LOOSE SCREWS

In the space of a few hours, thirty-year-old Ginger Petrocelli had gone from bride-to-be to bride-who-never-was. So here she sat, alone in her cramped apartment, wedding crinolines askew, drowning her sorrows in a hundred-dollar bottle of Veuve Cliquot, when her doorbell rang. And her trip to hell in a handbasket was about to escalate.

At the door: Nick, Ginger’s “first.” Only, he’s a police officer now, and he wants to find out what she knows about her M.I.A. congressman fiancé. When was th...