“Fine, maybe my elopement wasn't such a big hit with the family. So what?”
“So what? So what? The elopement, as you so casually call it, was the worst calamity ever in our family.”
“Be serious.”
“How do you think Daddy reacted when his youngest daughter married outside the Church? It almost killed him.”
“Keep your voice down. Do you think I want to get evicted?”
“Easy for you. Daddy thought you were going to hell and you were boinking on a beach somewhere…
“Boinking?” That was hardly fair. Paul and I had had an ideal honeymoon, nibbling beignets, moving to the street music of New Orleans, making love. Not that I ever let myself think about that.
“Who do you think calmed Daddy down? I respected your choice. I didn't have the choice of a beautiful wedding the first time, and I want one.”
“Fine. But I have to get Elaine out of jail.”
“My wedding is more important.”
“Elaine is more important than some outdated mating ritual.” Oh, dirty trick. She started to cry. “Come on, Alexa. Calm down.”
“I will not. You're miserable because you have no one in your life, and you're so grouchy you'll never have anybody either and you want everyone else to suffer too.”
“Fine. I'll go get the goddam dress. Just stop blubbering.”
* * *
Alexa fixed her makeup yet again, this time using the rearview mirror as we waited at a red light. She kept talking while she fluffed her hair. “Promise me you'll behave.”
“Of course I'll behave.”
“Of course, nothing. You know what you're like.”
“Fine. Don't cry.”
“If you promise to behave I'll give you a nice bit of gossip.”
“Like I care about gossip.”
“It's not gossip. It's more like information. You'll care about this. I guarantee it.”
“What is it?”
“Say, I promise to behave like a normal human being.”
“This better be good.”
“It's good. Promise.”
“Okay, what's the poop?”
“When we're finished shopping.”
Some things are easier said than done. “That could be a while. We're in the Market in the winter. We'll never get a parking space.”
“There's a car pulling out.” A Saab driven by a man with a competitive look positioned itself to nose in ahead of her.
Alexa gunned her Volvo. Mr. Saab took one look at Alexa's face and reversed hastily. Alexa shot into the spot.
“I liked you more before you morphed into the Überbride.”
Alexa snatched her purse and opened the door. “Hop to it.”
When we reached the shop, she grabbed my arm. “Listen to me. You're going to be polite to the sales staff and you're going to find a dress and then you can go do your so-called important items. And in the meantime, I don't want any bullshit from you. Do I make myself clear?” She brushed a snowflake from her nose.
“Oh, yes.”
The minute they opened for business, I followed her through the door of doom into Mimi Melanson's Bridal Bower.
“It's an emergency,” Alexa told the assembled sales force.
To do them credit, no one remarked on my red wool hat, although I noticed one sales clerk had trouble taking her eyes off it. I smiled at her and stroked the hairs on my upper lip.
The woman blanched. “Well,” she said, “we'll give it a shot.”
Go ahead, I thought, let's see you cope with the long underwear, the thermal socks and the fleece. The conversation dragged a bit from that point, because I found myself silenced by the acres of peau de soie and tons of seed pearls.
An hour and a half later we headed out, still dressless. The entire staff looked ready to bolt for the back room in search of a bracing snort of brandy.
Alexa got into the car and slammed the door behind her. I opened the passenger side and slid in. “It's not my fault every single dress looked awful on me.”
“I wouldn't say awful”
“Revolting then. Let's have that information.”
“You don't deserve it.”
“Yes, I do. And you'd better keep your end of the bargain if you want me to behave the next time we shop.”
“All right. Tomorrow. Holt Renfrew.”
“No problem.”
“Well, all right. It's about the police officers stationed outside Lindsay Grace's home the night of the murder.”
I held my breath.
“I overhead another detective talking to Conn. Don't let on I told you. Apparently, they were drugged.”
“Of course they were drugged.”
“You knew?”
“Not hard to figure out. Did all of them show evidence of drugs?”
Alexa pursed her lips. “I overheard a conversation. I didn't read a report.” “No need to be crabby.”
“I am not crabby. Anyway, Miss-Know-It-All, the guy told Conn they had the results back from the lab and it sounded like Row-something. Maybe in their coffee.”
Rohypnol. Better known on the street as roofies. The date rape drug.
“Well, Elaine sure wouldn't drug anyone. Who knows, one of us could have polished off two or three cups of coffee and then what?”
“They're convinced she did it.”
“Where would Elaine get Rohypnol, for God's sake?”
“Stop snapping at me. He didn't say how she got it, but he did mention she gave a pot of coffee to the officers. The row-something showed up in their urine.”
True. “Rats.”
“You're Elaine's lawyer. Wouldn't they have to give you this information anyway?”
“Sure. In time.”
“That's why I could tell you with a clear conscience. So you have a head start. And tomorrow we'll get your dress.”
I closed my eyes and replayed the scene in the kitchen. I'd slugged down a large mug of coffee from the same thermos Constable James had carried to the cruiser. Elaine had poured hers from the same thermos the others did. It was damned unlikely she'd dosed herself with Rohypnol.
Too bad so much time had passed. There'd be no way to get reliable results from urine tests of the rest of us at this stage, so that wouldn't help us pinpoint anyone. Why the hell hadn't I thought of roofies? Plenty of my clients had been undone by them. The whole thing made me irritable.
I got some of it out of my system by giving my sister a bit of advice. “You're about to marry a cop. You can't go around telling people what he says about the job.”
“I'd never do that.”
“You just did.”
“No. Conn didn't say anything. The other fellow did. And it wasn't official police business, I joined them when they were socializing over a beer.”
“Even so, you have to be careful