The Wedding Witch: a paranormal cozy mystery (The Fairyvale Mysteries)

by Sofia Belle

  The Wedding Witch

  The Wedding Witch

  Copyright: Sofia Belle

  ISBN: XXXX

  Published: October 14nd, 2016

  Kindle Edition

  The right of Sofia Belle to be identified as author of this Work has been asserted by her in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in retrieval system, copied in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise transmitted without written permission from the publisher. You must not circulate this book in any format.

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  Acknowledgements

  To the one who taught me what true love means.

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  Contents

  The Wedding Witch

  Acknowledgements

  Synopsis

  The Wedding Witch

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  The End

  Note from the Author

  Synopsis

  ** **

  A postcard-perfect village. A dark stranger. A fairy-tale wedding...and a dead body?

  In a town brimming with magic, the sight of a dead body does more than ruffle feathers. Especially for Belinda Bright, Fairyvale’s most sought-after wedding planner. This summer, she’s been tasked to plan “the” event of the year, which means one false move could ruin her business forever.

  Unfortunately, when one of the bridesmaids turns up dead a few days before the wedding, Belinda inherits a whole new set of worries—not least of all the dark, handsome gentleman who says all the right things but shows up in all the wrong places.

  As rumors fly, wedding jitters flourish, and whispers throughout the town grow louder, Belinda realizes that if she can’t find the murderer before the wedding bells chime, she’ll have a lot more to worry about than which side of the plate gets the soup spoon.

  Can Belinda find her happily ever after, or will her fairy tale have a tragic ending?

  The Wedding Witch

  “Yes, that’s the one.” Hailey Monroe stepped back, eyeing the long, flowing white gown, and smiled. “That’s the one I want.”

  “Honey, are you sure you don’t want to try any of the others one more time?” Hailey’s fiancé, a handsome man by the name of Clive Hart, waved a hand at rows upon rows of glistening white gowns. “Just to be sure, I mean.”

  She shook her head. “I’m positive; this is The One.”

  I felt a little bad for Clive, I really did. Hailey was a beautiful blonde belle from the wealthiest family in all of Fairyvale. Her daddy had money to burn, and Clive—a hardworking businessman—was doing his best to keep up with his fiancée’s taste. I slid a thumb over the price tag to hide the damage, thinking we could worry about credit cards later. Maybe there was some way I could cut Clive a deal. After all, that’s why they called me the Wedding Witch—people liked to say that I had a magical way of making marriages work.

  “Thank you so much.” Hailey turned to me and gushed, her eyes shining. Long, golden-blonde hair tumbled down her back, her eyes as blue and airy as cotton candy. “Thank you so much for bringing us here, Bel. I never would’ve found this shop without you.”

  I winked. “That’s why they pay me the big bucks.”

  Her fiancé snorted in agreement while Hailey and I shared a conspiratorial wink.

  “You deserve every cent we’re paying you,” the bride said, her voice light and sweet. “They don’t call you the Wedding Witch for no reason at all!”

  Maybe I should introduce myself. My name is Belinda Bright, and I am the Wedding Witch. I live in the town of Fairyvale, and I’m one of the highest-paid wedding planners in the entire Midwest. I can’t exactly put my finger on how everything happened.

  Maybe it all started because I can put together a bouquet of dandelions fit for a queen, and I can maneuver a seating chart that’d put the White House event planners to shame. I have a fancy little trick that makes obnoxious guests disappear from receptions, and I get along with every bridezilla to glide down the aisle.

  Beyond all of these skills, however, there’s one tiny fact that plays an even bigger role in my success. It’s what draws brides and grooms in from across the country, and it’s the one thing that’s forced me to turn down hundreds of weddings a year. Already I’m booked a year out and counting.

  So, what’s this teensy fact that has made my wedding-planning business famous across the country? Well, I and all of my couples have managed to beat the odds. Every wedding I’ve planned has a marriage that’s alive and well to this date.

  One hundred percent of my clients report happy marriages across the world, and not one couple has signed divorce papers. All of my brides and grooms have figured out this marriage business for some inexplicable reason. And that’s how I’ve become known as the Wedding Witch.

  “What’re the next steps?” Hailey asked. “Should we pay now or later? I can’t wait to tell everyone about it. Can’t show it off until the wedding though. I want to surprise everyone.”

  “We value privacy here,” I said smiling mischievously. “Word travels fast, but you can trust us.”

  Fairyvale is small—we’re talking two thousand residents in a good year. It’s a safe place, straight off the cover of a postcard. The biggest crime of last year was when Mrs. Merriweather’s dog left a personalized present on the library lawn. We’re so friendly that our jail is made to look like a gingerbread house.

