WEDDING DAY MURDER

When Libby glanced down at Leeza Sharp her first thought was: this is a practical joke. Her second thought was: I don’t have time for this nonsense. Her third thought was: Amber and Bernie are dead meat.

“Not funny,” she said, whirling around to face Bernie. Then she saw the horrified expression on Bernie’s face and Libby’s stomach lurched. Oh, please God, not again, Libby prayed. Not another murder.

Libby took another look at the body sprawled out on the floor. Leeza’s eyes were staring straight up. Her mouth was opened in an expression of surprise. An arrow was protruding from her chest. And then there was the blood. It was everywhere. On the floor. On Leeza Sharp’s no longer white robe. On her nightgown.

No, Libby told herself. This isn’t a joke. Leeza was definitely dead. Not mostly dead. Not nearly dead. Dead dead. No doubt about that. No one could survive an arrow through the heart. At least not in real life.

Libby heard the words, “And on her wedding day too,” coming out of her mouth. What a stupid thing to say, she told herself as Bernie turned towards her. Like it would have been better if it had happened the day after. Well, in a sense it would have been because then they wouldn’t have been here . . .