starting the engine. She waved at him before driving off, kicking herself for being the reason for the forlorn puppy dog look on his face.
At home, she washed the cigarette-and-spilled beer smell of their favorite dive bar out of her hair and changed into pajamas. Stacy had learned the hard way to wear full pajamas and keep a robe handy at all times, having twice before been awakened in the middle of the night by a hysterical bride who was surprised to see her in an oversized t-shirt. Coincidentally, both instances had involved a bride who’d attempted to surprise her groom with a pre-nuptial romantic opportunity, only to find him already taking full and glorious advantage of a bridesmaid. In one instance, it had been the bride’s twin sister, and no, mistaken identity did not suffice as a defense in that case.
She tried to work on the problem at hand, but her thoughts were still with the devastated looking man she’d left in a parking lot that evening. Was there any truth to his accusations? Was she really avoiding making any plans because it was more fun to be engaged to him than married? She grew angry all over again at his insinuation that she was only stringing him along to keep her job, as though there was even a shadow of a doubt that she needed him in that way, or that she couldn’t waltz out of his life and have her pick of jobs lined up before sunrise the next day. She was better than that, she was Anastacia East, the head of the most sought after business of its kind.
Stacy eventually gave in to the desire for soul-resting sleep when a yawn nearly gave her double vision. Agnes Fearnot’s salvation would have to wait. Stacy had to put the hurtful conversation behind her, and her only hope was to sleep like the dead.
----
“ O kay , we need a game plan,” Stacy announced to her two best friends in her office the next morning. The sleep had at least given her enough focus to come up with a plan to make a plan. “Here’s where we stand: Tori, you don’t believe in ghosts and you think there’s a logical explanation for all of this. Jeremiah, you’re apparently firmly in the ‘ghosts are real and I’m outta here’ camp.”
“And don’t forget, I’ve got Jebbie on my side. Technically, that means I get two votes, and my votes say we move this shindig somewhere else.” He shot Tori a confident look, ignoring her when she stuck her tongue out at him.
“Jebbie doesn’t get a vote in this, unless he plans to cater both the rehearsal dinner and the reception, which now that I think about it might not be a bad idea.” Stacy jotted a note down on her notepad to check on that. “Now, I think there must be some kind of possibility that we’re not considering. Let’s look at the facts.”
The three of them reviewed what they knew about the dead body, the strange events, even Mr. Lariviere’s refusal to take part in the property’s event of the decade. No suspect was off the list, as far as they were concerned.
“You know who I really don’t like in all this? That schmarmy reporter guy,” Jeremiah said with a frown. “He actually took pictures of them loading the lady in the coroner’s van, but he did it from the woods. He didn’t have to do that. Once a suspected crime has been committed, it becomes news and a reporter can cover it. So why take pictures from the woods like a crazed stalker?”
Stacy started to answer but stopped in mid-sentence. She held up her hand for silence, giving both Tori and Jeremiah pause as they watched her blank expression.
“Jeremiah, you’re a genius,” she whispered.
“As you’ve said over the years, but what did I do this time?” he asked curiously.
“Not the flowers… the murder.”
Chapter 8
“ W hy do I have to be the dead lady?” Tori wailed again, trying not to let the tears pricking her eyes turn into full-blown ugly crying.
“Because you’re the one who says she doesn’t believe in ghosts!” Stacy answered, cinching the knots a
At home, she washed the cigarette-and-spilled beer smell of their favorite dive bar out of her hair and changed into pajamas. Stacy had learned the hard way to wear full pajamas and keep a robe handy at all times, having twice before been awakened in the middle of the night by a hysterical bride who was surprised to see her in an oversized t-shirt. Coincidentally, both instances had involved a bride who’d attempted to surprise her groom with a pre-nuptial romantic opportunity, only to find him already taking full and glorious advantage of a bridesmaid. In one instance, it had been the bride’s twin sister, and no, mistaken identity did not suffice as a defense in that case.
She tried to work on the problem at hand, but her thoughts were still with the devastated looking man she’d left in a parking lot that evening. Was there any truth to his accusations? Was she really avoiding making any plans because it was more fun to be engaged to him than married? She grew angry all over again at his insinuation that she was only stringing him along to keep her job, as though there was even a shadow of a doubt that she needed him in that way, or that she couldn’t waltz out of his life and have her pick of jobs lined up before sunrise the next day. She was better than that, she was Anastacia East, the head of the most sought after business of its kind.
Stacy eventually gave in to the desire for soul-resting sleep when a yawn nearly gave her double vision. Agnes Fearnot’s salvation would have to wait. Stacy had to put the hurtful conversation behind her, and her only hope was to sleep like the dead.
----
“ O kay , we need a game plan,” Stacy announced to her two best friends in her office the next morning. The sleep had at least given her enough focus to come up with a plan to make a plan. “Here’s where we stand: Tori, you don’t believe in ghosts and you think there’s a logical explanation for all of this. Jeremiah, you’re apparently firmly in the ‘ghosts are real and I’m outta here’ camp.”
“And don’t forget, I’ve got Jebbie on my side. Technically, that means I get two votes, and my votes say we move this shindig somewhere else.” He shot Tori a confident look, ignoring her when she stuck her tongue out at him.
“Jebbie doesn’t get a vote in this, unless he plans to cater both the rehearsal dinner and the reception, which now that I think about it might not be a bad idea.” Stacy jotted a note down on her notepad to check on that. “Now, I think there must be some kind of possibility that we’re not considering. Let’s look at the facts.”
The three of them reviewed what they knew about the dead body, the strange events, even Mr. Lariviere’s refusal to take part in the property’s event of the decade. No suspect was off the list, as far as they were concerned.
“You know who I really don’t like in all this? That schmarmy reporter guy,” Jeremiah said with a frown. “He actually took pictures of them loading the lady in the coroner’s van, but he did it from the woods. He didn’t have to do that. Once a suspected crime has been committed, it becomes news and a reporter can cover it. So why take pictures from the woods like a crazed stalker?”
Stacy started to answer but stopped in mid-sentence. She held up her hand for silence, giving both Tori and Jeremiah pause as they watched her blank expression.
“Jeremiah, you’re a genius,” she whispered.
“As you’ve said over the years, but what did I do this time?” he asked curiously.
“Not the flowers… the murder.”
Chapter 8
“ W hy do I have to be the dead lady?” Tori wailed again, trying not to let the tears pricking her eyes turn into full-blown ugly crying.
“Because you’re the one who says she doesn’t believe in ghosts!” Stacy answered, cinching the knots a
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