  One of the perks of owning my own company is that I get to choose exactly where I want to work, and I’ve chosen a small cottage plunked right between my two best friends’ shops. To the left of my cottage, a quaint building decked out in fairy lights, tinsel, and all things ethereal, is a spicy lingerie shop called the Witch’s Britches. To the right is the old newspaper company where my other best friend works on a brand new blog. She started it from scratch nearly three years ago now and dubbed it the digital branch of The Witch Weekly.

  If you haven’t guessed it by now, Fairyvale has gone all in with the magic theme. Kitschy stores, fairy lights, flowers around every corner—we attract loads of tourists despite the small numbers of our local residents. We capitalize on the sizzle of magic in the air, and even though we pretend it doesn’t exist—for reasons of safety—we all know better.

  I gestured to Hailey with the A-OK signal. The price tag on that wedding dress might
have been astronomical, but Miss Hailey looked like Cinderella reincarnated. Her bare shoulders and long hair were the stuff princesses were made of, and the crystals dancing down the front of her dress sparkled while the bottom swished as she walked. The material flowed around her ankles, tiny creases moving like water over the ground. She’d float right down the aisle.

  “I don’t know,” she sighed, spinning around. “I love it, but there was that one by Gucci…”

  “Frankly, this one is worth every penny,” I said. “It fits you like a glove.”

  Personally, I’d never spend ten thousand dollars on my dress. But that was neither here nor there, since I’d never be planning a wedding for myself. I’d never be married, according to the curse.

  “I suppose you’re right,” she said, a slight hesitation in her voice. “I really love it.”

  “Go with your instinct,” I said, mentally crossing my fingers. Really, I just wanted Hailey to pick one. Otherwise, there was a chance she’d be walking down the aisle in nothing but a bathrobe and her birthday suit.

  My nails were already bitten down to the bone with stress. This was the biggest wedding of the season, and I couldn’t have my bride without a dress. Sure, all eyes would be on Hailey, but I had a reputation to uphold, too. Second to Hailey, everyone would be watching my business to see just how magical a wedding could be—on an astronomically sized budget.

  “You’re right,” she said finally, that satisfied smile on her face that I knew so well. “This is it. I’m done for good.”

  “Well, this is certainly a cause for celebration,” I said, clapping my hands and glancing around the fitting area. “Who’s ready for a glass of bubbly?”

  “Yes!” Hailey gave a squeal of happiness. “But first, can we pop next door for a second? I want to see how the girls are getting on with their fittings.”

  Unlike Hailey, the bridesmaids had selected their dresses months ago. The six girls who made up the bridal party were in the shop next door getting poked and prodded and sewn up into their dresses in last-minute adjustments. Poor Mrs. Doodles was busy lengthening, shortening, widening, and tightening the pretty pink frocks.

  “Of course!” I grinned. “I’m sure they need a break after a few hours with Mrs. Doodles. Let’s grab them and then head across the street to Broomsticks & Bubbles. I’ll reserve the table now if you want to go ahead. I’ll meet you inside in a second.”

  She nodded, and I pulled out my phone, giving it a wiggle. Hailey bounced to the back of the store, where a hidden hallway joined the two adjacent shops. Mrs. Doodles ran both the bridal boutique and the seamstress shop next door, a pairing that I’d found convenient from one wedding to the next.

  “Hey, Jo,” I said, picking up the phone and dialing the long-time owner of Broomsticks & Bubbles. “Can we get the usual?”

  “How bad is it today? Bride or bridezilla?”

  I laughed. Jo and I had this routine down. She made sure my brides were treated with the utmost special care when they walked into her bar: they were pampered, coddled, and reassured over and over again while sipping the finest bubbly money could buy. In turn, I made sure to keep the business flowing from the dress shop to Broomsticks & Bubbles. We’d formed the perfect partnership, and best of all, the brides loved the special treatment. Half the time, the girls went back to celebrate their bachelorette parties at the restaurant.

  “This day is going fine, so you can hold the vodka. Two bottles of the top-shelf champagne, though. I cushioned the budget a bit for some celebrating at Hailey’s request. She ‘doesn’t drink the cheap stuff.’ That’s a quote.”

  “Of course she doesn’t.” I could hear Jo smiling in the background. “The princess has found her frog.”

  “I’ve gotta go wrangle up the bridesmaids and make sure Mrs. Doodles hasn’t poked her eyeballs out with a sewing needle. See you in five?”

  “The champagne will be chilling.”

  I disconnected and pocketed my phone, heading into the seamstress portion of the shop.

  Mrs. Doodles greeted me with a blink of her eyes, since her hands were full of fabric rolls and her mouth full of pins. She looked a bit like an exhausted hedgehog.

  “How's everything going?” I smiled at Hailey, who sat in the chair of honor outside the six dressing rooms in a line across the rear of the store. Each stall had a heavy curtain covering the door and a whiteboard spelling out the name of the woman inside. Three stalls were empty already, and those were the girls sitting around the bride, pumping her for details about the chosen wedding dress.

