Charlotte Douglas - Wedding Bell Blues

“I’m sorry.” She didn’t sound sorry. “We don’t reveal the names of our guests. And we don’t admit anyone without an appointment.”

“Then I’d like to make an appointment.”

I waited, but the woman made no reply. I hit the call button again with no results. Whoever had answered had either left the intercom or was being purposely incommunicado.

That really ticked me off. When good manners failed to obtain results, I had no qualms about resorting to threats, but I reined in my temper. If activities at Grove Spirit House were nefarious, I didn’t want to raise their defenses before I’d had a chance to snoop further.

I keyed the intercom. “How do I make an appointment?”

Sultry Voice returned. “The office opens at nine tomorrow morning. But appointments are only for participants in our retreats.”

“Can you at least put Alicia on the intercom, so I can assure her family that she’s all right?”

This time, Sultry Voice said nada.

By now, alarm bells were jangling in my brain. The type of exclusiveness practiced at Grove Spirit House was usually one of two things: the privilege of extreme wealth or the secretiveness of something under-handed. Because neither Alicia nor her family was filthy rich, my money was on deceit, and my investigative nose smelled the stench of a cult.

Closing time was fast approaching when I returned to the office. Darcy was clearing the top of her desk.

“Can you check something on Google for me before you leave?” I asked.

A true technophobe, I avoided computers whenever possible. And irritated Bill by refusing to own a cell phone. Now that I was no longer on the police force, I didn’t even carry a beeper. I loved the heady freedom of being electronically disconnected.

Darcy poised her hands above the keyboard. “What do you need?”

“Everything you can find on Grove Spirit House here in Pelican Bay, including a phone number.”

“I’m on it. Your messages are on your desk.”

Darcy concentrated on her monitor and I went into my office. A note from Bill said he’d pick me up at my condo sometime after six to take me to dinner. The second message was from Caroline, who’d dropped by the office while I was out, hoping to discuss bridal gowns. I felt a wave of relief at dodging that bullet.

Darcy came in with a manila folder and handed it to me. “I printed out everything I could find. The phone number’s in there.” She shook her head. “Sounds like one strange outfit.”

“How strange?”

“Fasting, bathing naked in the lake, sitting for hours in a smokehouse, beating drums, communing with spirits. Cleansing, they call it. I call it nuts. Good way to get eaten alive by mosquitoes and alligators.”

According to the signals my gut was sending, mosquitoes and alligators weren’t the only predators at Grove Spirit House. The sooner I found Alicia, the better.

Back at my condo an hour later, I watched Roger scarf the last of his kibble and empty his water dish. How one little dog could drink twice his weight in water, I’d never understand. I’d already taken him for a long walk along the waterfront and planned to read the file on Grove Spirit House while I waited for Bill to take me to dinner.

Before I could make myself comfortable, a knock sounded at the front door. Expecting Bill, I opened it without checking the peephole.

Caroline breezed past, down the hall and into my living room. She clutched a stack of bridal magazines in one arm and held a Neiman Marcus shopping bag overflowing with fabric samples in her other hand.

“Finally,” she said with a note of triumph. “We’ve got to plan this wedding.”

I gazed past her, expecting to see my mother bringing up the rear. The parking lot and front walkway were empty. The only good thing about Caroline’s visit was that she was alone.

With nowhere to run and no place to hide, I followed her into the living room.

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