Maid of dishonor, p.7
Maid of Dishonor, page 7
“Do you hear me, murderer, whoever you are? You are on notice. Kate will haunt you in your sleep and London Brinks is coming for you in real life. There will be no place that you can hide.”
A second later, London holds up both hands and shakes her head. Looking straight into the camera, she dissolves into another ugly cry. After four shuddering sobs, she says, “I just can’t even.”
The stream ends.
“What the heck did I just see?” Mom asks.
“Oh, dear,” Gigi says. “I’m not sure if that was for Kate or if London was doing it for the attention.”
“Or maybe it was a big gesture to take the heat off her,” Mom says. “She’s the one who found the body, which makes her one of the main persons of interest in the case.”
Mom is typing something on her phone. She frowns and makes a tsking sound. “Even if this little stunt is meant to divert attention off herself, she’s still getting a lot of attention. I mean, look at this.” She holds up her phone and shows us the search results for London Brinks’s wedding. Headlines such as Social Media Influencer Offers Reward for Killer of Best Friend and Influencer Shares Grief Over Friend’s Murder and Dream Wedding in Tatters After Murder Shakes the TikToksphere.
“Do you think she would sabotage her own wedding to gain sympathy and followers?” Mom asks. “I know it’s pretty farfetched.”
“It would be a horrendous publicity stunt that only a sociopath could pull off,” I say.
“However, knowing what we know about London,” Gigi says, “it’s not out of the realm of possibility. Think about it. The bride’s big day is thwarted because her maid of honor is killed right before an elaborate wedding that was meant to be livestreamed to her three million followers. It would also create a convenient excuse not to marry Anson. The two don’t seem to like each other very much.”
The more I think about it, the more I realize London would have everything to gain if she could pull off a stunt of this magnitude. She’d already gotten an all-expense paid vacation, a cocktail party, and a free Cabo San Lucas honeymoon. She looks like the injured party since her fairy-tale wedding was ruined.
She mentioned a force majeure clause in the contracts, which would take effect if the wedding was shut down by forces beyond her control—such as the police declaring the venue a crime scene. Unlike most brides who would be on the hook for the cost of a luxurious wedding, London can walk away, and it won’t cost her a dime.
“Stranger things have happened,” Mom says.
“I don’t think she would murder someone for that,” I say. “But have you considered that the sabotage might’ve been aimed at us?”
I hold up my phone and show them another article: The Curse of Fabled Gracewood Hall Strikes Again.
Gigi gasps. “Oh, no. What does it say?”
I pull up the article and pass my phone to Gigi so she can read it.
“You purchased Gracewood Hall before it went on the market. Do you know anyone who might’ve been disgruntled over not getting a chance to bid on it?”
Gigi looks up from the phone. Her eyes are wide. “Heavens, I don’t know. The purchase seemed pretty straightforward to me. Linda Conti Stanton’s estate was ready to sell the place, and I had the cash to purchase it. It seemed like an easy enough transaction. Do you think someone would be mad enough to murder an innocent woman over it?”
Mom shrugs. “I hope not.” She reaches into the end table’s drawer, takes out a legal pad and pen, and writes down something.
“Someone sabotaging us is a longshot, but it’s an angle,” she says. “We also shouldn’t discount the possibility that someone might’ve been out to ruin London’s wedding.”
“But why kill Kate?” I ask. “Why not London?” I grimace.
It’s not that I want London to die. I’d never wish that on anyone. But as my mother said, it’s an angle that we need to consider.
“We don’t know London that well,” Mom says, “but even in the short time we’ve worked with her to make her wedding happen, we’ve seen her upset plenty of people.”
“It could’ve been someone who wanted to attend the wedding but wasn’t invited,” Gigi suggests.
Mom points at her with her pen. “Yes. That’s a possibility.” She adds it to the list.
Gigi’s eyes sparkle. “Is this how you plot those mystery books you write?”
