Killer Bridal Party (Firefly Junction Cozy Mystery Book 2)

by London Lovett

  I remembered a napkin I'd stuck inside my pocket after helping with the lunch. I pulled it out. I listened for the sound of footsteps outside of the tent, but they would be hard to hear over the sound of my own racing heartbeat. I hadn't done anything quite so sneaky in a long while.

  I wouldn't have time to gleam much information from her phone, but I used my own phone to get a picture of a recent text conversation with Brooke. I tapped over to her contact list and quickly brought up another text conversation with, of all people, Cindy. I snapped another picture. Someone Tory had given the illustrious title of 'Jerkface' was next on the list. I clicked a picture of Tory's conversation with 'Jerkface', concluding it was possibly someone she disliked.

  My thumb accidently swept the screen and opened the app for jotting down daily reminders. I could hear Detective Jackson's deep voice. He must have ended his conversation with Raine and he'd joined Officer Norton on the tent search. I took a quick picture of some of Tory's reminders and quickly replaced the phone under the edge of the sleeping bag.

  Light and fresh air poured into the tent. My face popped up. Detective Jackson looked less than pleased to see me.

  "Ha! I took care of that little scoundrel," I said confidently. "I saw a squirrel dash inside the tent, and I wanted to make sure the rascal didn't disturb anything."

  Jackson looked pointedly at the crumpled napkin in my hand.

  "Yes, this is a napkin, here in my hand." I held it up to verify that fact. "I thought I might have to grab the lil' sucker by his big, fluffy tail, but he took one look at the scary woman with the napkin and hightailed it out of here." I added a fake laugh. I wasn't sure how to take his silence, especially coupled, as it was, with a somewhat stony expression, an expression that really worked with the unbelievable symmetry of his face. There I was again on a descriptive tangent about the man. "How do you like the way I cycled back to the tail thing?" I laughed again but cut it short after I decided it sounded extra fraught with guilt. I shoved the napkin into my pocket and surveyed the tent once more. "All clear of forest critters and as you can see, nothing was disturbed. So carry on with your detective stuff and just let me know if you need any more help with rogue squirrels." I ducked down to leave the tent.

  "What about rogue bluebirds?" he quipped.

  I stopped and straightened. "You look like the kind of guy who could handle a little bluebird."

  "Yeah? I'm not so sure about that. Or maybe I just stumbled onto an especially wild one." Jackson gazed at me just long enough to unsettle me even more than being caught in the act of snooping through evidence.

  His comment wiped away my train of thought and any chance of a decent response. I pointed back over my shoulder. "I'll just get out of your way." I ducked down and scurried from the tent like a squirrel . . . or a bluebird.

  Chapter 16

  The two men sent to dismantle the tents had been given the go ahead to start on the first three. Lana helped everyone carry out their personal items. Raine seemed more inclined to stay away from the entire event. She had settled herself into the cab of the truck where I found her scrolling through emails on her phone.

  I climbed in next to her, pleased to get out of the slightly annoying breeze that had been tickling and dancing through the trees since late morning.

  "How are you doing?" I asked.

  "You mean other than feeling like I've been accused of murder?"

  "Raine, no one accused you of murder."

  She pushed her black rimmed glasses higher on her nose as she faced me. "Uh, Cindy's exact words were 'this is your fault'. And I'm sure Detective Jackson has a few question marks and stars next to my name on his shiny little detective's iPad."

  "You're being silly. And frankly, I just don't think he's the star type. Check marks maybe but little stars, nah?" My attempt to make her smile failed miserably and rightly so. I pushed my shoulder against hers. "He's just doing his job. He knows you didn't kill Tory."

  "He's also a major skeptic. He doesn't have to say it. I could just see it in those ridiculous jewel-toned eyes of his." Raine whipped the scarf off her head and combed her dark hair back with her fingers. "Why on earth should a man be blessed with such natural beauty? Seriously, gold topaz eyes fringed by thick black lashes. Not fair."

