Killer Bridal Party Read online

  Raine shook her head discretely and leaned in. "Or it might be that Cindy is still holding a grudge from high school when Tory stole Cindy's prom date, Matthew Bigelow, right out from under her turned up nose."

  "How do you know all this?" I accidentally stuck two flashlights into one knapsack and was immediately admonished with a tongue click.

  Raine took out the extra flashlight and set it aside. "I went to high school with them. I can't believe they all stayed friends."

  "All right then." Lana sounded relieved a decision had been made. "We'll go with the rose setting in the middle. Now there's still about a week's time if you change your mind," Lana said as she escorted them out.

  "No, don't tell her that," Cindy said with an extra dose of laughter. "She'll be changing her mind every day for a week."

  Apparently, the maid of honor thought the comment was unnecessary and made a point of rolling her eyes in response. Brooke made a point of hugging each friend to thank them for helping her decide, and that produced smiles all around.

  Brooke smiled our direction and my sister quickly introduced us. Before leaving, she walked over to look at the knapsacks. "Oh, Lana, these are perfect. My guests will love them. Raine, I was thinking of having my palm read before the wedding. Just for fun, you know."

  Raine's lips flattened at the notion that her palm reading was just for fun. She took her psychic abilities very seriously and considered herself an expert medium who could converse with the spirit world. I had to push back a grin at that thought. If she only knew.

  "Sure. Stop in tomorrow before noon. I'll be out here working with Lana after that."

  "Terrific," Brooke said. "See you then."

  Lana walked them out and spent a few minutes chatting before returning. "I think she's going to regret having both of those women in her wedding party." Lana picked up a carrot stick and dipped it.

  I decided to do the same, only my veggie of choice was a round red radish. "They seemed to be shooting daggers at each other with their eyes every time the bride looked away."

  "Yes." Lana started picking up the plates and silverware. I pitched in a hand to help. "Brooke has invited all four of her bridesmaids up to the campsite tomorrow night so they can have one night of fun before the shower guests arrive on Saturday. She's hoping it'll be a night of bonding, but I'm not so sure. And what she doesn't know is that the male half of the wedding party is planning to show up and surprise them while they're sitting around the campfire."

  "That could be good or bad," I said as I followed her to the plate boxes.

  "That's what I was thinking. I tried to talk the groom out of the idea, but he's sure it will be a great surprise. He's one of those confident, know-it-all types. His family owns Stockton Tools, the biggest toolmaker on this side of the country. Jeremy is apparently the heir to the tool throne. Tory, the maid of honor, is one of their lead salespeople. Anyhow, I sure could use your help setting up the camping party tomorrow afternoon."

  "Sure. I can get away from the newspaper office early. Maybe a night under the stars, surrounded by lightning bugs and the cooing sounds of nature will bring harmony to the bridal party."

  Raine laughed. "Of course, because sleeping on the uncomfortable ground, swatting at mosquitoes and having to hike to the portable potties always brings out the best in people."

  Chapter 3

  Lana's kitchen was one of our favorite gathering spots. Emily and I had stationed ourselves at the long maple table under the cluttered pot rack and pendant lights. Emily was chopping tomatoes for a salsa to go with the omelet, and I was making myself useful cutting limes for some margaritas.

  Lana had tied on a cute black and white plaid apron. She was stirring up a bowl of eggs and cream. "I think you should get a few cows for the farm, Em. Then we could have fresh cream."

  "And butter," I added enthusiastically.

  Emily swept a pile of tomato chunks into a bowl. "Sunni, you do realize that butter doesn't flow naturally from the cow?"

  "No? Maybe someone should breed cows who produce butter." I piled up my limes. "I'd be willing to churn it, if you're willing to take care of the cows."

  Raine was frying up some onions. "Fresh butter would be tasty. Who am I kidding? Butter in any form is tasty. Even those silly butter shaped turkeys they sell near Thanksgiving."