“I wish this was a story plot,” Mom answers.
“I know. I don’t mean to be insensitive. I was feeling sort of helpless given all that’s happened, but thinking about possible suspects certainly puts some of the power back in our hands. Doesn’t it?”
Mom and I nod. We know about that all too well. We’ve helped solve three previous cases that happened right here in Hemlock. Jack wasn’t very happy about us getting involved, but he still wants to marry Mom despite it all. Unless he’s completely delusional, he has to know that she won’t give up sleuthing just because she’s marrying the chief of police.
We won’t let each other wander into danger alone. So, Jack has both of us to contend with in that regard. Now, he might even have Gigi. Strength in numbers.
“Who else is on our list?” Gigi asks.
Before Mom can read off the suspects, her phone rings.
“It’s Jack,” she says. “I need to take this.”
“Of course you do,” Gigi says with a twinkle in her eyes. “Since it looks like we’re in for a late night, I’ll make some popcorn for us.”
Gigi pads off to the kitchen. I follow her to help and to give my mom some privacy.
My grandmother is in love with being in love. It is no surprise that she was ecstatic to meet Jack and learn that he and Mom are engaged. Gigi said she’d always love my father like a son and mourn his loss, but Mom is too young to spend the rest of her life alone.
Before the kernels begin to pop, Mom appears in the kitchen looking annoyed.
“That was quick,” I say.
She nods. “Jack is happy to keep the crime scene in place for an extra day. Of course, that means we can’t go on the property, but that will give us another night together.”
She smiles, and I realize how much I miss living near her. I guess in a lot of ways I took it for granted. I didn’t mean to. It was because … life. I mean, when I lived downstairs, we would sometimes have a cup of late-night tea together and discuss the plots of her books … or in the rare instances when we’d been drawn into a local crime, we’d do exactly what we’re doing tonight.
It’s bittersweet. I wish we could have more of these nights.
I do love living with Gigi at Gracewood Hall—or at least I did. Honestly, now it feels a little spooky. But I’ll get over it. I have to because after Mom and Jack get married, they don’t need Mom’s twenty-seven-year-old daughter hanging around.
I’m happy for her … for them. I really am.
But all those years we were waiting to learn my father’s fate, it was just the two of us.
Of course, I have Ian. Sort of. Things are good between us, even if they’re still up in the air. But that’s a story for a different day. Right now, over the sound of the air popper, my mom says that Jack ran a check on the silver Honda’s tags, but he won’t tell her what he found out.
What?
That’s weird. He’s always shared info with Mom, even if she had to get it out of him by playing the hypothetical game. She’d ask him questions about the case, starting with the words, hypothetically speaking.
Hypothetically speaking, if there’s a car in my story—let’s say it was a silver Honda—and it’s following someone. What would the driver’s name be? Hypothetically.
“I’m so upset right now,” Mom says. “He wouldn’t have that license tag number if not for me.”
Gigi and I are quiet.
Mom sits at the table and scribbles something on the yellow legal pad she’s carried into the kitchen.
“I’m sorry, honey,” Gigi says. “Maybe he couldn’t share it because he was around his coworkers. Is he coming over tonight? Maybe he’ll fill you in then.”
“No, he’s on his way to Asheville to break the news about Kate to David. That’s where David lives.”
Gigi tuts. “Well, at least we know why David wasn’t at the Hemlock Inn. I guess he went home. Poor fellow. It’s such sad news. He and Kate had found each other again. They seemed so in love.”
The popcorn spills out of the popper and into the large ceramic bowl Gigi has placed in front of it. My grandmother turns away from us and gets the pan of butter she’d been melting on the stove.
Gigi turns off the popper and brings the bowl to the table.
“What are you writing?” she asks Mom.
“I’m making a list of potential suspects. Let’s go back over the timeline, beginning with when Kate arrived. Jenna, do you want to go first?”
