***
The rose garden is actually on the roof, two floors above the bridal floor. After slipping back into the elevator, I hit the button for the roof. The elevator stops on the eighth floor, and a handful of groomsmen pile in. I’m immediately gagging on the heavy smell of cologne and stale beer. They are oblivious to me as they talk.
“This is going to be the best wedding prank ever,” the tallest one of the group says with a cocky grin.
“I know. Dude, they will never see it coming.”
“Your sister is gonna kill you, man,” another jokes.
The tall boy shrugs and tugs at his bowtie. “It’s really a gift for Brandon. He’s so uptight.”
“Well, your gift should loosen up his girdle a little.”
They all laugh as the doors slide open.
“Come on, Doug,” one of the boys says, motioning to the tall one.
“Doug Cartwright?” I must say the name out loud because one of the groomsmen shoots me a duh look.
Before I can follow the groomsmen and ask about this prank, I’m accosted by a short man in a grey tux. He’s portly, and judging by the way he’s walking and his cute little blue-framed glasses, probably not part of the wedding party.
“Excuse me, who are you? This is a closed floor.”
I hold out my hand, which he stares at. What is it with these people and handshakes?
“I’m Heather. I’m with the caterer?” He looks blank, so I sigh. “There’s an issue with the cake. Something about too much humidity in the kitchen. The icing is starting to melt.”
His little hands actually fly to his face and flutter in front of his mouth. He looks like he’s going to cry.
“They told me to get Diane and have her go talk to the kitchen manager about bringing the temperature down a few notches,” I finish quickly. His face has gone beet red, and I’m almost feeling bad.
“Oh, yes. Of course. I’ll take care of it right away. Tell Rodrigo that Diane is on it,” he blurts before scurrying over to a stern-looking woman in a long, powder-blue dress.
I catch a glance of the groomsmen talking as they wait for the bride to finish the photos with her parents. Doug Cartwright makes an exploding gesture with his hands, and a deep ball of dread forms in my gut. An exploding gift. A prank gone wrong. That’s what is going to kill the bride and groom. I turn, stepping back into the elevator and pressing the button. The gifts should be in the reception hall. I just need to find the one that’s a ticking bomb.
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