Wedding Bells And Magic Spells Box Set

by A. R. Winters

  “I was wondering if I could drop by again. You see, the thing is, the venue we were hoping to become available has now opened up. We were top of the waiting list, you see.”

  “Right, I see. So what is it that I can help you with?” I asked.

  “Well, because of the change of venue, I’m going to need to change the dress. You see before it was going to be a beach wedding, and the dress we chose for that really wouldn’t suit the more elegant surroundings we have now secured.”

  “Ah, I see. So you want to change the dress I put aside for you. I’m sure that will be no problem. We’ll be glad to have you and your mother back in our shop again. May I ask what venue you’ll be using?”

  “Yes. We’ve secured the Finca del Castro Winery for the wedding. It’s a gorgeous space and the previous dress I chose just wouldn’t suit it. That’s more of an outdoor dress, do you know what I mean?”

  “Oh of course, I completely understand. I’ll be pleased to see you and your mother again at your earliest convenience.”

  Sarah rolled her eyes at me. Perhaps I was laying it on a bit thick, but I still needed to get them back in the shop if I was going to question them about Carrie’s dress again.

  When the phone call had ended, I put my phone onto the counter and began to think out loud.

  “Brittany’s mother got the venue changed, and she could only do that because Carrie’s wedding is off,” I said.

  “That’s right,” said Sarah who had resumed pacing up and down the shop. “It’s terribly convenient, isn’t it?”

  “It does seem that way. But do you really think someone could kill another person just because of a wedding venue?”

  “People kill each other for silly little things all the time. Especially in the heat of the moment. If Mrs. Bledsoe thought Carrie was ‘stealing,’” Sarah said with air quotes, “her daughter’s dress, she might just get swept away in the moment.”

  “And it wasn’t just the dress,” I mused.

  “The venue, the dress, didn’t you say something about the florist? And of course the wedding date itself. No, Patricia had a lot of reasons to dislike the poor girl.”

  “But… to kill her? It seems a bit extreme.”

  “The world is more extreme than we realize, sometimes.”

  I nodded. She was right, in a way. Sometimes I feel like I’m wrapped up in a safe little bubble in Sequoia Bay, but actually it’s a big and tough world out there. Maybe I’d just been sheltered from the sheer nastiness that some of humankind had to offer.

  “When you get them down here, you question them, Aria. You’ll know if they’re telling the truth.”

  “You’re right, I probably will. Unless they’re able to keep it hidden from me some way. If someone with some magical ability is helping them, they might just be able to hide their guilt; perhaps even from themselves.”

  “I’ll be on the lookout for anything like that,” I said. “If there’s magic being used, I’ll notice it.”

  “Just popping in the back,” said Sarah as she hurried behind the counter and toward the stock room. I peered after her quizzically.

  Ding!

  Turning to the front door, I saw the reason for Sarah’s sudden disappearance.

  “Hello, Aria. I trust all is well?” said Detective Jack Bowers.

  “Oh, err, yes,” I said. “As well as can be expected given all that’s going on, anyway.”

  Jack nodded at me seriously. “I’m sorry about the other day, leaving you in the lurch like that.”

  I laughed. “Oh, no problem. It gave me time to think and clear my head a bit. Forget about all the horrible stuff.”

  “As long as you’re not too disappointed in me.”

  I shook my head. “Of course not, you have a job to do. I’m sure you’d understand if I had to hurry off for a,” I waved my hands around, indicating my shop, “you know, wedding emergency.”

  “Are there a lot of those?” Jack’s eyes seemed to sparkle with curiosity. Like he was actually interested in my work. And me.

  “There shouldn’t be, but brides and especially their mothers seem to create one at just about every wedding. Often they can be solved with a few calming words over the phone, but other times my presence is urgently needed.”

  “Fascinating,” he said and again I was surprised to see sincerity in his eyes and hear it in his voice. Usually when I talked to people outside of the biz, their eyes rapidly glazed over and I’d have to quickly switch topics to avoid boring them.

