I could totally do this.
I just needed to sit down somewhere nice and quiet and make a list.
Number one on the list?
Kill Freddie.
I mean, what was he thinking?
He wasn’t thinking. That was the truth of it. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to help Candace. I did. She was my friend. And as Candace’s friend, I would recommend not putting Freddie and me in charge of her wedding. Again, the investigation was one thing. We had looked into deaths before, and likely this was just a tragic case of death by misadventure. But the wedding …
Freddie had taken full advantage of my state of shock on the way out of Candace’s, and we had divvied up the preliminary tasks before he’d dropped me back at the retreat. He was supposed to get in touch with as many of the guests as possible to see if they could come in two weeks then call the town offices and find out if the gazebo was still available. I was supposed to call the DJ, cake baker, and florist to see where we were at. We’d figure out the rest after that.
I sighed and plopped myself down at the picnic table under the shade of trees. A couple of crows squawked at me. I guess this was their picnic table. Well, they could just, “Bite me,” I called up to the trees.
I ran a hand over the front of Candace’s binder. Okay. Again, I could do this.
Really, this was all part of being friends with Freddie. He was unpredictable. I knew that. And he apparently also liked to keep secrets about things that were bothering him. Yeah, I still wasn’t over that either. But, again, at least he was in a better mood. Too bad I was in a much, much worse one.
And what was that whole somebody in this town should be happy and in love thing? I really, really hoped something hadn’t happened between him and Sean. It would explain a lot, but … they were good together.
I sighed.
I couldn’t help but think inviting me to get involved in wedding planning was a little like asking a goldfish to do the tango. I mean, I had grown up at a feminist retreat. I seem to recall my mother referring to marriage as state-sanctioned slavery at some point. What did I know about … about … those little pillows that you tie the rings on to? Did people actually do that at weddings? Use those little pillows? For the ring bearers? Was that a thing? I didn’t know. I didn’t know anything about weddings!
But, again, it was time to rally. I didn’t have time to explore my feelings about weddings. I was suddenly very busy.
I took a deep breath.
I just needed to make some phone calls. Being the small town Otter Lake was, everyone would surely be willing to help Candace out.
I opened the binder and flipped to the first tab as a cicada buzzed in the tree above me. Mrs. Roy. Check. The florist. That seemed like good place to start. I mean, I knew Mrs. Roy. She was a bit of a rambler, but a sweet lady. She wouldn’t have a problem postponing two weeks. Sure, there might be some financial considerations, like an added fee or something, but—no, this was Otter Lake. Candace was one of us. We could make this happen.
I pulled out my phone and dialed the number in the binder.
“Pansies and Posies.”
“Hi, Mrs. Roy, it’s, uh, Erica Bloom calling. How are you?”
“I’m lovely, dear, but I’ve just heard the news about Candace’s maid of honor.” Of course she had. It had been a few hours now. The whole town would know. The ladies’ society was probably already working on a needlepoint commemorative pillow. “It’s awful. Just horrible. I bet you’re calling to sort out the flowers.”
I felt my shoulders drop in relief. Mrs. Roy had gotten straight to the point. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. “I am.”
“Of course, dear. I’ll help any way I can.”
“Great. That is so good to hear. I was worried—”
“But first,” Mrs. Roy said. “Tell me, Erica, is she really … dead? The maid of honor, I mean?”
Okay, I guess we were taking one little tangent on our way over to the point, but that was to be expected. “Yes, unfortunately. She—”
“I just wanted to be sure. Everybody is so upset, but it seemed so unlikely her being thrown from a horse like that.”
“Horse?” I frowned. “Oh. No. I mean, there was a mechanical bull at the bachelorette party, but that’s not what happened.”
“Are you sure? I heard that she went flying off and slammed right into the jukebox. Snapped her neck.”
“Nope. Nope. I think that was me you heard about actually. Minus the snapped neck.”
“Oh, that makes more sense.”
I blinked a few times. “Right.” I took another breath. “So about the flowers for the wedding—”
“But wait, it doesn’t make any sense then. If she didn’t fall off the horse, how did she die? Was it the polly?”
“The polly?” I scratched my temple. “Wait … do you mean molly? The drug?”
“Yes, but I don’t like to call it molly. I know it sounds silly, but I had a cousin named Molly. Lovely woman, Molly. It just wouldn’t feel right.”
I clutched my head. “I understand. But it wasn’t—”
“It’s such a waste.”
“You mean … the death?”
“Well, I meant the name, but that’s awful too. Drugs take too many young people. You shouldn’t go into the city.”
“Okay,” I said slowly before blurting out, “but it wasn’t drugs. I think she might have drowned.”
