The Mystery Megapack

the police came back to me and threatened me with obstruction of justice unless I talked. The groom had been carried out in a black body bag hours ago, and I was still there. The weeping bride was handcuffed and carted off to jail, but the cops kept her bloody dress as evidence.
    Her father had enough clout to get her out on bail and enough money to get her the best defense attorney.
    The details of the autopsy were so disgraceful, Aunt Marlene had to whisper them when she told all the neighbors—and me.
    “The autopsy showed the groom had had sex just before his death, and not with the bride. At least, those weren’t her blonde hairs they found on him,” Aunt Marlene said, shivering with glee.
    “Anyone could have left blonde hair on him. He was kissed by a lot of women in the receiving line,” I said.
    “No, they were female hairs from ‘down there,’” Aunt Marlene said, each whisper a stab in Gail’s back. “And they found stains and things. He’d been with another woman at his wedding reception. No wonder Gail stabbed him. There won’t be a woman in this town who blames her.”
    “I don’t care what they found,” I said. “She didn’t do it.”
    “You’re loyal to a fault,” Aunt Marlene said.
    By the time of the trial, Gail was eight-and-a-half months pregnant. Her attorney shrewdly insisted the trial go on. Tests had proved the baby was the groom’s, and she had the sympathy of every woman on the jury—and most of the men, too. The defense had done its homework, and made sure there were several fathers with daughters. They wanted to kill Harry all over again.
    I had to testify to what I saw, thanks to Aunt Marlene’s big mouth.
    The bride swore she was innocent.
    I think if Gail had told the jury she stabbed Harry in a fit of rage, they would have understood and set her free. But she said she didn’t do it, that she walked in there and saw the knife in his chest and heard him trying to breathe. She pulled the knife out and that’s how she got blood all over herself.
    The jury didn’t like that. They didn’t mind that she killed Harry, but they hated that she lied about it. Still, they couldn’t be too mad at the poor girl. They only convicted her of manslaughter, and she got the minimum sentence. Her mother will watch the baby when it is born, although her in-laws have sued for custody. I don’t think they’ll get it, but I do think the kid will get the Humphrey millions in trust.
    And Gail was innocent, even if no one believed her.
    Because if Harry got lucky at the reception, well, so did I. No one saw me go in the storage room the second time. They were too busy watching who caught the bouquet. I went in there to tell Harry exactly what I thought of him.
    I was already unhappy when I caught him in there with that simp Ashley. I didn’t mind sharing him with his wife—as I said, I liked married men. But I hated that he had another lover, when he’d promised I would be the only one. Of course I should have known. Harry had just promised to love, honor and obey Gail, and he’d broken those vows in an hour.
    Anyway, I went back in that storage room and told him what I thought of him. And Harry said, “Can you blame me for cheating on you, Vanessa? You look like a drag queen in that dress.”
    So I picked up the wedding cake knife and stabbed him in the chest. I didn’t mean to do it, but once it happened, I couldn’t undo it. Fortunately, there was very little blood. The knife held it in. I thought he was dead, but I was wrong. Harry was just barely alive when his bride came in. She pulled the knife out, trying to save him. Of course that was what killed him. Everyone but Gail knew you’re supposed to leave the knife in when someone’s stabbed like that. When she pulled it out, Harry’s blood sprayed all over his bride. When Gail walked out of the storage room drenched in red, it looked like she’d killed him.
    None of it would have happened if she’d let me wear a different bridesmaid’s dress.
    Gail only served two years of a four-year sentence. I consider that just. I think any woman who’s ever had to wear an ugly bridesmaid dress would agree.
    ABOUT THE AUTHOR
    Elaine Viets writes two national bestselling mystery series. Her critically acclaimed Dead-End Job series is a satiric look at a serious subject—the minimum-wage world. Her character, Helen Hawthorne, works a different low-paying job each book, from telemarketer to hotel maid. Publishers Weekly called