Wedding Bells and Deadly Spells Read online

  Wedding Bells and Deadly Spells

  A Touch of Magic Mystery

  Danielle Garrett

  Copyright © 2019 by Danielle Garrett

  Edited by Magical Words Edits

  Cover Design by Alchemy Book Covers

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

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  Contents

  Books By Danielle Garrett

  Introduction

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Also by Danielle Garrett

  About the Author

  Books By Danielle Garrett

  BEECHWOOD HARBOR MAGIC MYSTERIES

  Murder’s a Witch

  Twice the Witch

  Witch Slapped

  Witch Way Home

  Along Came a Ghost

  Lucky Witch

  Betwixt: A Beechwood Harbor Collection

  One Bad Witch

  BEECHWOOR HARBOR GHOST MYSTERIES

  The Ghost Hunter Next Door

  Ghosts Gone Wild

  When Good Ghosts Get the Blues

  Big Ghosts Don’t Cry

  HAVEN PARANORMAL ROMANCES

  Once Upon a Hallow’s Eve

  A TOUCH OF MAGIC MYSTERIES

  Cupid in a Bottle

  Newly Wed and Slightly Dead

  Couture and Curses

  Wedding Bells and Deadly Spells

  Introduction

  A drop of poison is all it takes to bring the biggest wedding of the season to its knees.

  Anastasia Winters adheres to the adage that the show must go on, but when the groom of her latest wedding drops dead before “I do,” she’s left with no backup plan.

  Things get even stickier when her friend and esteemed caterer, Francois, is named the top suspect.

  Ana's loyalties are tested as the investigation turns into a vicious tug-of-war. She believes Francois is innocent, but holding the other side of the rope is the lead detective--her serious boyfriend--and the more she struggles, the more her own chance at happily ever after starts to unravel.

  It’s up to Anastasia to find the killer, while gripping tightly to her relationships before they break and leave her with nothing.

  Chapter 1

  Spring was in the air and for a wedding planner witch, that could only mean one thing: wedding season was on the way! My day planner was rapidly filling up with rehearsal dinners, bridal showers, and pre-wedding pep talks. My days were long, and by the end of them, I’d arrive home with a tapped-out brain and aching feet. It was beyond me why some clever witch hadn’t come up with a magical solution to make heels more comfortable.

  Even with a full-to-the-brim schedule and the challenge of juggling multiple clients and events, I still wouldn’t trade my life for anyone else’s. I loved my job and my clients.

  Well, most of them.

  Most of my clients were flexible, reasonable, and easy to work with. Then there was Evan Stimpton and his bride-to-be, Charlene Fitzpatrick. The wizard and witch duo had begun their planning process six months ago, and every week something would inevitably come up, forcing me into a teeth-grinding phone call or in-person meeting. To say their expectations were high would be the understatement of the twenty-first century.

  Evan was the catalyst of the drama. He came from a wealthy family, and still held fast to the silver spoon he’d been born with. Charlene was less vocal about her complaints, instead choosing to flash a variety of expressions at Evan, most of which resulted in him throwing a temper tantrum. He fancied himself somewhat of a visionary, and every detail had to pass his inspection and gain his approval. Two weeks ago, we’d had an hour-long meeting to discuss the reasons why the napkin rings I’d chosen were unacceptable.

  The unpleasant duo was set to tie the knot in two days and I had a mental countdown timer ticking in the back of my mind. My friends and family were just as sick of the obnoxious pair as I was, being forced to live the nightmare vicariously through my rants and ravings. With the wedding finally in sight, I’d arranged a celebration dinner at Luna, one of my favorite restaurants, to host everyone and thank them for doing their best to soothe my nerves and for putting up with my foul moods.

  As soon as the newly minted Mr. and Mrs. Stimpton exited their reception, swept away by—I kid you not— a pegasus-powered carriage, I’d race across the haven to join them all for a celebratory dinner, on me.

  All I had to do was plaster on a smile, keep everyone in time and in line, and swallow back my frustration. Even if that meant choking on it.

  “Tell me this isn’t the only setting on the lights!”

  Every muscle tensed as I turned to address the shrill comment from my borderline-hysterical groom. I’d had plenty of bridezillas over the years, but Evan was officially my first groomzilla.

  I glanced up at the chandelier he was gesticulating at as though it had personally offended him. “I’m not sure,” I said, biting back my rising irritation. “I’ll ask if they can dim the lights. They probably have a filter.”

  “You don’t know?” Evan barked, one eyebrow lifting as his voice went an octave higher. I pulled in a deep, fortifying breath and gave myself credit for not strangling him then and there.

  Charlene laced her arm through Evan’s and rolled her eyes, her overly plump lips stuck out like a platypus.

  I couldn’t tell if the eye roll was directed at me or Evan. It didn’t really matter.