  “It is. Well, it’s also annoying. It depends on the bride, of course.”

  “I’d like to hear some of your stories, some time,” said Jack with a gentle smile. “But unfortunately, I came about… the other matter today.”

  Of course he had. Since the murder had happened in my shop, to one of my almost-customers, it was going to keep coming up between me and Jack until it was solved.

  “What is it?” I decided not to volunteer the fact that I’d been doing a little investigating of my own. Jack didn’t approve of doing things that weren’t strictly by the rules, and a bridal shop owner investigating a murder was definitely outside of the normally accepted practice of murder investigation. One of my mother’s favorite sayings is it’s better to ask for forgiveness than be denied permission, and I used to think that was just her excuse for doing whatever she wanted without any concern for other people. But today it seemed to be one piece of advice of hers I could actually listen to.

  “Things aren’t looking good for Zola Cates. There’s quite a lot of evidence working against her, now.”

  “Yes, but it’s all just circumstantial, isn’t it?”

  “It is, yes. But, well, we have to be seen doing something too. Optics was the word the mayor used, which I thought was to do with eyeglasses and telescopes and the like, but he seems to think it’s important in running the city.”

  With a frown, I nodded slowly. “But whatever the ‘optics’ are,” I said mimicking the air quotes Sarah had used earlier, “you surely won’t just arrest innocent people for the sake of it, right?”

  Wide-eyed Jack look at me in shock. “Of course not! We do everything by the book. But in this case, I’m afraid it looks like we have enough evidence. We have a clear motive, we know she had a key to the shop, and we found out that she knew the victim. We’re going to have to take the next step.”

  “Which is…”

  “We’re going to have to arrest her and question her again. Maybe she’ll turn out to be innocent in the end, the investigation is far from over, but at the moment we’ve got everything we need for an arrest. And pressure to make it.”

  I had been certain Zola was telling the truth to me before. Sure, she had stolen the designs, but she wasn’t a murderer. I couldn’t let her go to jail for a murder she didn’t commit, never mind the fact that it would make me look terrible. What would the town say when they found out that I brought a presumed murderer here, causing the death of a young bride with so much to live for?

  “I really don’t think she did it, Jack. She’s not a killer.” I wanted to squeeze his hand while I said it, but I didn’t. He was definitely police officer Jack now and with that sudden switch from personal to professional, it seemed like it would be wildly inappropriate.

  “You’d be surprised, Aria. A lot of criminals give all the appearance of being honest, upstanding citizens. Real pillars of their community. But we don’t know what happens behind closed doors.”

  I looked at the door of my shop. What had happened behind this closed door on the night of the murder?

  “Anyway,” he continued, “I wanted to give you a heads up. Let you know so you can, I don’t know, distance yourself from her.”

  My eyes ran around the room which was still full of Zola’s dresses, not to mention the poster in the shop window. “I think it’s too late for that,” I said.

  He nodded in understanding. “I suppose it is. But you might want to at least take down her name from your window. You don’t wa
nt to be seen to still be supporting someone arrested for murder.”

  I nodded forlornly. He was right, I supposed.

  “So did you win?”

  “Eh?” I asked, blinking in confusion.

  “At golf.”

  I grinned at him. Date Jack was back, police officer Jack having been relegated to the sidelines again.

  “I sure did. I beat you 150 to 2,” I said with a laugh.

  He cocked his head at me. “Umm, in golf the lower the score, the better.”

  “Oops!” I said with a laugh. “We’ll have to do it again sometime, and this time without any interruptions.”

  “Yes. Perhaps even a dinner? Maybe the loser could buy the winner a meal…”

  I grinned at him. “That would be great. But I think it’s going to have to wait until all this,” I said waving my hands in the air, “is over.”

  Nodding seriously, police officer Jack gave his agreement. “I have to get going now. I just wanted to let you know, so you could make whatever arrangements you could. I don’t know enough about your business to offer any helpful advice, but good luck, Aria.”

