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A Good Party Can Kill You (A Nosy Neighbor Mystery) (Volume 7)

By Cynthia Hickey

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1
“That’s Matt’s ex!” Maryann pointed at a voluptuous brunette heading into a voodoo store.
The woman glanced our way, scowled, and ducked out of sight.
I couldn’t help but compare myself to the gorgeous woman. I, Stormi Nelson, was more lean lines than soft curves. Not to mention the woman looked better in shorts and a tank top than I ever would, even in formal wear.
I grabbed my best friend’s arm. “Come on. We don’t have time to worry about her.” Although, I wouldn’t have minded a bit of spying on the woman who had been Matt’s first. “We still have things to buy for the party tonight.” Preparations for my bachelorette party were going to kill me.
With my wedding a month away, my sister, Angela had broached the wonderful idea of a week long bachelorette party in New Orleans. Of course, all those invited gave an excited, “Yay!” Except me. I would have preferred a quiet night at home with popcorn and a chick flick.
After a night of sightseeing and scaring ourselves silly in an ancient graveyard, I still needed to purchase the matching tee shirts I’d ordered for the last hoorah. We were dining and partying on the Mississippi river with a dinner cruise on our last night before heading home. I couldn’t wait to see Matt again.
“It wouldn’t hurt to see what she’s up to in New Orleans. She’s a world traveling photographer, you know.” Maryann craned her neck as I pulled her into a novelty shop. “We’ve always had very interesting conversations.”
“I do not want to talk about Matt to his ex-girlfriend. Not at my bachelorette.” I approached the sales counter. “One tee shirt for the bride and three for bridesmaids. I received a call this morning that they were ready.”
“Right here.” The clerk, a bubbly teen, chomped her gum and handed me a bright yellow bag. “Congratulations on your wedding. How exciting!”
“How did you know she was the bride?” Maryann leaned against the counter.
“I…guessed?” The clerk shrugged. “Does it matter?”
“No, but someday, it’ll be me.” She grabbed the bag from my hand, swung it over her shoulder, and sashayed out the door.
I exchanged an amused look with the clerk and followed my maid-of-honor. “What was that about?”
“I want to get married.” She pouted and headed down the sidewalk. “I’m going to buy a love potion and dump it in Michael’s coffee.”
“He isn’t worth having if you have to use trickery.” Oh, no. My friend was opening the door to the very shop Matt’s old girlfriend had gone into. Maybe she had left. I glanced around the street. No such luck.
“Why, hello, Maryann.” A voice so smooth it could melt ice drifted through the open door. “What brings you to New Orleans?”
“I’m the maid-of-honor in Matt’s wedding. This is Stormi Nelson, bride-to-be and best-selling author.” She grabbed my arm and swung me around to face who could only be my new nemesis. I seriously doubted whether we would be friends.
“I’m Rachel Gable, old news.” She thrust out a manicured hand and gave a smile that didn’t quite meet her eyes. “I’d heard rumors about Matthew getting married, but I never thought I’d see the day.”
“Why not?” I pulled my hand free.
“He’s more the wandering type. Like me. Ta ta, girls. See you on the flipside.” She moseyed down the sidewalk with a hip sway that would break a lesser woman’s back.
Maryann cocked her head. “Hmmm, I always thought of her as being nicer. Oh, well. Come on.”
I followed her into the dim recesses of a shop full of beads, crystals, and…were those dead things? Gross. Still, I’d never been inside a voodoo shop and I took research for my novels where I could find it. I picked up a pink stopper bottle from the shelf. “Seriously? Love Potion number 9? Isn’t that a song?”
“Give me that.” Maryann snatched it from me. “That’s what I’m looking for.” She glanced at the price tag. “Fifteen dollars well spent…if it works.”
I rolled my eyes and continued around the shop amazed at the variety of dolls and skull jewelry. This was the place to be if you believed in such nonsense or was a teenager lost in the world of Goth makeup and accessories.
A garnet necklace caught my eye. The sign said it guaranteed your man would love you forever as long as you wore the necklace. I chuckled and left it on the shelf. I was already succumbing to the traditions of something old, something new, something borrowed, and something blue. I had no reason to add dark magic, not when my faith followed the light.
“I’m ready.” Maryann grinned, dropped the bottle into the bag with the tee shirts, and sailed toward the door. “We have two hours to catch our dinner cruise.”
Outside, I blinked against the late afternoon sun glinting off the reflective mirror of a hot dog stand. A woman on the opposite side of the street waved.
“Mom?” What in the world? Whose mother came to their daughter’s bachelorette shindig?
“In the flesh! The others said it wouldn’t matter if I tagged along, so I caught a flight in this morning.”
“I don’t have a tee shirt for you to wear.”
“That’s okay, I had one made.” She pulled a shirt in the same shade as ours out of her purse. This one said in bright white letters, “Mother of the Bride.” As if it couldn’t get any worse, she handed me a little white veil with crystals along the headband and fabric that stuck up like a rooster’s feathers. She tucked her arm in mine. “We’re going to have so much fun.”
