Forever Is A Long Story

By E.E.Lewis

Mystery / Romance

My Big Fat Postponed Wedding

Tertullian: Indeed it is better to postpone, lest either we complete too little by hurrying, or wander too long in completing it.

Weddings were sometimes a nightmare, depending on who the bride was and if the family was rich or if the bride was spoiled rotten when she was a child. Then, that's when 'The Big Day' could get stressful, for everyone. Especially for the two people getting married. It all becomes too much; the cake, the floral decorations, the catering, the bride’s maids dresses, the fancy ice sculptures, finding the right music, the invitations, picking the wedding dress, finding a location to have the ceremony...Without help, every wedding would become postponed, cancelled, or elopement was another option.

That's what wedding planners were for. To help everyone through all the transitions and make everything go as planned. Of course, Angelica Roswell had a wedding planner since she wanted a huge expensive wedding, with hundreds of guests she barely knew. Most of them were her father's friends or more like his business deals. The blond haired woman was indeed getting frustrated since her wedding planner hadn't come to see her about picking the perfect kinds of flowers. She was almost going hysterical when she couldn't even get her on the phone. That's when she went to see her daddy; the only person who gave her everything, but also solved her every dilemma without his daughter needing to. Although, this time, his ways couldn't work...unless he had the power of bringing a certain woman back from the dead.

Mr. Mike Roswell sat at his desk in his large office. Famous paintings hung from the walls and an assortment of antique guns filled two beautifully carved cabinets. Just by entering his office, one could know straight away that he was obscenely rich. He made grown men jealous and women wanted to marry him for his money. However, the billionaire never got re-married since the death of his wife twenty years ago. He took it upon himself never to make his daughter ever feel sad ever again; so he spoiled her rotten. Angelica was only four at the time of her mother's passing, but she still made her father guilty. Making him believe she was sad and scarred because of it, and then got what she wanted. She had quite a bratty heart, but she almost never showed it on the outside.

Mr. Roswell could hear loud clicking sounds coming closer―that of dangerously high stilettos, the ones that could easily break a woman's ankle if she wasn’t properly trained in the arts of ‘high-heeled’ walking. The man lit a cigar, awaiting his daughter's flamboyant entrance.

"Daddy! My wedding is ruined!" The young woman whined like a six year old, pulling down her short skirt―that stuck perfectly to her body―because it lifted up whilst she had been speed-walking.

"What's wrong Pumpkin?" Mr. Roswell grunted, keeping the fat cigar in his mouth and still signing a stack of documents.

"My stupid wedding planner isn't picking up her phone. Do something Daddy!" She stomped her foot, not at all acting her age, but she only performed like that in front of her father. The rest of the world thought she was a sophisticated adult with a southern accent and a beautiful face.

"Calm down Sugar Pie...I'll fix everything." He reassured her, picking up the green phone laying on his desk. As he was punching in numbers, the butler came into his office right after knocking.

"There is a detective at the door sir." The butler said, back perfectly straight, nose in the air, wearing a three piece suit.

"Why the damn would they want to speak with me?" The billionaire grumbled.

"They don't sir." The butler answered, no emotion displayed on his face.

"Then what the heck are they doing on my porch?” Mr. Roswell spoke up a little louder, slamming his phone down. He had a hard time keeping his temper on the down low. Everyone, including the help, just grinned and bared it. He was the boss, what could they do?

"They need to speak to Miss Roswell." The butler glanced at Angelica.

"My angel definitely didn't do anything. I'm calling our lawyer, we'll sue them." He sat up, heading to the front of the large house.

"Your daughter is not in trouble" A voice called out from the arch of his office door. It was Jo, followed by Henry. Of course, the man didn't know their names. "We just need to ask her a few questions about Allison Dale." Jo stepped inside the room, letting her badge inform him of her occupation without saying a word.

"What did she do? I will not postpone my wedding! She's not arrested is she? She's too kind and my wedding planner." The bride-to-be started to look panic stricken, fanning her face with her hand. Henry raised his eyebrows, not sure if she was feeling bad for Allison or herself.

"She was found dead this morning in her kitchen. From cyanide poisoning." Jo answered, not knowing what reactions will surface whilst Henry walked gradually to the displayed antique guns, impressed with the rarities. Abraham would love to inspect these beauties, he thought. "So, postponing the wedding should be a good idea." The detective added.

"Look Detective, my daughter will have her perfect wedding on the perfect already set day. So instead of snooping around and asking questions, why don't we figure out a deal? Maybe some compensation for the hard work you police people do every day for humanity and in exchange putting our connection with the victim on the bottom of the evidence pile." Mr. Roswell said, trying to sound inconspicuous and below the radar. One part of the gossip about the Roswell family was right; corruption was indeed imbedded inside their house’s walls. However, Jo did not like being bribed. It offended her the number of individuals who thought bribing a cop was a good move. There were many dirty cops, but plenty were clean as a slate. They were in the force to serve, not to be served.

"Trying to bribe a police officer is breaking the law. I could arrest you for that." Jo threatened, not caring how high his social stature was throughout the United-States’ oil companies. To her, a criminal was a criminal. Whatever clothes they were wearing never changed who they really truly were. Jo had the gift of rummaging through the lives of persons of interest and finding the truth. Her talent would make her grow in the ranks easily, but being immortal rather changed that. Bummer, being a chief would be something she could have been good at. But, they usually found older people with many years of experience. She would undeniably possess the years, but never be allowed to prove it since she was never going to age a day ever again. Little white hairs would never see the light of day on her brunette head.

Mike let out a sturdy amused laugh, pleased with Jo's attitude. "I like you. Tough, a rare characteristic in a woman." He sighed. "It was worth a shot I suppose. I, Mike Roswell, getting arrested would have never stood in a court of justice. But of course, you already know that." The old man said, a twinkle in his eye, showing his vast intelligence accompanied by his conniving attitude.