  The stress of the day had gotten to both of us. We laughed in unison as we scooted down in the seat and pressed our knees up against the dashboard to rest for awhile. It had been a long morning and now morning had coasted into afternoon.

  Raine pulled at the white threads stretched across the knee hole on her very faded jeans. "I sure didn't expect that dramatic display from Cindy. One minute I'm walking a pot pie over to her and the next she's pointing and accusing me of murder. And the great slice of irony there is that, of all the people at this campsite, I think she's the killer."

  "Why do you think that? Other than the high school boyfriend thing. I think there's a statute of limitations on prom date stealing."

  "I don't know. It was a pretty big story at the time. Secrets and whispers and tales of Cindy freaking out could be heard from the cafeteria all the way out to those weird round buildings where auto shop was housed. Cindy even skipped out on the grad night party because she was so upset and humiliated. And then what does Brooke do to throw gasoline on the fire?"

  "She picks Tory to be maid of honor," I finished for her. "I suppose if Cindy is the type to hold a grudge, then—"

  "Which she is as evidenced by her baseless attack on me."

  "Yes but that's a contorted definition of grudge. Cindy wasn't harboring hard feelings about your interpretation of the cards. I think she saw you and it reminded her that you predicted something terrible was going to happen."

  Raine dropped her knees and sat up. She reached into the glove box and pulled out a stick of gum. "Certainly not a reason to accuse me of murder."

  I sat up from my slouch too. "You have to admit, the coincidence is pretty astounding." I knew I'd worded it wrong, but there was no way to retract it.

  Raine had to open and shut her mouth in exaggerated movements to get the hard stick of gum under control. But she managed to scold me right over the mouthful of gum. "That's because it's not a coincidence. I saw it in the cards and then it happened. No coincidence. Just a prediction and a pretty darn good one at that."

  "You're totally right. Excuse my use of the 'c' word. Let's half switch the topic. Did you happen to notice that Brooke was suddenly very bitter toward Cindy? Brooke went off on quite a tirade about Cindy while she was guzzling the pot pie. She mentioned that Cindy was acting secretive and suspicious, and she added that Cindy had left the tent they were sharing three times."

  Raine had the gum softened to an acceptable level. Its fruity fragrance filled the cab. "I hope Brooke mentioned all of that to Detective Jackson."

  "I'm sure she did." That was when it dawned on me. "Oh my gosh, of course. That's why Cindy accused you. Brooke no doubt mentioned something about Cindy's peculiar behavior and her secret excursions out of the tent. In turn, Jackson probably asked her about those trips."

  Raine slapped her thigh. "Cindy was looking for someone else to put under the murder spotlight. Namely me."

  "That's it. Gosh, that does make Cindy look even more guilty, doesn't it?"

  "It does." Raine turned to look through the back window of the truck. Looks like they've got half the camp down." She spun back around. "I wonder if Cindy was putting on an act, pretending to be sick for some sympathy or to make herself look less villainous."

  "I don't know about that. It's pretty hard to fake nausea. It looked pretty real."

  "Ah ha," Raine said again. "That proves it then. She's sick to her stomach because she killed Tory, and she keeps reliving the moment when she smashed Tory in the head."

  I moved my head side to side. "Interesting theory but plausible. I guess we should probably get out and help Lana. Then we can all get out of here faster, and she won't be shooting us sour lemon looks the rest of the day."


  "Yep, my brief little retreat is over. I know I didn't kill Tory, so I'm just going to brush it all off."

  "Good plan."

  We climbed out of the truck. As I walked around the open tailgate, I spotted Brooke's cousin, Trina, standing near the road. She had her duffle bag sitting at her feet, and she looked about as unhappy as a person could look. I hadn't spoken much more than polite niceties to the woman, but I thought it wouldn't hurt to get her take on the entire event. I had no idea if she was willing to talk, but from the grim set of her lips, it seemed as if she was holding in quite a bit of anger. That was probably mostly due to having spent money on a roundtrip ticket from California just to sit at a murder scene all day.

  It seemed to me she was waiting for a ride. Maybe she'd gotten tired of the whole thing (who could blame her) and she'd decided to call for a ride down the mountain rather than wait for Brooke and the others.

