The Mystery Megapack

short dress she could change into later, and the ornamental cake knife. The storage room angled off to the right.
    And there, against a back counter, was the groom, getting his own private reception from Ashley, and it was a warm one. In fact, they were consummating their new position as in-laws. They didn’t notice me. I grabbed Gail’s shoes off the shelf, tiptoed out, shut the door—and ran straight into Aunt Marlene.
    “What got into you? You’re white as a sheet,” she said.
    “Nothing,” I said, shakily.
    “You’re lying,” Aunt Marlene said, and her chins wobbled like Jell-O in an earthquake. Her old eyes narrowed, and the net of wrinkles around them gathered tighter. “He’s in there with his own sister-in-law, isn’t he?”
    “How did you know?” I said. Aunt Marlene didn’t miss much.
    “I saw him sneak in there, and five minutes later, I saw her, looking just as sneaky. I knew they were up to no good. I think Gail saw him, too, and that’s why she sent you in there for her shoes.”
    “I better get these to her,” I said, hoping I could get away, but Aunt Marlene clamped her hand on my arm.
    “I hope this marriage lasts until I’ve paid off their present on my Penney’s charge,” she said, ominously.
    With that, the photographer, who called the shots at all weddings these days, announced it was time to throw the bouquet. Gail had a special “throwing bouquet” made up so she could have the white roses dried and preserved. I handed it to her, then slipped away. I’d made her promise that she wouldn’t throw the bouquet to me or make a spectacle out of me. I liked my single status.
    When I came back, the girlish squealing had stopped and Harry’s sister Jill had caught the bouquet, amid general cheers. “They were fighting over it,” said Aunt Marlene. “A regular scrummage.”
    “Where’s the groom?” said the photographer. “It’s time to throw the garter.”
    “Yes, where is the groom?” said Jill and Heather. Ashley said nothing. She looked flushed and her hair was coming out of its French twist, and I didn’t think it was from the battle over the bouquet.
    Gail glared at her guilty sister. The tension was so thick, you could cut it with a knife.
    “I’ll get him,” said Gail grimly, and it sounded like a threat. She marched straight across to the storage room, flung open the door, and slammed it behind her.
    Soon after that, we heard her screams. The bride came out drenched in bright blood, her silk and Alençon lace dress splashed with red. There were sprays of red across her face and veil, and her eyes were wide with shock. She was holding a long, heavy silver knife in her hand. Blood dripped down it and onto her sleeves. She looked like a creature in a horror movie.
    “The wedding cake knife!” someone screamed, and then I saw the blood-drenched bouquet of ribbons and lily of the valley at the handle.
    “Gracious, that girl stabbed her own husband,” said Aunt Marlene, nearly delirious with delighted malice. She’d never had such a show for the price of a Penney’s jelly dish with a silver-plate spoon. “Not that he didn’t deserve it, philandering at his own reception.”
    “No!” I said. “No, it’s not true. She didn’t do it.”
    But now I heard the screams of the groom’s mother. Her handsome Harry boy was dead, blood all over his starched white pleated shirt and black tuxedo. She couldn’t explain why his cummerbund was in his hand. She thought it must have come loose and he’d retired to the storage room to fix it. I couldn’t bring myself to go into the storage room again, but Aunt Marlene did, and she gave me all the details. She also spread the word that Harry had been in there alone with his own sister-in-law, doing unspeakable things. Which Aunt Marlene was more than happy to speak about.
    The friends of the bride and the groom divided themselves into two camps, as if someone had drawn a line down the middle of the ballroom. There were tears and angry voices on each side. Naturally, Harry’s family blamed the bride, but I maintained she was innocent. She did nothing but cry. Her father, who was a lawyer, told her not to say a word when the police got there.
    We stayed at the reception until after midnight, but there was no dancing or dinner. We were all forced to stay there and talk to the police. I didn’t tell them what I’d seen in the storage room, but that didn’t do Gail any good. Aunt Marlene blabbed to the cops, and