  We shook hands in a very professional manner, though if I wasn’t imagining it there may have been just an extra squeeze at the end. A squeeze that said this isn’t entirely professional.

  When he left, I was smiling to myself and for a moment I felt light and free.

  “Right, time to catch some murderers!” said Sarah as she loudly exited the stock room.

  And with a thump, I fell back to earth.

  It was time to at least attempt to catch a killer. We wouldn’t be taking down the Zola Cates signs down from the window or packing up her dresses just yet.

  We had a couple of people to see first, and it would have to be done before the news of Zola’s arrest got out.

  With a steely feeling of determination, I pulled out my cell phone and began to dial Patricia Bledsoe.

  “Let’s get this show on the road,” I said.

  “Go, go, go!” shrieked Kiwi from above.

  And so we prepared to meet with what we thought to be the two possible killers.

  Chapter 18

  “Are you absolutely sure you want me to wait in the back?” said Sarah as she bounced a wiffle ball bat up and down in the palm of her hand.

  “If you hear me scream, or things getting out of hand, just come on out,” I told her. “I just think it might be a bit… intense, with both of us questioning them.”

  “I suppose. I’ll be ready though. If they try to murder you, I’ll be out of the stock room in a flash, ready to bash some heads in.”

  I shuddered at the imagery. Even if one or both of the women were murderers, I hoped that things wouldn’t get that out of hand.

  “Thanks, Sarah. You’re a true friend,” I said warily eyeing the baseball bat.

  “I’m here if you need me.” Sarah walked off behind the counter and then into the stock room, poking her head back out once before she closed the door for a final look.

  “SQUAWK,” Kiwi warned.

  Whipping my head around, I had my eyes on the door as it slowly pushed open to reveal the face of a murderer. At least, the face of the person I was about to accuse of murder.

  “Good afternoon, Mrs. Bledsoe,” I said with more cheer than I had in days. It was fake, of course, but despite it not being real it made my own mood feel brighter.

  “Hello there. I must say, I am pleased that we are finally receiving some real customer service,” said Patricia Bledsoe. “When we were first here with all the—a” she made a distasteful face “—rabble, I wondered whether we shouldn’t have gone to San Francisco instead where they have real boutiques. But you seem to have greatly improved your level of customer service.”

  “Umm yes, of course, anything for our most esteemed customers.”

  Well, this was awkward. My customer was congratulating me on my excellent hospitality just before I was about to accuse her of murder.

  “So. Your venue has changed,” I said.

  “That is correct. We now have the very best location in Sequoia Bay. The exclusive Finca del Castro Colonial Mansion, in its historic wood-beamed flagstone multi-purpose events salon,” she said as if reciting directly from the brochure. Which I knew for a fact she was—I read them all too.

  “That was lucky, wasn’t it?”

  Patricia was looking at me askew. She was probably wondering why I was blabbering on instead of showing off the dresses again.

  “Yes. Now. The dresses. I’m sure I know the one Brittany wants. Actually, I know the dress she needs. Now, where was it...” Patricia began to pull the dresses off the designer rail and hold them up one after the other. “I was worried we might not get one in the end. Luckily the designer was released after questioning,” she said.

  “Yes, she was, wasn’t she?” I said, not offering the information that she was about to be questioned again, and this time arrested on top of it.

  “I wonder whether the dresses would have gone up in value, because of the raised exclusivity if she never designed again,” she mused.

  Maybe we’ll soon find out, I didn’t say.

  “Patricia,” I said sharply.

  She looked up at me like I’d kicked her dog. Or daughter. She raised her eyebrows at the effrontery of my tone but didn’t deign to add any words.

  “What,” I said, opening my palm, “is this?” Lying in my open hand was the small coral pink nail that I presumed to belong to her.

  “What?” she answered without even looking properly. I could tell she was so annoyed by my tone that she didn’t care about my words.

