Damsel in a Dress

Book 5: A Perfectly Proper Paranormal Museum Mystery

by Kirsten Weiss

Genres: Cozy Mystery; Paranormal Cozy Mysteries; wedding; Cozy Mystery; light paranormal

Synopsis

Bridesmaid duties can be deadly...

Maddie Kosloski has more than wedding cake on her plate. She's managing her paranormal museum, helping her best friend Adele with wedding plans, and trying to prove that Adele's vintage wedding dress is most definitely not haunted.

But when a bridesmaid turns up murdered, Maddie has to solve the crime to save the wedding. As her bouquet of suspects grows, and everyone's alibis have the ring of truth, Maddie begins to doubt this wedding will go off without a hitch.

If you love laugh-out-loud mysteries, witty heroines, and a touch of the paranormal, you'll love Damsel in a Dress, book 5 in the Perfectly Proper Paranormal Museum series of novels. Read this twisty cozy mystery today!

Release date: April 30, 2021

Publisher: misterio press

Print pages: 209

Sample

one

 

The wedding gown ghosted into my museum on a slither of plastic and a shiver of air conditioning. Since it was a paranormal museum, I should have figured that was a sign, an omen, a warning.

But all I worried about that morning was stepping on the hem of my best friend’s newly altered dress. I carried it like it was an atom bomb, arms extended, treading carefully.

File that under the had-I-but-known category.

My assistant, Leo, looked up from behind the glass counter and slid one finger inside the collar of his Paranormal Museum tee. “Yo.” His black leather jacket was slung over the back of his tall chair. A shock of his ebony hair fell forward, obscuring his eyes.

The museum’s front door drifted shut behind me, and the bell jangled above it.

“Thanks for managing things.” I draped the dress over the counter. Unpeeling the staticky plastic from my jeans, I scanned the museum, alert for disasters.

Visitors wandered between the shelves displaying haunted objects and creepy dolls. Photos of long-dead murderers gazed impassively from their frames beneath the black-painted crown molding.

Leo closed his college textbook, covered in complicated mathematical formulas. “It has been a challenge, Maddie, selling tickets and Tarot cards.”

“How many decks did you sell?” I bounced in my low-heeled sandals. The museum was doing better, but we needed to increase our in-store sales.

“One.”

I deflated. Bummer. Still, I’d only been gone thirty minutes.

GD, the museum’s ghost detecting cat, rose from the haunted rocking chair in the corner of the main room. It swayed beneath the ebony cat’s weight.

“How’d you get stuck with dress duty anyway?” Leo asked.

“I’ll do anything for wedding cake.” Really, I will. Also, I was a bridesmaid, and one of my bridesmaidly duties was picking up the altered wedding gown. Cruelly and unfairly, I had not been selected for cake sampling duty.

Leo raised a brow.

“Okay,” I said. “Almost anything. I mean, I wouldn’t get married just for the cake.” Not after seeing the tsunami of lists, appointments, and interviews Adele had gone through to arrange her wedding. It would be simpler to just buy the cake.

More guests cruised the aisles in the Gallery room to my right. They peered at exhibits of jackolopes and other fantastic taxidermy by a local lawyer.

GD’s absinthe eyes narrowed. The cat hopped from the chair and prowled across the checkerboard floor toward me.

I stepped between the cat and the dress and tried to look tough. Not even GD would claw Adele’s wedding dress. Not after all the roast beef Adele had snuck him from her tearoom next door.

Customers turned to watch the cat. He’d caused me no end of trouble, but I couldn’t exactly evict him. He was one of our most popular “exhibits.” The new Paranormal Museum t-shirt with GD’s silhouette was flying off the shelves.

The bookcase on the west wall slid open. My two best friends, Adele Nakamoto and Harper Caldarelli, stepped inside. Adele was elegant as usual in a lightweight pink tulip skirt and silk blouse. Harper, a Penelope Cruz clone, wore loose, chocolate-colored linen slacks and a silk tank.

I’d never been so happy I’d given up business suits. June in Central California could get volcanic, and today was no exception. Though I’d upgraded my usual t-shirt to a black blouse for today’s pre-wedding shenanigans.

The cat sniffed the gown.

I shot him a warning look, which he—as usual—ignored. If GD lifted a single claw…

Adele’s face lit. “You got—”

GD hissed and bolted into the Gallery.

“—my dress,” Adele finished, turning to track the black cat’s path. She nervously smoothed her ebony hair, done up in a neat chignon.

“Guess GD doesn’t like weddings,” Leo said.

Harper frowned and studied the dress.

A middle-aged customer in a baseball cap waddled to the counter. “Is the dress haunted?” she asked, cheeks flushed.

Adele’s brow pinched.

“No, no, no,” I said. “It’s only a dress.”

The woman’s plump hands fluttered. “But your cat, he sees ghosts—”

“It’s not the dress,” I said. “GD’s revolting against Big Wedding.”

The woman blinked. “Big Wedding?”

“It’s an industry as insidious as Big Tech.” Overpriced and out of control, Big Wedding had Adele firmly in its gauzy grasp.

Leo nodded sagely. Adele twisted her engagement ring and gazed after GD.

