Killer Bridal Party (Firefly Junction Cozy Mystery Book 2)

by London Lovett

  Raine licked cream cheese off her fingertip. "And we were hungry."

  I enjoyed my tiny sandwich as Lana handed me an icy bottle of lemonade. She had tied blue polka dot ribbon on the bottles for the festivities.

  "I just thought of something." I opened the bottle. "A large group of shower guests are going to be driving up that road soon."

  "Cindy sent a group text to everyone letting them know the camping party was cancelled. Without letting them know why," Lana amended before I could ask.

  I sipped the lemonade. Lana even knew the best bottled lemonade to buy. Or maybe the cute ribbon just made it taste better. "Probably not the kind of thing to send in a group text."

  Lana nibbled another sandwich and handed me one with my favorite topping, pickle chips. "Raine and I noticed you spent a good deal of time down the hill with—with Mr. Dreamy Detective."

  "For your information, I was trying to gather evidence about what might have happened to the maid of honor. I think a bridal shower murder might make a good headline."

  Lana turned slightly in the seat to look at me. "You are more than slightly warped, little sister."

  "Hey, a story is a story, and a gritty, scandalous story sells newspapers." I turned to Raine, who was unusually quiet. She was still snacking on sandwiches but that didn't seem to be the reason for her silence. I'd seen my friend talk right through a slice of pizza and barely take a breath between words or bites. Especially when she had something to say. Which didn't seem to be the case at that moment.

  "What's going on, Raine? Did the cream cheese glue your mouth shut?"

  Raine swallowed another bite and smiled tightly. "Nope, just don't have much to say."

  "Oh just tell her, Raine," Lana said.

  "I don't want to discuss the fact that I was right and that all my skeptical friends, who like to secretly roll eyes about my abilities—and yes, I mean the two friends sitting in the cab of this truck snacking on tea-wiches, haven't said a word."

  "Well, as long as you don't want to discuss it." Lana elbowed me discretely.

  "No one believed me when I predicted something terrible." Apparently, Raine had finished not discussing it. "Actually, I did more than that." Raine looked plainly at me. "Sunni, why don't you tell your highly skeptical sister exactly what I interpreted from the tarot cards."

  I turned to Lana, who seemed just a touch too amused for the situation. Especially with a murder investigation going on just five hundred feet from the bed of the truck.

  "Raine did tell me that she thought the wedding was doomed and that someone would die. We need to take her more seriously." I turned to Raine. "I'm sorry, Raine. Your predictions are coming true, so I won't scoff at your abilities anymore."

  Raine straightened in her seat. "That's one Taylor sister apology. But I guess I can hold my breath for the second one."

  "Sunni's right, Raine. We need to appreciate your abilities more. I'm sorry," Lana said. "And I'm equally sorry that it looks like I just lost a big wedding account."

  "Not necessarily," I said. "When is the wedding?"

  "Two months. And it was a big one too. I'll have to cancel the caterers and the florist and the doves and horse and carriage."

  I picked up another sandwich from the silver tray. "There were doves and a horse and carriage? Actually, yeah, the bride looks like a horse and carriage type. Sad as it is, I'm sure the maid of honor's death won't keep them from getting married. Maybe they'll just postpone it a month or two. You mentioned that Tory worked for Stockton Tools."

  Raine chimed in. "Before I opened up the Pandora's Box of trouble with my tarot card interpretation, Tory was bragging to me that she'd just bought a Jaguar and that she was now top salesperson at the company. She was always kind of a braggart in high school." She covered her mouth to stop a gasp. "Gosh, that was horrible considering she's lying out there dead and cold on the hillside."

  "That reminds me," Lana interrupted Raine's moment of contrition. "While you were out on the slope with the breathtaking Detective Jackson, did you find out how Tory died? Did she fall or was Raine's intuition right that something sinister happened last night at this campsite?"

  "I'm afraid the latter." I looked at both of them. "And it seems the murderer might very well be sitting at the picnic bench behind the truck."

