Page 55 of The Bridesmaid
‘Silky is organizing the floral display, right?’ I say. ‘Look at the display. It’s been built out of scaffold.’ A realization is forming, deep under the sugar-starved thinking part of my brain.
‘This isn’t the time to admire the flowers, Holly.’
‘I’m not really a florals kind of girl,’ I tell him. ‘But I am interested in murder weapons.’
Fitzwilliam pulls at my arm, with a gentlemanly hesitation that I suspect masks his underlying panic.
‘The room Simone died in,’ I say, ‘do you think it was floristry scaffold?’ I’m absorbing the structure of the giant, flower-decorated K. The scaffold is a honeycomb. Interlocking poles all fitted expertly together. ‘Why would the scaffold be deconstructed on the morning of the wedding demo?’ I’m voicing my thoughts, trying to piece together a fact that won’t sit in alignment.
‘Something to discuss later,’ says Fitzwilliam, leading me with gentle firmness back to the reception area. He stops dead in his tracks and I follow his gaze to the hot pools outside. Two burly men in uniforms, with guns slung easily over their bodies, are patrolling the base.
I catch a glimpse of the brutal-looking face of one of the guards and the way he is flicking the safety catch on his gun makes me instinctively duck back out of sight.
‘Think they’d risk shooting a wedding guest?’ I ask.
‘Let’s not stick around to find out,’ says Fitzwilliam. ‘They haven’t spotted the quad bike,’ he adds, pointing. ‘If we slip down the back way, they won’t see us.’
Silently, we creep down the side of the volcano, and back to the parked-up bike.
‘Let’s go. Fast as you like,’ breathes Fitzwilliam, climbing on behind.
At the roar of the engine we hear shouts from back toward the hot pools, but we’re long gone on the sandy trail before the guards see us.
We speed back to the other side of the volcano with the setting sun behind us, all kinds of strange thoughts looping through my head.
As we roll up the last of the sandy track, the invitation, and what Simone might be trying to tell us, are jostling for position. The clutch of old prison cells, hidden in the back of Elysium’s luxuryspa. The floristry scaffold. The birthday invitation, addressed to Trinity.
It all points to a dark secret, hidden out here on Elysium.
Chapter Forty-Three
PETRA
While the other girls were enjoying free time, I slip out for a cigarette. Below me, Holly Stone, and her so-called assistant are arriving back at the house. I’ve had time to check out Adrianna’s new goth bridesmaid, and confirmed she worked for Simone’s law firm.
But her assistant speaks too well and had far too much decorum to be a PA. Not to mention, she doesn’t seem to have assigned him a single task since we landed. Not so much as a glass of water.
Now they think no one is watching, it’s even more obvious. Everything about how they relate to one another speaks of equals. Friends. Maybe even something more.
Slowly, I dial a number on my cell, sucking thoughtfully on my cigarette, turning everything over. Holly Stone. Simone.
After the court case, I thought I’d never see her again. But when Adrianna was kidnapped, Leopold was smart enough to figure there was some connection to his daughter being snatched, and our old school. He set about getting close to Simone to find out more.
What happened next, I should have expected, but didn’t.
Georgia sent me a formal invitation to the Plaza, ahead of the wedding demo the following day. The theme was ‘bridal sleepover’.One of Georgia Kensington’s clever publicity stunts, with a big reveal of Adrianna’s secret bridesmaid list to the press.
Weird now, to think that was the last time we saw Simone alive.
The idea was we’d all arrive singly in pre-decided designer PJs and negligees, and react with shock and delight as each successive bridesmaid was revealed. Naturally, I’d been asked to show up second to last, to capture the drama of Ophelia and Silky’s horrified reactions.
I sauntered into the room, relishing their discomfort.
I’d expected Ophelia to be in the line-up, since her make-up business had taken off. Silky was a surprise, though not completely.
But the joke was on me. As I took my place for pictures next to the other girls, the final bridesmaid walked in.
‘Simone Walters,’ announced Adrianna, beaming her camera-ready smile, ‘will be my head bridesmaid.’
