Marriage Can Be Murder -- Every Wife Has A Story (A Carol and Jim Andrews Baby Boomer Mystery) (29 page)

Both the girls gave me their special doggy stare.

“Correction,” I said, “Nancy is my very best
human
friend. You two are my very best
canine
friends. And the keeper of all my secrets.”

That was good enough to placate Ethel, who found a comfortable spot on the rug near my desk and settled down for a snooze.

Lucy, my sometime co-conspirator and perpetual conscience, continued to stare at me. Call me crazy (I’d really appreciate it if you wouldn’t take me literally about that), but I knew she was trying to tell me something.

“Of course, Jim is my husband,” I said, “so he’s my very best human friend, too. I guess I never really thought about this. One last time – Jim is my very best male human friend, Nancy is my very best female human friend, and you are my very best canine friends. Are you satisfied with that?”

Lucy padded across the floor, curled up in a ball next to Ethel, and went to sleep. I took that as a sign of approval.

Time to prioritize, Carol. Once again, you’ve allowed yourself to get off track. When you sat down at the computer, you were all fired up to do a cyberstalking story. And now, Nancy’s talked you into doing some online sleuthing to clear Bob. You are such a doofus. No wonder you rarely accomplish anything. You start one thing, and get diverted by something else. Like when you go into the refrigerator looking for something to cook for dinner, decide it needs cleaning out, spend the whole afternoon doing that, and then, when Jim comes home, there’s nothing ready for him to eat.

Of course, that’s not such a bad ploy, come to think of it.

I decided I was being too hard on myself. And there was no reason why I couldn’t research both things, maybe even simultaneously. I’m pretty clever at multitasking, provided that I remember what the tasks are in the first place.

“I’ll start with the Cinderella Weddings website,” I announced to myself and the dogs. “Maybe there’s some information there about Tiffani.”

I typed “Cinderella Weddings” into my web browser and was rewarded with several hits. The primary one was the official website, www.cinderellaweddings.com. Basically, it was a lot of hype about how wonderful the company was, gushing testimonials from brides and grooms, gorgeous (I have to admit this) photographs from over-the- top weddings that must have set each couple (or their parents) back a fortune, and a list of suggested wedding vendors such as caterers, florists, makeup artists, dress designers, venues, and on and on. There was a whole section devoted to “Planning The Destination Wedding Of Your Dreams,” which boiled down to a blatant pitch to hire Cinderella Weddings to do it for you. “All of our Cinderella Weddings planners are experienced destination wedding specialists, passionately committed to giving you the wedding you’ve always dreamed about. Start your journey with Cinderella Weddings and together we’ll find the magic.”

Hmm. I wonder how many brides and grooms actually fell for this stuff. Then I remembered that my own daughter did.

I clicked on the icon labeled “Destination Weddings – What Every

Engaged Couple Needs To Know.” I assumed that, as the mother of the bride, I had the right to know, too. This was another pitch for hiring Cinderella Weddings, but in a much more clever way. Instead of listing the pros of hiring the company, this section was a laundry list of all the things that could possibly go wrong at a destination wedding, with (supposedly) true nightmare stories documented in a variety of short videos. I wondered if these brides and grooms knew their wedding bloopers were now on the Internet for all to see.

But I had to admit that some of the stories were entertaining, as long as they hadn’t happened to anyone I knew. There was one do-it- yourself bride who arrived at the hotel in Barbados she had booked for her wedding, only to find out that the entire hotel had been taken over by a dental convention from New Jersey. In another instance, the couple hadn’t gotten the proper paperwork filed for an out-of-the United States wedding. Plus, the parents of the groom had been left at the airport for hours because the bride and groom forgot to pick them up and no one at the airport spoke English.

Now, that last one was patently ridiculous. In this age of instant communication, I couldn’t believe that story had actually happened.

But at the end of this list of nightmare weddings (I won’t bore you with any more examples), there was the real point of the blooper list.

“YOU CAN DO IT YOURSELF, BUT IS IT WORTH THE RISK?” Sheesh. Talk using about fear tactics to make money! I was glad

I hadn’t bothered to check this website out before. I would have discouraged Jenny and Mark from using this company.

Of course, I had no say in those decisions. Sadly. And, sadly, I still have to remind myself about that.

There was no hint about pricing on the website. No wedding packages or special deals. “Every wedding is unique,” proclaimed Cinderella Weddings still again. “Every bride and groom is special. All our weddings are custom designed by a member of our expert staff to make the hopes and dreams of each couple come true on their very special day.”

I went back to the home page and found an icon for “Our Fairy Tale: The Story of Cinderella Weddings.” The company had been founded in 2001 and, big surprise, the founder was the now-deceased Tiffani Blake.

I clicked on Tiffani’s photo (taken a few years ago judging by her hairdo), and read her personal wedding story, a.k.a. “How I came up with this great idea to make a lot of money.” Which boiled down to the fact that she and her intended groom (no name mentioned, unfortunately) decided it would be fun to forgo a huge wedding extravaganza and have an intimate event in a tropical paradise (once again, specific location omitted) instead. It turned out to be a nightmare experience. The wedding, I mean, not the marriage. Although since Tiffani was no longer married, I gathered that the marriage itself was not a huge success, either.

There were a few photos of Tiffani and her groom showing a variety of things that went wrong during the wedding. My own particular favorite was the one of a waiter spilling one of those fancy cocktails garnished with a cute umbrella onto the lap of the bride.

