Murder Says I Do Read online

  Murder Says I Do

  Rooftop Garden Cozy Mysteries, Book 5

  Thea Cambert

  Summer Prescott Books Publishing

  Copyright 2020 Summer Prescott Books

  All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication nor any of the information herein may be quoted from, nor reproduced, in any form, including but not limited to: printing, scanning, photocopying, or any other printed, digital, or audio formats, without prior express written consent of the copyright holder.

  **This book is a work of fiction. Any similarities to persons, living or dead, places of business, or situations past or present, is completely unintentional.

  Contents

  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

  Author’s Note

  Contact Summer Prescott Books Publishing

  Chapter 1

  “It cannot rain. I forbid it!” Alice Maguire pointed an insistent finger at the gathering clouds in the night sky over the rooftop garden she shared with her two neighbors, Owen James and Franny Brown.

  “Tell me about it,” said Owen, plopping into his usual Adirondack chair. “The fall festival starts tomorrow, and my hair is going to be nothing but frizz!”

  “What’s going to happen if the festival gets rained out? What am I supposed to do with the hundreds of tourists who start arriving tomorrow?” Alice had somehow ended up in charge of the Blue Valley Fall Festival again this year—the rest of the committee enthusiastically pointing out what a great job she’d done the year before and mentioning that it would probably be a piece of cake for one with Alice’s experience. After all, she was uniquely qualified. Then, they’d foisted the giant orange binder on her—the one that housed notes from festivals over years past—and Alice had groaned, looking over her own notes from the previous fall. “I swore I’d never do this again! I left these notes for posterity! I wasn’t supposed to be reading them myself!” She looked at Owen. “And, if you want to talk about hair, Owen James, get a load of this!” Alice took off her cap and pointed at her own wild red hair, which generally grew exponentially with each percentage point of humidity.

  “What are you two going on about? I’m the one who should be panicking!” Franny came out of her apartment and took a seat next to Owen. “I’m getting married. On Saturday. Married. Saturday. My parents arrive in town tomorrow. My. Parents.” Franny’s blue eyes looked a little crazed, Alice noticed.

  “She does have a point there,” Alice said. “I think a wedding trumps both hair-frizz issues and rained-out festivals.”

  “Pour the wine, Owen,” said Franny, indicating her empty glass.

  “And bring out the chocolate,” added Alice.

  Owen gladly obliged, pouring each of them a glass of red and opening a large box of truffles he’d brought over from Sugarbuzz, Blue Valley’s gourmet chocolate shop two doors down.

  The rooftop garden had been Alice’s idea. She’d opened her bookshop, The Paper Owl, almost eight years ago, and when she’d moved into the tiny apartment above it, she’d noticed the open outdoor space beyond the French doors in her living room. It was only an empty rooftop then—save the one folding chair the previous tenant had left behind.

  Alice had looked over the space, and her imagination had taken flight. Now, there were archways covered in trailing vines, pots brimming with herbs and flowers, small trees in containers, and twinkle lights everywhere. The building itself—one of the original historic Main Street edifices—had been divided into three separate shops, each with a small apartment on the second floor. Franny’s coffee shop, Joe’s, was on one end; Owen’s bakery, Sourdough, was on the other; and Alice’s bookshop was in between. Their apartments were reachable by a beautiful old wooden staircase, which was accessible via a hallway that ran the length of the back of the building. Joe’s and The Paper Owl had a large cased opening in the wall between them, and Alice and Franny liked it that way, since book lovers tended to drink coffee and coffee lovers tended to read books. It wasn’t uncommon for customers to stop in at Sourdough on any given morning, buy a pastry, then head around to Joe’s for coffee and wander into The Paper Owl for the morning’s newspaper, hot off the presses.

  Then, they could linger at one of the cozy tables inside Joe’s, or head out to the sidewalk, where Alice, Owen, and Franny had recently added a few café tables and chairs. In addition, the alleyways that ran along both sides of the building were strung with lights and offered benches and plenty of space to chat with friends or take a rest from a day of shopping.

  Alice’s rooftop garden idea had quickly caught on, and now up and down Main Street, there were beautiful little havens on the rooftops of many of the buildings—some of them open to customers, like the rooftop dining area at the town’s pub, The Smiling Hound, and others were private gardens of the people who lived above the Main Street businesses.

  There was a distant roll of thunder.

  “You know what? That was probably not thunder,” said Alice, passing Franny, the bride-to-be, the box of chocolates.

  “No, I think that was my washing machine,” Owen agreed, topping off Franny’s wine glass. “I’m doing a load of towels, and sometimes, I swear, that machine sounds exactly like thunder.”

  “Nice try, guys,” said Franny, stuffing an almond cream truffle into her mouth. “I’m sure everything will be fine. I mean, yes, there have been a lot of storms lately. And yes, it looks like we’re in for a doozy tonight. But this will clear off by the weekend. It never rains on a Blue Valley Fall Festival. That’s the rule. And you know what? The seamstress finished my dress today, and I’m going to try it on and show you both.”

  “Great idea!” said Alice. “Your mom will be so pleased to see her old gown on you.”

