Chapter 36
CHAPTER 36
Last Sail Before the Veil—What a Trip!
D ear Trixie,
Oh boy, do I need a laugh. I’m in the middle of wedding planning, and it’s been a ride—like, a roller coaster with no seatbelt! Last week, my cousin swore that a llama had to be the ring bearer (she saw it in a movie, apparently). My fiancé’s best man decided he’d surprise us by arranging a flash mob—except he forgot to tell any of us and we nearly had a shootout. Then there’s my aunt, who has taken it upon herself to choreograph the chicken dance for the entire family to perform at the reception. It’s equal parts ridiculous and endearing, but I have to ask—what’s the funniest part—or perhaps more accurately, the cruelest part—of your wedding planning so far?
Sincerely, Chaotic Carla
Dear Carla,
First of all, Carla, can I just say that your wedding sounds like it’s going to be legendary. I would pay good money to see a llama ring bearer, and I have a feeling your flash mob may just go down in family history—so long as no bullets are discharged. Honestly, those kinds of moments are what make a wedding day unforgettable, and from the sounds of it, you’ve got plenty of them.
As for me, the funniest part of my planning so far? Hands down, it’s got to be the time my bachelorette party accidentally got caught up in a naughty game of pin the bowtie on the groom. Needless to say, my bestie, Elodie, was at the helm of that raunchy good time. Weddings have a way of bringing people together in the strangest—and funniest—ways. So embrace the chaos! The quirky, crazy moments are the ones you'll be laughing about for years to come. And hey, if your cousin really gets that llama, make sure it has a flower crown. Trust me, it’ll be a showstopper.
XOXO Trixie
I weave my way through the crowd here on the last night of our leaf-peeping cruise and sidestep a few swaying couples, each with their own glowing cocktails, and one overly enthusiastic conga line, before finally catching sight of Merritt’s ghost lingering near the dessert table.
She’s not exactly at the top of my list when it comes to people that I’d like to mingle with at my own party, but nevertheless, it’s a necessary evil. Somewhere in Merritt’s noggin is the answer to who sent her packing to far more heavenly places. And the sooner we discover who did it, the sooner I can send her packing to those heavenly places, too.
Merritt is eyeing a tower of macarons with the intensity of someone about to either start a French revolution or finish one. Her spectral form flickers with delight as she points to one and then the other. Personally, I don’t see why she doesn’t just shove the entire sugar-sweet tower into her mouth. She’s dead. Calories don’t count and cellulite will never again be an issue. Which also means there’s not a cookie on the planet that can kill her.
Oh, how much easier my life would be if it had been a cookie that took down my nemesis. Not that I would want that. At most, I would like to have seen a crumb go down the wrong pipe. Sometimes a severe coughing fit can feel like a fate worse than death .
“Merritt,” I say, sidling up to her and keeping my voice low. “Are you planning on haunting my party, or are you just here for the free food?”
Merritt spins my way with all the force of a tornado as she narrows her eyes on me.
“Aren’t you in a killer good mood.” She snorts. “You should take this show on the road—maybe straight off the side of the ship.”
“Touchy tonight, aren’t we?” I tease, snapping up a pistachio macaron for myself. “I think we should have a word. Or maybe a couple thousand words. I know we can solve this case if we just put our minds together.”
“You mean if you sift through my mind as best as you can. You do realize that if I knew who the killer was, I’d hunt them down myself. Only they wouldn’t be going to prison. There’s a nice spot next to me at the Brambleberry Bay Cemetery. They might think they’ve gotten away with murder, but when I get through with them— they’re going to wish they were dead ,” she roars as the bodies grow around us. “Now, what do you want, Trixie?”
“Oh, you know”—I say, leaning her way—“a clue, a hint, maybe a confession? You’ve been hovering around long enough. Surely, you’ve seen something or remembered something useful by now.”
One of her glowing eyebrows shoots up. “I’m dead, not omniscient. And besides, you’re the nosey body here. Why don’t you try using that brain of yours instead of pestering me?”
“I’m trying,” I hiss. “But a little spectral intel wouldn’t hurt either.”
Before Merritt can hiss right back, Kimball Spicer ambles over, looking a little worse for wear with his tie askew and the lines around his eyes deeper than usual. But he looks perfectly dapper, as does just about every other male here this evening.
“Trixie,” he says with an amicable smile. “Congratulations to you. This is quite the party. Ransom is certainly a very lucky man.”
Merritt huffs at the thought. “Try reversing it. That man is hotter than a Canadian wildfire. What he’s doing with you, I’ll never know. ”
I lift my chin a notch in an effort to ignore her. “Thanks,” I tell him. “I’m feeling pretty lucky myself.”
“I ran into Stanton.” He takes a deep breath and ticks his head to the side. “I’ll be honest, he’s looking a little rough around the edges.”
“ Eh .” I shrug. “That’s what living the entire last year as a bachelor does to you. Have I mentioned the man has a newfound affinity for booze and women? Oh wait, come to find out, it’s an old affinity.”
We share a dark laugh, despite the fact I’m a bit of the punchline myself.
“And it is an old affinity,” Merritt mumbles through the side of her mouth and I give her a curious look.
“Anyway”—Kimball rubs the back of his neck— “I wanted to come over and ask you to extend a thank you to your fiancé for... well, for trying to figure this all out. Merritt deserves justice.”
“I will most certainly let him know you said so.” I offer up a small smile. “Don’t worry, we’ll get to the bottom of this.”
“You had better,” Merritt growls and my hair blows back because of it.
Kimball’s gaze shifts to Merritt as if he could see her, and there’s more than a flicker of grief in his eyes. “She deserved better than this. I hope you find whoever did it.”
Kimball gives a slight nod before wandering toward the bar, and I’m about to head back to Bess and Nettie when I nearly collide with Visalia Jones.