Chapter 8

Larry called back. His lack of preamble, his lack of amble, in general, convinced Don that Larry was as in the dark as he was. "It was Amita. She asked me to inform the university that she is taking a leave of absence, beyond the three weeks she had already arranged for the…the honeymoon."

"No details?", asked Don.

"None. If I had not heard from you first, I would never have inferred from this message that it meant anything but a honeymoon extension."

Don thanked Larry, assuring him that he would call again as he figured things out. Then he paced, and tried to figure things out.

He checked his watch again. 6:15. There probably would not be anyone in the catering office at the hotel, but he might as well try. To his surprise, someone answered, identifying herself as the catering scheduler.

"I'm calling about the Ramanujan-Eppes wedding," he began.

"Yes, I just listened to that voice mail," interrupted a somewhat harried voice. "Of course we were sorry to learn that the ceremony is cancelled. Has there been another change?"

Don was temporarily nonplussed, finally asking, "Could you tell me who left the voice mail?"

"Let me check…ah, here it is. The intended bride, Ms. Ramanujan called. The time on the message was around 3:30 this morning…bad rehearsal, I guess."

When Don didn't answer right away, the woman apologized. "Forgive me, that was in poor taste. I would reprimand one of my employees for that — if I had any."

Don tried to seem friendly, in case she had any more information. "So that's what you're doing at work at 6:15 in the morning?"

She chuckled drily. "I'm afraid so. Again, I apologize."

"No problem," he assured her.

"The hotel does have a policy," she added hesitantly, "I hope you understand. When there is less than 48 hours notice on a thing like this, we simply cannot offer a refund."

"Of course. Was the hotel coordinating everything?"

"Well, catering and room rental, of course, and Ms. Ramanujan was also using our florist, I believe. At least her message asked me to pass the cancellation on to them."

Don heard knocking, and headed for the door. "Thank you. I appreciate your time," he said, as he disconnected. Opening the door, he found his father.

Alan was clutching a sheet of paper. He pushed past Don and headed toward the bedroom. "I want to see your brother." Don let him go and retreated to the kitchen. He had two cups of coffee waiting when Alan found him just a few moments later. "I can't wake him up," he said miserably, accepting a cup and sitting on one of the stools at the counter. "I straightened the covers. What happened to his leg?"

"Not sure," shrugged Don, sitting down on the opposite side of the counter. "He said something about stairs. Both his knees are skinned and he has a pretty nasty cut on his right shin.." Then he filled Alan in on what he had learned from Larry and the catering scheduler at the hotel. "What about you?" he finally asked. "Is Amita's car at her apartment?"

"I didn't see it," answered Alan, "but I went up to her apartment anyway. I was going to knock, but this was taped to the door."

Alan pushed the piece of paper he had been clutching across the counter at Don. He recognized Amita's neat hand. The four words didn't take long to read: "Charlie, I'm sorry. Amita."

"Shit," he muttered, then looked guiltily at Alan. "Sorry, Dad."

Alan was rubbing his chin with one hand. "Don't apologize, Don. I think 'shit' is pretty much what we're standing in the middle of here."

Don's cell rang, startling them both. "Eppes," he barked into it. "Megan, hi. What've you got?" He frowned. "Where? When? Yeah, okay…let me know what happens. And thanks, Megan." He disconnected, and looked at his father. "Amita bought an airline ticket."

"Megan found that out?"

"Yeah. Colby is at the cab company, trying to connect with the driver who picked Charlie up here…if anybody can track Charlie for those five hours, it's Colby."

Alan took another drink of coffee. "You have good friends. Where is Amita going? Or has she already gone?"

Don stood and crossed to the refrigerator. Charlie and Amita's wedding invitation was stuck to the door with a magnet. He ripped it down and tossed it in the sink, for lack of a better destination. "India," he finally said. "The flight hasn't left yet, but will within the hour. Megan's going to the airport, to see if she can catch her, and talk to her."

"She'll never get past all that security to the gate."

Don raised his eyebrows. "She's an FBI agent, Dad. She's Megan. Who do you think is gonna stop her?"

Alan extended his empty coffee cup to Don, who filled it up again. "So what do we do now, Agent Eppes?"

Don handed his cell phone to his father as he passed by him, saying, "I'm taking a shower. Answer this if it rings — it might be Colby. Then…" he stopped momentarily, realizing he had no further plan than waiting for people to call him. "Ah, hell, Dad," he said dejectedly, heading back down the hall. "I don't know what we're gonna do."