  Franny ran inside, and a couple of minutes later, emerged from her apartment wearing a lacey, full-length white gown with puffed sleeves and a sweetheart neckline.

  “Oh, Franny, you look beautiful,” said Alice, jumping up to keep Franny’s cathedral-length train from getting tangled up.

  “Yes!” said Owen. “I love the way that gown . . . hangs. And the lace! And those sleeves! Just the right amount of . . . puff.”

  “You hate it,” said Franny, looking down at herself, which caused Alice and Owen to shake their heads a lot and make various noises and throat clearings, and say things like, “No!” and “Absolutely not!” and “Are you kidding?”.

  Franny sat down in her chair, and there was a distinct ripping sound.

  “Please tell me I did not just tear my mother’s dress,” said Franny, scanning the dress.

  But Alice had already spotted the tear, even in the dim light of the twinkle lights and the candles she’d lit on the café table.

  “The, um, waistline,” she said quietly, pointing.

  Franny put her hands on her waist and found the small tear. Then she began to cry the tears of a stressed-out bride. “That’s it! That’s it! It doesn’t fit right. It’s too tight in the waist and too loose in the chest, and the sleeves—well, I hate them! The seamstress did what she could, but the truth is, there’s no way to fix what is wrong with this dress unless you take me out of it and put my mother into it!” Franny took a deep breath after the exertion of this confession.

  “I hate that dress,” Owen admitted.

  “I also hate that dress,” said Alice.

  “And now it’s torn,” said Franny.
br />   Alice’s phone rang and she answered. “Well, hello, Father Amos!”

  Father Amos was the rector of St. Helena’s Episcopal Church, a short stroll away at the corner of Main and Phlox Streets. All of the streets in Blue Valley were named for wildflowers that grow in the Smoky Mountains—and the town itself was nestled alongside a beautiful lake, into a little valley there. Alice’s brother, Ben—Franny’s betrothed—was an officer at the Blue Valley Police Department and had worked his way up to becoming a captain. Alice had been thrilled when her dear friend had fallen for her brother, and frankly, Franny had been like a sister to Alice since they’d met at age twelve, in the middle of middle school, so the wedding would just make it official.

  “What did Father Amos have to say?” Franny asked when Alice hung up.

  “Well, now,” Alice said slowly. “Are you sure you want to talk about that right now?”

  “Aliiiice,” said Franny. “What did he say?”

  “Remember the storm we had two days ago? The really bad one?”

  “Of course, we remember,” said Owen. “I thought we were going to need a canoe to get down Main Street.”

  “Well, that storm dropped quite a bit of rain on the whole area, as you know . . .”

  “Yes, and?”

  “Well—”

  “Alice Maguire, stop saying ‘well’ and tell me what Father Amos said!” Franny stood up quickly and there was another loud riiiip. “Oh, for the love of—”

  “The church is flooded,” Alice blurted out. “Apparently, the water from the storm had been collecting in the attic or the eaves or something like that, and today, a giant bubble formed in the ceiling above the sanctuary, and then the bubble popped, and now the carpet is ruined, and the place is a terrible mess, and Father Amos says there’s no way it’ll be cleaned up by Saturday evening!”

  Owen passed the box of chocolates to Franny again, and Franny chose a dark chocolate-covered caramel with little chips of sea salt on top with one hand, and a milk chocolate honey truffle with the other. She took a bite of the caramel. “I knew it! I could feel the disaster coming!” She took a bite of the truffle.

  “We’ll figure something out,” said Alice. “Now, go inside and take off that hideous dress. We need to reimagine this wedding.”

  Franny nodded tearily, scooped up the yards of fabric that were beginning to wrap around her ankles, and went inside to change.

  “Glad that’s settled,” said Owen. “I know Franny’s mom wanted her to wear that dress, but she could show up in a sackcloth and look better.”

  “Agreed,” said Alice, walking toward the building’s façade, which was outlined in lights. Alice looked down over Main Street.

  “Looking for anyone in particular?” asked Owen. “Like maybe a certain Detective Hot-Stuff?”

  Alice rolled her eyes. She’d been dating her brother’s colleague, Detective Luke Evans for about a year. They were taking things slowly but had gone to the next level in their relationship over the summer and were becoming closer and closer.

  “No,” said Alice, turning around and leaning against the façade. “I’m watching for Hugo Tolliver.”

  “Oh. He’s doing the Haunted Blue Valley thing, right?”

  “Yep,” said Alice. “He’s stopping by anytime now.”

  Hugo Tolliver was a member of one of Blue Valley’s oldest families. His great-great-great grandfather had been a local hero in the Civil War, and Hugo took immense pride in the fact that his roots in the eastern Smokies ran deep. He was something of a history buff and had agreed to be a tour guide for a new feature that Alice had come up with for this year’s fall festival: Haunted Blue Valley. The festival always took place over a four-day weekend at the end of October, around Halloween, and when the downtown merchants decided to include a fundraiser in this year’s event, Alice had proposed lantern-lit tours through the old Main Street buildings, many of which had ghost stories attached to them. Scattered through the historic downtown were distinctive orange and black banners marking the participating buildings, so that ticket holders could wander at their leisure from one to another on Saturday night.