Jo ignored the man's remark, going back to the reason she was there. "You don't have to postpone your wedding, but we will have to talk to your daughter since she was in Allison's apartment sometime or another." She then turned to Angelica and started to talk to her. "So, you must have known her at some level."

"She was only my wedding planner. I don't know anything about her. Edgar, my fiancée, and I only went to her house once to look over the seating arrangements. We were only there for twenty minutes." Tears formed in her eyes, but not enough to ruin her eye makeup. "I need to call my fiancée."

"You do that." Jo replied as Angelica ran out the door, cell phone already to her ear.

...

They sat in one of the many living rooms. The persons included Jo, Henry, Angelica and Edgar. The father almost raged when Jo told him that she needed the couple alone for a dozen minutes. Luckily, the groom cooled the old man's temper. It seemed he was the most clear-headed one in the group.

"I can't believe our wedding planner is dead. We just saw her yesterday." Edgar Adamms shook his head, shocked.

"What, may I ask, was the exact time you saw her?" Jo questioned, back pressed to the comfy cream fabric couch.

"Around one in the afternoon, and as I said before, we were looking over the seating arrangements." Angelica butted in, looking miserable since she didn't want to postpone her wedding. She had always wanted to be beautiful bride along with getting a perfect wedding. Her planner being murdered was one of the worst things that could to happen to a woman.

"I am obliged to ask both of you. Where were you both yesterday between nine to eleven PM?" She asked, cupping her hands together.

"That's when she died, wasn't it?" Edgar asked, grabbing onto his fiancée's hand to comfort her, showing her that everything was going to work out.

"Yes. Now please answer my question. I need both of you to answer one at a time." Jo explained as she took out a notebook just in case there was anything impertinent.

"I was here. My father, the butler and the three maids can tell you that I am not lying." Angelica commenced, getting annoyed that she was actually being interrogated.

"I was at one of the many clubs I own. It's a new one that I just opened. The Vibrant Tiger." Edgar explained, sounding rather proud of himself.

"Yes, Mr. Adamms has many splendid clubs, he's done well for himself despite only being twenty-four years of age." Henry continued. "It must be an honour, showing people that even young adults can run large successful companies from the ground up without any aid from elders." He complimented him, getting on the groom's good side.

"Yes I am proud of my accomplishments. You should come and visit one of my clubs, my DJ's are excellent." He offered, crossing his legs on the couch and smoothing down his pants.

"Maybe some other time." Henry responded.

"Exactly because right now we have a job to do." Jo said abruptly, aggravated that they were deriving from their primary objective; solving a murder. "Did you ever see Allison look distressed or talking with someone she looked scared of? Anything can help, even the smallest detail."

"She didn't talk to us about her social life. We just hired her to do her job, not to become friends and share secrets." Angelica answered with a faint whine in her voice. Patience was not one of her attributes.

Henry could see this was getting nowhere. It seemed the couple didn't know anything. The case was getting difficult; they could not find any motive for anyone to kill sweet Allison. It seemed no one had a bad relationship with her. She was one of those people who couldn't be hated.

Out of the blue, Jo's phone buzzed, revealing a text message from Hanson. "Found the identity of the man in the photo. Duncan Rymes, a banker. He works at National Bank as a manager, whenever you want to talk to him. However, the bank closes at five, so you will have to go tomorrow. I still haven't found out how he and the victim met and started having the affair. I'll dig around some more. I'll text you if anything pertinent comes up." Jo lifted her eyebrows, it was rare for someone to text without using any emoticons or abbreviations. She liked it; easier to comprehend. Jo looked at her watch; four seventeen. Time flew by when there was a murder to solve.

"Have you ever heard of the name Duncan Rymes? Did Allison ever talk about this man?" Jo asked the fidgeting couple on the couch. They both looked at each other, reading if either of them knew something. They both shook their heads.

"No, never heard of him. Is he the murderer?" Edgar asked, voice strong.

"Just a suspect, but we can't rule him out." Henry said. Every day he was becoming more and more a detective. One day he might have to change his job description.

"Can we please leave? Every minute I am sitting here, my…our wedding is falling to pieces. I need to find a new wedding planner! One that can actually do their job, like Allison could." Angelica huffed, distressed.

"You may go, but don't be surprised if we come back to ask a few more questions." Jo responded, sitting up and following Henry out of the large mansion.

They sat in the car, engine running but not yet moving away. "I don't see either of them killing Allison. Where's the motive?" Jo discussed with the Englishman, sighing.

"Indeed. However, Miss Roswell didn't seem too distressed about her wedding planner being murdered. She looked more terrified about her wedding, but I think that was her bratty upbringing what made her that way." Henry concluded, smirking. "I think you should text Hanson and see if he could check Mr. Adamm’s alibi for that evening." He suggested.

"Why? You think he might have done it?" Jo asked, intrigued.

"Not sure, but I have a feeling he's hiding something." Henry mumbled, in deep thought.

"Doesn't everyone?"

"True, but this secret might be connected to Allison."

...

Both partners sat in their own houses, mind haunted with the case they were working on. After chatting for an hour together, they decided to call it a day since they accomplished everything they could. They needed their rest; tomorrow would be another packed day. Tuesday, more secrets would probably be dug out and presented out in the open, for everyone to see.

Night time finally came around and both persons of interest got ready for bed.

As Jo closed her eyes, she had one single thought. "I will find the murderer, even if it kills me. If it does, I'll still succeed..."

As Henry shut his tired eyes, he also had one continuous thought that ran through his mind. "This case is mind boggling, I wonder who did it. Maybe the butler?..."


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