Keeper of the Bride

evenings are taken up by business affairs, too.”

“Your brother-in-law’s an attorney?”

“With ambitions of being a judge. And he’s only thirty years old.”

“Sounds like a fast-tracker.”

“He is. Which means he needs a fast-track wife. Wendy’s perfect that way. I’ll bet you that right at this moment, she’s at the theater charming the socks off some judge. And she can do it without even trying. She’s the politician in the family.” She glanced at Sam and saw that he was frowning. “Is something wrong?” she asked.

“What theater? Where did they go tonight?”

“The Brant Theater. That’s where the benefit is.”

“Benefit?”

“The baby-sitter said it was for Legal Aid. Why?”

Sam stared ahead at the road. “The Brant Theater. Didn’t it just reopen?”

“A month ago. It was a disgrace before. All those porn flicks.”

“Damn. Why didn’t I think of it?”

Without warning, he made a screeching U-turn and headed the car the way they’d come, back toward the downtown district.

“What are you doing?” she demanded.

“The Brant Theater. A Legal Aid benefit. Who do you suppose’ll be there?”

“A bunch of lawyers?”

“Right. As well as our esteemed D.A., Norm Liddell. Now, I’m not particularly fond of lawyers, but I’m not crazy about picking up their dead bodies, either.”

She stared at him. “You think that’s the target? The Brant Theater?”

“They’ll need ushers tonight. Think about it. What does an usher wear?”

“Sometimes it’s just black pants and a white shirt.”

“But in a grand old theater like the Brant? They just might be dressed in green jackets with black braid….”

“That’s where we’re going?”

He nodded. “I want you to take a look. Tell me if we’re warm. Tell me if that uniform you saw could’ve been a theater usher’s.”

By the time they pulled up across the street from the Brant Theater, it was 8:20. Sam didn’t waste his time looking for a parking space; he left the car angled against the red-painted curb. As he and Nina climbed out, they heard a doorman yell, “Hey, you can’t park there!”

“Police!” Sam answered, waving his badge. “We need to get in the theater.”

The doorman stepped aside and waved them in.

The lobby was deserted. Through the closed aisle doors, they could hear the bluesy wail of clarinets, the syncopated beats of a snare drum. No ushers were in sight.

Sam yanked open an aisle door and slipped into the theater. Seconds later, he reemerged with a short and loudly protesting usher in tow. “Look at the uniform,” he said to Nina. “Look familiar?”

Nina took one glance at the short green jacket, the black braid and brass buttons, and she nodded. “That’s it. That’s the one I saw.”

“What’s the one?” demanded the usher, yanking himself free.

“How many ushers working here tonight?” snapped Sam.

“Who are you, anyway?”

Again Sam whipped out his badge. “Police. There’s a chance you have a bomb somewhere in there. So tell me quick. How many ushers?”

“A bomb?” The man’s gaze darted nervously toward the lobby exit. “Uh, we got four working tonight.”

“That’s it?”

“Yeah. One didn’t show up.”

“Did he have a missing finger?”

“Hell, I don’t know. We all wear gloves.” The usher looked again toward the exit. “You really think there could be a bomb in there?”

“We can’t afford to make a wrong guess. I’m evacuating the building.” He glanced at Nina. “Get out of here. Wait in the car.”

“But you’ll need help—”

He was already pushing through the door, into the darkened theater. From the open doorway, she watched him walk swiftly down the aisle. He climbed up to the stage and crossed to the conductor, who regarded him with a look of startled outrage.

The musicians, just as startled, stopped playing.

Sam grabbed the conductor’s microphone. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he said curtly. “This is the Portland Police. We have had a bomb threat. Calmly, but without delay, will everyone please evacuate the building. I repeat, stay calm, but please evacuate the building.”

Almost immediately the exodus began. Nina had to scramble backward out of the doorway to avoid the first rush of people heading up the aisle. In the confusion, she lost sight of Sam, but she could still hear his voice over the speaker system.

“Please remain calm. There is no immediate danger. Exit the building in an orderly fashion.”

He’s going to be the last one out, she thought. The one most likely hurt if a bomb does go off.

The exodus was in full force now, a rush of frightened men and women in evening clothes. The first hint of disaster happened so quickly Nina didn’t even see it. Perhaps someone had tripped over a long hem; perhaps there were simply too many feet storming the doorway. Suddenly people were stumbling, falling over each other. A woman screamed. Those still backed up in the aisle instantly panicked.

And rushed for the door.

Eleven

Nina watched in horror as a woman in a long evening gown fell beneath the stampede. Struggling to reach her, Nina shoved through the crowd, only to be swept along with them and forced out the lobby doors and into the street. To get back inside the building was impossible; she’d be moving against the crowd, against the full force of panic.

Already the street was filling up with evacuees, everyone milling about looking dazed. To her relief, she caught sight of Wendy and Jake among the crowd; at least her sister was safe and out of the building. The flood of people out the doors gradually began to ebb.

But where was Sam? Had he made it out yet?

Then, through the crowd, she spotted him emerging from the lobby door. He had his arm around an elderly man, whom he hauled to the sidewalk and set down against the lamppost.

As Nina started toward him, Sam spotted her and yelled, “This one needs attention. Take care of him!”

“Where are you going?”

“Back inside. There are a few more in there.”

“I can help you—”

“Help me by staying out of the building. And see to that man.”

He has his job to do, she thought, watching Sam head back into the theater. So do I.

She turned her attention to the elderly man propped up against the lamppost. Kneeling beside him she asked, “Sir, are you all right?”