  "Tell Lana I'll be right there," I told Raine. I reached into the ice chest in the back of the truck and pulled out a bottle of water as a nice offering to open a conversation. I was fairly good at reading people, and Trina seemed more the aloof, unfriendly type. But it was worth a shot. She had, after all, been with the bridal party since the beginning of the camping trip. She'd witnessed all the interactions and nuances between the women, even if she was technically the outsider of the bunch.

  Trina was probably the only other person, besides the ever golden Detective Jackson, who looked even better after a day outside. She'd arrived looking fresh and tanned, just like one would expect from the west coast, and the harsh summer sun at the high elevations had only enhanced that glow.

  Her hazel eyes stood out in her suntanned face. She looked surprised to see me emerge from the trees with a bottle of water.

  "I thought you might need this for the trip down the hill."

  She gladly accepted the water. "I switched my flight back home. I've got to be at the airport in two hours, so I couldn't wait for Brooke. Once the detective said I was free to go, I pulled up my Uber app and found a driver." She leaned in closer, rather unnecessarily since there were no other ears around. "That is one fine looking detective, by the way. Still, I don't want to sound rude and I love nature and the outdoors, but I can't wait to get out of this darn forest. What a disaster."

  I had expected her to be far more tight-lipped, but it was entirely possible that she had badly needed someone to talk to after such a horrible morning. The other women were so into their own emotions and problems, Trina had sort of been left in the cold. The odd man out. Cousins didn't necessarily mean they were close. Especially if they lived on opposite coasts.

  "I'm sure you weren't expecting this after a long flight from California." I wanted to keep the conversation going, hoping it could lead into some details about the night before when everything was still heading toward a big bridal shower instead of a murder investigation.

  Trina's narrow shoulders bunched up. "I tried every excuse in the book to get out of this trip, but Brooke wouldn't take no for an answer. She was the same way when we were kids. If she didn't get the Barbie with the princess gown, then she refused to play."

  "So you two were close growing up?" I had to make sure to hide my journalist's tone. Trina didn't seem to mind the prying questions.

  "Only until we were eight. Then my family moved to California, and we only saw each other at Thanksgiving. I agreed to be in the wedding because my mom begged and pleaded with me to say yes. Brooke's mom is her sister. Then I thought, well a camping trip and party might not be too terrible, but wow was I wrong. And not just because of the obvious."

  "Yes, it's so tragic. A heartbreaking way to end what was supposed to be a joyous event."

  A short puffy sound left her lips. "Joyous. Not sure where the trip was heading, but it was hardly joyous."

  I glanced back through the trees. The third tent was down, and it seemed that Detective Jackson was wrapping things up. There was no sign of Trina's ride yet. It seemed I had a few more minutes to squeeze out some more details. It was easy to surmise that things weren't going too smoothly the night before after Brooke's attitude toward Cindy and the tiny little fact that someone had wound up dead.

  "Why do you say that? Was there trouble last night? Had Tory argued with someone?"

  For the first time, Trina paused and seemed to ponder whether or not she should be talking to me. The moment of disappointment I felt thinking I'd just lost her as a source of information vanished when she shrugged indifferently and continued.

  "I don't have much insight into the relationships between my cousin and her friends. Like I said, I moved away at an early age. I've only ever met Jeremy twice before this. My aunt might have bragged just a little too much about him because I was not terribly impressed. He wasn't all that attentive to his future bride, even after the nightmarish discovery this morning. Frankly, he seemed to be more worried about Cindy than his own fiancée." I had witnessed the same thing about Cindy and Jeremy and I wondered if that was the reason for Brooke's cold assessment of her friend at lunch. Before I could ask her to elaborate, she continued on to a different topic.