  “Is it the Azara one?” Andrea, the bride's long-term best friend and maid of honor leaned close, nudging Hailey on the shoulder. “That one looks really nice with your collarbones.”

  Hailey shook her head. “Guess again.”

  “You had to go with the Dmitri!” This time it was Leslie who piped up, the groom's sister. Like her brother, she was polished, successful, and pleasant to be around. In terms of bridesmaids, I couldn't have asked for a better candidate; Leslie calmed her sister-in-law, supported her decisions, and, most importantly, didn't cause any drama. She was gold as far as bridal parties went.

  The third girl spoke, but I didn't know her as well as the others. Judging by the name scrawled next to her recently abandoned dressing room, she was called Sasha. “Or you could've gone with the one that looks like Dmitri's but is actually made by Targana?”

  All of the designers they'd listed were legendary in Fairyvale. This town was the opposite of Vegas; it was the place people came when they wanted to get married…and stay married. The fairy tale theme of the county only encouraged the legends of happiness, bliss, and magical marriages.

  Along Main Street, we had potion shops containing teas that promised to brighten teeth, find love, and grow a thicker head of hair. We had joke shops that provided hours of fake magic tricks and sleights of hand. Just down the street was a magical little library filled with books that promised spells and loads of ancient witching history, along with a sparkling plot of land out back that made one feel as if they'd been transported into a fairy garden.

  The Forest of Fairies began at the edge of the garden and was an ethereal portion of town filled with sweet-smelling flower trees, sparkling little lights, and shimmering paths that were said to lead the traveler straight to love.

  All of these shops, the garden, the library—all of it made our town magic on the outside.

  But the inside was an entirely different story.

  Chapter 1

  ** **

  I looked up from my daydream at Hailey just as she smiled at Andrea and squeezed her best friend’s hand. Despite the stress of everything, the tedious attention to detail, and the expensive price tags that would make this day remembered for years to come, I lived for this. The glimmer in her eyes. The quiet smiles between a future wife and her soul mate. The quiet burn of passion.

  “How about a photo of us all together?” Hailey asked. She hadn't yet divulged which dress she'd gone with, making her girlfriends continue to guess until they'd exhausted all possibilities.

  It was a trick question, since Hailey hadn't gone with any of her previous choices; she'd picked a totally new dress.

  Hailey waved a hand. “You’ll have to wait and find out, girls. Now, I want a photo of all the bridesmaids with me. Can you take it, Bel?”

  I accepted the camera she held out and smiled. “Of course. Gather together. Hang on a second, aren't we missing one?”

  Hailey looked up and down the row of bridesmaids. She frowned as if she couldn't remember. Then her lips mouthed the numbers one through five, and I saw the light click in her head. “There's supposed to be six. We're missing...” she trailed off.

  “Linda,” I filled in, trying to save her from the embarrassment of forgetting her own bridesmaid's name. I nodded at the whiteboard next to the last stall, the curtain still drawn. “Linda's still in the dressing room.”

  “Right, of course.” She looked relieved. “Linda, do you m
ind coming out for a photo?”

  We were met with silence.

  I took a step forward and rapped my knuckles against the whiteboard with her name on it. “Linda, hon, do you mind coming out here? We'd like to snap a quick photo.”

  There was no response from inside the dressing room. I leaned an ear close to the curtain, but I couldn't hear a single thing. No shuffling of fabric, no sigh that the dress hadn't fit. Not even the slightest whisper of a breath.

  “Linda?” I knocked again. When there was no response, I shot a puzzled look at Hailey, who shrugged. Then, as my job sometimes required, I did the dirty work. I got down on my hands and knees, despite the awkwardness of crawling around in my black pencil skirt and white blouse.

  The key to dressing like a good wedding planner was to look the part: polished, expensive, yet understated. Never outshine the bride, and never show up looking like a slob. I'd perfected my uniform over the years, filling my closet with perfectly nice-looking, unglamorous clothes that would never stand out in a crowd. Blending in, that was the key.

  “Where did she go?” Andrea asked. “I could've sworn I heard her in there trying to shove herself into the dress. Mrs. Doodles warned her she should've gone with a bigger size.”

  “Where is Mrs. Doodles, by the way?” I asked. “Anyone seen her?”

  “Here I am, just ran to the other side of the shop to help a customer.” Footsteps sounded before Mrs. Doodles’s face appeared, slightly red, her breath puffing, as she jogged the hallway between her stores. Dress shop and seamstress shop: the pair went together like peanut butter and jam. “Do you need help with something?”

  “I thought maybe Linda had gone with you for a fitting?”

  Mrs. Doodles looked to where I was in a yoga position that felt like it should be called the Table on the floor, crouched on hands and knees.

  “No, no, I don't think she's come out yet,” Mrs. Doodles said. “I just let out her dress a bit, and she was supposed to retry it on. She should be in there.”