  I poured margaritas from the blender and topped them with my very professionally cut limes. I handed Raine her glass, which she desperately needed after working over the hot stove. She took a sip. "Hmm, well done, my friend. Hey, how are things at the inn?" Raine and I had become quick friends after I moved to Firefly Junction. We were very different but we got along well. Sometimes it was nice having a confidante around who wasn't a sister. My sisters were my true best friends, but they were also family.

  "If by your special pronunciation of the word things, you mean unusual, unexplained events, then all is well and normal at the inn." Edward insisted that no one else know about his existence. He didn't want reporters and ghost hunters swarming the inn, which was the height of irony considering my occupation. But I'd agreed to it. Especially because he also assured me that he would never corroborate my claims by making himself visible or obvious, which would, in turn, make me appear daft. (His word, not mine.) But not being able to tell, of all people, Raine, the professed medium and bridge to the spirit world, was exceptionally hard. Otherwise, I was perfectly fine not revealing my secret to anyone. It was a secret that was frankly a little too baffling to explain.

  Raine turned off the stove. "Onions are done, Lana." Raine turned to me. "That's not what I hear from Ursula and Henry. Ursula told me tools and things get mysteriously moved and she's sure she occasionally hears someone laughing."

  "Please, Raine, if you're going to take Ursula's word over mine, then there's nothing I can say. Let me just remind you that Ursula lectured and whined about her missing hammer for a week before she ended up finding it in her tool box. The woman gets worked up if Henry slurps his soup too loud. Everything in her world is over-the-top and hyperbolic."

  I delivered a drink to Lana, who winked at me over the brim before taking a sip. She was a skeptic like me, only I was no longer a skeptic. I wasn't sure what the word was for someone who was still having a hard time believing something that was right in front of them.

  "But Henry agrees with Ursula that something funny is going on." Raine hadn't given up yet. But that was hardly surprising. I'd allowed her one night of a séance, before I learned that there actually was a spirit hanging around the inn. But the séance had produced nothing. In fact, after spending some time with my somewhat transparent house mate, I was certain Edward had sat right there in that room, watching the entire spectacle for his amusement. Couldn't blame him really. The inn had been vacant for years and he'd been left to wander the halls alone all that time, stuck in his holding cell between worlds. He must have been bored silly.

  "What are you working on for the paper?" Emily piped up from her salsa making task. She was carefully pulling cilantro leaves off the stems. Emily knew that Raine could dwell on things and we probably needed a subject change.

  "Now that you ask—" I enthusiastically pulled out a chair and sat down with my citrusy margarita. "Remember when I told you about the strange, unexplained death of a lot of fish and frogs in the river?"

  "Yes." Emily chopped the cilantro. "Did you find the source?"

  "As a matter of fact I did. A few of the locals who like to fish at a certain pool along the river told me that the silt in the river, even after a storm, looked grainy instead of muddy."

  "Grainy?" Lana asked. "Like sand?"

  I took a sip of my drink and puckered my mouth at the sourness. "No, I mean like grain from plants. I went to the fishing hole and saw that they were right. I could see flecks of seeds and rice-like grain in the dirt. I scooped up a sample and had it analyzed. It turned out to be the spent grain from a brewery. The evidence sent me right to the culprit. Only they had no idea they were culprits or
that they were doing anything wrong."

  Emily held up her finger for me to pause. She flipped the switch on the blender, and the tomato and onion chunks morphed into a rich red salsa. She turned off the blender and waved her hand for me to continue.

  "Smoky's Craft Beer is a local, homegrown brewery started by a few fresh out of college grads. They recently opened the doors to expanded production after they landed some solid contracts with local beer distributors. Anyhow, as I learned during my research, beer production leaves behind a lot of waste, especially in spent grains. Since the waste was all organic material, the brewers thought they could drop it in piles along the river as a sort of offering to the local wildlife. But every time it rained, the river rose up and swept the debris downstream. Apparently the fish were eating way too much of it. On top of that, the extra solids in the river were clogging up ecosystems and stealing oxygen."