“Oh.” The customer sidled toward the Fortune Telling Room. “If you’re sure.”

Adele snatched the dress from my hands. “How silly. As if my wedding dress were haunted!” But her laugh was high and thin.

Urgh. I knew I should have taken the dress straight to Adele’s tearoom. But I hadn’t been able to resist checking in on my museum. Saturday was one of our busiest days.

“In a paranormal museum,” I said, “a haunting is the natural assumption, even if it’s wrong.” And it was just like the cat to pick the worst possible moment for his ghost routine.

It was a week until go-time. Adele had managed to stay mostly sane through her tightly wound wedding organization program. All we had to do was help her chill out and start enjoying the wedding prep.

“Yes.” Adele turned to Harper. “Of course. Of course it’s not haunted, right?”

Harper blinked, her startling green eyes widening. “I, um, GD probably smelled something he didn’t like on the plastic.”

“He hates chemicals,” Leo agreed. “Lately he’s been demanding all organic cat food.”

“Right.” Adele held up the wedding dress and studied it, biting her lip. “Right.”

“It’s the museum, not the dress,” I said. “The dress isn’t haunted.”

Harper shot me a worried look. I’m one of the few people who knows she’s a practicing strega, an Italian version of a witch. But Harper was also a rationalist. She couldn’t possibly think the dress was haunted.

Could she? I jammed my hands into my pockets.

I checked my watch. “Shouldn’t we be heading to the party?”

“Let’s take my car.” Harper zipped outside, the bell above the door ringing in her wake.

“I’m starting to think she doesn’t like my pickup,” I muttered.

Adele tucked the dress over one arm. “And I’m starting to think she didn’t give me a straight answer on the dress.” She marched outside.

I grimaced at Leo. “I’ll be back to close up.”

“You don’t have to. I can do it. After all, I’m nearly college-educated.” He rolled his eyes.

“And I’m starting to think you may be over qualified.” Actually, I knew he was. I lived in dread of the day he graduated and moved on to bigger and better things. Which he most definitely deserved. But still. Who was going to manage the podcast?

He grinned. “I’m just busting your chops. The real world’s going to be boring after this place.”

“Ha. Trust me. There’s nothing wrong with boring.”

I walked outside and gasped in the furnace that was summer in San Benedetto. It would be nice if I could actually get a tan in all this heat, but blue eyes and burn-in-an-instant central European skin was my heritage. Soldiering onward, I staggered to Harper’s idling BMW, parked in the shade of a plum tree.

Since the street was riddled with fallen and rotting plums, this was a daring move. But on a summer day in Central California, the siren song of shade outweighed the risk to one’s paint job.

I slid into the back seat and tried not to nudge the wedding dress, draped beside me like a spectral passenger.

Shutting the door, I gratefully sucked in cool, conditioned air. “How’s the politicking going?” A financial adviser, Harper was running for a spot on our town council.

“It would go a lot better if Ladies Aid would endorse me.” Harper pulled the car into the wide street, lined with shops and restaurants.

“You mean they haven’t yet?” I asked, surprised. My mother was president of Ladies Aid, our local kingmaker. She wouldn’t leave Harper hanging.

“There’s going to be a meeting this week to decide,” Harper said.

“What’s there to decide?” I said. “You’re the only candidate.”

The BMW cruised beneath the adobe arch at the end of Main Street.

“Maybe not,” Harper said, worry threading her voice.

Adele swiveled in the front passenger seat to face her. “I’ve heard rumors that someone else is entering the race.”

We jounced across a set of railroad tracks. The wedding gown rustled.

“I’ve heard that too,” Harper said.

“I haven’t,” I said.

“It doesn’t matter,” Adele said to Harper. “You’re still the best person for the job. You love this town, you’re a genius with budgets and money, and you know all the business owners.”

“I wouldn’t say genius,” Harper said dryly.

“I would,” I said. If I ever had enough money to invest, I was handing it straight to Harper.

We drove through green vineyards and down straight, flat roads until Harper turned into the gravel drive for Adele’s family vineyard, Plot 42. Dust pluming behind the BMW, we crunched down the narrow trail to Adele’s family vineyard.

Harper parked in the lot outside the big red barn that housed the tasting room and cracked open the windows. An older couple picnicking beneath a weeping willow glanced at us.

“Remember,” Adele said. “This is supposed to be bridesmaid fun, but it’s still a working meeting. This is crunch time, ladies. The wedding’s in just over a week, and we still have a lot to do.”

I blew out my breath. Adele was a master organizer. But we’d been in the throes of wedding planning, scheming, and tactical offensives for the last six months. It was exhausting.

If I ever got married, I was eloping.

“Your other three bridesmaids are high-powered executives,” Harper said. “I don’t think getting things done will be a problem.”

I bit back a sigh. I used to be a high powered—well, more a mid-powered executive, but still… “You said they started a company together?” I stepped from the car.

We made our way down a trail lined with orange flowers. From somewhere in the vineyards, a dog yapped, high pitched and insistent.

“It’s cutting edge medical technology,” Adele said. “It’s amazing. It’ll change Pug’s life.”