I think as I chew the popcorn I put into my mouth right before Mom asked me the question. Things were so hectic…
“From the time Kate arrived, she was freaked out because that silver car had been following her. Apparently, it wasn’t the first time she’d spotted the car. I saw it. It drove onto the property and circled back out without stopping. The car’s windows were tinted, and the sun hit them just right. So, I couldn’t see the driver. Did you write down the silver car—even though we don’t know much about it yet?”
Mom is looking down at what she’s writing, but I still catch how she smirks at the mention of the car. Even though she’s not talking about it much, I can sense she’s stewing over Jack withholding the information.
“I did. Right here.” She taps the spot on the paper with her pen.
“Kate and London went off to get their stories straight about how they know each other. We had the wedding rehearsal. Anson was being a pig flirting with Kate. Is Anson on the list?”
“He is now,” Mom said.
“Good. Then, about an hour and a half before the dinner, Kate went to the hotel to change clothes. She was late getting back because she spotted the silver Honda again. She was unnerved, but I was rushing out to get London so she could hear the toast she’d asked Kate to write. I had a gut feeling that London would want to make changes, but we had less than a half hour before she and Anson were supposed to make their grand entrance at the rehearsal dinner.”
“So, Anson had been flirting with Kate. A lot,” Mom says.
“But that would point back to London, who is awfully volatile,” Gigi says.
“Volatile, yes, but I don’t think she’d murder Kate because her fiancé flirted with her,” I say. “She might murder Anson.”
“But what if Anson got upset with Kate for rejecting his advances?” Gigi asks, her brows arched like she’s presented the winning combination in a game of Clue. The groom did it in front of the ladies’ bathroom with a champagne bottle… That sounds vaguely dirty, so I don’t say it out loud.
As I’m explaining that Anson was so drunk after doing tequila shots with that blonde that he could barely stand up, Mom’s phone rings again.
I’m fully expecting the call to be from Jack, who is ready to fill Mom in on the silver Honda, but when Mom turns over her phone to check the display screen, she frowns.
“Hello?” she says and pauses. “Yes, this is Madeline Bell. What’s the problem?”
Someone is talking, but I can’t hear what they’re saying. I’m watching my mom’s gaze narrow. Her expression grows more concerned.
“It’s the alarm company,” she whispers to us.
When we purchased the security system, the company had to do the install in two parts. First, they alarmed the building’s perimeter to keep out curiosity seekers, but they had to wait for the security cameras because Gracewood Hall needed so many they had to order them.
Since Gigi isn’t tech-savvy, she asked that Mom and I be listed as the contacts in case of an alarm event … like this.
“No one is supposed to be at Gracewood Hall right now.” Mom is talking to the person on the phone again.
“Absolutely no one,” Gigi echoes. “Jenna and I set the alarm after the police interviewed the last party guest. That nice officer walked us to our car and followed us out the gates in his patrol car. No one should be at Gracewood Hall right now.”
“Yes, please dispatch the police immediately,” Mom says.
Chapter Six
~ Maddie ~
“Are you all right?” Jenna asks me as we wait for the red light at the intersection of Columbus Avenue and Main Street to change. “You seem tense.”
I force myself to unclench my jaw and smile, but I know it doesn’t reach my eyes. “I do?”
“Yes. You do.”
I have a good reason. I am still stinging from Jack’s refusal to share the identity of the silver Honda driver. He didn’t even call me back last night after he got home from Asheville.
“He wouldn’t have the lead on the silver Honda if not for me.” I hadn’t meant to say that out loud. The words slipped out.
“You’re still upset that he didn’t share the info?” Jenna says, as if she even had to ask. “Don’t be upset with Jack.”
She’s right. I shouldn’t be offended, but his unwillingness to share offended me.
“Mom, he’s in the middle of an active investigation. He’s not supposed to talk about it with anyone.”
“I am not just anyone.”
