The Wedding Witch: a paranormal cozy mystery (The Fairyvale Mysteries)

by Sofia Belle

  “Aren’t you headed to the flower shop?” she argued. “Madrina sounded pretty sure that it was the flowers that were poisoned, not the donuts.”

  “It is the flowers, I'm ninety-nine percent positive. However, I can’t ignore the fact that both girls ate donuts the morning they died. Stop by and see what's going on, okay? The police are supposed to be there, but—”

  “—but you don't trust them to give you the full scoop,” Rosie said. “Don't worry, I'll be your eyes and ears. I'll check it out and let you know what's going on, but don't forget about that exclusive you promised me. I want the full story.”

  “I know, I know. Call me if you need anything. When you're done, better bring Layla her silk robe and a cup of hot chocolate, or else she'll be cranky when she wakes up.”

  “I'm already on it.” I could sense Rosie's smile from across town. “Madrina said there's nothing to worry about. Now go get the scoop for me.”

  We hung up as I pulled right back into the parking lot at Whitman’s. Cop cars were there, spread out across the street, the lot, and even partially on the sidewalk, as if they'd parked and forgotten about their cars in a hurry.

  I jumped out of my own vehicle, pushing my way toward the front. A few cops tried to stop me, but several of them recognized me from the hospital and wore hesitant expressions as they told me to get away. After I accidentally stepped on a few toes, the cops backed away and let me elbow my way to the front.

  Finally, someone on the inside called my name, my head jerking up at the sound.

  Eva.

  I rushed to her, the chief's right-hand man holding her in place, her hands cuffed behind her back. The cuffs were black instead of silver. The police department had publicly explained that the choice of black metal was a “quirk of the town,” but I knew better. Black metal protected against magic, and I was fairly certain the Council was behind the mandatory rule stating that black handcuffs must be used in Fairyvale.

  When I stood a few inches away, I made contact with Eva, the woman who had just agreed to provide flowers for the wedding of the summer. She’d had no incentive to poison me or Layla. Her business was set for the year, thanks to me.

  “I didn't do anything.” Eva's eyes were clear and firm. “Why would I sabotage our business deal?”

  I wondered the same thing, though I didn’t agree aloud. “You gave Layla the flowers.”

  “Cris,” she said. “As soon as Layla left, he asked to take his break. I already told the cops. I haven’t seen him since.”

  “Do you know where he went?”

  She shook her head. “I told him he had to finish what he was doing, and then he could have a five-minute break. That was ten minutes ago. You just missed him. But they,” she nodded to the cops, “don't believe me.”

  “You've got the wrong person,” I said to the cop holding onto Eva's wrists. “It's her assistant you should be going after. Did you see a gangly kid when you got here? Just out of high school.”

  Eva answered for him. “Cris slipped out the back. He usually leaves to grab a soda from the ice cream shop around the corner, so I didn't think anything of it.”

  “The poisoned flowers,” I said. “Did you know about them?”

  “Of course not!” Eva had the grace to look offended. “Although, now it makes sense why Cris didn't want to hand over those specific roses, even when I told him to do it. He knew they were poisoned, and he knew it'd get him in trouble. That’s why he left!”

  It made sense to me, but there were still too many unanswered questions for this whole thing to make complete sense. “Where would he have gone?”

  She shrugged, the metal of her handcuffs clinking behind her back. “I'm guessing one of two places. Either he ditched town or he went to Amelie's. He might have tried to convince her to run away with him.”

  “Do you know where Amelie lives?” I asked. “Have they moved in together yet?”

  She shook her head. “No. Cris has only worked here for a month or so. Amelie was making him work two months before she agreed to start looking for a place.”

  “That means she's still living on the corner of Kandi Lane and Frost Court.” Turning to the cops, I gave them the specific address. Having lived in town all my life, I knew where most people called home—we didn’t have high turnover when it came to permanent housing. Tourists liked to come visit, but they also liked to leave. “Can you send a car over to Amelie’s? Cris might have headed in that direction.”

  “Sure, Bel,” the cop said. “But I have orders to bring Eva in. We can't let her go.”