~
Despite trying to leave the veil behind, I led my group onboard the Steamboat Natchez with me looking like a pink chicken while the others clacked behind me. Spotting a bottle of champagne on our table, my spirits brightened immediately. Normally, I stuck to sparkling cider, but tonight, I was having a glass of champagne to celebrate.
We sat at the round table covered with a white tablecloth and raised our glasses for the server to fill them. Looking at the faces of everyone I loved, I didn’t care if we looked tacky or were a little loud. I was going to have a blast.
“Whoa.” I shook my head as the waiter started to fill Cherokee’s glass. “She’s only eighteen.”
“I’ll be back with something non-alcoholic,” he said.
“Oh, Aunt Stormi. One glass wouldn’t hurt me.” My niece, who happened to be too beautiful for words and, already having lived more in her short life than most people lived in fifty years, crossed her arms.
“Maybe not, but jail would definitely hurt us all, and I’d be late to my wedding.” I gave her a wink and took a sip. I grimaced. Not my favorite, but I wasn’t going to be a fuddy-duddy, not tonight. Especially with my sister, Angela, narrowing her eyes at me over her glass.
“I think my daughter can have a glass,” she said.
“Oops. Sorry. Too late.” I grinned. Somebody needed to act like a parent. Angela and I had always suffered from sibling rivalry from the moment I was born and took over the house. Not to mention I’d had to loan her money on several occasions, and she now lived in my renovated attic. It was all a bitter pill for her to have to swallow.
Once our drinks were filled, our server set a house salad in front of us. “Served with our cane sugar dressing,” he said. “The meal ordered for you tonight is our Filet Gumbo, Pilot House Potatoes, Creole Creamed Spinach, and for dessert…Natchez Bread Pudding. Enjoy!”
It all sounded wonderful. I dug into my salad, closing my eyes in sheer pleasure at the sweet tang of the dressing.
“Good evening.”
I opened my eyes to the sight of Rachel in a clingy maxi dress and lacy shrug smiling down at us. “It seems as if I’ve crashed a bachelorette party.”
“It’s only crashing if we let you sit down, dear,” Mom said.
I hid my grin behind my napkin. “Nice to see you again, Rachel.”
“Unexpected, I’m sure.” She glanced over her shoulder. “My dinner date and I always take the dinner cruise when I’m in town. I thought it rude if I didn’t stop by and say hello.” She stepped close to my chair and placed a hand on my shoulder. “Congratulations, again.” With another cool smile, she turned and returned to her table.
“What an odd girl.” Mom snapped her napkin across her lap. “She has a lot of nerve approaching us, considering who she is.”
My eyes widened. “You know her?”
“She’s a famous photographer, dear, and was once engaged to Matthew.”
I glared at Maryann. She’d left out the bit of information that they had actually been engaged.
She mouthed “sorry” and shoved a forkful of salad into her mouth.
“Things aren’t as rosy in Stormi’s world as they usually are.” Angela grinned and refilled her champagne glass.
Great. I’d have to deal with a tipsy sister at my bachelorette party.
By the time we finished our delicious and very filling meal, I wished I’d worn elastic waist pants. “Let’s take a walk around deck. I’m stuffed. Mom, you might want to hold Angela’s hand.”
My sister said a very naughty word and pushed back from the table. When she teetered on her stiletto heels, she clutched Mom’s arm.
Cherokee rolled her eyes and walked away, most likely to pretend she didn’t know her mother.
I followed my friends and family and took a deep breath of Mississippi river air. Nothing like the smell of water and mud to ground a person.
“Look.” Maryann pointed to the opposite end of the deck. “It looks as if Rachel is arguing with her date. I wish I could see more than just the back of his head.”
“Why? You probably don’t know him.”
“But, what if I do?”
Good point, I guess, although I couldn’t figure out why it mattered. “Let’s ditch the others and mosey that way.”
“It won’t matter.” Rachel flipped her hair. “I’ll get him back. It’s only a matter of time. Have you seen her? Ugh.”
She couldn’t possibly be talking about me and Matt, could she? Oh, I’d like to wring her—”
Maryann yanked me into an alcove. “You don’t want her to see you!”
I guess I was approaching her at a rather rapid rate. “It sounds like she plans on going after Matt.”
“He loves you. She doesn’t stand a chance.” She peered around the corner. “They’re gone. Come on.”
“I really don’t want to spy or do any investigating on my bachelorette weekend.” I turned back to where Mom and the others leaned on the railing.
“We aren’t. I just want to know if she’s actually going to try and break you and my brother apart. You don’t want to be blindsided, do you?”
“You’re contradicting yourself, Maryann. Either I have nothing to worry about, or I do.”
“We’re just playing it safe. Stop.” She motioned to where Rachel stood a few feet away.
“I told you not to worry about it. I’ll have him eating out of my hand in a week.”
My gaze locked on Maryann’s wide one. This did not sound good at all.

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