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CHAPTER 1

"I want to be just like that maid of honor when I grow up."

"You can't be serious."

"One hundred percent."

"I'll start drawing up the papers for our friend divorce."

I exchanged looks with Freddie, my best friend, business partner, and — on this particular night — professional party pooper.

We were at the Dawg, the only bar slash restaurant in Otter Lake, "Live Free or Die" New Hampshire. A town that had everything the postcards promised. Long docks stretching into the water. Nights with a billion stars. And tonight — for one night only — a mechanical bull all done up with enough lipstick and glitter to make Cowboy Barbie proud.

Normally the bar was a subdued-looking place. Everything was made of wood and smelled of beer and grease. It was a comforting atmosphere. An atmosphere that was pretty much gone now. Whoever had been in charge of decorations for the party had gone pretty heavy on feathers, strings of plastic beads, and the color pink.

But then again, it was a bachelorette party.

"I hear ya, Erica," Rhonda said. She was the third business partner in our Otter Lake Security Triumvirate. "That Lyssa really knows how to party."

"Well, get up there then," Freddie said. "Nobody's stopping you. I'll even take pictures. We'll put it on our OLS holiday newsletter next Christmas."

I looked over my shoulder at the woman on top of the bull with the plaid shirt tied at her waist. Judging by all her shrieking, she was having a blast. A small gathering of male locals watching her from the bar seemed to think so too. They hadn't been deterred by the PRIVATE PARTY notice on the door. In fairness, there wasn't really any place to go in Otter Lake on a Friday night except for the Dawg. But she didn't seem to care if they were watching. She was in that rodeo to win it. And given the amount of shooters she had thrown back it was all pretty impressive.

"Nah, I said I want to be like that someday. Today is not that day."

"Chicken," Freddie said, jiggling his baby finger in his left ear. Lyssa's shrieking was pretty loud.

"Yes, yes I am."

In fairness to me, I had once accidentally flashed the entire citizenry of Otter Lake holding Betsy the Beaver — the town mascot — in my arms. On a stage. Under a spotlight. So that might have left me with some issues about putting myself out there.

"Aw, does that mean you won't sing with me later?" Rhonda asked, her ginger eyebrows coming together to form a sad peek. "I saw them setting up a karaoke machine."

"Sorry."

"Freddie?" she asked, turning her sad face to his.

"Sure. What are you thinking? Miley Cyrus's 'Wrecking Ball'? Katy Perry's 'Roar?'"

Rhonda's eyes lit up. "Are you serious?"

"No."

"Not nice, Freddie," I said, giving him the side-eye before taking another sip of my beer. "You know, with the bull and the karaoke, I'm actually kind of amazed Lyssa was able to throw together this party so quickly," I said, leaning back in my chair. "Candace is one lucky bride."

That's right. Candace, ex-PR person for MRG Properties — the company attempting to turn small-town Otter Lake into a cottage playground for New Hampshire's rich and famous — was getting married. To Joey. An ex-con, who kind of looked like a hot werewolf. He was really big and had a lot of thick dark hair. He was also a sweetheart. As for the ex-con bit, he had stolen a few cars back when he was barely eighteen trying to pay off his younger sister's medical bills. Candace had become his pen pal when he was locked up. And the rest was history — a weird, somewhat murderous, convoluted history.

They had only been seeing each other for about six months, but that was enough for them to decide to tie the knot. I was trying to keep an open mind about the whole thing. I certainly wasn't in any position to be giving relationship advice. Besides, Candace and I were becoming fairly good friends now that she had gotten past me once accusing her of murder, and I had gotten past her dating the on-again, off-again love of my life, Grady Forrester, and I didn't want to ruin all that with my unasked-for opinions.

"Still feeling guilty, I see," Freddie said.

"Guilty?" The hand holding my beer bottle froze halfway back down to the table. "What are you talking about?"

Freddie rolled his eyes so far back into his head his eyelashes started to twitch. It wasn't a good look.

"He means about you being Candace's maid of honor," Rhonda threw in.

"What?" I practically shrieked. "That's ridiculous. Candace never wanted me to be her maid of honor."

"Right," Freddie said. Blinking. I think he might have hurt himself. That's what happens when you overdo the sarcasm.

I looked over to Rhonda. "Help me out here."

"Well ..." She had said it in that really high pitch people use when they want to tell you the thing they know you don't want to hear, but won't because you might ... I don't know, punch them or something. "But it's okay. We all know you have issues with weddings."

"I do not have issues with weddings," I said, before taking another sip of beer. "And for the record, Candace never once brought it up with me."

Freddie nodded. "Yeah, that might have been because every time the topic of the wedding came up, you looked like you were going to throw up."

"That is so not true," I said with an exaggerated scoff.

They exchanged looks again.

"It's not. Maybe ... maybe I just have resting nauseous face. Did either of you think of that?"

Neither answered.

I sighed. "Okay, fine. Maybe I don't love hearing about all the wedding details. I mean, all that talk about flowers, centerpieces, and color schemes."