  “I understand,” I said. “Are you okay for now, Eva? I’ll do my best to get you out of there.”

  She shrugged, clanking her handcuffs accusatorily. “I’m not sure I have a choice, but if it’ll help, I'll answer their questions and go down to the station. I also want to stop by the hospital after, because I feel terrible about what happened to Layla.”

  “If you bring her some sweets, she might forgive you.” I gave a weak smile. Neither of us mentioned Linda. Not yet. Layla would survive, but Linda was gone. “I've got to go pick up Rosie and get back to the hospital. I'll see you later.”

  I left Eva handcuffed and shoved in the back of a patrol car as I headed back across town. Though I'd directed the police to Amelie's house, I had heavy doubts that either of them would be there. I rang Rosie, but she didn't answer.

  As I drove in the general direction of the hospital, I forced myself to think of all the scenarios. Where else might Cris have gone?

  I dialed Rosie again. No answer.

  I turned off Main Street, frowned at my phone, and dialed again. When she still didn't answer, my stomach turned over. I pulled back onto Main Street and floored it in the direction of Dungeons and Donuts. If Rosie wasn’t answering, there had to be a good reason for it.

  As I screeched into the driveway of the doughnut shop, I knew exactly where Cris had gone.

  Chapter 17

  ** **

  I didn't have time to park a block away and plan a surprise attack. Climbing from my car, I crept up the front sidewalk. The silence outside was unsettling. It was quiet—too quiet.

  The cop cars must have come and gone. Most likely, an announcement had gone out over the police scanners that Eva had been captured, and Cris was on the run.

  I crouched behind Andy Sweet's vehicle—a pink van with donuts and sprinkles decorating the outside. Easing closer to the front door, I kept my movements to a minimum. Cris had slipped away once, and if I wasn’t careful, he’d do it again.

  I peeked through the windows. My first glance turned up nothing. The space behind the cash register was empty, the donut cases full, the tables and chairs lining the outskirts of the room devoid of locals and tourists alike.

  “Take a few steps forward, open the door, and don't you dare think about turning around,” a voice said behind me.

  I raised my hands over my head, the universal sign I was unarmed. I closed my eyes, recognizing the high-pitched teenaged voice. After taking a deep breath, I did as I was told and opened the front door with painstaking caution. As I pulled the door open, the glass panel worked as a translucent sort of mirror, giving me a solid reflection of the boy standing behind me.

  He held a gun pointed at my back. The knowledge that he wasn't bluffing didn't do much to soothe my nerves. If anything, it kicked my adrenaline into high gear, icing over my veins.

  I raised my hands higher. “Listen, I just stopped by to pick up my friend and take her to the hospital.”

  “Stop moving your mouth so much and move your feet. We don't have all day here.”

  I took a step inside, scanning the shop in one motion. “I just want to go visit my friend in the hospital. Please, I won’t say anything.”

  “Shut up.” Cris didn't take the bait. I hadn’t expected him to, but in the time it took him to tell me to shut my mouth, I'd spotted Rosie.

  She sat in a chair, her arms tied behind her back. Cris had tucked her into a corner
not visible from the outside. He might be young and brash, but he wasn't completely stupid. The thought didn't make me feel better; young, rash, and in love—a dangerous combination.

  “Are you okay?” I looked first to Rosie, who gave a mildly annoyed nod of her head.

  Someone—likely Cris—had duct taped her mouth shut. However, her eyes glittered, and at the root of it, I could see an odd sort of excitement burning in her gaze. I suppose that was better than breaking down and crying, but still. Sometimes Rosie went too far for a story.

  A sharp intake of breath drew my eyes from Rosie to a door behind the donut counter. Amelie had appeared from the back room, her eyes widening at my presence.

  “Cris, what are you doing?” she said. “Why are you here? What is going on?”

  “I'm here to save you, babe,” Cris said. “We're going to run away together. Just like I promised.”

  “Our plan was never to run away,” Amelie said. She had long brown hair and big, chestnut-colored eyes, the combination strikingly beautiful but also innocent. “I said I would move in with you. I'm not running anywhere.”