  “This. I said. It’s your false coral pink nail, which you had applied at the Nailed It! salon and—a”

  “And it fell off here? So?” She seemed completely unphased and had no problem interrupting me.

  “But when did it fall off?” I asked triumphantly, staring at her intensely. She looked bored rather than worried.

  “Well, last time I was here, I suppose. I must say I do not care for your tone. I thought the customer service had improved around here, but perhaps not.” She was shaking her head to herself as she peered back down at the dresses, once again dismissing me.

  “Murder! Murder!” shrieked Kiwi.

  I looked up at him and gave him a thankful little half-smile. That had certainly gotten Patricia Bledsoe’s attention. She was glaring up at the parrot with a frown.

  “How unprofessional, having wild animals in the shop. Very unprofessional.”

  “Mrs. Bledsoe,” I said loudly, drawing her attention back to my outstretched hand. “I put it to you that you dropped this nail on the night Carrie was murdered!”

  She raised her eyebrows at me and blew out a sigh, adding in a disappointed head shake to top off her rapidly growing disdain for me.

  “Yes, yes, I did drop it that night,” She went back to the browsing the dresses, shaking her head to herself over and over again.

  “So you were here!” I said triumphantly. She didn’t even look up. “Well?”

  “Well what?” she said quizzically.

  “Well you were here on the night of her death! You killed her!” I said.

  “Don’t be ridiculous. Ah... here it is!” Patricia lifted up a dress. It was one of the ones I’d marked with a RESERVED tag for them after their last visit.

  “Hey!” I shouted at her. “You were here the night Carrie was murdered. Aren’t you going to explain that?”

  She carefully hung the dress back up on the rail and then looked up at me, meeting me with a gaze that showed the full fury of a bride’s mother scorned.

  “You stupid girl,” she began, “it was all your fault, of course.”

  I was tempted to yell out to Sarah to come in swinging with the baseball bat. This woman was insufferable. Instead, I just offered a steely, “What?”

  “I will tell you what happened, but it’s far less interesting than you think—‘murder’ indeed—and then I am going to walk out of this s
hop and ensure that I don’t come back. And nor will anyone else!”

  Uh-oh. If this little story didn’t end with a confession, I was going to be on the wrong side of a very angry and pretty influential member of the women-of-a-certain-age club, more specifically women-who-are-mothers-of-potential-brides-age club.

  “On the night Carrie was murdered, I was being a good mother.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “I, of course, didn’t trust you. Quite rightly, clearly. And so I was parked just across the road in my car. I was making sure that no other brides or their awful mothers were getting special treatment. And of course so that we would be at the front of the line when the doors opened.”

  “But you had numbers,” I said in a low voice.

  “No offense, but I wouldn’t trust you to be able to count the numbers in the right order, so I felt we needed a prime position on the day of the sale.”

  “What do you mean? I can count!” Patricia Bledsoe was very lucky that it was Sarah with the ugly plastic bat and not me, or she might have gotten a thump right then and there. I’m no math whizz but I can count, for magic’s sake.

  “And what do you know? My due diligence paid off. Of course. What did I see that night? I saw that... unspeakable Carrie Mallory letting herself into your shop with a key you had clearly given her!”

  I glared at her, not taking the time to explain that actually it was Zola that had given her the key, not me.

  “In fact, when I first saw her, I thought, ‘That dumb shop girl wouldn’t be stupid enough to give her a key. She must be breaking in,’ and I was about to call the police. But then I saw she did have the key. You can imagine my outrage—well, maybe you can’t, you’re clearly not the brightest bulb in the lighting department.”

  “Get to the point,” I said with a glare. If this didn’t end with a confession, I was going to be exceedingly annoyed.

  “Anyway, when I saw you’d let Carrie in, I did the only logical—and fair—thing. I came in after. I wasn’t going to let that little rat steal the best dress from Brittany. And you know that’s what she wanted. She always was a horrid little witch and before she passed, she had gotten even worse, trying to take everything from Britney and ruin our wedding.”