  Chapter 12

  I watched with keen interest as Detective Jackson interviewed Tom Clayborn, the best man. Lana mentioned in passing that Tom worked for Stockton Tools too, a salesperson just like Tory. Tom seemed to do a lot of shifting from foot to foot. He scratched his scraggly beard more than once. It was hard to know if he was nervous about the questions or if he was just not used to being questioned by a detective. And Detective Jackson was an exceptionally tall, somewhat intimidating man with his expansive shoulder width and big arms.

  Jeremy was sitting on a rock near the campsite looking grumpy about spending his day on the mountain. The women were sitting on the bench waiting to be interviewed by Officer Reed. They all looked like crumpled flowers, who had been out in the elements too long. Brooke's nose was as red as a tomato from crying, and Trina looked as if she wished she were back in California. Kyla, the fourth bridesmaid still had her hair plaited in two braids. She toyed with one while she answered Officer Reed's questions. She looked only a touch less bored and put out than Cousin Trina.

  Raine had walked closer to the road for better phone reception. Lana asked her to call the adventure company about pulling down the tents a day early. I could see her bright blue head scarf through the trees.

  Lana dropped a box of plates and cups into my unsuspecting arms, and I nearly dropped them. "If you're going to use helping me pack up as an excuse to watch the shiny coin of a detective at work, then at least make it look good and put some things in the truck."

  I followed her with my load to the truck. "I am helping. And for your information, I wasn't watching the shiny coin. Well, in a way I was, but the fact that he's a nice, shiny object has nothing to do with my interest. I was just noticing how agitated the best man seems about the line of questions. I'm certain at this point in the investigation, Jackson is just trying to get a handle on exactly where everyone was last night and if anyone saw Tory leave her tent."

  I followed Lana back to the picnic tables. She tossed me a plastic box. "Collect up all the condiments and napkins please."

  I swept up the condiments and salt and pepper shakers. Lana had thought of everything. If not for a murder, it would have been a nice, organized bridal shower.

  I followed Lana back to the truck. "Lana, you mentioned Raine and you arrived just after they'd discovered Tory on the embankment. I was hiking with the dogs and we heard the sirens. When I saw they were heading up to the campground, I rushed home to get my car. I was worried about you and Raine. What was the scene like when you got here?" Here I was waiting to get some details from Detective Jackson, who was undoubtedly not going to be very forthcoming about them, when I could probably gleam plenty of information from my sister.

  "Just like you'd expect when a group of people have discovered that a friend has fallen to her death. Pure chaos and sobbing and a lot of anxious pacing. I did notice one strange thing though. Something that didn't fit in with the rest of the scene."

  "What's that?"

  "Raine and I climbed out of the truck, confused and stunned by what we saw at the campsite. We didn't know what the frantic, scared faces were about. I thought possibly a black bear had wandered through the camp. None of the campers seemed like the outdoor type, and a bear could easily kick up a frenzy among city slickers. Tom Clayborn seemed to the only person who could put together coherent sentences to let us know what had happened and that the emergency services had been called. As he spoke to me, past his shoulder, I spotted Cindy shuffling out from the copse of trees behind the tents. She looked as dazed and confused as Raine and I felt when we arrived on the scene. And she was pale white, as if she truly had come face to face with a black bear. She was blotting her mou
th with one of the blue party napkins. From the greenish pallor of the skin around her mouth and the dark rings around her eyes, I concluded that she had been off in the forest throwing up. Might have been too many treats and champagne the night before. It took a few long minutes before anyone in the party noticed that she had just emerged from the forest looking about as sick as anyone can look while still standing upright. It was Jeremy who caught sight of her first. At the time, I didn't think much about it, but later, it dawned on me just how quickly he left Brooke's side to make sure Cindy was all right. He gently led her to a bench to sit before crouching down in front of her to tell her the news."

  "How did she seem to take the news?"

  I sensed that Lana considered it a strange question. She twisted her mouth side to side in thought. "I suppose she took it like anyone would, shock and disbelief. She even pressed the napkin back against her mouth as if she might get sick again. Jeremy patted her arm to comfort her, while his bride-to-be stood fifty feet away in near hysterics."