  “You said you'd go anywhere for me.” Cris frowned, keeping the gun pointed at my back.

  “I said I would look at an apartment anywhere in town!” She threw her hands in the air. “I have family here. A job. Friends. I'm not leaving, Cris. I told you that. We agreed to look for apartments in the city.”

  “But—” Cris started to speak, but Amelie shook her head.

  “What are you doing with a gun?” she asked. “These are our customers! We've catered weddings for Bel before. You’d better have a good explanation.”

  “Tell her about the flowers,” I said in low tones. “Tell Amelie about Linda.”

  “What flowers?” Amelie took a step forward, but when Cris’s aim twitched higher on my back, she stayed behind the counter. “What is she talking about, Cris?”

  “Nothing,” he said. “She's crazy. Doesn't know what she's talking about.”

  “Something is going on,” Amelie said. “First, the police took Andy down to the station for questioning, and now this. Does it have something to do with the rumors about Linda’s death being a murder?”

  “I didn't do anything!” His voice grew louder, and Rosie's eyes grew wider. As for me, I watched his reflection in the donut case. Cris's hands shook slightly, which wasn't a good sign considering that he was holding a gun pointed at my back.

  Even the magic running through my blood wasn’t enough to stop a well-timed bullet.

  “It was Andy!” Cris snarled. “Andy's the one who poisoned Linda. The police wouldn't have arrested him otherwise.”

  “Andy went voluntarily down to the station to answer questions.” Amelie's voice was low and calculated. “He was cooperating to help find the killer. That doesn’t explain how you are involved in all of this.”

  “Amelie, I love you,” Cris said. “I am just trying to show you I can hold down a job.”

  “The only thing you’re holding right now is a weapon.” Amelie’s eyes looked at Rosie, who was tied up in the chair, then they flicked toward me. “Bel, what’s going on?”

  “He poisoned my best friend,” I said. Then Rosie grunted and gave an annoyed shake of her head, and I backtracked quickly. “I mean, Cris poisoned one of my two best friends, both of whom I love equally and couldn’t ever possibly choose between them.”

  Rosie harrumphed in grudging agreement.

  “Is this true?” Amelie turned on her boyfriend.

  “No! Of course not. It was Andy.”

  “Andy wouldn’t hurt a fly,” Amelie said. “He wants to help.”

  “I love you, Amelie. I just want us to be together.” The nose of the gun dropped slightly, and if I weren’t being held hostage by a gangly teen, I might’ve felt sympathetic toward him.

  Then I reminded myself that there were plenty of normal ways to express love for one’s soul mate that didn’t involve brandishing a gun.

  “I didn’t mean to poison anyone,” he said, his voice a thin line of ice. “It was an accident.”

  Amelie looked like someone had slapped her across the face. Her eyes widened, and her mouth opened slightly. “You’re admitting you killed someone?”

  “It wasn’t supposed to hurt anyone!” Cris threw his hands in the air. “None of this was supposed to happen.”

  “But it did,” I said, my voice cold. “One person died, and another person is in the hospital right now, struggling to breathe. That’s my friend in the hospital.”

  “Cris…” Amelie backed up. “What did you do?”

  “I wanted to start my own flower shop,” he said, his expression changing to one of scary calmness. “Here I am doing all the hard work and heavy lifting for Eva, and I get paid pennies. I do most of the work, I should get paid more. I should own that shop.”

  “You’re deluded!” Amelie shouted. “You’re crazy. Andy asked Eva to do a favor and give you a job. Eva was doing it for Andy, and for me. For you, Cris, for us. You were just supposed to work this stupid job for two months, and I would’ve moved in with you. I told you we could’ve looked for a new job down the line. You couldn’t even do that?”

  “I do love you. More than anything,” he said. “That’s why all of this happened.”

  “No! You did it for yourself. If you loved me, you would’ve done as I asked and just worked at the flower shop for two months.” Amelie shook with fury. “And now people have died because of you. What were you thinking?”

  Cris’s face froze, the look of calm slowly seeping into one of terror. “I registered a new shop under my family name. Anderson’s Flowers. I figured we could just take the flowers that Eva didn’t use and resell them there.”

