Chapter 6
The salty tang of ocean air mixes with the heady scent of jasmine, nail polish, and raspberry champagne as ten pairs of perfectly pedicured feet soak in a bubbling paradise.
Somewhere between the rhythmic splash of waves below the white deck of the inn and the mechanical hum of nail dryers, I’m surrounded by enough wedding drama to fuel a reality show for three seasons.
“Honey, pass me another mimosa,” Charlotte calls out from her throne-like pedicure chair, already on her third glass. “Wedding week stress is no joke.”
I settle into the chair next to Charlotte and Kiki, because nothing says cozy murder investigation like getting your toenails painted while interrogating suspects.
The nail tech starts working on my feet, and I figure this is the perfect opportunity to pump these two for information without them realizing they’re about to be squeezed by a mind-reading boa constrictor.
“I’m so sorry about the loss of your friend,” I say gently, settling into the rhythm of casual conversation while watching Charlotte scroll through her phone with the dedication of a NASA engineer monitoring a space launch. I can hardly blame her. It is her business, after all.
“Friend?” Charlotte looks up from her screen, blinking as if I’ve just suggested she was besties with her accountant.
“Oh, hon, Tessa and I weren’t friends. She was my wedding planner, sure, but it’s not like we were braiding each other’s hair and sharing secrets.
The woman was all business, all the time. ”
“Same here,” Kiki adds, examining her emerald green polish with the focus of a diamond appraiser. “I mean, it’s tragic what happened, but I barely knew the woman. We only met her a few times during the planning process.”
I stare at Kiki, wide-eyed.
This woman slapped Tessa at the wedding week kickoff luau, and now she’s acting like they were practically strangers?
I take her in for a moment. I’ll admit, Kiki is the kind of stunning that makes other women instinctively check their makeup—with her sharp cheekbones and glossy espresso-colored hair that falls in perfect waves past her shoulders.
Her emerald eyes match her nail polish with a coordination that suggests serious planning, and she’s got that corporate lawyer posture that screams I could destroy you in court and look fabulous doing it.
Everything about her is polished to a mirror shine, from her designer sundress to her flawless skin that might just require a team of professionals and serious dedication.
She’s beautiful in that intimidating, untouchable way that makes you wonder if she ever has bad hair days or gets food stuck in her teeth. Somehow, I doubt it.
Thank goodness no one saw what happened between us. Kiki blows out a breath with the thought. The last thing I need is people asking questions about why I lost it with her.
I definitely plan on finding out why she lost it with her.
Charlotte makes a face before taking another sip of her bubbly. Thank goodness Tessa can’t spill any of my secrets now. Charlotte scowls at her phone with the thought. That woman knew things that could have ruined everything I’ve worked for.
The bride-to-be has secrets? Interesting.
“Still, it must be unsettling,” I probe on, “having something like that happen right before your wedding, Charlotte. I’m so sorry. Did you notice anything strange about Tessa lately? Did she have any tension with anyone?” It takes everything in me not to shoot Kiki the side-eye.
Charlotte shrugs as her attention drifts back to her phone. “She seemed fine to me. She was pretty professional, you know? Maybe a little stressed, but aren’t all wedding planners?”
Stressed is putting it mildly, Charlotte thinks to herself while checking her reflection in her nails. The woman was vibrating with anxiety every time money came up. Which was every other minute.
Well, if they kept a running tab with her as they are with me, I can see why.
“What about you, Kiki?” I turn to the dark-haired beauty who’s been suspiciously quiet. “You must have interacted with her during the planning process.”
Kiki’s jaw tightens a notch. “Not really. I tried to stay out of the wedding details. For obvious reasons.”
If only I could have stayed out of it completely. Kiki’s thoughts betray her calm facade. But watching him marry someone else... I had to try one last time to make him see reason.
What? Who’s marrying someone else? She’s not talking about the groom, is she? And if she was, what would that have to do with Tessa?
“So, how did you two girls meet?” I ask, genuinely curious about the dynamics here. “I mean, I know you mentioned something about college.”
Charlotte and Kiki exchange a look that’s part amusement, part awkwardness, and then they both burst out laughing.
“You mean you don’t know?” Charlotte giggles, pressing her hand to her chest. “Kiki is Piers’ ex-girlfriend! They dated for three years in college. Can you believe it? I’m getting my nails done with my fiancé’s ex!”
And she’s acting like it’s the most delightful coincidence in the world, Kiki thinks with a mixture of amazement and irritation. How is she genuinely this sweet about everything? It’s almost insulting.
Oh wow. I have a feeling there is a lot of double-crossing going on here.
“Wait, seriously?” I blink between them, trying to process this information. “And you’re both... okay with this arrangement?”
“Why wouldn’t we be?” Charlotte asks with the innocent confusion of a woman who’s never encountered a situation she couldn’t charm her way through. “I mean, they broke up years ago, and if Piers is friends with her, then I want to be friends with her, too. That’s how relationships work, right?”