  Another short round of sobs pulled us from our conversation. The coroner van's tires crunched over dirt and gravel as it made its slow procession through the campsite. It seemed the police were focused on the privet shrubs directly above the place where Tory's body was discovered.

  Lana nudged me. "Here comes you-know-who."

  "Who?" I spun around. Detective Jackson's black sunglasses were jammed on the top of his head making his thick head of hair look extra wild. That, coupled with his amber eyes and the long confident strides, made him look slightly dangerous. But his faint smile capped off that assessment instantly.

  "I guess I'll collect up the rest of the stuff myself." Lana winked at me as she slipped past.

  "Thought you'd be interested to know that your theory of the victim being killed near the privet shrubs and then rolled down the hill is panning out. We collected blood samples from the shrubs and in the dirt leading down to the body."

  I held back a grin. "Oh really? Good for me, I guess. Although, something tells me you had already come to that conclusion in your whirling detective brain before I stated it out loud."

  The afternoon sun had moved high enough in the sky for its strong warm rays to shoot through the tree canopy. Jackson pulled his sunglasses down over his eyes. "Maybe but give yourself some credit."

  "Trust me. I will. What did the coroner say about the time and cause of death?"

  Tiny lines appeared on the side of his mouth. He seemed to be weighing whether or not to tell me.

  I cleared my throat. "I did come up with a rather crucial theory about the murder. I think I deserve a little insight. Besides, how else am I going to beat you at solving this case, like with the Alder Stevens case, without important evidence?"

  "I solved that one way before you, Bluebird."

  "Then we must both have different recollections of that day."

  "Obviously. The coroner thinks she died around two in the morning. The dew on her clothes and skin seems to corroborate that. She died from head trauma. Most likely a hammer but we'll know more after the autopsy. Unfortunately, no weapon has shown up. Could be at the bottom of that lake."

  Lana joined us. It was the first time I'd seen my sister act coy and even a little flirty in a long time. "Detective Jackson," she said in a voice so unlike her usual my face snapped her direction. "Is it all right if the tent company comes here to take them down?" The extra bat of her eyelashes was so unlike her, I wished that I could have taken a picture to send to Emily.

  "Actually, Ms. Taylor, we need to search through those tents still. If they could give us two hours."

  "Perfect," she said sweetly. "I'll text Raine. She's talking to them right now." I was certain I saw a little over-exaggerated sway of her hips as she walked away. Again, a picture would have been nice for evidence when I recounted it all to Emily. I was already anticipating the wild round of guffaws we'd have about it.

  "I'll let you finish helping your sister." Detective Jackson went back to his officers, who were still collecting samples of fibers and blood on the hillside.

  I hurried over to the truck where Lana was just sending another text to Raine. I waited for her to finish, but I forgot that she was a supreme multi-tasker. "Sure seems like there is a lot more than detective journalist talk between you two," she said without looking up from her phone.

  "Really? How would you notice that when you were so busy working on your coquettish smile and voice?" I stuck my pinky at the side of my mouth. "Oh, Detective Jackson," I said in my best imitation of Scarlett O'Hara. "Is it all right if we take down the tents? Or maybe you could help us out with those big strong arms."

  "Ah ha." Lana pointed at me. "I never said a word about his big strong arms so that description came right from your head."

  I rolled my eyes. "I'll go get the tablecloths." I turned to walk away but looked back over my shoulder. "How did that walk go again?" I asked loudly. "Oh, wait, I've got it." I rocked my hips side to side like a pendulum only to discover that I had an unexpected pair of eyes watching the silly display.

  Detective Jackson nodded his approval at me before turning back to his team.

  Chapter 13

  Early morning had shifted to late morning and the group at the campsite grew more frazzled and tired with each passing minute. Detective Jackson and his team had spoken to each of them, and he assured them they would be free to go soon. It seemed he was certain the killer was amongst the group of six people. It made sense. Especially if the murder had happened in the middle of the night. Jackson and his team were checking shoes, which meant they'd found some footprints near the crime site.

