The Bride Wore Size 12

Canavan’s not falling for my fibs, but he’s apparently too fed up to question me further.

“Well, it’s been great spending time with you, as always, Wells,” he goes on. “See you at the wedding, if not sooner, when we bring you down to the station for questioning.”

I’ve opened the car door and am getting out, but now I pause with one foot on the pavement and turn back to stare at him.

“The wedding?”

It’s not that I don’t like Detective John Canavan. But I purposely did not invite him to my wedding because every time I see his face, I’m reminded of multiple crime scenes from my past at which he was present, memories I don’t particularly care to think about on the day on which I pledge eternal love to Cooper Cartwright.

“Sure,” Canavan says, checking out his mustache in the rearview mirror. “The wife’s excited about the invitation. She bought a new dress and everything. She’s making me rent a tux, so the food at that reception of yours had better be good. We’re talking steak, right? I’m not shelling out a hundred bucks for a tux to drive all the way into the city on a weekend and sit there and eat goddamned chicken, especially after everything you and I have been through togeth—”

“Don’t worry,” I say, from between gritted teeth. “The choices are prime rib, lobster tail, and salmon.”

Furious, I slam the door before he can reply, then whirl around to stomp toward the front stoop of the pink brownstone Cooper and I are going to pledge to share together forever in one month. I could almost swear I hear Detective Canavan laughing behind me.

So, apparently, can the small party gathered on Cooper’s stoop.

“Who’s that?” Nicole, Cooper’s youngest sister, pops up to ask, eyeing the Crown Vic as it begins to pull away. “Was that a police car?”

“Of course it wasn’t, dummy,” her twin sister, Jessica, says laconically. She stays exactly where she is, draped across several steps like a fashion model—or a jaguar—too lazy to move. “Police cars are black and white. Or blue and white. And they have the word ‘police’ written on them. Don’t be such an idiot.”

“It looked like a police car,” Nicole says suspiciously, “painted not to look like one. And those guys in the front seat looked like undercover cops. Why were you riding around in a car with undercover cops, Heather? Is everything okay?”

I glance at Hal, who seems to have shrunk in on himself a little more every time either of the twentysomething twins said the word “cop.” Cops are not well liked among many of Cooper’s friends, for reasons I’ve always been too wise to ask about.

“I’m fine,” I assure her. “Those guys just gave me a ride home from work.”

Nicole looks surprised. “Don’t you work a block from here? Tania pointed the building out once when we were down here shopping for the baby. She said it’s that one with the blue-and-gold New York College flags in front of it. She said the cafeteria used to be a ballroom in the old days and was really nice until the college bought the building and did a renovation on it and now it’s super crappy and filled with cockroaches and—”

“Oh my God,” Jessica groans, throwing her head back so that her long, dark hair puddles onto the step behind her. “Shut up, Nicole. Can we please go inside, where it’s air-conditioned? I’m going to die, it’s so hot out here. Plus, I have to pee like a racehorse. I’m not even kidding. I was about to go in the street between two parked cars before you pulled up.”

Nicole looks nervously up at Virgin Hal, who hasn’t said a word. “She was,” she assures me, in a whisper. “But I told her it wouldn’t be appropriate in front of him.”

“I’m sure he wouldn’t care,” Jessica says with a shrug of her slim shoulders. “We’re all human. And when you gotta go, you gotta go.”

“Um,” I say, regarding the odd threesome. “I’m not sure this is really the best time for a visit, you guys. I think Cooper’s friend Vir—I mean, Hal, here, has a meeting with Cooper, so maybe it would be better if you girls came back some other time.”

“Oh, Cooper isn’t here,” Nicole announces. Unlike her sister—though the girls are twins, they’re far from identical—Nicole is heavyset, her hair dyed an unflattering auburn and twisted into Princess Leia buns pinned to the sides of her head, her summer dress rumpled and ill-fitting. In fact, it appears on closer inspection to be some kind of romper rather than a dress, a garment someone must have told her she looks good in.

Only what salesperson would be so cruel? Nicole looks like an upside-down ice cream cone. Being a big-boned gal myself, I know how difficult it can be sometimes to find stylish clothing that fits well, but I also know better than to buy something just because some salesperson who works on commission says it looks good on me.

“We’ve been calling and texting him,” Nicole complains about her brother, “but he isn’t picking up.”

Hal uncrosses his ham-size arms to wave at me to get my attention.

“Hey, Heather,” he says in a voice that’s surprisingly soft for someone his size, though I know from hushed stories I’ve heard about him that Virgin Hal’s shy demeanor is deceptive. Those arms have apparently crushed skulls like watermelons. “Cooper is going to be unavoidably detained. Nothing to worry about, but he asked me to stop by and check on a few things around the house.”

As soon as Hal says the words “nothing to worry about,” I know I need to start worrying. If Cooper isn’t picking up when his sisters call—and he hasn’t texted me back either—but he’s sent Virgin Hal over to “check on a few things around the house,” something is seriously wrong.

I also know Hal isn’t going to tell me what it is. That would be breaking whatever absurd “gentleman’s code” he and the rest of Cooper’s friends have with one another. I’ll have to wait until Cooper gets home to find out what’s really going on.

“Well,” I say tightly. “As you can see, ladies, this isn’t the best time—”

“But you have to let us in,” Nicole cries, reaching down to lift the enormous silver-wrapped box at her feet. “We brought your bridal-shower gift all the way down here!”