Pug was Adele’s pug. I was a little surprised she hadn’t brought him. But maybe he was snoozing at her parents’ house, a white-painted Victorian in the nearby vineyard. Or maybe he was the yapping dog, anxious to get to his mistress.

We walked to the barn. Beside a chalkboard sign that said, We’re Open, Adele halted. She pulled open the smaller, pedestrian door. The sound of feminine laughter flowed from the barn.

Adele strode inside, and the laughter turned to squeals.

“You got the dress!”

Harper rolled her eyes, and I followed my friend inside.

The tasting room bar was packed with people. Two well-dressed women in their thirties leapt from their stools and charged Adele.

“Let me see, let me see,” one said.

Adele displayed her dress on its hanger, and the women oohed.

“And this is Maddie Kosloski,” Adele said. “She runs the Paranormal Museum next to my tearoom. Maddie, this is Tyra Washington.” She motioned toward a buxom brunette in a chunky bead necklace. Tyra looked kind of familiar, but I’d probably seen a photo of her at Adele’s.

“And this is Scarlet Martin.” Adele nodded toward a willowy woman about my age. “Tyra’s a business genius, and Scarlet’s a brilliant scientist.”

And both women were in chic cocktail dresses. I smoothed the front of my simple black blouse, heat rushing across my skin. Paired with an oversized gold(en) necklace and heeled sandals, I’d thought it looked good over my faded jeans. But I’d underdressed for the occasion.

I studied Scarlet’s red hair, brushing her bare shoulders. “I’m guessing you weren’t named that because your parents were Gone with the Wind fans.”

She laughed. “I have six brothers and sisters, none with red hair, and my parents still mix up our names.”

“And Bernadette...” Adele looked around. “Bernadette’s not here?”

“Not yet.” A coil of crinkly near-black hair fell across Tyra’s cheek, and she brushed it aside.

Scarlet shook her head.

Twin lines appeared between Adele’s dark brows. “It’s not like her to be late. Maybe she got caught in traffic.” She turned to me. “You and Bernadette will have tons to talk about. She’s a marketing—”

“Genius?” Harper raised a brow.

“All my friends are smart.” Adele laughed. “I can’t help it if I’m drawn to accomplished, fascinating women.”

“But Bernadette really is a marketing genius,” Tyra said. “Artemis wouldn’t be where it is today without her. Or without the master behind the technology, Scarlet.”

“And she’s been a lifesaver as a bridesmaid,” Adele said. “She—”

The silver-haired picnickers opened the barn door. We edged aside to let them into the tasting room. The sound of the barking dog rose and then fell as the door bumped shut.

“Is that Pug?” I asked.

“No,” Adele said. “He’s at home today. He doesn’t like going out when it’s so hot.”

“I can’t blame him.” Scarlet fanned herself with her hand.

“Shoot,” Harper said. “I left something in the car. I’ll be right back.”

“Want a glass of wine?” Adele asked me.

“Wine not?” I said.

The women groaned at the pun.

So maybe I’d been spending too much time at the Wine and Visitor’s Bureau. “No need to wine about it,” I said, doubling down.

The three laughed.

We wandered to the bar. Ethan, the handsome bartender, flexed his muscles and grinned. “What can I get you?”

“Everything’s on me,” Adele said. “So serve them whatever they want.”

We got glasses of red wine and returned to an empty table made out of an upturned wine barrel.

“I can’t believe we haven’t met yet,” Tyra said to me. “I need to visit your museum. Adele’s told me so much about it. Though I have to tell you, I don’t believe in ghosts.”

“I’m not sure if I do,” I said. “But the museum’s good fun.”

“I may need Maddie’s expertise,” Adele said darkly. “My wedding dress could be haunted.”

“It’s not haunted,” I said. Adele had never taken GD seriously before, and this was a terrible time to start. There was no way she’d be able to find a new perfect dress in a week. It had taken her months to track down this one.

Adele frowned. “That’s not what GD says.”

“GD?” Tyra asked.

“The museum cat,” I said. “GD stands for ghost detecting. He sees ghosts. At least, that’s what the prior owner claimed.”

“And you think he saw a… ghost attached to your wedding gown?” Scarlet asked.

“Of course not.” Adele shook her head. “It’s silly. There’s nothing wrong with that dress. It’s just… My aunt told me that vintage was bad luck. I didn’t believe her. Don’t believe her,” Adele corrected. “But I think she’s gotten in my head.”

“Vintage isn’t bad luck,” I said, louder than I’d intended. “Your dress is fine.”

“I know. I know it is.” Her brow wrinkled. “It’s fine.”

“Adele…” I said warningly.

“But what if it isn’t fine?” she asked. “Is there a way you can... find out?”

“Find out?” I parroted.

“I mean, I know it’s not haunted,” Adele said. “I know this is pre-wedding jitters. But you are sort of an expert. You have a podcast.”

Tyra braced her elbows on the table. “This is fascinating. How do you figure out if something is haunted? Theoretically speaking.”

“Usually I start by researching the provenance,” I said slowly. Adele looked seriously worried. Pre-wedding jitters or no, I couldn’t let this get under her skin. “And if there’s a haunted history, I go from there.”