"But —"

"Chair covers. Napkin rings. Bridesmaid dresses."

"She's got quite a list," Freddie said.

"DJs. Wedding party gifts. Rice —"

"Rice?" Rhonda asked.

I blinked. I was kind of glad she had derailed me there. The wedding train had run away with me. "Yeah, rice. You know, to throw at the couple as they leave the church."

"Nobody throws rice anymore," Freddie said.

"Sure they do."

"No, they really don't. Pigeons eat it and then their stomachs explode."

"Come on," I said, leaning back in my chair. "I have never seen a pigeon explode."

"That's because people stopped throwing rice."

Rhonda chuckled.

I should have seen that coming. "Okay, I'm pretty sure that's an urban legend. But the point is ..." What was my point? "The point is I like weddings just fine. And why are you so argumentative tonight?" I asked Freddie. "It's a bachelorette party. We're supposed to be having fun. You need to get into the spirit." I waved a hand at Rhonda. "Give him your hat."

She reached for the piece of tinfoil on her head. It was molded into the shape of a very specific part of the male anatomy.

"Rhonda," Freddie said, "you put that penis hat on my head, and I will stab you where you sit."

Rhonda's eyes widened.

"He didn't mean that," I said, giving her hand a pat. I turned back to Freddie. "Are you all right?"

"Peachy," he said, taking a sip of beer and looking away.

Hmm, peachy was not a word anyone used when they were actually peachy. Maybe he was just tired. Freddie had really been hustling to get our business, Otter Lake Security, off the ground, and all that work was finally starting to pay off. An insurance company had given us a gig spying on a disability claimant. Our target had been in a head-on collision and was suing the other driver's insurance company — the company who hired us — for damages. Apparently he was too injured to work, but they suspected he was doing some pretty physical renovations on the cabin he had just bought. They wanted both pictures and video of the claimant doing the work, so they could take him to court and end his lawsuit. We were the only security company in the area, so we got the job. Luckily we didn't know the guy. That might have made things awkward. Rhonda, an ex-cop, was the only one of us technically allowed to do the spying work given that she was technically the only one of us who had a private investigator's license. New Hampshire law required us to have at least four years' experience working in the field with a certified professional. Rhonda's experience as a police officer counted.

"I do feel bad for Candace though," Freddie said, dragging his eyes away from the table filled with the party's signature cocktail. I hadn't tried one yet. I wasn't sure about the rapidly disintegrated cotton candy they were topped with. "This isn't her type of party. She isn't a bull-riding, bead-wearing, shot-drinking bride."

"I'm sure it's ..."

Freddie pushed himself to his feet.

"... fine," I finished. Not sure why. He obviously wasn't listening to me.

"I'm going to get another beer and free Joey's nonna. You guys want one?"

"Free Joey's nonna?" Rhonda asked, straightening up. "What?"

"She's caught in the chairs again."

I whirled my head around. Okay, that was weird. I mean, it wasn't like Joey's grandmother wasn't welcome or anything, but she did look like she was in her eighties, and I was thinking a bachelorette party wasn't exactly her bag. Especially given that she did indeed seem to be trapped in a circle of chairs. Guess she didn't have a lot of upper-body strength.

"I heard that the bridesmaid you so love much insisted they bring her because she was so cute," Freddie said, shaking his head. "I don't think she knew what was happening to her."

I frowned. "How long has she been stuck in the chairs?"

Freddie shrugged. "Five, ten minutes."

"Five, ten minutes?! Why didn't you get up sooner?"

"I was almost done with my beer. I thought I'd save myself a trip."

My eyes widened.

"Oh please, like you wouldn't have done the same thing. Do you guys want another beer or not?"

"I ..."

"Suit yourselves," he said, shuffling off.

I looked over at Rhonda. "What was that all about?"

She shrugged. "No clue."

"I haven't seen him this negative about everything since his emo period in high school."

Rhonda chuckled. "Remember when he used to wear all that black eyeliner?"

I smiled. "And Mrs. Applebaum thought he was a Satanist and crossed the street whenever she saw him coming?"

"Good times. Good times," Rhonda said with a nod. "But we can still have fun."

"Of course we can," I said.

We clinked beer bottles.

"I am happy for Candace," I said. "I know it's quick, but she and Joey really do seem happy."

"I know! When it's right, it's right," Rhonda said with a nod. "That's the way relationships should be. Easy. No drama. Just two people finding each other, making it work." She dragged out the last part of the sentence as her eyes grew in horror. "Not that that's always the case. I mean, sometimes getting through problems and drama just makes a couple —"

"Please stop," I said, holding up a hand.

"I'm just trying to say that you can't compare relationships. Just because you came back to town around the same time Candace arrived, and since then, well, Candace is getting married and you and Grady are still —"

The look on my face cut her right off.

"I'm making it worse, aren't I?"

I nodded.

"You know it comes from a place of love, right?"

