Deadly Forecast

by Victoria Laurie

  I stifled a sigh. This was likely going to take a while.

  “First, we’ve received one hundred and sixty RSVPs to make our wedding-guest tally three hundred and eight so far.”

  I blinked. Three hundred and eight? I looked at Dutch, and he looked at me. We wore identical expressions of confusion and shock. “Hold on,” I said. “How many people did you invite to this wedding, Cat?”

  It was her turn to blink. “Well, I sent out well over two hundred invitations, Abby, and all the invites are for plus ones, which is where the numbers really add up.”

  My mouth fell open. Did Dutch and I even know two hundred people? I mean, I could count my close friends on my fingers…of one hand.

  Cat waved dismissively at our shocked expressions. “Don’t worry; Dutch and I talked about it and I’m taking care of most of the wedding expenses as my gift to you two.”

  I felt my brow break out in a cold sweat and I turned narrowed eyes on Dutch, who was making a point not to look at me. “I’ll explain later,” he whispered.

  But I was completely flustered. I hadn’t wanted a big wedding. In fact, I’d specifically told Cat that I’d wanted to keep this thing small. My sister had the invitations piled up to the side of her. The stack was crazy high. Who the hell was coming to this thing anyway? (Swearing doesn’t count when you’ve just discovered your sister has invited the entire state of Texas to your very private affair.)

  “The cutoff date to receive the RSVPs is tomorrow,” she continued, “so I think we’ll be safe by planning on about three hundred and twenty, to three hundred and forty guests.”

  I saw the caterer, baker, and photographer make a note. The sweat on my brow began to slide down my temples, and I felt a bit dizzy.

  “Next,” said Cat, “we’ll need to finalize a few other details about the actual ceremony. Now, at precisely three o’clock Abby will emerge from her horse-drawn carriage—”

  “My horse-drawn…what?”

  Cat didn’t even look up from her day planner. “Your carriage. We talked about this.” (For the record, we had so not talked about it.) “You’re arriving in a carriage pulled by six white stallions…or maybe geldings. From what I hear stallions tend to get a bit unruly when they’re all tethered together. Jenny Makeanote, we’ll want geldings, not stallions.”

  “But, Ms. Cooper-Masters,” Jenny said, “the stable only had two white geldings available, remember? We’ll have to go with at least four stallions if you want all the horses to be male.”

  “Oh, that’s right. Well, stallions make such a romantic statement, don’t you think?” Jenny nodded. Dutch and I both shook our heads vehemently, but Cat wasn’t looking at us. “Right, we’ll go with two geldings and four stallions and keep our fingers crossed that the horses behave. Anyway, where was I? Oh, yes, so once the carriage arrives, Abby will step out with the aid of the best man, Milo, who will then walk her past the swan pools—”

  “Swans? There are swans?” I asked. Was it getting really hot in here?

  “Swan pools,” Cat corrected, reading the notes in her planner. “I’ve ordered a dozen each black and white swans to swim in the two pools on either side of your walkway.” Cat then turned to her assistant. “Jenny Makeanote, I want you to check in with the swan handler to ensure that he’s trained them not to pull off their little bow ties and veils from one another. I don’t want any swan squabbles breaking out. Oh, also, make sure they stick to their pools—we don’t want them getting out and chasing our bride down the aisle!” My sister laughed lightly, but I could tell either there’d been a discussion where she’d been warned about this, or she’d seen it firsthand.

  A quick glance to my right showed me that Dutch was attempting to say something, but Cat carried on as if there weren’t two horrified people sitting at her conference table. “Now as Abby comes down the aisle, she’ll be serenaded by the Austin Women’s Chorus, which reminds me…Jenny Makeanote, I’ll need to make sure those bleachers can hold all one hundred and fifty singers.” Jenny scribbled dutifully on her pad, and I could feel my heart pounding in my ears.

  Looking for another ally, my gaze shifted to the photographer, the caterer, and the wedding cake baker, but they were all nodding agreeably and I knew then that Dutch and I were the fourth and fifth persons in this tub, about to go rub-a-dub-glug.