“And do what?” Tyra asked.

“It depends,” I said. “The museum had a de-cursing ceremony once...” I trailed off. That ceremony had ended in a stampede and my boyfriend getting shot with an arrow. I didn’t want a repeat.

“Now I really need to get to your museum,” Tyra said. “I haven’t had much free time with the startup, and my executive coach says I need to make time for more fun.”

“None of us have had time,” Scarlet said. “I’m not saying Tyra’s a bossy pants, but she’s a bossy pants.”

“Me?” Tyra widened her eyes in mock despair. She splayed one hand against the front of her lavender dress. “I don’t make you work those eighteen-hour days.”

I sipped my Zinfandel. “You mean, at Artemis?”

The barn door banged open, and we turned. Harper, her olive skin pale, hurried across the barn’s wooden floor. She grabbed my arm. “I need you outside.”

“Harper,” Adele said, “please tell Mad to do a haunt check on my dress. She’s my maid of honor. It’s her duty.”

“It’s your duty,” Harper said. “Now would you mind helping me outside?”

“Fine.” I rubbed the back of my neck. “I’ll research the dress.”

“Everyone happy?” Harper asked. “Great. Maddie, outside. Now.” Harper turned on her high heels and jogged out.

I set my glass on the round table. “I’ll be back.” I trotted after Harper.

Looking sick, she leaned against her BMW. The yaps of the dog carried, even and unending, across the vineyard.

“What’s up?” I asked.

“It’s Bernadette.” She clawed a hand through her long, black hair.

“The other bridesmaid?” I asked. “What’s happened? Did she call? Is she going to be late?”

Harper gulped. “No. She’s dead.”

 

 

two

 

Harper led me through high rows of grapevines, strung on taut wires and thick with tiny green grapes. Their broad leaves provided no protection from the sun, and sweat dampened my neck.

“I thought the dog might be in trouble,” she panted, her olive skin flushed. She turned to me, her green eyes wide. “And then I found Bernadette.” Harper pointed and brushed her long, dark hair off her shoulder.

A slender woman, eyes open and sightless, lay on her back beneath an owl box. A pool of blood had formed around her head in the soft earth. Beside her, a chihuahua barked at us hysterically.

Bile rose in my throat. I pressed the back of my hand to my mouth. I thought I’d been prepared. But nothing can really prepare you for sudden death.

“Do you think she tripped and fell?” Harper said, pointing to the rock half-hidden beneath Bernadette’s spill of hair.

“Maybe,” I croaked, my mouth dry. Bruises darkened the skin above the collar of her cocktail dress, and there was a reddish mark on her face. They didn’t look like they’d come from a fall. “Did you call the police?”

“Of course I did. They’ll be here any minute. I just…” She pressed her hands to her stomach. “It’s Bernadette, one of Adele’s oldest friends, her bridesmaid.”

Lead weighted my gut. This was awful. Worse than awful. How were we going to tell Adele?

I shook myself. First things first. “One of us should meet the police in the parking lot, so we can show them where the body is.” To save my eardrums, I picked up the dog.

The chihuahua howled once, wriggled, then quieted.

“That’s Bugsy,” Harper said, “Bernadette’s dog. And I’ll stay with the b—with Bernadette.”

My throat tightened. “Are you sure?”

She bowed her head. “I’m the one who found her.”

I nodded and walked to the parking lot.

A blue muscle car roared down the driveway, dust spewing from beneath its wide tires.

I knew that car. Worse, I knew the driver.

The dog barked, squirming in my arms.

“Sorry,” I muttered and relaxed my stranglehold.

Detective Laurel Hammer, my high school bully and arch nemesis, stepped from the car. She stalked toward me, sun glinting off her tanned muscles and short blond hair. Her jaw tightened. “You.”

“Hi, Laur—.”

She glared.

“Detective Hammer,” I said. A bead of sweat trickled down my back.

“Hi?” Her blue eyes narrowed. “That’s all you’ve got to say? Hi? Your friend called about a dead body. Where is it?”

“This way.” I led the detective through the grapevines toward Harper. Relief sagged my friend’s shoulders when she caught sight of us.

Laurel stopped short, mouth pursed, and studied the scene. The grapevines rustled.

“What a surprise,” the detective finally said. “You found a body, Caldarelli.”

“Yeah,” Harper said quietly and looked away. Her skin had taken on a sickly hue. “I found her.”

The detective’s lips pressed flat, her eyes narrowing. “And you just happened to come across her? Out here?”

“I heard her dog barking.”

I lifted the dog an inch.

Laurel’s mouth curled. She nodded. “Go to the barn and wait. Don’t talk to anyone.”

The detective’s stare burning a hole in my back, I hurried toward the barn.

“We need to tell Adele,” I whispered to Harper.

“I know, I know. But Laurel told us not to talk to anyone.”

“We’re going to be on Laurel’s bad side no matter what we do. We can’t let Adele find out about Bernadette from the cops.” I strode to the barn and tugged open the door. “She’s got to hear it from us.”

We walked into the tasting room, and I caught Adele’s eye.

