The Ghost of Grey Fox Inn (5 page)

“And what's so wrong with yellow roses, anyway?” Bess asked.

Charlotte looked up at us with tears in her eyes. “Yellow roses have always been seen as bad luck. They represent jealousy and . . . infidelity.” She spoke the last word as if it were a curse. Then she looked at me, with a wild desperation in her eyes. “Nancy, maybe this is crazy, but it feels like someone is trying to ruin my wedding.”

I thought about everything that had happened since we'd arrived at the Grey Fox Inn, and I knew that my earlier instincts had been correct. “I don't think you're crazy, Charlotte,” I said. “I think you're right. And I promise, I'm going to get to the bottom of it.”

CHARLOTTE HAD TO GO TAKE
care of some details for the rehearsal dinner that night, so we dropped her off back at the inn before heading back out to do a little sightseeing and last-minute shopping for the wedding. It was late afternoon and blazing hot once the girls and I got back to the inn. We all guzzled several glasses of complimentary iced tea before heading upstairs, sweaty and tired.
George and I followed Bess into her room to talk.

“For a while there, I thought my face was on fire,” said George, collapsing on the bed. “It took all my willpower not to pour that whole pitcher of tea right on top of my head!”

Bess sighed. “I just hope this heat doesn't make my hair all pouffy,” she said, fanning herself with a travel magazine. “That is just the worst.”

“Not worse than having some loony sabotaging your wedding,” George muttered. She craned her head to look at me. “So, detective, what's the plan?”

I took a deep breath and began pacing the room. “Well, we don't know for sure if the incidents here at the inn and the change in the flowers are related. It makes sense that they are, but we can't assume anything yet. If this person is looking to disrupt Charlotte's wedding, these events might only be the beginning.”

Bess perched on one of the armchairs near the bed. “But who would want to ruin the wedding? Charlotte is such a nice girl. . . . I can't imagine anyone wanting to hurt her.”

“Well, if we've learned anything from all our cases,” I said, “it's that anyone can make enemies. Even if someone wasn't trying to hurt Charlotte, they might have another reason they'd want to stop the wedding.”

“And Charlotte isn't necessarily the target,” George added. “It's just as likely that Parker is the intended victim—it's his wedding too, after all.”

I nodded. “We need to start building a list of suspects. The culprit is probably staying at the inn, someone close to the action. They'd need to know where and when everything is happening, and be able to create these disruptions without attracting attention to themselves.”

“But everyone at the inn is either friends or family,” Bess said.

I shrugged, apologetic. “Sorry, Bess, but many crimes are committed by people close to the victim.” When Bess looked stricken, I laid my hand on her shoulder. “Don't worry—we'll stop this person before they can mess up Charlotte's big day.”

Bess nodded. “Okay, so who's on the list?”

“Well, I hate to say it,” George began, “but I think Mr. Goodwin should be on it.”

“Charlotte's dad?!” Bess spluttered. “But why would Uncle Russ want to stop the wedding?”

I tapped my chin thoughtfully. “It's a long shot—but for now, I agree with you, George. Mr. Goodwin has made it pretty clear he's unhappy about how much money he's spending on this event, and it seems like he blames Parker's parents for it.”

“It is very traditional that the bride's family pay for the majority of the cost,” Bess agreed. “And Uncle Russ is a lot more forward-thinking than the Hills seem to be, so he probably didn't appreciate their ‘tradition' very much. But you really think he'd do this to his own daughter, just over money?”

“If Mr. Goodwin doesn't like the family Charlotte's marrying into, he might be willing to go pretty far to put a stop to the wedding,” George reasoned.

“Okay, fine,” Bess said, sighing. “He's on the list—for now.”

“The only other person I can add is a guy named
Tucker Matthews,” I said. “I met him last night; he's one of the groomsmen. He seemed a little envious of Parker's luck—his career, his marriage, everything. It's not much to go on, but he's the only other person so far who has any motive.”

“Well, like you said,” George remarked, getting up and stretching, “it's only the beginning.”

A moment later there was a knock at the door. I opened it to find Charlotte's sister, Piper, standing in the hallway, looking even more luminous than before in a floral sundress and wide-brimmed hat. “I hope I'm not interrupting anything,” she said with an apologetic smile. “But I just wanted to remind you and your friends that the bridal party will be leaving for the rehearsal in an hour. It's at Our Lady of Truth on Broad Street.”

“Of course!” I said. “I must have lost track of time. We'll be there.” After closing the door, I turned back to Bess and George. “We'll have to leave the rest of the sleuthing for later—we've all got to get dressed for the rehearsal!”

After agreeing to meet Bess and George down in
the main room in forty-five minutes, I walked down the hall back toward my room. A young maid, with her black hair tied up in a bun, stood in the hallway with her cleaning cart, wrangling a large bag of linens into place. Her name tag read
ANNABELLE
. I walked past her to my room and began rummaging in my purse for the room key. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Piper and Morgan coming down the hallway and stopping a few doors down at what I guessed was their room. Then I heard Annabelle say, “Excuse me, sir, but haven't we met before?”