  “Those are Eva’s flowers!” Amelie said. “There is no ‘we’ in any of this! She’s the one who does all the hard work: growing the flowers, watering them, nurturing and caring for them. You just lift the boxes onto the truck and help with some of the clipping. Cris, it was an easy job. You are given a golden opportunity, and you go and...I don’t even know the word to describe it!”

  Cris’s tone took on a pleading quality. “I wanted to give you a good life. A better life than I could have if I kept working at that dead-end flower job. I’m an opportunist. An entrepreneur, Amelie. I wanted to take care of you.”

  “I can take care of myself. I have a job.” She threw her hands out, gesturing to the donut cases surrounding us.

  Her movements gave me the kernel of an idea for an escape plan. But I needed to wait out Cris’s explanation and hear what he had to say. Both for myself and for Layla. For Linda. For the police.

  “I have a legitimate job,” Amelie continued. “I don’t need a million dollars, Cris. I need a man who can hold onto a job and be a moral human being. I’m sorry that’s not you. I can’t believe I ever thought it was—I feel so stupid.”

  Cris didn’t have a response.

  I took the opportunity to step toward Amelie as if moving to comfort her. When Cris swung the gun to point at my face, I held my hands up in surrender. “Cool it. I’m just making sure your girlfriend is okay.”

  “Stay right there,” he said.

  “Cris—” Amelie started.

  “No, it’s okay,” I said, waving a hand at Amelie. I stopped and turned to face her probably now ex-boyfriend. “What I want to know is why you needed to use poison. I’m a wedding planner, and I was actually looking into Anderson’s Flowers as a cheaper alternative for some of my smaller-budget weddings.” I exhaled a loud sigh. “I’m glad that none of my brides were interested, but still. You could’ve resold the flowers and nobody would have been any the wiser. Why the poison?”

  Cris’s jaw worked on an answer while I waited, trying to inch my way closer and closer to the pastry case, stopping only when he started to speak. “If word got out that Whitman’s was selling poisonous flowers to their bridal parties, their name would be ruined. Already people think there’s something magic about Eva’s flowers—wh
ich we all know is a blatant lie, because magic doesn’t exist—but what if they thought the scent was toxic? Everyone would need an alternative.”

  “And the only alternative around would be Anderson’s,” I said with a disgusted shake of my head. “That never would have worked long term. If Eva went out of business, where would you get your flowers?” I didn’t wait for Cris’s answer. Based on his blank expression, he didn’t have one. Obviously, he hadn’t thought far ahead. “And why give them to Linda? She wasn’t even from here.”

  “I dropped the flowers off for Hailey Monroe,” Cris said. “The card said Hailey. They were meant for the bride. I left them on the counter of the dress shop the night before. I didn’t imagine someone else would pick up the bouquet. I just thought the scent would permeate the air and give everyone a stomachache. How was I supposed to know that the bridesmaid would pick them up and sniff them?”

  “That’s what people do—they smell flowers!” Amelie couldn’t control the volume of her voice, and it bordered on hysterics. “That’s half of the reason to give someone a bouquet. What’s the first thing a girl does? Sniff them.”

  While Amelie had been talking, I’d inched my way close enough to the donut case so that I could touch the handle on the outside. Cris’s explanation had given me time to formulate a plan. It wasn’t a pretty plan or even a particularly good one, but there were only so many resources at hand in a donut shop. At the moment, frosting, jelly, and creme filling were the frontrunners in my weapons arsenal. All I needed was a distraction.

  Thankfully, Rosie and I had lived together for so long that we’d developed a bit of a psychic bond. She caught my eye, noticed my sly gesture toward the donut case, and slowly turned her gaze forward as understanding dawned across her face.

  When Cris turned away for a moment to profess his love for Amelie, Rosie took the opportunity to begin a countdown. Three, she mouthed, followed quickly by two.

  When she got to one, Cris raised the gun, a twinge of sadness reflected in a reluctant twitch of his lips. “I’m sorry, but I have to do this.”