  “And as Abby climbs the stairs to the platform where Dutch will be standing, I’ve hired two little people to dress up like Cupid and sit above the happy couple in the branches of the oak trees shading the dais. The Cupids will be sprinkling the bride and groom with a gentle dusting of white rose petals throughout the ceremony. Jenny Makeanote, I’ll need to know exactly how many bags of rose petals to pack among the branches and also check on the status of the safety harnesses we ordered to make sure that the little people don’t fall down on top of the bride and groom during the ceremony.”

  At this point I started to look around the room for cameras, convinced I was being punked, but my sister remained steadfastly serious. “Once Abby is handed off to Dutch, they’ll listen to the short sermon given by the minister, and then they will each recite the vows they’ve written for each other.”

  “Vows we’ve…what?” I said. (What happened to just saying, “I do”?)

  “Jenny Makeanote,” my sister carried on as if I hadn’t even spoken, “we’ll need to outfit Abby and Dutch with microphones so that all the guests can hear them. Oh, oh, oh! Which reminds me of something else—I’ll need you to check on the rigging for Eggy and Tuttle, and make sure they get some training with the replica of the horse-drawn carriage.”

  “The…the…replica? What?” The world was spinning. Not just a little. A lot. I clutched the table and tried to hold on, but it was getting really hard.

  Cat was writing something down in her planner. “The replica of the carriage,” she said absently. “Remember? We talked about this. Neither one of your nephews wanted to be the ring bearer, so I thought it’d be cute to have Eggy and Tuttle bring the rings to you on a tiny carriage. We’ll need to borrow the puppies to train them to trot the rings down the aisle on command. Oh, and, Jenny Makeanote, the swan handler shouldn’t allow the swans to snap or honk at the dogs.”

  I found myself shaking my head, willing for Cat to stop, but she ignored me and continued. “Anyway, after the bride and groom kiss, we’ll unleash the butterflies.”

  I was almost too afraid to ask. “Butterflies?”

  Cat finally lifted her excited eyes to me. “Yes! I’m having two thousand morpho butterflies shipped in from South America. They’re the big sapphire and black ones you might’ve seen in pictures…you know, the really big ones?” Cat held up her hand and splayed her fingers to imitate their size. “Anyway, the moment they’re released, the butterfly handler suggests that you and Dutch hold very still. He says they’ll probably swarm you two at first, so wait until most of them flutter off before you try to make your way down the stairs.”

  I got up from the table so fast my chair bounced against the wall. “Abs?” Dutch said.

  I looked around the room wildly. “I…I…I…”

  “What’s the matter?” Cat was saying, but her voice sounded very far away and the world was continuing to spin and spin and spin.

  With effort I turned and staggered to the door, leaning heavily on my cane as I went. Once I got out into the corridor, I simply kept walking. Dutch caught up with me easily. “Edgar? Honey, you okay?”

  “Did you know about this?” I snapped, my breathing still coming in hard little pants. “Did you know about swarming butterflies, and doggy-drawn carriages, and…and…this circus that’s going to be our wedding?”

  Dutch didn’t answer me. Instead he put a hand on my arm, but I shook it off. I needed air. Lots of air, and there didn’t seem to be anything breathable in here. Once I made it to the main door of Cat’s offices, I pushed through and paused only a moment to find the stairwell—no way was I enclosing my panicky self in an elevator.

  The sta
irs were tricky with my weakened hips, but I managed to make it down the three flights and push through the emergency doors…which set off the alarm.

  A security guard came around the corner a few moments after Dutch and I made it outside. Dutch apologized and waved his badge and the guy backed off. Meanwhile I shuffled over to a retaining wall and held on to it while I focused solely on taking deep breaths.

  “I didn’t know about all of it,” he said once I stood back from the wall and could focus angrily on him again. “And I’ve tried to rein her in, but your sister doesn’t understand the word no, as I’m sure you’re aware.”

  “And what was that about her picking up the tab?” I demanded.