I looked up, curious. Morgan was staring at the maid, startled. Piper looked at Annabelle, then back at Morgan, and for a moment an angry expression crossed her face. But she quickly masked it and said, in a convincingly pleasant voice, “I'm sorry, miss, but you must be mistaken. Now, we're very busy. If you could come back later to make up the beds, I'd appreciate it.” And without waiting for an answer, she and Morgan walked into the room and shut the door behind them. Annabelle stared at the closed door for a few seconds before turning back to her work.

Strange,
I thought as I unlocked my room. Though, from the looks of Morgan, he seemed like the kind of guy who probably dated a lot of women. If Annabelle had known Morgan in the past, that would explain Piper's reaction to her. As I pulled out the summery aqua-and-coral-striped gown I'd brought for the rehearsal that night, I wondered what other strange things the evening might bring.

Our Lady of Truth was a beautiful old church right in the heart of historic Charleston. Palm trees clustered beneath its creamy-white bell tower, which gleamed in the late afternoon sun. It was blissfully cool inside, and the clacking of my heels on the marble floor echoed through the massive nave, with its soaring ceiling and ornate stained-glass windows. Bess, George, and I walked down the central aisle to join the bridesmaids and groomsmen who were already gathered at the front of the church. The Goodwins were seated on one side of the pews, the Hills on the other—which is tradition, but it made the emotional distance between them seem like
a physical reality. Charlotte and Parker were up at the altar, speaking to the reverend who would be officiating the ceremony.

While Bess dragged George off to meet some of the family, I hung back, admiring the beauty of the church. “It's almost three hundred years old, you know,” a voice behind me said. I turned to see a petite, full-figured young woman with ebony skin standing there. She was wearing a sleeveless navy dress and wore small, silver-rimmed glasses.

“Oh, really?” I replied, interested.

“Yes, it's one of the oldest structures in Charleston, actually.” She was about to continue when she stopped herself, embarrassed. “Look at me, spouting on about history without even introducing myself. I'm Alicia, one of the bridesmaids.” She held out her hand.

She had a very firm handshake for such a small person, and I returned it as best I could. “I'm Nancy, a friend of Charlotte's cousin Bess. And how do you know Charlotte?”

“We studied history together in college,” Alicia
replied. “Roommates for four years!” She shook her head and chuckled. “We probably drank enough coffee to fill the Colosseum. But we had a good time, Char and I. We were such nerds. . . . We always thought that we'd end up being dusty old cat ladies together, still sticking our noses in books all day.” Alicia's eyes lit upon Charlotte standing on the altar—she appeared much more relaxed than earlier and looked lovely in her lacy, plum-colored dress. “I never expected either of us to end up like this,” Alicia finished.

I watched Alicia's face with interest; she seemed fond of Charlotte, but there was also a twinge of resentment in her voice. “I guess you never know what the future will hold,” I said, keeping the tone light.

“It's funny,” Alicia went on dreamily. “If things had gone a little differently, it might have been me up there. Charlotte and I were both doing an internship at the Charleston Historical Society when our friend Reggie—he's the best man—introduced her to Parker. I just happened to be out sick that day. I remember she had her first date with him the same day she found out
she was awarded the grant we had both applied for. Quite an impressive run for Charlotte.”

“I'm . . . sorry,” I said, a little awkwardly.

Alicia chuckled to herself. “Don't be sorry. After all that, I ended up leaving Charleston for a new life in Florida. All's well that ends well. Anyway, it looks like the rehearsal's starting!”

Despite her reassurances, I wasn't totally convinced that Alicia didn't hold a grudge against Charlotte for getting the guy and the grant. Given how close they had been, it wasn't too hard to imagine that Alicia would like to see Charlotte's marriage fall through. Alicia's envy put her onto my list of suspects—right next to Tucker Matthews.

From the altar, the reverend was calling for everyone to gather together to practice the procession. “If you aren't in the bridal party, please take a seat!” he said. “Bridesmaids and groomsmen, pair up with your assigned partners at the foot of the aisle. Charlotte will put you in the right order.”

I sat down with George in one of the front pews
while Bess linked arms with one of Parker's handsome cousins and made her way to the back of the church. “Check out that guy's face,” George said. “He looks like he just won the lottery.”

I grinned. “Well, Bess is quite a catch.”

Right before the procession was about to start, I saw Mrs. Hill get up from her seat, rush over to the reverend, and whisper something in his ear. The reverend's eyebrows shot up, but after a moment he nodded and called out, “Excuse me, Charlotte—Mrs. Hill is a little concerned about you participating in the processional yourself. She believes . . . well, that it's bad luck for the bride to walk down the aisle before her wedding day.”

There was a pregnant silence before Charlotte replied, “Is it, now?”

The reverend cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Apparently so.”

Charlotte walked back up to the altar, carefully composing herself as she went. “Then I suppose I'll need a stand-in.”

“I'll do it!” Piper called out from where she was standing with Reggie, the best man.

Mrs. Hill leaned over to the reverend again and whispered something else in his ear. “Ah, Mrs. Hill thinks it might be better if it's someone unrelated to the family,” he said.

Charlotte turned to face Piper. “It's okay, sis. Anyway, I need you to walk with Reggie so it's just like the real thing. Thanks, though.”

Piper shrugged. “Just trying to help!” she said sweetly.