Our friend rose. Leaving Scarlet and Tyra at the wine barrel table, she hurried to us, hovering inside the barn door. “Is that Bugsy?” Adele stroked the dog’s tawny head. “Where’s Bernadette?”

My stomach rolled. “Adele…” I hesitated. How do you tell someone their friend is gone? “I have bad news.”

“Did she have to leave?”

“Bernadette’s...” Just say it. I felt the earth shifting, slipping, whispering beneath my feet. “She’s dead. I’m sorry.”

“No,” Adele said. “That’s a terrible joke.”

“It’s not a joke,” Harper said.

“But…” Adele blinked rapidly. “That’s impossible. I spoke with her this morning.”

Harper and I led her to the bar. There weren’t any free seats, so I ushered Adele behind it, where a stool sat against a rough wood wall.

The bartender frowned at Bugsy.

“I found her in the vineyard,” Harper said quietly. “Bugsy led me to her.”

Adele swayed and grasped the stool with one hand. “No,” she whispered. “No. I talked to her last week. No, this can’t be.”

“I’m so sorry,” I said. “Harper called the police. Laurel’s here now.”

Adele swallowed, shook her head, straightened. “I can’t think. What do you need me to do?”

“The police are probably going to want to talk to you and the bridesmaids,” I said.

“Scarlet and Tyra were so close to Bernadette,” Adele said, “closer to her than I am… was. We were all such good friends in college, and then we…” She pressed a hand to her mouth. “I feel sick.”

She raced down a narrow hallway, toward the ladies’ room.

“What’s going on?” Ethan ambled to me, two wine goblets dangling between his fingers.

“There’s been an accident,” I said. “Someone’s died.”

“Not one of the Nakamotos?” His gaze slid to the narrow hallway Adele had vanished down.

“No,” I said. Should I call them? It was their vineyard. The police would probably want to talk to them too. And they might not like it if I alerted them first. But I’d grown up around the Nakamotos. I couldn’t not tell them.

His tanned brow wrinkled. “Is that Bernadette’s dog?” he asked, his gaze flicking around the barn.

“I need to make a call,” I said.

Harper and I hurried down the hallway lit by industrial-looking barn lights. Outside the ladies’ room, we stopped.

“Adele?” Harper called softly.

The door opened. Adele stepped out and smoothed her black hair. Her eyes were pink. “I’ll let Scarlet and Tyra know. Maddie, you call my parents.”

“Got it,” I said.

She turned to Harper. “And you…”

“Moral support.” Harper grasped Adele’s hand. The two of them walked down the hallway, Adele’s heels clicking on the distressed wood floor.

I adjusted the dog beneath one arm, pulled my phone from the pocket of my jeans, and called Mr. Nakamoto.

“Maddie,” he said. “Don’t tell me there’s another wedding drama? If another photographer’s canceled, I may go homicidal.”

“I’m sorry, but it’s more serious. There’s been a death at Plot 42. The police are here now.”

“Where are you?” he asked briskly.

“In the tasting room.”

“What happened?”

“I’m not sure,” I said. “It’s one of Adele’s bridesmaids. We found her in the vineyard.”

“Good Lord. I’ll be right there.” He hung up.

Scarlet raced past me and bolted into the ladies’ room. I heard the lock click shut.

Slowly, I made my way back to the tables.

Tyra sat, pale and unmoving, on the high, metal chair. Adele stared at the table. Harper had vanished.

“This is a bad joke,” Tyra whispered. She rubbed the elegant bangles on her wrist. “It has to be.”

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” I said.

“It has to be,” she repeated.

The barn door opened. A tall, masculine figure stood silhouetted in the doorframe. He stepped forward, and the door shut behind him.

My muscles slackened. Jason. I hurried to the best detective in San Benedetto, who also happens to be my boyfriend, Jason Slate. But I didn’t hug him, and he didn’t make a move toward me, though his expression was sympathetic. Neither of us were big on PDAs, and he was on duty.

“How’re you doing?” he asked, coppery eyes somber. Sweat dampened the collar of his dress shirt. I knew he wouldn’t take off his jacket, even though he must be dying to in this heat. The business suit was part of the uniform.

“I’m okay.” I shifted the dog beneath my arm. “But Bernadette, the—” Victim? “—dead woman, was a friend of Adele and Harper’s. She was in the bridal party.”

He nodded. “Harper told me. What time did you arrive at Plot 42?”

I checked my watch. “I guess about twenty minutes ago.” But it seemed a lot longer.

He nodded. “And the two other bridesmaids were here when you arrived?”

“Yes, but—” But what? But they couldn’t have had anything to do with it? That obviously wasn’t true. I ran my hand through my hair in a rough, jerky motion. “The marks on her neck,” I said in a low voice.

“I can’t speculate on those,” he said. “But I’ll need to talk to the other bridesmaids. Keep them here. I’m going to speak with the people at the bar.”

I touched the sleeve of his navy sports jacket. “The older couple at the end—they were picnicking beside the vineyard when we arrived.”

Jason nodded and walked to the long, wooden bar. He said something to the bartender. A glass crashed.

I returned to Adele’s table. “The detectives are going to want to talk to all of us.”