“You know that’s not his rule. If he shares too much, it could jeopardize everything. Plus, since a killer is running around out there, I’ll bet he doesn’t want to take a chance on you investigating on your own and getting hurt.”
“It never stopped him from talking to me before,” I say. “But now that we’re engaged, he suddenly clams up. It feels personal, Jenna.”
“But it’s not, and you have to believe that.”
As I ease my black Toyota RAV4 through the intersection, Lily King, the owner of Lily’s Tearoom, which is next door to my bridal salon, recognizes my car and waves hello as we pass her on Main Street. Even though I don’t feel like smiling, I dig deep, force the corners of my lips upward, and wave back.
“It seems like there’s more going on here than you being upset by his lack of sharing,” Jenna says.
“If I marry this man, he should know me well enough to understand it’s not my nature to passively sit by and wait when a crime affects me personally. I was interested in writing mysteries and solving crimes long before I met him.”
“Yes, you were,” Jenna says. “But … huh. How did you get interested in crime and mysteries? I can’t believe I’ve never asked you this, but I mean, you own a bridal boutique. Crime and weddings aren’t exactly synonymous.”
I take a moment to ponder that question. “I don’t know if you remember this, but it started shortly after your father went missing. I was at loose ends, but trying to hold it together for you. The shop kept me busy during the day, but everything seemed so much worse at night. Gigi was in California, and you were seventeen years old. I couldn’t expect you to stay home and hold my hand. I’d read every mystery at the library and could only watch so much television.
“I’d always wanted to write, but I was clueless when it came to writing a novel. One day, while I was in the library, on a whim, I posted a notice asking if others were interested in forming a mystery writers support group. I had no idea how much comfort I would get from writing. I had no control over the chaos in my real life, but I could lose myself in the world of my story. I could right wrongs and bring the perp to justice. It was the ultimate form of escapism and a lot better than medicating myself with drugs or alcohol.”
“Thank goodness for that,” Jenna says. “But why not confine the sleuthing to the page?”
“I’ll turn that question back on you.” I slant a glance and a smile at my daughter. “Why have you gotten involved in the cases you’ve looked into with me?”
“Touché. The ones I’ve looked into have always felt personal. Like this case. I don’t think I will be able to butt out until Kate’s killer is brought to justice. That will have to happen before Gigi and I feel comfortable moving back into Gracewood Hall. Lucky you. You’re stuck with us.”
“As far as I’m concerned, you can move in permanently. I love having you there.”
We’re silent for a moment, and then Jenna says, “I thought it was important for you to have your own space after you and Jack got engaged.”
I can’t sort out the weird feelings swirling inside me. Jenna must read my mind—or, more likely, my pained expression.
“Are things moving too fast for you?”
I shrug. My eyes well up, and I feel like such an idiot for crying.
“It doesn’t have to be either or,” Jenna says. “You don’t have to get married right now, but waiting on the engagement doesn’t mean you have to break up. You can just … be.
“You’ve spent so many years trying to make other people happy—being true to Dad, trying to protect me, trying to make Jack happy. It’s okay to think of yourself for once. If you and Jack are meant to be, he’ll be there for you.”
I swallow hard and feel a little more in control of my emotions. “I can’t expect him to wait around while I figure out my heart. That wouldn’t be fair to him.”
Jenna gives a one-shoulder shrug. “Well, if you want to be fair to him, you need to talk to him. Remember when I dated Owen Snow, who was so totally wrong for me, and I did everything possible to make him break up with me?”
“Owen Snow. I haven’t heard that name in ages.” I muse as I turn into the police department parking lot. It’s located off Catalpa Street in the town’s municipal building, which also houses the jail. It’s only a few blocks from my shop.
“I know, right? He was a good guy, but just not right for me and where I was in life at the time. Do you remember saying I needed to own my feelings and be honest with myself and him?”
“I do remember that.” And I know exactly where she’s going with this. After I park and kill the engine, I say, “I love Jack—” The rest of my words can’t get past the lump in my throat.