  Dutch grimaced. A few weeks earlier we’d flipped a coin to see who would work with Cat on the wedding and who would work with our foreman, Dave, to finish the house. Dutch had lost and ended up with Cat. I was now regretting using my radar to cheat on the coin toss. “The house ended up costing us more than expected, Abs,” he said. “We went way over budget, so when your sister generously offered to pick up most of the expenses, I said sure. I didn’t realize that she’d use that as an opportunity to go nuts with the plans.”

  I stared openmouthed at my fiancé. “It’s Cat, Dutch. How did you expect her to react?”

  He could only shake his head and look chagrined.

  I felt myself softening as I gazed up at my beautiful fiancé, whom I loved more than anyone or anything in the world, and my eyes misted. “I can’t do it,” I whispered. I’d carried around the most terrible feeling about our wedding day, and now I knew why. “It’s too big, Dutch. Too insane. I can’t do it.”

  Dutch opened his arms and folded me into them. “Okay,” he said at last.

  I felt a wave of relief wash over me. “Thank you,” I said, so grateful that he understood. We would cancel the wedding. He and I would get married quietly, privately. I closed my eyes, imagining a beautiful white beach with aquamarine waters, and Dutch and I marrying each other under the setting sun.

  Dutch kissed the top of my head and said, “Call Candice. Have her come pick you up and take you out for a cocktail. I’ll head back inside and finish up with Cat, and get her to chill out on some of these ideas.”

  I stiffened. “What?”

  Dutch backed away from me, but still held on to my hands. “No butterflies, or horse-drawn carriages. And I’ll put my foot down about Eggy and Tuttle. Milo can hand us the rings. I’m not sure what to do about the guests, though, babe. You must have given your sister a big list or she’s inviting some of her own friends, because I only gave her about forty people.”

  I blinked and nodded dully, while a dark foreboding ate away at my insides. Dutch didn’t want to cancel the circus. He just wanted to help me get through it.

  “How will you get home?” I asked, already pulling away from him.

  “I’ll call Brice, or have Cat’s driver drop me off.” He smiled at me and squeezed my hand. “Hey,” he said. I looked up at him, trying to convey all that I was feeling, but Dutch was never much of a mind reader. “Don’t worry, honey. We’ll get through the ceremony in one piece and then spend the rest of our lives together away from the circus.”

  I nodded, but felt a cold shiver snake its way slowly up my backbone.

  * * *

  I waited for Candice on a marble bench out in front of the office building. I sat there dully, wondering what the hell I’d gotten myself into and how the hell I was going to get out of it. (Swearing doesn’t count when you only think the words in your head.)

  As I was waiting, my phone went off. I looked at the display and my brow shot up. “Hello?” I said, taking the call.

  “Abby?” a familiar voice replied. “Hey, girl! Long time no talk to!”

  “M.J.!” I said, mustering some enthusiasm, because I genuinely liked the woman on the other end of the line. M. J. Holliday is a seriously talented psychic medium who’d once helped me out with a haunted house I’d been renovating. We’d kept in touch over the years, and I now considered her a true friend. “I saw you on TV the other night!”

  “Yeah, Gilley has finally made it to the big time,” she joked, referring to her best friend and business partner, Gilley Gillespie.

  “How is Gil?”

  “He’s good, he’s good,” she said. “Still shrieking at the first sign of a ghost, though, as I’m sure you saw in that episode. But he’s also part of the reason I’m calling. We got back to the States just a day ago, and I found your wedding invitation in the mail, and of course I’d love to come, but my boyfriend, Heath, can’t make it, so is it all right if I bring Gilley as my plus one?”

  I blinked…something I’d been doing a lot lately. I didn’t realize that I’d invited M.J. to the wedding…. And then it hit me. I’d never given my sister a list of invitees—it was one of those things that I’d meant to do, but hadn’t gotten around to, and one day she’d simply said not to worry about it, that she’d already taken care of it. But if Dutch had only given her forty names to work with, how the heck had she gotten M.J.’s info? “That’s fine, M.J.,” I told her, trying to cover my surprise. “I’d love to see you and Gil.”

  “Awesome,” M.J. said. “I don’t have time to get the RSVP to you before tomorrow’s deadline, so would you put me and Gil down as a definite yes?”

  “Of course.”

  “Great. And I think we’ll stay a few days after the wedding. I’ve always wanted to check out Austin.”

