
Buck;
now it was the more formal
Sergeant
or just
Buchanan
. The whole station was aware of the ice that had suddenly appeared between the captain and one of his sergeants.

Marian reminded Murtaugh that she was taking some personal time the next day, for Ivan's wedding.

“What if Virgil calls?” he asked. “What if you have to miss the wedding?”

“Then Ivan will kill me,” Marian said simply.

34

Virgil did not call on Thursday.

Almost cheering with relief, Marian was out of the stationhouse by twelve-twenty. Captain Murtaugh, god bless him, had told no one that she was acting as best man in her former partner's wedding, so she was able to escape without the razzing that would otherwise have been her lot.

The wedding rehearsal had gone smoothly the night before. Mrs. Yelincic was in her element, playing both The Great Organizer and The Perfect Hostess rolled into one. Marian met the members of the wedding party she didn't know, including two of the ushers; the other two were police detectives she'd known as long as Ivan had. All during the rehearsal, the matron of honor—Claire's older sister, Angela—had kept staring at Marian as if she were some sort of freak. A little of that went a long way; Marian quickly decided she didn't care for Angela.

Right before they broke up for the evening, Claire had whispered to Marian that Ivan had asked her to be his best man because she was the only one of his friends he could trust to make things work. That's when Marian started getting nervous.

Shower and shampoo, and then Marian took out the dress she'd bought for the wedding. She hadn't bought a dress in about two years, and she knew she'd never wear this one again. Not her sort of thing at all. Too see-what-a-pretty-doll-I-am for her tastes, right down to the touch of delicate lace at the neckline. Kelly had talked her into buying it. Marian had asked her friend to help her find the right sort of thing, as there didn't seem to be much precedent for what female best men should wear. The dress was even a color Marian normally avoided, a rich beige just enough darker than bridal white so that she wouldn't seem to be stealing Claire's thunder. Kelly said the color set off Marian's dark hair just right.

Marian checked for the tenth time to make sure the ring hadn't jumped out of its box. Time to go pick up Ivan.

She'd ordered a limousine for the occasion; Marian didn't want to have to worry about traffic, possible flat tires, and getting lost in Queens on top of all the other things she had on her mind. The driver was a talkative sort who regaled her all the way with stories about rock stars and tennis players he'd picked up at the airport.

Ivan was actually standing out on the sidewalk with his luggage waiting for her when they pulled up. “My god, I thought you'd never get here!” he screamed.

“I'm half an hour early,” she replied with a calmness she was far from feeling. “Get in.”

“Nervous?” the driver asked. He put Ivan's luggage in the trunk.

Ivan had the envelopes waiting for her, the ones with the checks to pay off various people who expected to collect for their services later in the day. Marian put the envelopes in her new purse.

“Do you have the ring?”

“Yes, Ivan, I have the ring.”

“Show me!”

She showed him.

“Okay, okay. Don't lose it! Maybe I'd better take it?”

“I'm not going to lose the ring. Try to relax, Ivan. My god. Take deep breaths.”

He concentrated on breathing deeply. The limo moved smoothly through Queens traffic toward St. Stanislaus Church. After a few minutes, Ivan had calmed down somewhat.

“Oops,” said the driver.

Ivan sat bolt-upright.
“What do you mean, ‘Oops'?”

“I think I missed a turn back there,” the driver said. “Can I get to the church from here?”

“Omigod … I don't know! Where are we? Marian, where should he turn?”

Marian pointed out that
he
was the one who lived in Queens, not she.

“Let's try this,” the driver said and turned right.

“We're not going to make it!” Ivan said in a high voice. “I'm going to be late to my own wedding!”

“We're not going to be late,” Marian said soothingly. “We're early, remember?”

“Plenny a time,” the driver agreed. “Hey, here we are! Right back on track. No problem.”

“No problem.” Ivan sank back in his seat. “I'm never gonna make it. I'm never gonna make it.”