“Drowned? That’s awful. How did she drown? Oh,” she said with the sound of lots of realization dawning. “Alcohol must have been involved. I’ve been to a bachelorette party or two in my time. I know what goes on.”
I planted my elbow on the picnic table and dropped my forehead against my palm. This … this had to be what having a stroke felt like. “I really don’t know. Now about the flowers—”
“Are they sure Tommy wasn’t involved?”
I jerked up. “Tommy? Tommy Forrester?” Grady’s cousin. “Why … why would anyone think that?”
“Oh, I just heard they were cozying up toward the end of the night.”
“Really?” That must have been after I left. “Is your source legit?” Otter Lake had a thriving rumor mill, but while output was plentiful, quality was questionable. I mean, look how they had mangled Lyssa’s cause of death. Maybe they had somehow mistaken Tommy for Lyssa’s boyfriend, Justin.
“Margot has all the best information, dear. And you know that Tommy’s never been quite right in the head since you tried to implicate him in Dickie Morrison’s murder.”
“Tried to implicate him? I did no such thing. He—”
“Well, however it happened, he hasn’t been quite right since then.”
Tommy had been involved in some shady business when I had first come back to town a couple of years ago. A rogue employee of MRG Properties had paid him and his buddies to cause trouble around town to help encourage some of the more reticent seniors to sell their properties. It hadn’t amounted to much more than minor vandalism and noise violations, but the scheme blew up in their faces. Everybody around town ended up knowing what Tommy had done, and right around the same time one of his closest friends was murdered. The whole thing had left him a little messed up. Rumor had it the only time he left his home was to go to the Dawg. To drink. Alone. It was sad. I mean, Tommy had always been a bit of a douchebag, but—
“Plus I heard Amos found a condom at the scene.”
“What?” I near whimpered.
“Oh yes, took it away in one of those little baggies.”
“I—”
“I thought you’d already know that. Are they doing a postmortem?”
“I’m … not sure…” Why would I know that? was the rest of that sentence.
“I thought Sheriff Forrester might have told you. Nobody can really tell if you’re on again or off again.”
“We’re off and—”
“And rumor has it Freddie has found a way to hack into the department’s computer system.”
“What?! That’s ridiculous.” Please, God, let it be true that that was ridiculous.
“Well, I just thought I’d ask.”
I closed my eyes and took a steadying breath. “Now about the flowers for the wedding, I see that Candace ordered white peonies—”
“That’s right. They’re just beautiful.”
Finally … finally, we were getting to the flowers.
“Well, the wedding is being pushed back two weeks and—”
“And all the peonies will be dead.”
“What?”
“Well, maybe not completely dead. But brown and limp.”
“All the peonies in the world will be dead?”
“No,” she said with a chuckle. “Just all the ones from my gardens, and the ones I ordered.”
“Well, can’t we order some more or—”
“On such short notice? In that quantity? Oh no. Why are those two in such a hurry to get married anyway? They’ve only known each other for six months, and two weeks seems a little inappropriate given that a member of the wedding party has died.”
“Joey’s nonna’s not well and—”
“Oh, I see. That makes sense. And, you know, on second thought, maybe it’s a good thing. Candace and Joey are such a sweet couple, and the town needs something to celebrate. It seems like it’s just been murder after murder ever since … well, I guess since the time you came back to town.”
“I … I…”
“This town needs a win.”
“Right. Well, it won’t be much of a win without—”
“Carmen!” Mrs. Roy snapped.
Carmen? I looked up at the trees. The crows sitting up there didn’t seem to know who Carmen was either.
“Carmen! You walk away. Those cupcakes are not for you.”
I blinked. Oh, that’s right. Mrs. Roy had a hound dog named Carmen.
“Sorry, dear. Carmen! It’s really sweet of you to help, but—Carmen! I love this dog to bits, but she is going to be the— I see you thinking it. Don’t you think it.”
“Mrs. Roy?”
I could hear Carmen howling in the background.
“Erica, I have to let you g— Don’t you make me get up!”
“But what about the flowers? A wedding needs flowers.”
“Don’t worry. We’ll figure something out. Oh! You know, I’ve been meaning to experiment with tree-branch bouquets and—”
“Tree-branch bouquets?”
“Come by and we’ll talk. That’s the lovely thing about nature. No time is a bad time to create something beautiful! I’ll text you. Oh, now I’m on my feet. You’re only getting one treat now. Not two. That’s what happens when you don’t listen to Mommy.”
Click.
I thunked my forehead onto the picnic table.
It’s just a party, he had said.
The hard work is already done.
It’ll be a piece a cake.
Killing Freddie was moving right back up the list.