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in Bradley’s direction. “I asked him at the hospital the other day.”
    Mary turned to Bradley. “You knew and you didn’t tell me?”
    He shrugged, “I guess my mind was on other things.”
    “When’s the wedding?” Mary asked.
    “Saint Patrick’s Day,” Rosie said. “Stanley insisted because his memory is so bad he knew he’d forget our anniversary if we didn’t have it on a holiday.”
    “Well, Valentine’s Day is only a couple of weeks away,” Mary teased.
    “Aw, everyone gets married on Valentines,” Stanley said. “We wanted ours to be unique.”
    “No matter what, I’m sure your wedding is going to be unique,” Ian said. “It’s not often a beauty marries a beast.”
    Stanley chuckled. “You’ve got that right,” he said. “That’s why I picked St. Pat’s because I knew I was the luckiest man on earth.”
    “Oh, Stanley,” Rosie cooed, “that was so romantic.”
    Stanley blushed, “Well, it’s just the truth, that’s all.”
    Rosie walked over to Stanley and put her arms around his neck. “I think we are going to have to leave now because I want to kiss you and I know you don’t want all of these people to see it.”
    “Just don’t want them to be jealous, that’s all,” he mumbled. “‘Sides, Mary is recovering, so we ought to let her get her rest.”
    “Oh, aye, that’s one of the best excuses I’ve ever heard,” Ian said with a grin. “And I almost believe it. How about you Bradley?”
    “If I get a report that you two are parked somewhere steaming up the windows, I’m not going to be too happy about it.”
    Rosie giggled. “We’ll make sure to wipe the windows clear every so often.”
    Bradley laughed. “Good enough,” he said. “Now get out of here before you make us all tired.”

Chapter Six

    “I’m tired,” Mary said, shifting in the recliner. “You two wouldn’t mind if I went upstairs to bed, would you?”
    Bradley and Ian looked up from the movie on the television in amazement. “But Mary, they haven’t solved the murder yet,” Ian said.
    She shrugged. “I have. Do you want to know who did it?”
    Ian clapped his hands over his ears. “No, don’t tell me.”
    Bradley chuckled and rose to his feet. “Come on, Sherlock, I’ll walk you upstairs. Ian why don’t you make us some popcorn and we less than brilliant viewers can finish the rest of the movie.”
    “I didn’t say you weren’t brilliant,” Mary protested. “I just solved the mystery. I worked on a case like this in Chicago. You see, the spouse…”
    Ian pressed his hands tighter over his ears. “La, la, la, la, la,” he sang. “I can’t hear you.”
    “What the hell is he doing? A Scottish mating dance?” Mike asked, appearing in the middle of the room.
    “Yeah, don’t get too close,” Bradley said.
    “Oh, very funny, Bradley,” Ian said, getting up from his chair. “Go put Mary to bed; Mike can keep me company until you return.”
    “Oh, cool, I love this movie,” Mike said, “ especially the end when we find out the butler did it.”
    “AHHHHHHHHH!” Ian screamed, running into the kitchen.
    Mike looked at Ian and then turned to Mary and Bradley. “What? What just happened here?”
    Mary and Bradley turned to each other and started to laugh.
    “What?” Mike asked.
    Mary collapsed against Bradley, tears running down her cheeks. “I can’t breathe,” she gasped as she laughed. “My sides ache.”
    Bradley wrapped an arm around her and led her to the staircase, his own laughter echoing in the room. “Come on; let’s escape while we still have brain cells left.”
    “What?” Mike called again, confusion evident in his voice.
    “Oh shut up,” Ian yelled from the kitchen. “And pick something else to watch on the bloody telly .”
    A fresh wave of laughter floated down the stairs from Mary and Bradley.
    “It’s not that funny,” Ian called up after them.
    Bradley and Mary sat on the edge of her bed, wiping the tears from their eyes. Mary took a