“Of course you are,” Marian said. “The ceremony will be over before you know it—and then we'll all dance at your wedding. You're going to remember this day for the rest of your life.”

She kept talking to him, trying to keep her voice level and reassuring. By the time they reached the church, Ivan wasn't exactly calm but he was no longer jumping out of his skin. He sprang out of the limo and ran into the church.

“Eager, ain't he?” said the driver.

Or scared
. “Listen, you'll need to move Ivan's luggage to the bridal limo when it gets here. As soon as—”

“How do I know which one it is?”

“I'm telling you. As soon as the bridal party gets here, look for Mrs. Yelincic. She's easy to spot—she'll be the one giving orders to everyone else. Mrs. Yelincic will have the key to the trunk of the bridal limo.”

“Yelincic, check.”

“We'll be leading the procession from the church to the reception hall. You're sure you know the way?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know the way. Don't worry. Just you and me?”

“And one other. If you'll pull the car up enough to leave room for the bridal limo, you can stay right here. I already checked with the priest.”

Marian watched him move the limousine forward a few feet; that was all right, then. She went into the church and down the long center aisle. Just before the altar she turned right, toward the little room where Father Kuzak had said they could wait until the ceremony began. Her route took her past the musician hired to play at the wedding; he was just sitting down at the … synthesizer, Marian saw, not organ.

“Hiya, Sally,” he said vaguely as she passed.

Marian said
Hiya
back. Sally?

Ivan was standing in front of the full-length mirror placed there expressly to reassure nervous bridegrooms, grimacing at his reflection. “How do I look?”

He looked great. “You look great, Ivan.”

Something in her tone convinced him. “Yeah?” He grinned, at last beginning to realize he was supposed to be enjoying himself. “Great, huh?”

“No question.” Marian slipped out of her coat and Ivan saw her dress for the first time. “Hey, so do you! That's a terrific dress! It makes you look … soft and feminine.”

She glared at him.

Father Kuzak came bustling in, looking for all the world like a bald Peter Lorre. “Are we all ready, then? A good day for a wedding, a good day! Do you need anything? May I get you something?”

“Thanks, Father,” Ivan said, “I think we're all set.”

“Good, good. There's orange juice in that little refrigerator and you know where the restroom is. I have something to attend to, but I'll be back to get you in good time.” He bustled back out.

The synthesizer music started. “The first guests must be arriving,” Marian said. “I'd better go check on the ushers. I'll be right—”

“What the hell is he playing?” Ivan interrupted.

“What?”

“God, that's awful stuff! Why's he playing that?”

Marian, who was tone deaf, ventured no opinion. “He's not playing the music you and Claire selected?”

“No! I don't want
that
played at our wedding! That's awful!” A note of panic was creeping into his voice.

“Ivan, I'll take care of it. Keep calm. See, I'm going to take care of it. I'm going now. Deep breaths. Deep breaths.”

He was gulping in air when she left the room and slipped up to where the musician was sitting. She put her mouth next to his ear and said, “You're playing the wrong music.”

“Hanh?”

“It's the wrong music.”

“No, it isn't.”

“The bridegroom says it is. Stop.”

He brought what he was playing to a close and started shuffling through some sheet music. He pulled out a typewritten list of the numbers he was to play. “See, that was right! The Hamilton/Burger wedding.”

Marian ground her teeth. “This is the Yelincic/Malecki wedding.”

His eyes grew large. “No shit.” He coughed a laugh. “Wow. Imagine that.” He shuffled through the papers some more until he came up with a list headed
Yelincic/Malecki
. “That one?”

“That one.”

He began to play. The few early guests had watched the interchange curiously.

In the little waiting room, Ivan was looking relieved. “That's the right music.”

“I'm going to check on the ushers. I'll be right back.”

She didn't want to walk back down the center aisle with guests already seated, so she had to go through the church building to the back door and then around to the front. Her new shoes were starting to pinch.