  "Wow, my sister saved the river. Good for you, Sunni." Emily poured her salsa into a bowl.

  Lana spun around from her task. "But what about the brewery? Won't the negative press hurt them?" My sisters were so predictable. Emily was siding with the critters reliant on the river ecosystem, and Lana's empathy went straight to the business owners.

  "Fortunately, my article is two-fold with two happy endings. One that will satisfy my animal and earth loving sister." I held up my drink toward Emily. "And one that will satisfy my profit loving sister." I toasted my drink toward Lana.

  Raine tilted her head at me. "What about my happy ending? Oh wait. We'd need to do a séance for that."

  "Yep, sorry, the article only has the dual happy ending. No other world entities involved."

  Emily tasted the salsa and seemed pleased with her accomplishment but went for a dash more salt. "I've heard that those spent grains from breweries can be used to feed cattle and pigs."

  I pointed at her. "I'm way ahead of you. Naturally, when I traced the source of the problem to the brewery, they were quite upset. They had no idea they were creating a problem for the fish. They've offered to pay for a clean-up and to have the river restocked with the trout that people like to catch. I did some research and found out exactly what Emily just mentioned. I put the brewery in contact with some nearby cattle ranchers. They were happy to accept the spent grain. They are even going to pick it up every other week. So, all's well in the river ecosystem and craft brew world again. I'm just putting some polishing touches on the article before sending it to the editor. Hopefully Parker will like it."

  "He seems to like all your work," Lana noted. "Maybe someday that silly man will realize that you are much more of an asset to the Junction Times than his top reporter, Chase Evans."

  Raine walked over with a spoon to try the salsa. "That won't happen until Chase breaks it off with the newspaper owner's daughter. And since he won't find a better job, I don't think that will happen anytime soon."

  I sipped some more margarita. "Lana, definitely don't mix up any drinks for that bridal party. The tequila is making us catty. And from the cold vibes transferring back and forth between the two bridesmaids earlier in the barn, I don't think they need any fuel for the fire."

  "No tequila for this glamping trip," Lana said. "But at least you found something exciting to write about. I know you were fretting about the lack of scandal and intrigue in Firefly Junction."

  "It's a good story, but I'd still love a good scandal to really set my investigative hair on fire. Maybe someday soon."

  Chapter 4

  My fingers were flying over the keyboard, and while there was no way to see his image in my monitor or feel him breathing on me, I knew Edward was looking over my shoulder reading my article about the brewery.

  Edward's deep laugh rumbled through the kitchen, where I 'd set up my laptop and put on a pot of coffee to counteract the two margaritas.

  "Why does that laugh sound like a lead in to a critique about my work?"

  "Not at all." Edward flashed to the opposite side of the table. He picked up an apple from the bowl. I waited with mild curiosity to see just exactly what he planned to do with a piece of fruit he couldn't eat. He tossed it from hand to hand in a low level attempt at juggling.

  I looked across the kitchen to the brick hearth where Newman and Redford had plopped down to wait for me to head in to bed. Newman was too tired to notice the apple being tossed back and forth like a tennis ball.

  "I just find it interesting that dropping a few piles of grain along the shore of a river, a perfectly acceptable thing to do, would create such an uproar that the local journalist felt compelled to write about it."

  I collapsed my fingers over the keyboard and stared up at him. It was late and the lights in the kitchen were shining through his image. "So glad you kept the biting critique out of your observation."

  "You're welcome."

  "Did they have sarcasm back in the early nineteenth century?"

  "Sarcasm?" He reached for an orange and added it to his fruit juggle. He was fairly adept at it considering his hands were vapor.

  "Never mind. And the brewery did damage to the river. Besides, it's against the law. You can't just dump debris, even if it's organic material, into a protected body of water. It damages the ecosystem, then the plants and animals die."