  Lana had lined up a warm lunch of chicken pot pie and garden salads for the bridal shower guests. It had been far past the forty-eight hour deadline to cancel the catering order, so twenty individual pot pies and salads were being delivered to Lana's house. Being the unstoppable hostess, she got permission from Detective Jackson to dash home and pick up the hot lunch, along with a beautiful vanilla and strawberry buttercream cake. Raine had gone with Lana, but I stayed behind hoping to pick up a few interesting nuggets of information.

  Detective Jackson was still busy at the main points of interest, the privet shrubs and the hillside where the body was found. I'd been practicing great self-control by not hovering around the investigation area, but I was dying to find out if they'd found anything significant.

  With the body removed and most of the evidence collected, Jackson was down to just a skeleton crew of himself and Officer Norton, the young officer who the groom had spoken gruffly to earlier in the day. Norton's fair skin was getting mottled pink by the summer sun poking through the trees. He seemed thrilled to be working closely with Detective Jackson. His straw colored hair kept slipping back and forth as he nodded enthusiastically at everything Jackson said. The two men were busy measuring the distance from the shrubs to the edge of the hillside when I walked up.

  "Thirteen feet," Norton called from his crouched position at the shrubs.

  Jackson noticed me standing nearby. He straightened and the tape measure rolled up into its metal container. "I think we've got all we need here, Norton. Walk over and let the group know that we're going to do a quick search in each tent. Remind them all that it's just routine so they don't get instantly defensive. Which they will."

  "Right." Officer Norton's hair did its back and forth swish as he nodded fervently along with his response. He set off on his spit-shined black boots but stopped before getting more than two steps. He fidgeted with his belt as he turned to Detective Jackson. "Sir, if they ask, what is it we are looking for? Or should I not tell them?" He straightened his shoulders and his gun holster, reminding me a little of Barney Fife from Mayberry. "Wait, I know the answer to that. You told me to let them know it was just routine."

  "Good job. You answered your own question." Detective Jackson was politely patient with the man, which made me think he was slightly less cocky than I previously believed. Officer Norton scurried off toward
the group. I didn't envy his task. The earlier looks of sadness and concern had shifted to annoyance at being kept so long at the campsite. I was sure that they'd all feel better once Lana arrived with chicken pot pies.

  "Patience and clear instructions," I quipped as I walked toward Jackson. "You would have made a good kindergarten teacher."

  A short laugh followed. "I don't think I can remember the words to Little Tea Pot, and I think that's a requirement." While everyone else, me included, had cheeks and noses stained red by the sunlight hovering over the campsite, Detective Jackson's golden skin had grown more tan, making the light strands in his hair look like beachy highlights. He just needed a surfboard under his arm and a pair of swim trunks, and he could've been on the cover of a surfing magazine.

  I tucked my hands in my back jean pockets to give a relaxed, hey, what's up kind of vibe. I even added in a casual kick at the grit in front of my foot.

  He was typing some notes on his iPad. "What can I do for you, Bluebird?"

  "Nothing really. I was just thinking that since I was able to brilliantly untangle the strands of the Alder Stevens' murder, I might be able to do the same with this one. That is, if I had a grasp of some of those strands. You know. To untangle."

  "Probably already told you more than I should have."

  "You mean all the things I already figured out on my own?"

  He glanced up from his tablet. I flashed him a large Cheshire Cat grin.

  "You're a regular Sherlock Holmes. I don't have much anyhow. I'm going to go through the tents, then I'm sending them all home."

  "So you don't think it was any of them? Maybe some drifter hiking through?"

  "Never said that. I just don't have enough to detain anyone." He lowered his iPad. "Unfortunately, the soil around the campground is so tightly packed the footprints near the area are a jumbled mess of nothing. One edge of a print right next to the privet shrubs might prove to be something. We made a plaster cast, but even the plaster cast was disappointing. No tread marks. I'm fairly certain all the blood samples we found will belong to the victim. I'm hoping to find traces of blood on something, anything, when I look through the tents. I think the person who planned this had enough forethought to get rid of any evidence and the weapon."