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"No."
"You never even smoked grass?"
"No."
"Me, either. But I'm beginning to suspect that it's us two Boy Scouts alone in the world."
****
Soames T. Browne, whom they found wandering around among the catering staff on his lawn, insisted they have a little nip with him, which turned into three before they could get away.
"You know, I really think he likes me," Chad said when they were finally back in the Porsche.
"You're taking Daffy off his hands," Matt said. "He should be overwhelmed with gratitude."
"Fuck you, Matt."
"He will be considerably less fond of you, of course, if you show up at the church shit-faced."
"Don't worry about me, buddy," Chad said confidently.
Matt dropped Chad and his sword and dress blues and uniform cap box off at the Bellevue-Stratford Hotel on South Broad Street, then drove to his apartment on Rittenhouse Square, several blocks away. The idea was that he would pick up his tails and carry them to the hotel and change there in the suite of rooms the Nesbitts had taken for Chad's out-of-town ushers.
But he decided that he would rather not do that, as it would really be easier to change in his apartment. He called Special Operations on the rent-a-cop's telephone. Jason Washington was not there, so he left word for him that he had confirmation that Penelope Detweiler knew Anthony J. DeZego and that he would be, for the next couple of hours, at the Bellevue-Stratford.
Then he walked back to the Bellevue-Stratford Hotel.
The Nesbitts had rented two large adjoining suites on the seventh floor for Chad's out-of-town guests. The Brownes had done the same thing for Daffy's friends, putting the girls up in a series of rooms on the fifth floor. It was inevitable that they should find each other, and there was a party just getting started when he got there. The official pre-wedding party, in a ballroom on the mezzanine floor, would not start for an hour.
He had been in the room less than five minutes when one of Chad's Marine Corps buddies answered the telephone, then stood on a coffee table, holding up the phone, and bellowed,"At ease!"
When he had everyone's attention, some of it shocked, he politely inquired, "Is there a Mr. Matthew Payne in the house?"
"Here," Matt said, and went and took the phone, certain that it would be Jason Washington. It was not.
"Matt, if he comes to the church drunk," Daffy Browne said, "I'll never speak to you again as long as I live."
"Would you be willing to put that in writing?"
"Oh, Matt, please!"
"I'll do my best, Daffy," Matt said.
"Try to remember this is the most important day in ourlives," Daffy said.
"Right."
"He listens to you, Matt, you know he does."
He was looking at Chad Nesbitt. Chad had a Bloody Mary in his hand.
Bullshit, he listens to me!
"Relax, Daphne," he said. "I'll get him to the church on time."
Daffy was not amused. She hung up. Matt put the telephone down and walked over to Chad.
"That was the bride-to-be," he said. "She wants you sober for the wedding."