Three ushers were waiting there, smiling and joking with one another. Missing was a young relative of Ivan's whom everyone called Bingo. “Where's Bingo?” she asked. The other three hadn't seen him.

Marian fished an address book out of her new purse. She found a phone in the vestry and called Bingo's number. No answer.

Out front again, the guests were beginning to arrive in a steady trickle. Ivan's father was dead, but his mom arrived with two of his aunts. Marian had run out without a coat, looking up and down the street for Bingo. She began to feel chilled and stepped inside the church entrance. “I like that dress,” one of the ushers told her. “Very feminine, very soft.” She managed not to snarl at him.

A cab pulled up, and much to Marian's relief, it was Bingo who climbed out. But when the cab drove away, Bingo stayed standing in the street, swaying in time to some privately heard music.

Marian hurried out to him. “Come on, Bingo—you're late!”

He gave her a big goofy grin. “Issh ne'er too late.”

She stared at him, horrified. “You're sloshed!”

“To the gills,” he agreed amiably.

She steered him out of the street and then went to get one of the police detectives serving as an usher. “Bingo's drunk,” she said, “and you've got to sober him up. I don't care how you do it, but do it. You have twenty minutes at most before the bridal party gets here.” He grunted and went off to collect Bingo while Marian informed the other ushers they were going to have to do double duty.

A number of guests were lingering on the steps, chatting for a few minutes before going inside. Marian was heading around to the back door of the church again when a white stretch limo pulled up. The waiting guests gasped when Ian Cavanaugh stepped out, and a titter of excitement ran through the small crowd when he reached in to help Kelly Ingram alight. The third person to emerge was Holland, looking as if he could think of one or two places he'd rather be at the moment.

“That dark-eyed broody one,” Marian heard one guest say to another, “that's Kelly Ingram's bodyguard. He used to be with the FBI!”

Marian rolled her eyes and hurried around to the back of the church. How did these things get started?

Ivan wasn't in the little waiting room.

Beginning to feel just a mite hassled, she started hunting for him. She found him tap-dancing in the vestry.

“It relaxes me,” he explained. “I was getting claustrophobic in there!”

She dragged him back to the waiting room. They waited in silence. Marian's feet were seriously hurting.

Before long Father Kuzak popped in to say the bridal party had arrived; they'd be starting momentarily.

Then it was time. Ivan led the way, followed by his best man. They took their place by the altar and turned to face the main church entrance, where Claire would be coming in. A number of guests were openly gaping.

Ivan said out of the side of his mouth, “Hey, they're all staring at
you
!”

“What did you expect?” she muttered back.

Then the ushers came to stand behind them—all four of them, she was happy to see. Bingo's hair was sopping wet and plastered down neatly against his head; a cold-water spigot could do wonders in a pinch. Marian gave the rescuing usher a wink.

The musician started to play again. Down the aisle came Angela, the matron of honor. Three bridesmaids followed. Then a tiny flower girl. The musician swung into a new tune that everyone recognized as entrance music even though it was questionable whether any of them had ever heard it before.

And here came the bride. Claire was stunning, and Marian could feel Ivan puffing up with pride. Even shadowy Mr. Yelincic looked proud as he led his daughter down the aisle. Marian began to relax for the first time that day. It was really happening.

Ivan and Claire had written their own vows, but Father Kuzak had not read them at the rehearsal, simply saying
And here I read the words provided by the bride and groom
. He started reading now.

Ivan and Claire exchanged a puzzled look. Father Kuzak droned on, unnoticing. “Do something!” Claire whispered.

“Hsst! Father!” Ivan couldn't make him hear. He cleared his throat and said aloud, “Father!”

The priest looked up, surprised.

“Those aren't the vows we wrote.”

“But surely they are!” Father Kuzak whispered.

“No, they're not,” Claire whispered back. “Those are not our vows.”

Marian stepped closer and looked at the typed pages the priest had inserted into his book. She tapped a fingernail on the name penciled in at the top:
Hamilton/Burger
.