Buried In Buttercream

seen something.”
    Faithful Tammy stood next to her, an equally mournful look on her face. “How about security cameras?”
    “Dirk’s with the club’s manager checking them now,” Savannah told her. “It doesn’t look promising. Needless to say, they don’t have any trained on the bridal suite’s balcony. The whole idea for a honeymoon is to have some privacy.”
    Jesup walked up just in time to hear the end of the conversation. Looking far less mournful than Tammy. In fact, she looked quite chipper as she said, “Maybe it was random ... some lunatic who’s still roaming the halls, looking for another victim.”
    Savannah tried to overlook her enthusiasm. The kid had been born on Halloween, a fact she took deeply to heart. She couldn’t help being a bit of a ghoul.
    “Could be,” Savannah said. “But I doubt it. Most people who get murdered know who killed ’em and why.”
    “Huh?” Jesup shook her head and walked away.
    Marietta hurried up to them, a distressed look on her face. “Are we gonna eat anything?” she asked. “I mean, just ’cause the wedding’s off doesn’t mean we have to starve to death, does it?”
    “There’s cake and ice cream in the reception hall. Go chow down,” Savannah said.
    The thought of one more wedding cake that wasn’t going to be ceremonially cut by herself and her bridegroom was Savannah’s undoing.
    She could take a dead body showing up in her bridal suite. She could even stand yet another ruined bridal gown.
    But another cake ... it was just too much.
    Granny Reid detected the imminent breakdown and reached for her oldest grandchild, drawing her into her arms. “There, there, sugar pie ... Don’t you go tunin’ up now! You’ve been such a brave girl so far and—”
    “Shhhh, Granny!” Savannah said, gently pushing her away, “Do not be nice to me! Just don’t! If you say anything sweet, I’m gonna lose it right here and now, and it won’t be a pretty sight, I guarantee you, ’cause I’ve been saving it up for a long time now.”
    Granny smiled and nodded. “I understand. Save it up a little bit longer. But sooner or later, you’re gonna have to let it out, or you’re gonna pop!”
    Savannah’s cell phone rang. She answered it and heard a depressed Dirk on the other end. “Van, honey,” he said, “I hate to even ask you this, but ... do you want your wedding gown? CSI wants to take it with them, but I’ll fight ’em for it, if you want me to.”
    She sighed. “Let them have it. I had up-close contact with the body, wearing it. They’ll have to check it.”
    “All right,” she heard him say, “you can take it.”
    Savannah closed her burning eyes for a moment and wondered if Zsa Zsa Gabor or Liz Taylor went through that many wedding gowns.
    “They’re asking me if you’re gonna want it back,” he said.
    She thought about it only for a second, remembered her awful dream, and the real-life nightmare of dragging Madeline Aberson’s dead body out of that pool.
    “No,” she said. “I’d rather just get married in my Minnie Mouse jammies next time.”
    As she was telling him good-bye, a wave of women in blue flowed toward her, an ocean of discontent wrapped in silk and satin.
    “What was that call about?” Marietta demanded to know, hands on her ample hips. “What is it this time?”
    “Yeah!” Vidalia held a toddler on each hip. Jack and Jillian were hanging on to her skirt. “What’s going on?”
    “Don’t I get to be your flower girl,” Jillian whined, “again?”
    “It’s not my fault!” Jack complained. “Marietta never put the rings on my pillow! I couldn’t be the ring bearer if nobody gave me the rings!”
    But Atlanta was the most indignant of all. “What the heck were you two doing? You left me standing up there in front of God and everybody, singing my heart out for half an hour! I was running out of songs! It would have served you right if I’d started doing Christmas carols! I’m plum hoarse now.”
    “Okay!” Granny held up one hand like a traffic cop. “That’s enough! You bunch o’ hyenas back off right now. Can’t you see your sister’s got way more problems right now than the likes of you? She needs your support, not your belly achin’.”
    As they had when they were children, the entire group instantly amended their ways. When Granny spoke, they didn’t dare not listen.
    Memories of a certain wooden paddle, hung on the back of the kitchen door, lasted a lifetime.
    “That’s