  At that moment a crazy idea hit me. I thought about Rita Watson and my encounter with her at the beauty shop. I wondered if M.J. might be able to make contact with her and get a few more details for our case. What I didn’t know was if it was a good idea to get M.J. involved in something as awful as this bombing case. Not everyone had the stomach for this kind of thing, and it’d taken me a few years to be able to handle the grisly crime scenes. “M.J.,” I said, just as Candice pulled up to the curb. “Can we talk in the next few days? I’m working a case that I think I might need your expertise with. At the very least I’d like to talk to you about it, and if you’re game, I’d like to introduce you to my bosses. I think you might be just the person for the job.”

  There was a bit of a pause and then M.J. said, “You can talk to me about anything, Abby. If I can help you out, I’d be happy to. And if you want me to come out there early, I can do that too.”

  I smiled as I pulled open the car door to Candice’s Porsche. “Thanks, honey. I really appreciate it, and I can’t wait to see you guys at the wedding. I’ll be in touch soon.”

  Once I’d hung up, Candice looked at me expectantly, but I held up a finger and the next call I made was to my sister. “Are you all right?” she asked by way of hello.

  “Fine,” I said, because I didn’t want to get into why I’d abruptly left her offices. I’d let Dutch do what he could to rein her in. “Listen, I have a question about the guest list. Dutch says he only gave you the names of about forty people, and I didn’t give you any names at all, but I just heard from M. J. Holliday that she and her plus one are coming, so my question to you is, where did you get her info to send her the invitation?”

  “Jenny Makeanote, M. J. Holliday and her plus one are a yes,” Cat said. I tapped my knee impatiently, waiting for her to focus on me again. “I got her info from your phone,” she said at last.

  I looked quizzically up at the office building to the third floor where I knew Cat was still inside her conference room. “My phone?” I repeated…and then I remembered. Cat had stolen my phone a few weeks earlier, and it’d been right after that that she’d stopped bothering me about giving her a guest list to work with. My brow broke out in a cold sweat again. “How many people from my phone did you invite?” I asked.

  “All of them.”

  My jaw dropped. “What do you mean, all of them?”

  “All your contacts, Abby. I mean, it’s not like you have enough close friends in your life to make up a decent guest list. So, I just went with all of the
contacts you had in your phone with listed mailing addresses.”

  I was speechless. Utterly speechless. And it was a good thing that I wasn’t up on that third floor because I was fairly certain I would have resorted to violence. Instead I pulled my phone away from my ear and clicked over to my list of contacts. “Oh…my…God…,” I whispered. “My dentist is in here…. My gynecologist is in here! The AC guy…the vet…guys from Dave’s crew…”

  I could hear Cat’s tiny tin voice echoing out from the earphone, but I simply clicked back to the call and hung up on her.

  “Problems?” Candice asked. She was still in idle, waiting for me to fill her in.

  “Yes.”

  “Care to share?”

  “Yes,” I replied, but didn’t elaborate.

  “Soon?”

  “Over cocktails.”

  “Oooo. Them’s some big problems, then, pardner.” With a light chuckle, Candice put the car into gear and sped out of the drive.

  “You don’t know the half of it,” I muttered.

  Candice drove straight to our favorite happy hour retreat and I ordered a prickly pear margarita almost before getting completely settled into the booth. Candice thoughtfully ordered a plate of nachos to soak up some of the alcohol she knew I’d be throwing down, and one prickly pear for herself.

  What I love about Candice is that she’s very good at reading me. Most people can’t—I seem to surprise them with my thoughts, observations, and insights. But Candice just goes with the flow, never really questioning or second-guessing me. She brings great balance to the equation too; I can be pretty emotive (some might even say childish), but Candice never seems put off by my outbursts or reactions. In fact, I would say she often finds them humorous. And that is probably what says the most about why she’s such a great friend; she accepts me for me, without judgment, criticism, or backstabbing. She’s a kindred spirit, and she has my back through thick and thin. All women should be so lucky to have a BFF like that. In fact, if you ask me, all women should be as genuine, supportive, and accepting of one another…period.