Adele nodded dully.

“Detectives?” Tyra had left her chair and was now pacing in quick, short movements. She stopped and rubbed her bare arms. “Why? She must have had an aneurysm or something.”

“Did she have a history of seizures or any other health conditions?” I asked.

“No,” she said in a strained voice. “I mean, not that I know of. But what are you saying? Detectives only care if the death isn’t natural. Are you saying someone did this to her?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “I’m sure they’re covering all the angles.”

“But why?” Tyra demanded. “This is a tragedy. They’re going to blow it up into something scandalous for nothing. Artemis—” Her lips compressed, and she shook her head.

Harper walked inside the barn and joined us.

“What’s going on?” I asked her.

“I don’t know. Laurel wants me to go to the station and give a statement.”

“Why you?” Tyra asked sharply.

“I found the body.”

“You need to help figure out what happened,” Adele said to me.

“I know,” I said.

“Bernadette was a friend,” she went on hotly. “She was a good person, an honorable person. She has—had—a husband. People who loved her. You—we—need to figure out what happened as quickly as possible for their sake and for hers.”

I clasped her hand. “I know.”

She blinked rapidly. “Wait, you mean you will?”

“She was your friend.” And it wasn’t the first time I’d helped solve a murder. Jason wasn’t a huge fan of that, and I wasn’t looking forward to telling him about my promise. But this was Adele.

Scarlet tottered to the table. Mascara streaked her face. She grabbed her goblet and slugged back the rest of her wine. “Tyra,” she whispered. “What are we going to do?”

“Whatever we need to,” Tyra said, grim.

I studied the two women. They were close to Bernadette, and they’d been here, possibly when she’d died. I could at least investigate these two suspects.

Scarlet wiped beneath one eye. “But Bernadette—”

“We don’t know what happened to Bernadette,” Tyra said.

“We know she’s dead.” Scarlet pressed a hand to her mouth. “I’m sorry. I just can’t believe it. This is…” She trailed off.

The police separated us. Mr. Nakamoto arrived and closed the tasting room. Questions were asked, notes taken.

The barn door burst open, banging against the wall. A handsome, sandy-haired man in khakis and a button-up shirt hurried inside. “Where’s Detective Slate?”

Jason rose from a table, where he’d been interviewing Tyra. “I’m Slate.”

“My wife.” The man’s hands clenched. Muscles jumped beneath the skin on his smooth face. “What happened? Where’s Bernadette?”

Jason strode to him and said something too low for me to hear.

The man buried his head in his hands for a long moment, then he raised it, swallowing jerkily. He nodded. The two men walked outside.

I shifted my weight. Bernadette’s husband. And the spouse is always a suspect. Okay, so I had three suspects now. I could manage three for Adele.

Thirty minutes later, Jason returned and approached me. “How’re you holding up?”

“I’m fine. Was that Bernadette’s husband?”

“Yes, William Perry. Do you know him?”

“No. Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry.” He closed his eyes for a long moment, opened them. “Adele tells me you’re going to help solve the crime.”

I grimaced. Now I was sorry. I would have rather been the one to break the bad news. “Jason—”

“I trust you.”

“Uh… what? I mean, I’m glad you trust me, but—”

“You’re connected to these people.” He angled his head toward Scarlet and Tyra, at separate tables. “And I get the distinct feeling they’re not being entirely open and honest with the police.”

“But I’m not connected. I don’t know them. This is the first time I’ve met Tyra and Scarlet.”

“And you’ll be seeing a lot of them over the next week.”

My stomach burned. If the wedding went forward. I clasped my hands on the table. I hoped it went forward. But how could it?

“Just keep your ears open,” he continued, giving me a short nod. “Let me know what you learn. Besides, I know you will no matter what I say.”

I nodded, but I doubted Adele’s friends would confide in me. We’d gone to separate colleges. Adele and Harper had gone on to develop new friendship circles that I wasn’t a part of. But I’d figure out a way to get them talking.

So what if it was only a week plus one day to the wedding? If there is a wedding. I pushed that thought aside. My only suspects were the two of them, plus William.

Bugsy yawned and scratched his ear.

William. “Oh,” I said. “This is Bernadette’s dog. I need to give him to William.”

“He left,” Jason said.

My stomach tried to jump into my throat. “He left without Bugsy?” That came out sounding more rattled than I’d intended. Don’t panic. Will was probably too distraught to think of the chihuahua right now anyway. “But... what should I do with the dog? William may worry.”

“Keep him for now. I’ll let William know I asked you to take care of him. Better you than the pound.”

I watched Laurel and Jason question Adele and the other bridesmaids. Harper left with a uniformed officer, I guessed to make her statement at the station. Bugsy curled up on the table and fell asleep.

Finally, Laurel came to my table. I told her what I’d seen and done that afternoon. My arrival. Meeting Scarlet and Tyra. Harper leaving and then returning and taking me outside to Bernadette.

Laurel’s nostrils flared. “Did you and Harper have to tell everyone at the table about the body? What’s your problem? You two purposefully ignored me when I told you to keep your yaps shut.”