  Edward was temporarily focused on his juggling act.

  "Fine, if the discussion is over, could you take your fruit practice to another room. I'm tired and I need to finish." I dropped my face to continue typing. The fruit landed in the bowl with two successive thuds.

  Edward floated up to the kitchen counter and stretched out on his side. He leaned on one transparent elbow. "In my day, every drop of waste, even substances I can not elaborate on in front of a lady, was poured into the Thames River. The Thames is a vast river that flows through London."

  "Yes, I know what the Thames is. The world is a much smaller place since your day."

  His dark brows bunched together. "The world has shrunk?"

  "No, not in the physical sense." I shook my head. I was too tired to explain my metaphorical phrase. "I think the Thames is a perfect example of why my article is so important. The people living near the Thames took it for granted and thought it was so large it could never truly reach its capacity on waste. But in the mid twentieth century, the river was declared dead."

  Edward laughed. "How can a river die?"

  "It was so filled with pollution and bacteria it could no longer support life. So, in essence, it was just a dead body of water. But with some good laws and a massive clean-up effort, it's now considered one of the cleanest rivers in Europe."

  Edward sat up. For someone who had no aches and pains or muscles to stretch or anxiety to relieve, he was certainly a restless ghost. "How do you know so much about England? It's miles of land and sea away from this place."

  "As I said, the world is a much smaller place." I pointed at my computer. "I can travel to England with a touch of my finger." More and more, I realized that Edward had lived inside the inn like someone trapped in a time capsule. Outside the crumbling walls of the Cider Ridge Inn, the world continued on its path toward technology and innovation. But inside the house, Edward was stuck back in a different time. He'd told me about another owner in the mid-nineteenth century, Mary Richards, who he'd revealed himself to but he kept mostly to himself after that. Until me.

  "I've watched you many times on that metal box. I'm amazed at how easily it keeps your attention."

  "Yes, well." I felt slightly embarrassed about his comment. "It's possible I spend far too much time staring at the thing, but most of it is for work. Although, not all of it. Occasionally, I do get sidetracked by something mindless and enjoyable. But I assure you, I'm not the only person who spends too much time on the computer." It seemed I was tired. I was making excuses for being a part of the modern world.

  The words on my screen were starting to look like one big blur. I saved the file and closed the laptop.

  "Don't let me stop you from working," Edward said.

&nbs
p; "Too late for that." I leaned back and stared at him. His cravat was always loose, and his boots were forever polished. And since his image was stuck in time, he was forever young and handsome. I thought about his reference to the Thames River. "What exactly was it that made you leave England?"

  His dark gaze faded some, and his features nearly erased.

  "Oh, I see, we've stepped into personal territory. I already know your family sent you off because you were a troublemaker."

  My teasing words prodded him back into full view. Which was my goal.

  "Trouble is a vague word. I personally think there were other more nefarious forces at work behind my banishment from the family estate."

  "More nefarious? Like what?"

  "A cousin who stood to gain a great deal of wealth with my removal from the family."

  I sat forward, intrigued by this new plot line. "So, with you gone, this cousin inherited the family estate?"

  "Yes, cousin Charles, a witless fool who was as useless as he was stupid. And that's the highest praise I could give the man."

  "No question how you felt about Charles then. Maybe that's why you're sticking around. They say some unresolved issue keeps spirits from finding peace. Usually it's no resolution for a murder or a spurned lover. But we know how you died and you mentioned that your attachment to Bonnie was only of a—" I cleared my throat. "A physical nature. And thank you for sparing me details with that vague phrase. What if you're still around because you died knowing that witless Charles was living high and mighty in what was rightfully your position in society?"

  "Well thought out conclusion," Edward said as he floated down from the counter.

  "Really? Bully for me then." I carried my cup of coffee to the sink.

  "Yes, it's a grand theory, but it's wrong."

  I placed the cup in the sink and turned around. "How do you know? Do some soul searching or whatever you do when you're vapor?"