  “Why is Hugo coming by tonight? The event isn’t until Saturday,” said Owen.

  Alice didn’t answer right away, because she’d just glanced back down over Main Street and had seen a young man, standing alone on the street, looking up at their building. “Owen, who’s that?” Alice asked, glancing at Owen.

  Owen got up and came over, but by the time they looked back down, the young man was gone.

  “Hmm,” said Alice. “Well, anyway, Hugo is coming by to drop off his notes for the tour of our building. He said there’s a chance he might be a little late Friday night, and I told him we could take the first few groups through the tour if need be.”

  “But we’ll be at the wedding rehearsal, won’t we?” said Owen.

  “The rehearsal is at five. Dinner is right after, and since you and I and my parents and Franny’s are the only guests, it won’t take long. Franny and Ben have invited everyone to Haunted Blue Valley after dinner, so I figure we’ll be here, anyway.”

  “And, after all, you are ultimately the one in charge,” said Owen, patting Alice on the shoulder. “I mean, the buck stops here, eh?”

  “Don’t get me started wondering how I’m in charge again this year, but yes, the buck stops here.” Alice glanced down over Main Street again and saw Hugo approaching the building from further down the street. “Oh, good! Here comes Hugo. I left the door open downstairs for him.” She gave a little wave at Hugo and he waved back.

  Franny, now dressed in sweats and a comfy sweatshirt, came back out and took a seat. “Hugo’s coming up?”

  “Yes. This should take your mind off the wedding for a few minutes,” said Alice. “He’s going to tell us the story of this building. The ghost story.”

  “Ooh,” said Owen, who was now in the process of lighting a small fire in the fire ring. “Please tell me our building really is haunted!”

  Alice and Owen both laughed, but then Alice noticed Franny wasn’t laughing.

  “What is it, Franny?” she asked.

  “Yeah, Franny. You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.” Owen chuckled at his own joke and stuck a large marshmallow onto the end of a stick.

  “You’ll never believe me,” said Franny. “I haven’t said anything because I know you won’t.”

  “Franny, what is it?” asked Alice. “What haven’t you said?”

  “Yeah, Franny,” said Owen. “What won’t we believe?”

  Franny looked into the fire, then up at her friends. “That this place really is haunted.”

  Chapter 2

  Alice was immediately skeptical. Franny was always the free spirit. The dreamer. And, she had a vivid imagination—it was one of her best qualities. Alice had no doubt that Franny had seen or heard something, but an actual ghost?

  “Tell us why you think that,” Alice said, moving her chair closer to the fire. The wind had picked up, and there was a definite sharpness to the air.

  “I’ve been hearing things. Noises. Strange scratching sounds.”

  “Like what kinds of things?” asked Owen.

  Before Franny had a chance to explain, they all heard the door in Alice’s apartment open and close, and the sweet, woody smell of the cigars Hugo Tolliver loved wafted out into the garden.

  “Hello, all!” he said, a wide smile on his rosy, jovial face.

  Hugo was a big man with a big, booming voice that could easily carry to the far corners of any room he stood in. He loved to talk about anything and everything. Hugo generally knew everything about anything—or at least he thought so.

  Alice invited him to take a seat by the fire. As he sat, he handed her a small packet of papers.

  “These are the notes for the tour,” he said. “Everything you need to know about the history and haunting of this building is in there.”

  “The, uh, haunting?” Franny asked.

  “Oh, it’s a
wonderful story,” said Hugo. “A forbidden love and a daring escape!”

  Alice poured Hugo a glass of wine and settled back to listen to what would no doubt be a dramatic recitation of the story.

  “This building was constructed in 1861—not long after the start of the Civil War. It was built by George Thornhill.”

  “As in the Thornhill family that still lives here?” asked Owen, surprised. “I knew they were one of the old families—just like yours, Hugo. But I didn’t realize they’d been here that long.”

  “Oh, yes, both of our families are among the founders,” said Hugo, a note of pride in his voice. “We all trickled into the area from South Carolina, and the town grew up around the lake. Fast forward, and you come to the 1860s, when my great-great-great grandfather, Thaddeus Tolliver, was a Civil War hero. But that’s another story.” Hugo took a sip of wine and switched to full story-telling mode. “In the time of the Civil War, this part of eastern Tennessee was divided. Some folks were on the side of the Confederacy. Others sided with the Union. It was brother against brother; neighbor against neighbor.” Hugo shook his head. “What a mess! Now as you know, if you know your history, Tennessee was the eleventh and final state to join the Confederacy. But there were still those among the populace whose loyalty stayed with the Union. George Thornhill was a Confederate through and through. He built this beautiful building we’re sitting on top of right now, establishing the first bank in town—one of the first in the state! George’s oldest child, Elizabeth—better known as Lizzie—was seventeen at the time, and she was in love. The object of the beautiful Lizzie’s undying affection was young Thomas Long, a ruddy, lanky, spirited boy of eighteen who was staunchly loyal to the Union and the ideals of Abraham Lincoln.