I flushed, since it happened to be true. “Adele asked about the dog. I couldn’t lie.”

“Oh, couldn’t you?” Her face reddened. “Because Adele seems to have blabbed to everyone else.”

“Yes, but... I mean. It’s not Adele’s fault. And Harper and I were probably in shock after finding the body?” I said lamely.

“Probably?”

“Well Harper looked pretty shocked to me,” I said.

The detective grunted. “What’s with the dog?”

“Bugsy? He’s Bernadette’s. He’s the dog that led Harper to the, er, body.”

“It looks like a rat.”

Bugsy opened one eye and growled.

I put my hands over his ears. “There’s no need to get personal. He’s just lost his mistress.”

The chihuahua howled, a dirge.

 

 

three

 

Harper was at the police station. Adele had left to give her fiancé, Dieter Finkielkraut, the bad news. That left me with Tyra and Scarlet. Lacking any better ideas, I took them to the Bell and Brew, a local microbrewery.

We sat at a metal table on the wide sidewalk, greasy comfort food and mugs of beer before us. The night hadn’t yet released the day’s warmth. Heat radiated from the brick building, the concrete walk, the nearby street.

A low iron fence kept us separate from the occasional person wandering past. There weren’t many. San Benedetto pretty much rolled up its sidewalks at eight, and it was nearly nine.

Bugsy lay curled in my lap. Every now and then, the dog quivered.

“What do you think’s going to happen to the wedding?” Tyra slid a manicured finger between her wrist and her chunky gold bracelet, twisting it sideways.

My grip tightened on my mug. It was what I’d been thinking but had been unwilling to ask. The wedding seemed small in the face of violent death. But it was Adele and Dieter’s wedding. It mattered.

“Bernadette’s dead.” Scarlet scraped back her red hair. “I think that’s more important than a wedding.”

A farm truck puttered past.

“That’s not fair,” Tyra said. “Of course we need to deal with Bernadette’s death. Artemis alone—” She shook her head. “But you can’t delay a wedding without a cost, and I’m not just talking about money. Adele’s been planning this for months.” Her dark, maple-colored eyes met my gaze. “Has she said anything to you?”

“No,” I said heavily. “We didn’t get a chance to discuss it. My guess is she’s talking it over with Dieter now.” How would they manage it? You couldn’t exactly gloss over a dead bridesmaid. And if I knew Adele, she wouldn’t want to.

“Poor Adele,” Scarlet breathed. “Poor Bernadette.”

“I never got a chance to meet Bernadette,” I said. “Tell me about her.” If I was going to start listening for Jason—okay, for Adele…

Okay, if I was honest, for me. I wanted to know. I wanted to know what sort of person could take another’s life. I wanted to know the why—why Bernadette? I wanted to fix this, though I knew I never really could. You can’t fix murder.

“The three of us went to St. Timothy’s together,” Scarlet said.

I nodded. St. Timothy’s was a local private school. From the view of my pokey public school, the St. Timothy girls had been otherworldly creatures in navy skirts and neat jackets.

“Bernadette always was a straight arrow,” Tyra said mournfully.

“She wasn’t perfect,” Scarlet said.

“Well no, nobody’s perfect,” Tyra said. “But she always tried to do the right thing.” She smiled wanly. “It didn’t make her very popular in school. But it did at Artemis.”

“Everybody loved her.” Scarlet blinked rapidly and rotated her beer mug on the table.

“Tell me about Artemis,” I said. “How did you three start it?”

“Tyra started it,” Scarlet said. “Me and Bernadette were just along for the ride.”

“That’s not true,” Tyra said. “It’s your technology.”

Scarlet raised a beer mug. “Which I never would have gotten out into the world without you two.”

“What exactly does Artemis do?” I asked.

“Pinprick blood testing for pets,” Tyra said. “It’s a cheaper, faster, and less painful alternative than drawing blood with a needle.”

“What sort of testing?” I asked.

“CBCs, heartworm, glucose, electrolytes—all the basics,” Scarlet said.

“And Bernadette was in marketing?” I asked.

Tyra nodded. “Bernadette was our marketing VP, though she got the biology and tech side too. She was responsible for wrangling investors, and she was good at it. She’d just made a deal with a chain of pet stores.”

“Pet stores are doing lab testing?”

“They will be now.” Tyra smiled briefly. “Like I said, all you need is a pinprick. We’re on the verge of another deal with a national veterinary chain. Thanks partly to Bernadette, Artemis is now valued at over a billion.”

I blinked. A billion? It was one of those numbers too big to really get your head around.  And I was pretty good with numbers.

“I’m not sure how the investors will react to her death.” Tyra bit her lip. “I need to make a call.” She stood and wended through the tables to the low, metal gate. It clanged shut behind her.

“Don’t think badly of her,” Scarlet said. “It’s not all about the money. She misses Bernadette. But she’s a CEO too, with a lot of employees who depend on those paychecks.”

“No, I get it.” Life went on, just not for Bernadette. I forced my hands to loosen. “So, you’re the tech person?”

“The Chief Technical Officer. Normally, that position has to do with computers, but…” She shook her head. “It’s all semantics. I’m a biologist, but I developed the tech. Now I run the division developing and managing the new blood testing technology.”