Kiki sheds an uneasy smile at her so-called best friend.
She has no idea that the words broke up are a generous interpretation of what happened, she thinks to herself, and her thoughts seem to be sharp with old pain.
More like I graduated law school and suddenly Piers decided he needed to find himself and explore his options.
Funny how his self-discovery led him straight to a trust fund princess.
She takes a moment to frown over at Charlotte.
I gasp at the thought. This isn’t going nearly as well as Charlotte might think.
I clear my throat. “It’s um... very mature of you both,” I say with a touch too much cheer, watching Kiki’s face for any cracks in her composed exterior. She’s putting on a good show, I’ll give her that.
“Piers and I are ancient history,” Kiki says with a casual dismissal that sounds rehearsed—and totally fake now that I know the real circumstances.
“We’re all adults here. Besides, I think Charlotte is perfect for him.
” Perfect for the man he’s pretending to be, she thinks bitterly while taking a sip of her drink.
This puff pastry has no clue what she’s actually marrying. And yet she still doesn’t deserve him.
Charlotte beams at the compliment, completely missing the catty undercurrent.
“Aw, thank you!” she coos at Kiki. “And honestly, I was so nervous about meeting you. Piers talks about you all the time—how brilliant you are, how you helped him through school. I was worried you’d think I was some airhead who doesn’t deserve him.”
That’s because you are, Kiki thinks to herself with a nod.
The irony hits me like a tidal wave. Charlotte is worried about not being good enough for Piers, while Kiki clearly thinks Charlotte isn’t good enough for the man she still loves. What a mess. But is it a murderous mess?
“So, how exactly does it feel?” I ask with genuine curiosity as I look at Kiki. “Being invited to your ex’s wedding? That’s either incredibly progressive or incredibly complicated.”
Charlotte laughs, a sound like champagne bubbles popping. “Oh, it’s definitely complicated! Kiki and Piers dated for what, three years? And somehow, they’re still friends. I think it’s sweet, honestly.”
Sweet isn’t the word I’d use, Kiki thinks darkly. More like inevitable. He belongs with me, not this Insta Pictures princess who thinks love is a hashtag.
And there it is. She’s not here to watch Charlotte walk down the aisle as the bride; she’s looking to do it herself.
“Three years is a long time,” I say, watching Kiki’s expression. “How did you meet Piers?”
“Undergrad,” Kiki replies tersely, but Charlotte jumps in with obvious delight at having a story to tell.
“They were study partners in some boring business class! Kiki was the serious one with the color-coded planner, and Piers was the charming slacker who convinced her to do half his assignments. It was like a rom-com dream come true.”
Except I’m not laughing. Kiki’s mental voice is sharp as broken glass. And I did more than half his assignments. I basically got that degree for him. The man owes me more than his body at this point. He owes me my soul.
A guttural grown evicts from me.
“Speaking of meet-cutes,” I clear my throat as I force a grin at Charlotte, “how did you and Piers find each other? Was it one of those fairy-tale encounters?”
Charlotte’s face lights up like a Christmas tree. “Oh geez, it’s so embarrassing! We met on Spark & Spice.”
“Spark and what now?” I blink her way, not understanding how those words happen to fit together.
“It’s this ridiculous dating app where you match based on your favorite spice combinations.” Charlotte giggles. “I know, I know, it sounds completely insane. But I was going through my experimental cooking phase—you should have seen my kitchen disasters—and I thought, why not?”
My kitchen disasters weren’t a phase, she thinks ruefully. They were a lifestyle choice that fueled my social media content. Thank goodness for takeout and a trust fund.
“That’s more than interesting, “ I say. “What spice combination did you put down?” I ask, genuinely fascinated by this bizarre courtship origin story.
“Cinnamon and cayenne,” Charlotte admits with a sheepish grin. “I was going for sweet with a kick, you know? And Piers had listed cardamom and vanilla—sophisticated but approachable.”
I should have known right then this story was too good to be true, Kiki thinks bitterly. Piers doesn’t even know what cardamom IS. He probably googled fancy spices that make you sound cultured.
“And your first date was cooking together?” I ask.
“Oh, heavens no!” Charlotte laughs. “We went to that new fusion restaurant downtown. I figured if we were going to bond over spices, we should let professionals handle the actual cooking. Smart move, considering I once set pasta on fire.”
She set PASTA on fire? Kiki’s mental voice is incredulous. How does someone even... never mind. This explains so much about why Piers chose her. He’s always been attracted to helpless kittens he could rescue.
I try to laugh at Charlotte’s comment despite Kiki’s catty commentary.
This conversation is certainly painting a picture I wasn’t expecting—Charlotte as the scattered but charming heiress, Kiki as the competent ex who clearly still carries a torch, and Piers as the common denominator who apparently has a type.
Sadly, I probably would have fallen into that type, too. I could so burn pasta with the best of them. But I can catch a killer with the best of them, too.