  "All the other bridesmaids were Brooke's longtime friends, especially Cindy and Tory. Frankly, last night it felt like high school all over again," Trina continued. "Kyla basically stayed to herself. I think she was seeing the same shades of high school behavior as me and wanted nothing to do with it. Cindy, Tory and Brooke were being snippy with each other one minute and besties the next. By the time we sat down to have cocoa by the campfire, they were all good friends again. Tory and Cindy were both going out of their way to show Brooke that they were the better friend by showing their enthusiasm for the night out under the stars. Halfway through the campfire, Brooke's demeanor changed and she seemed upset. Then the guys showed up. Jeez, they were about as subtle as a herd of buffalo. We had seen Jeremy's car on the road below and figured out their scheme long before they surprised us." She lifted her hands for air quotes.

  "That's funny. They were so sure they would scare you girls witless while you sipped your cocoa and told ghost stories. But I guess that plan fell flat. Along with the whole weekend, I suppose."

  Trina looked at her phone. She'd gotten a text from the driver. "He's five minutes out. I'll be free of this bad dream soon. Once the guys arrived, things between the three women got strained again. Then there was the weirdest moment of all. Thankfully Brooke didn't see it."

  I had less than five minutes and I was going to find out about the weirdest moment of all, even if I had to hitch along with the Uber ride.

  We'd connected enough that I sidled up to her like a friend ready to hear some juicy gossip. "Weird how?"

  "I decided to get ready for bed, so I hiked along the path to the bathrooms. Cindy had gone a few minutes ahead of me, so I expected to see her. But what I didn't expect was to find her standing in the shadows of the restroom crying. And she wasn't alone." She paused for dramatic effect. "Jeremy was comforting her and not a pat on the back, there, there kind of comfort. He had his arms around Cindy, and her face was pressed against him. I snuck into the bathroom so they wouldn't see me. The last thing I wanted was to step into some kind of sticky love triangle."

  A car turned the last curve to the campsite. "Phew, there's my ride. Nice talking to you." She grabbed her duffle. "Thanks for the water."

  "Have a safe flight home."

  Chapter 17

  I could have stood in the shower for hours, washing away the dust and the sweat and the aggravation of the long morning, which stretched into an equally long afternoon. The moment Detective Jackson released everyone to go home, a cloud of grit kicked up in a frantic storm as the campers peeled away from the site. The rest of the tents came down quickly. Raine and I helped Lana finish up before hopping into our own cars to head home. Apparently, Jackson wasn't exactly thrilled with my covert exploration of Tory's tent. He hardly spoke to me afterward.

  I pulled on my shoes. The long shower and a good lunch had given me r
enewed energy. My original plan was to sit down at the computer and do some research for the bridge article, but after being confined to the campsite most of the day, I felt like being outside. A walk to Emily's farm and a short snuggle with my two favorite 'cartoon characters', Emi's baby goats, were just what I needed.

  I swept through the kitchen and grabbed an apple from the basket on the kitchen table. Newman and Redford were outside in the yard, no doubt harassing a squirrel or rabbit.

  I'd left the front window open to air the house out. As I crunched my apple, I heard Edward's posh deep drawl float through the screen.

  "That's it my beauty. You like that, don't you?" he cooed softly.

  I nearly choked on my bite of apple in my haste to get out to the porch and find out who he was talking to. My heart stomped around in my chest a few more seconds before returning to normal. Edward was at the front edge of the porch, his border wall in this world, feeding an apple to Emily's horse, Butterscotch.

  My footsteps on the porch snapped them both out of the apple treat session. Butterscotch's big muzzle kept swishing side to side in rhythm with her long ivory colored tail as she ground the fruit into apple sauce. Bits of it clung to her chin whiskers.

  "She's a good horse," Edward noted. "Sturdy build, perfect for pulling a plow. Of course, I prefer a tall-legged horse for hunting and running across the countryside." He said it so matter-of-factly as if he'd forgotten that it didn't matter what type of horse he preferred because he would never ride one again. And as his image wobbled and faded some, I knew that for a brief moment that had been the case. His features sharpened. "Lord, how I miss feeling the wind in my face, the scent of grass so strong I can taste it, my body moving with the horse as we race over the landscape. Nothing can bring a human closer to flight than a good gallop on a fast horse."