"Your love hurts, Rhonda."

Yup, when I had originally decided to move back home to Otter Lake, a big part of me hoped my new life would involve Sheriff Grady Forrester, but that hadn't exactly worked out. I mean, I was glad that I did it. I loved being closer to my family and friends — most days — but it still hurt a little that Grady and I hadn't found a way to be a couple. I had thought maybe back at New Year's, Grady and I had a chance to get back together, but he preemptively dumped me with this whole spiel about taking some time to think about things — and then I may have kissed Matthew Masterson, a really handsome, kind architect like a couple of hours later because, well, he's a really handsome, kind architect, and my feelings were pretty hurt. Let's just say, I heard secondhand from Rhonda, that Grady hadn't taken the news of that event particularly well. We hadn't really talked since. Not because I didn't want to ... but based on past experience, well, everything I said to him to try to make things better usually made things worse. And I couldn't take things being any worse. As for Matthew, well, he had decided to go back to New York for a couple of months. Not directly because I had been messing with his head ... just, maybe, indirectly, a little bit. And really, absolutely nothing had happened with either man — or any man — since, and that was six months ago, but like I said, I was still totally cool with romance. For other people.

"I'm sorry, Erica, I didn't mean to —"

"It's fine. I'm fine," I said, waving a hand in the air. "I'm happy for Candace."

Rhonda sighed. "Well, it's a good thing someone is."

"Huh?"

Rhonda tipped her beer bottle in the direction of a young woman sitting at the bar with waist-length dark hair and a miserable expression. There had been some speculation that Joey's family wasn't exactly thrilled about the upcoming nuptials. And by family, I meant Joey's sister, Antonia. His parents had died in a car accident when they were kids. Candace wouldn't confirm or deny any rumors about whether or not any of this family strife was true, given that she never had an unkind word to say about anyone, but she had looked pretty stressed whenever the topic of Antonia had come up. I was thinking there had to be some truth to the rumor given that Antonia looked like she might start angry-crying any moment. "I hope she doesn't use that face for the photos." I shook my head. "I feel so bad for Can —"

"Speak of the bride!" Rhonda said, jumping to her feet.

I whipped my head around before getting up too. "Candace!"

"Hi," she said with a cute little wave.

"Hey!" I said in a voice that reached a level of brightness that I had never achieved before. And it wasn't at all because I was feeling guilty. I mean, fine, yes, in all honesty, I had maybe got the sense a month or two ago that Candace was thinking about asking me to be her maid of honor. Her sister had been her first choice, but Bethanny was studying in Australia and couldn't swing the airfare back on such short notice. And I would have said yes if Candace had asked, but I was not a good choice. I didn't understand all the nuances of weddings. But with all Freddie's talk about the party not being right for Candace ... well, maybe I was feeling a little guilty. "There you are." I leaned in to give her a hug. A short hug. Her tinfoil penis hat poked me in the side of the head — which felt very wrong.

She readjusted her headpiece. "Are you guys having a good time?"

"Are we having a good time? We are having the best time!"

"Where did Freddie get off to?" she asked, looking around. "I wanted to say hi."

"He's just getting another beer. But who cares about us," I said with a pshaw-type wave of my hand. "Are you having a good time? Your friend Lyssa seems really nice," I said with lots of nodding and smiling. Probably too much smiling and nodding. "I mean, I haven't actually met her yet. But she really knows how to throw a party."

"Yup," Candace said with a somewhat pained-looking smile. "She's always been good at that." She shot a look at the bar. "You don't think ... well, I'm not sure Big Don's happy about all this."

"What?" I shrieked. At least it felt like a shriek. This tone of voice felt very unnatural. "No. Big Don loves this sort of thing." I shot the Dawg's owner a quick glance. Okay, so he might look a little like a grizzly restraining himself from going on a bloody rampage ... but, well, it was unlikely that he would do anything like that. "It's fine. Fabulous, really."

"It's just ... I haven't seen Lyssa in so long. I thought maybe she — well, this is just a lot like the frat parties she used to take me to."

"But bachelorette parties are always over-the-top, aren't they?" I said, giving her arm a squeeze. "I mean, I wouldn't know. I'm terrible at this sort of thing. I'd probably plan something boring at the bowling alley."

"Oh! Girls' bowling night!" Candace said with even more pain in her smile. "That sounds so fun."

"No. No," I said. "That's fine for any old night. But this is your wild last night out as a single lady."

She smiled weakly. "You're probably right. I should just go with it."

"Candy!" a voice shrieked from across the room.

"I'd better get back," Candace said, jerking a thumb in Lyssa's direction. "We're having trouble getting people to ride the bull. Lyssa's talking about putting together a posse to just grab people and plunk them on." She looked back at me. "Are you going to ride?"

I waved my hands out in front of me. "Oh, no, no, no."

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Excerpted from "Down the Aisle with Murder"
by .
Copyright © 2018 Auralee Wallace.
Excerpted by permission of St. Martin's Press.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

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