“My own wedding was such a stress-filled experience, that I decided then and there to devote the rest of my life to saving other couples from the same terrible ordeal.”

Oh, Tiffani, how noble of you. What a bunch of baloney. I bet all your so- called wedding photos were cleverly staged for maximum negative effect.

I wondered what would happen to Cinderella Weddings now that the Cinderella-In-Chief was no longer at the ball.

So to speak.

I scrolled down to the bottom of the website. “Don’t delay! Let’s get started planning your dream day! And don’t forget to register for a chance to win the honeymoon of a lifetime for you and your own Prince Charming!”

Well, that was just about all the hype I could take at one sitting. I’d certainly gleaned some interesting information about Tiffani. But nothing juicy enough to make someone want to kill her.

I congratulated myself (I try to do that as much as possible) on making a good start, then spent the next 20 minutes or so clicking on a variety of Internet hits that featured either “Cinderella” or “Weddings.” That’s one of the things I find frustrating about surfing the Web. The Internet can select sites that are a complete waste of time.

I had reached that point. I’d found some interesting tidbits about Tiffani for Nancy, which might or might not be helpful to Bob’s case. Which, of course, she could just as easily have found out for herself, if she had taken the time to check the Web.

But, at least, I hadn’t gotten myself into any trouble trying to help her. So far, any way.

It was high time I took a break. My eyes were burning from so much reading. And my back was bothering me from sitting in one position for too long.

Before I went to the kitchen to write out the much-needed grocery list, I decided to set my web browser to my original search, cyberstalking.

And that’s when I hit pay dirt. So to speak.

Chapter 36

Housework never killed anyone, but why risk it?

I have a theory that a little man lives inside my computer. Sometimes, he’s a real pain, enticing me to waste my precious time when I have much more important things to do. A case in point: I log on to the web and there are all these teaser stories like “Hollywood Couple Heads To Splitsville”; “Six Ways To Lose Weight Without Dieting”; “Can You Identify This Child? Hint: She’s Now A Famous Movie Star.” Or, my own personal favorite, a photo of a handsome young guy and a caption underneath the picture that proclaims, “Fairport singles are looking for you.”

Doubtful. Especially since I knew I wasn’t lost.

But in a few rare cases, my little friend inside the computer does me a big favor. And this was one of those times.

Evidently, when I typed in “Stalking,” I had neglected to delete “Cinderella Weddings.” And I got several results that combined them both.

I sat back in my chair, took off my glasses, and rubbed my eyes. Then I stood up and stretched my back. Carefully. So I wouldn’t have to make a rush trip to the chiropractor.

Slow down. Just because you somehow got to these stories doesn’t necessarily mean they involve Tiffani. Don’t jump to conclusions, the way you sometimes do.

Correction: the way you always do.

I allowed myself another stretch. You may think this is weird behavior. Why take so much time before clicking on the results my inadvertent search had discovered?

The only way I can explain my hesitation is to liken this experience to getting an extra special present, all wrapped up in beautiful paper and topped off by a big bow. Or, better yet, getting a gift in the famous robin’s egg blue Tiffany box. That box is guaranteed to make any red- blooded American woman’s pulse race.

Until she opens it and find out that the box is empty. Or the trinket that’s inside isn’t from Tiffany’s at all, but a plastic prize that came in a children’s cereal box.

In other words, I’ve found all too often that the anticipation is better than the reality.

But, what the heck. I clicked on the first result. And was led to a site which talked about a restraining order that had been issued three years ago against a client of Cinderella Weddings. I had to read it a few times before I understood what had really happened (when I get excited, I don’t think straight), but the gist of it was that a client of the wedding planning company – a bride with the unlikely name of Melody Butt – blamed the company in general – and the wedding planner in particular – for the immediate implosion of her marriage. And had waged a harassment campaign against the wedding planner – threats, stalking, you name it. To the point that Cinderella Weddings went to the police and had a restraining order issued against the bride.

I had to scroll down and check out a few more results before the entire story became clear. It seemed that, while the Cinderella Weddings planner was meeting with the bride, Melody, to work out the nuptials, she was also having a hot and heavy affair with the groom.

Bride Melody found out about the affair on her wedding day, when she inadvertently walked in on the couple having a “private planning meeting” during the reception. Needless to say, she went positively ballistic, and ended up throwing the top tier of the wedding cake in the groom’s face.

Goodness. That must have been something to see. I was betting there weren’t pictures of that particular event on the official Cinderella Weddings website.

Long story short, the wedding planner called the police, and the bride ended up spending her wedding night in jail. No mention of where the wedding planner and the groom spent the night, but I could probably hazard a guess as to what they did.

Anyway, the marriage was over before it even started, and the bride blamed the wedding planner for seducing her groom. She vowed to get even, no matter how long it took.

Hence, the eventual restraining order.

I won’t keep you in suspense any longer, although you probably already figured out who the wedding planner was: the founder of Cinderella Weddings, the beauteous Tiffani Blake. Of course!

Wow, what a story. I was surprised some Hollywood hot shot hadn’t made a movie of the week about it by now. Or, even better, a reality television show featuring jilted brides, with the public getting a chance to vote on who’d been humiliated the most. I even thought of a title. Instead of F
our Weddings and a Funeral
, it could be called
Four Funerals and a Wedding
. Or, even better,
The Biggest Loser Gets Married
. I’d bet the Nielsen ratings would be over the top. Heck, it’d probably draw a bigger audience than the Super Bowl.