“A big responsibility. How did you come up with the idea for pinprick tests?”

She shrugged. “Bernadette was complaining about taking Bugsy to the vet and how much he hated needles. I started to wonder if there was a better way. What about you? What’s running a paranormal museum like?”

I was barely covering salaries and cat food. I worked stupid hours. And my museum’s only claim to fame was a mini-riot at a de-cursing ritual. “It’s never boring.”

“So there’s more involved than taking tickets?”

I stiffened. But why was I getting defensive? It was a good question. “Lots more. I recently started a monthly box service. You know, people sign up to get monthly packages from us with different themes, like ghost hunting or fortune telling? There’s also a crew of ghost hunters that comes in a couple nights a month. And we’ve recently started a podcast, though I’ve had to let it slide for wedding week.”

She smiled. “Sounds imaginative. Bernadette would have loved to talk to you. Lately, she felt like she’d lost her creative mojo.”

“How so?”

“She felt she’d gotten into a routine. I don’t know exactly, I just know that lately she’s been pretty tense. How did you get into the paranormal museum business?”

“I’d been working overseas for a long time, and when I came home, no one wanted to hire me.” I coughed and took a quick swig of beer. Okay, that sounded pathetic.

“They couldn’t see the transition between what I’d done there and what I could do here,” I added quickly. “I guess I didn’t sell myself well enough. And Adele had sort of inherited the museum along with the rest of the building for the tearoom. The mayor didn’t want the museum to go. Aside from a tasting room or two, it’s the downtown’s only real tourist attraction.”

“There’s the Christmas Cow they build in the park each year.”

That stupid straw cow. I forced a smile. “But that’s only during the holiday season.” And it was only a big deal because some idiot set it on fire nearly every year. It had become an unwholesome tradition. “If the fire department has its way, they’ll shut it down.”

“The Christmas Cow? No way. It’s too big a draw. They’ve got a webcam for people to try to catch the annual arson.”

“The Paranormal Museum has a webcam.” My face heated. Defensive again. Now I really was showing my insecurity. So I didn’t have a high-powered career or a fancy wardrobe? I had a paranormal museum and got to wear jeans and a t-shirt to work. Freedom had value.

Tyra returned to our table. She pulled back her chair, and it screeched across the pavement. Tyra sat, a bleak expression on her face.

“Is everything okay?” Scarlet asked.

“No.” Her hands fisted on the table. She swallowed. “But it will be. We’ll get through this.”

“Did Bernadette have any family?” I asked.

“Just Will,” Scarlet said. “Her husband.” She glanced down at the dog. “I don’t know why he didn’t take Bugsy when he was at Plot 42 earlier.”

“I’m sure he had other things on his mind,” Tyra said.

Scarlet rolled her eyes.

I lowered my head and studied her. What had that eyeroll meant?

“I’d planned on moving Artemis from Sacramento to San Benedetto,” Tyra said in a low voice. “Now, I’m not sure I want to. For something like this to happen here...” she trailed off.

“We don’t know how Bernadette died,” Scarlet said.

Tyra snorted. “The way the police were interrogating all of us? They obviously think someone killed her.” She looked around the darkened street. “What’s happened to our hometown? I used to think it was boring. Now I wish it really was.”

“It was probably someone with mental health issues,” Scarlet said. “That could happen anywhere.”

“You sound like you think her murder was random.” We’d been dancing around the word, and I watched for their reactions.

Even in the dim light from the microbrewery’s windows, I could see Scarlet blanch. “What else could it be?” she asked.

“You can’t think of anyone who would have wanted her dead?” I asked.

A thoughtful look crossed Scarlet’s face.

“No one wanted her dead,” Tyra said. “She was a good person. Right, Scarlet?”

“Right,” she said. “I mean, people usually get murdered because they did something. Bernadette would never do anything. So it had to be random, right?”

I smoothed my expression. That sounded a lot like victim blaming and wishful thinking. “What about at work?” I asked. “Did she have any enemies there?”

“You sound a lot like that police detective,” Tyra said.

“Adele thought it would help if I asked around.” My face warmed. No, that didn’t sound crazy at all.

“Why you?” Scarlet asked. “The police are already asking around.”

“I sort of helped solve some murders,” I muttered. “You may have heard of the Christmas Cow killings.”

Tyra’s brow furrowed. “You were involved in that? I read about those in the papers. But I don’t remember seeing your name.”

“Well,” I said, “the police arrested the killer, but I helped. And then there were the murders in the chocolate shop...”

Tyra and Scarlet shared a glance.

Great. They thought I was a nut job. “Ask Adele,” I said. “She can explain it better than me.”

Tyra scraped back her chair and stood. “We’d better get back to our hotel.”

“You have a hotel?” They lived in Sacramento. It was only around an hour away. I’d figured they’d be driving back after the party.

“We thought we’d have a wild night and wouldn’t be able to drive home,” Tyra said. “But since we have the room, we may as well stay. I’m sure Adele will need to talk things out tomorrow about the wedding.”

Scarlet frowned. “If there still is a wedding.”