The Ghost of Grey Fox Inn by Carolyn Keene

themselves!”
    Russell and Sharon, I thought. Those are Charlotte’s parents in there!
    â€œWhat I understand,” Mrs. Goodwin replied, furious, “is that three months ago, you had no problem with any of this! You barely even looked at those numbers before you signed the contracts for everything. And now, all of a sudden, we get to Charleston and you’re acting like someone held a gun to your head and forced you to pay for a wedding!”
    There was a long moment of silence before Mr. Goodwin said anything more. “I’m . . . I’m sorry.”
    I heard Mrs. Goodwin sigh. “Russell, is there something you aren’t telling me?”
    Another pause. “Last week,” Mr. Goodwin finally said, “a few days before our flight . . . I lost big in the stock market. Big. The CEO is less than pleased aboutit—he thinks I should have seen it coming. At any rate, it’s not looking good for me.”
    â€œOh, honey,” Mrs. Goodwin breathed. I heard the rustle of an embrace. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
    â€œI didn’t want to ruin the wedding for you. You should be thinking about Charlotte right now, not worrying about our finances.”
    â€œPerhaps, but—”
    Just then, a couple of the guests came down the hallway, laughing and talking loudly. Mr. and Mrs. Goodwin went silent, and a moment later, Mr. Goodwin opened the coatroom door to find me standing right beside it. He glanced at me uncertainly.
    â€œOh!” I said, “Sorry, I was looking for the ladies’ room. I guess I picked the wrong door!”
    Mr. Goodwin’s face relaxed. “No problem, Nancy. It’s just down there on the left.”
    â€œThanks!” I said with a smile. And with that, I scooted down the hall and away.
    I thought about the conversation as I reapplied mylipstick in the restroom. Mr. Goodwin’s motives to stop the wedding just didn’t add up. Money did make people do crazy things, but most of the money would have already been spent by now, wouldn’t it? And from the sound of it, Mr. Goodwin only wanted the best for Charlotte—even if it meant putting up with some irritating in-laws. His negative attitude could be explained away by this problem with his job, plain and simple. Bess was right—Mr. Goodwin didn’t belong on our list of suspects, after all.
    Feeling at loose ends with the case, I made my way back to the table. Part of the problem with this mystery was that the relationship between the incidents so far was unclear. Sneaking into people’s rooms at night was creepy—but the perpetrator didn’t steal anything or hurt anyone. So was their motive simply to frighten people? Changing the flowers felt more like a personal insult, a move meant to rattle Charlotte and make her feel uneasy about the wedding.
    Thinking about it all, I started to become uneasy myself. I realized exactly why as I reached my seat: thetwo incidents felt like a prelude. The main event was still to come.
    â€œCheck it out!” George said with a grin. “Southern barbecue!”
    Sure enough, a plate heaping with sweet-smelling pulled pork, blocks of corn bread, and green beans was waiting for me at my place. George dove right in, but I hesitated. There’s nothing like waiting for a crime to happen to make me lose my appetite.

    Ding! Ding! Ding!
    I looked up from my half-eaten peach pie à la mode to see Reggie, a handsome young man with a shaved head and coppery-brown skin, standing at the main table, tapping a spoon against his champagne glass. “Can I have your attention, please?” he was saying. He continued until the chatter around the dining room died down. “Thank you,” he said with a smile. He cleared his throat. “For those of you I haven’t met, my name is Reggie Banks, and I’m Parker’s best man. I know that I’m supposed to make my big speech atthe