Read Online Mayhem in High Heels by Gemma Halliday - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Gemma Halliday
Tags: General, Mystery & Detective, Women Sleuths, cozy mystery, Weddings - Planning, Women fashion designers
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second thoughts about actually walking down them.
Probably.
But one thing was for certain - if I wanted my groom back, I was going to have to find Gigi's killer.
And fast.
Chapter Six
Organ music filled the air, echoing off walls peppered with bright red roses and delicate white baby's breath. Silky ribbons knotted into intricate bows made a clear pathway down the aisle. I followed them, slowly walking forward, my feet moving as if through molasses. I could feel everyone's eyes on me, watching me, waiting breathlessly.
My hands began to sweat as I neared the end of the aisle. A line of bridesmaids in black stood to one side, their dresses somehow morbid against the white background, the bloodred roses in their bouquets suddenly appearing sinister. To the other side, a line of groomsmen, again in unrelieved black. One stood out from the rest, his back to me, apart from the other tuxedo clad-men. The groom.
I swallowed a nervous lump in my throat, my heart beating way too fast. Somehow the organ music had morphed from the wedding march to something out of a B-horror movie. Shadows seemed to gather along the walls, shifting the flowers and ribbons into grotesquely distorted shapes. I wanted to run, to leave, to get away as fast as I could. But I couldn't make my feet respond. No matter how I tried to flee, they continued their steady forward motion toward the man waiting for me at the end of the aisle.
I watched in fascinated horror as he came closer and closer, until I was standing right behind him.
I held my breath as he turned around.
Only it wasn't a him.
It was Gigi, the front of her suit covered in sickly yellow buttercream, her lifeless eyes staring out at me as her lips mouthed the words, "Don't forget to order place cards."
* * *
I shot bolt upright in bed, sweat trickling down my spine, breath coming out like a marathon runner's. I whipped my head around the room. No organ, no blood red roses, no gory corpse groom.
I let out a deep breath, sinking back onto my pillow.
Instinctively I rolled over toward Ramirez... only to find his side of the bed conspicuously empty.
I opened my eyes, swallowing down a lump of disappointment. But what did I really expect? With an open homicide, he'd probably been strapping his gun on well before the sun had come up.
I got up and padded into the kitchen to my Mr. Coffee, filled to the brim, giving off the heavenly aroma of freshly brewed French Roast. A yellow Post-it was stuck on the side.
Had to run.
XO
R
Okay, so I didn't get to wake up in his arms. But he had made me coffee. Gotta love the man for that.
I downed a cup, then showered and dried my hair before stepping into a pair of cropped jeans, an Ed Hardy T-shirt with pink skulls and rose vines creeping over the shoulders, and a pair of cute pink wedge heels I was determined to wear despite the fact that spring was still a good month and a half off.
Pouring myself a second cup of Ramirez's caffeinated offering, I flipped open my laptop and booted it up.
As I may have mentioned, I'm not what you'd call technology savvy. I'm an artist - give me a pad of paper and a set of drawing pencils and I'll create you the most to-die-for designs you ever saw. But sit me in front of a computer and my IQ drops about twenty points. What makes a computer tick is a total mystery to me. Part of me still has this irrational fear I'll push the wrong button and smoke will start coming out of my monitor.
With no small difficulty, I've stumbled my way through learning the basics. I can check my email and order shoes from Zappos.com. And, I'm proud to say that, after a particularly frustrating afternoon with my laptop, I'd figured out how to make the songs on iTunes miraculously appear on my iPod. But download, upload--it was all gobbledygook to me.
Needless to say, MySpace was way out of my league.
I took a fortifying breath before typing the web address into my browser. It only took me two tries to realize that MySpace was
Probably.
But one thing was for certain - if I wanted my groom back, I was going to have to find Gigi's killer.
And fast.
Chapter Six
Organ music filled the air, echoing off walls peppered with bright red roses and delicate white baby's breath. Silky ribbons knotted into intricate bows made a clear pathway down the aisle. I followed them, slowly walking forward, my feet moving as if through molasses. I could feel everyone's eyes on me, watching me, waiting breathlessly.
My hands began to sweat as I neared the end of the aisle. A line of bridesmaids in black stood to one side, their dresses somehow morbid against the white background, the bloodred roses in their bouquets suddenly appearing sinister. To the other side, a line of groomsmen, again in unrelieved black. One stood out from the rest, his back to me, apart from the other tuxedo clad-men. The groom.
I swallowed a nervous lump in my throat, my heart beating way too fast. Somehow the organ music had morphed from the wedding march to something out of a B-horror movie. Shadows seemed to gather along the walls, shifting the flowers and ribbons into grotesquely distorted shapes. I wanted to run, to leave, to get away as fast as I could. But I couldn't make my feet respond. No matter how I tried to flee, they continued their steady forward motion toward the man waiting for me at the end of the aisle.
I watched in fascinated horror as he came closer and closer, until I was standing right behind him.
I held my breath as he turned around.
Only it wasn't a him.
It was Gigi, the front of her suit covered in sickly yellow buttercream, her lifeless eyes staring out at me as her lips mouthed the words, "Don't forget to order place cards."
* * *
I shot bolt upright in bed, sweat trickling down my spine, breath coming out like a marathon runner's. I whipped my head around the room. No organ, no blood red roses, no gory corpse groom.
I let out a deep breath, sinking back onto my pillow.
Instinctively I rolled over toward Ramirez... only to find his side of the bed conspicuously empty.
I opened my eyes, swallowing down a lump of disappointment. But what did I really expect? With an open homicide, he'd probably been strapping his gun on well before the sun had come up.
I got up and padded into the kitchen to my Mr. Coffee, filled to the brim, giving off the heavenly aroma of freshly brewed French Roast. A yellow Post-it was stuck on the side.
Had to run.
XO
R
Okay, so I didn't get to wake up in his arms. But he had made me coffee. Gotta love the man for that.
I downed a cup, then showered and dried my hair before stepping into a pair of cropped jeans, an Ed Hardy T-shirt with pink skulls and rose vines creeping over the shoulders, and a pair of cute pink wedge heels I was determined to wear despite the fact that spring was still a good month and a half off.
Pouring myself a second cup of Ramirez's caffeinated offering, I flipped open my laptop and booted it up.
As I may have mentioned, I'm not what you'd call technology savvy. I'm an artist - give me a pad of paper and a set of drawing pencils and I'll create you the most to-die-for designs you ever saw. But sit me in front of a computer and my IQ drops about twenty points. What makes a computer tick is a total mystery to me. Part of me still has this irrational fear I'll push the wrong button and smoke will start coming out of my monitor.
With no small difficulty, I've stumbled my way through learning the basics. I can check my email and order shoes from Zappos.com. And, I'm proud to say that, after a particularly frustrating afternoon with my laptop, I'd figured out how to make the songs on iTunes miraculously appear on my iPod. But download, upload--it was all gobbledygook to me.
Needless to say, MySpace was way out of my league.
I took a fortifying breath before typing the web address into my browser. It only took me two tries to realize that MySpace was
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