  “I’ll make sure the lighting is softer for the reception,” I promised the pair.

  Evan folded his arms, shrugging away Charlene. “I’d like to see it now,” he demanded. “I don’t want to be surprised in the middle of our wedding!”

  My lips went into a thin line, even as I forced a smile. “Of course. Give me five minutes. Why don’t you check the place-setting mock up and make sure it’s to your liking,” I suggested, already knowing he’d find half a dozen things wrong.

  Evan and Charlene exchanged a look and then haughtily stalked across the expansive ballroom to the table the venue had set up for them to approve. I’d never had clients attend the walk-through with me, but Evan and Charlene had insisted they give final approval to every detail.

  Down to the wattage, apparently.

  Scowling, I stalked away in the opposite direction, off to find some poor soul who worked for the posh hotel in hopes we could somehow adjust the lighting on the antique-looking chandeliers.

  I drew in a slow breath and steeled myself for a barrage of complaints when I returned. “Thirty-six hours,” I muttered. “Thirty. Six. Hours.”

  Four hours and half a dozen problems later, the rehearsal was complete and the not-so-
happy couple was on their way to a swanky restaurant across town to celebrate with their wedding party. I’d technically only worked a half day, but my nerves were frayed as if I’d put in a full ten-hour day. As I boarded the Shimmer Bus, I regretted not having the forethought to slip a mini bar-sized bottle of wine in my purse.

  “You survived!” Harmony, my younger sister, exclaimed as I opened the front door of our condo.

  I dropped my purse onto the table off to the side of the door and kicked off my shoes. Without a word, Harmony wiggled her fingers at the pumps and sent them flying in the direction of my bedroom. “Thanks,” I said, knowing I’d find them right in their designated place in my walk-in closet. I envied my sister’s magic but appreciated that she shared some of the more indulgent spells with me.

  Trudging through the living room, I rolled my neck and shoulders. “What. A. Nightmare.”

  Harmony cringed. “That bad?”

  I flopped onto the sofa and put my feet up on the coffee table. “The florist was late, the minister got the names wrong during the ceremony rehearsal, and one of the groomsmen dared to suggest that Evan might want to take a small sedative before the real wedding, which, as you can imagine, did not go over well. Oh, and Francois threatened to quit halfway through the final menu tasting.”

  Harmony cringed. “Yikes.”

  “I think if Francois would have quit, I would have too.” I sighed.

  “I believe it. I’ve never seen you use the coffee table as an ottoman before.”

  I smiled and wiggled my toes. “I don’t know why not.”

  “Well, as you explained to me, this here is an authentic Jason Partillo design,” Harmony replied, a lilt in her voice as she gently needled me with her elbow.

  I laughed softly. “Are you trying to say that those of us who live in diva houses shouldn’t throw shoes?”

  She barked a laugh. “No. This Evan guy sounds like he left diva in the dust a long time ago and plowed straight into narcissistic jerk land.”

  “Can’t argue with that.” I closed my eyes, my head leaning against the back of the sofa. “Two days and then it’s over and they won’t be my problem anymore. I have fifteen weddings between now and June. That’s going to feel like a walk in the park compared to this nonsense.”

  “And in the meantime, you get the rest of the night off to spend with me and your bestie!” Harmony said.

  “Assuming I can stay awake, that is,” I replied, peeling my eyes open. “I should have left room in the schedule for a pre-dinner nap.”

  Harmony laughed and sprang off the sofa to continue getting ready. “Do you think I should wear my black tights with the red sweater dress, or can I get away with jeans? Is the place we’re going fancy fancy or fancy-ish?”

  I smiled at my sister’s nervous musings. She wasn’t one to ask for my fashion advice, mostly because I preferred my clothes hole-free and didn’t own anything with spikes or studs on it. While she could dress up when the situation warranted, Harmony tended toward a certain grunge-chic aesthetic with colorful streaks in her otherwise bleached-blonde hair, four piercings in each ear, and a penchant for artfully torn clothing and bomber jackets. And she’d recently added a small crystal stud to her nose.

  “It’s fancy-adjacent,” I told her. “Go with the leggings and dress.”

  Harmony nodded, even as her teeth worked nervously at her lower lip.

  I smiled. “She’s going to love you, Harmony. Stop stressing.”

  Holly Boldt, my good friend and fellow witch, was coming into the Seattle Haven to speak at a potion making conference, and we’d made plans to get together for an early dinner beforehand. Harmony was a potion witch in training—unofficially—and had been climbing the walls since I invited her to tag along. She idolized Holly’s work and was bursting with questions she wanted to ask her. I’d known Holly for well over a decade, and while I admired her skill, it was amusing to watch my younger sister fawning over her as though she were a legendary rock star.

  “Just remember our deal,” I added, dropping my feet to the floor as I sat up.

  “Yeah, yeah. I know. I won’t bombard her.” Harmony held back a full-on eye roll, but the annoyance was clear on her face.

  “I don’t mean to harp on about it,” I said, rising from the sofa, “but we both know you get a little … excited, about this stuff, and I don’t want to overwhelm Holly right before she goes to her speaking engagement.”

  In truth, Holly was one of the most unflappable witches I knew. After everything she’d gone through in her life, it took a lot to rattle her cage. On the flip side, I also knew my sister, and if there was one word to describe Harmony, it was passionate. Which, in and of itself, wasn’t a bad thing. But when you added the other words used to describe her—relentless, impulsive, and scattered—it could be a bit much.

  I loved my sister and appreciated her myriad of good qualities, but there were times when I had to fight off the urge to shake some sense into her. Though we looked like twins, granted eight years apart, our personalities couldn’t have been more opposite, and those differences had tested our bond more than ever in the year since Harmony showed up on my doorstep, broke, lonely, and desperate.

  I’d moved her into my one-bedroom condo for what was supposed to be a one or two month stay while she worked to save up enough money to get a place of her own. Somewhere along the way, that plan faded into the background and she’d turned into a permanent resident of the small condo. Space was tight—and got tighter every time one of us went out for some retail therapy—but it had been a few months since either of us had brought up the possibility of her looking for an apartment of her own. She’d held down her hostess job at Luna, an upscale eatery in the heart of the haven, and while she still borrowed-slash-stole my clothing on a routine basis, she chipped in for rent, helped with groceries, and even picked up the tab when we went out to lunch once a week.

  Harmony twisted her hands together, a guilty look on her face. “I have one potion to show her and that’s it, I promise!”

  I raised my eyebrows and glanced over my shoulder at her as I passed through the living room on my way to the kitchen. “Which one?”

  “I made it in my last workshop. I unlocked the ingredients in her newest hair growth potion and found a way to hack it so it works twice as fast!”

  “And that’s a good thing?”

  “It is if you’re going bald and don’t want to be,” Harmony replied with a casual shrug.

  “I see. And how do you turn it off?” I asked, picturing Harmony crossed with the image of Cousin Itt.

  “You stop using the potion,” Harmony said, as if it were the most obvious solution in the world.

  “Right.”

  I went into the kitchen and opened the fridge. Holly would arrive soon fresh from Beechwood Harbor, a small beach town on the Washington coast. It was normally a three-plus hour drive to Seattle, but Holly had access to an SPA-regulated portal and could make the journey in the literal blink of an eye. With our dueling schedules, we didn’t see each other often enough, but the portal certainly made visits a lot easier than before.

  My stomach rumbled as I eyed the containers of leftovers lined up on the illuminated shelves. Despite her potion prowess, Harmony was hopeless when it came to following a recipe, and I didn’t cook anything that didn’t come already prepared in a carton or box. I plucked a box of peanut noodles from the fridge, shut the door, and grabbed a fork from the dish drainer.

  Yes, we were going to dinner with Holly, but I’d be chewing on my own arm before the appetizers could even be ordered if I didn’t have a little snack. I’d been too busy at the walk through and rehearsal to sample any of Francois’s food. He was a catering friend—the best in the business, in my opinion—and had made a pared-down version of the couple’s feast so they could sample everything one last time before the wedding.

  I rolled my eyes, replaying Evan’s nitpicky concerns, and stuffed a bite of noodles into my mouth. I returned to the kitche
n and found Harmony kneeling on the sofa, consulting her appearance in the mirror hanging behind it. “I really need to decide what color to do next,” she mused, fingering the strands of her shoulder-length hair. “Do you think I should cut it short again?” she asked, glancing at me.

  I frowned. “You already know what I think.”

  Harmony rolled her eyes. “I’m not going back to brunette,” she said. With a wave of her hand she beckoned a lipstick tube from her purse that hung over the back of one of the dining room chairs. It zoomed to her fingertips and she applied a coat of the deep velvet red.

  The doorbell buzzed and Harmony squealed. “She’s here!”

  I hurried to put the box of leftover noodles back in the fridge, wiped my mouth on a kitchen towel, and then scurried back to the living room just as Harmony swung the front door open. “Holly!” I exclaimed, ushering my statuesque friend inside. “You’re early.”

  She smiled, her green eyes gleaming. “Is that okay?”

  “Of course! Come on in.” I turned to Harmony. “Holly, this is Harmony.”

  “It’s nice to finally meet you!” Holly said, offering Harmony a hand.

  Harmony wasn’t blinking as she stared at Holly.

  “Harmony?” I said, giving her a nudge.

  “Oh, stars! Sorry. Right. You’re Harmony—I—I mean, I’m Harmony and you—” Harmony stopped herself and drew in a deep breath. “I’m really sorry. I just can’t believe you’re really here!”