Newlywed Dead by Nancy J. Parra Page A

particular account was going tobe far different than any of my proposals so far. I mean, a press release? Really? Maybe I should look into a film crew following Clark and Samantha Lyn around. Ridiculous, right? Or maybe it was smart. Think of the publicity if this turned out to be the engagement of the century. Samantha Lyn deserved it . . . but not with Clark. Maybe that was an opinion that Ashley had given me. I really didn’t know Clark or his parents. Maybe there was more to the boy than I got from my first impression.
    Or maybe he was the prankster and lazy troublemaker that Ashley had hinted at that night.
    I decided that the thing to do was to call Samantha before this got too far. I pulled into my driveway and used my smartphone to do some sleuthing. Gathering up my things, I got out of the car, waved at Mrs. Crivitz, who peered out her dining room window, and unlocked my back porch door. The curtains fell shut as I entered the house and closed the door behind me. I dropped my things on the small dinette table near the back door, took off my coat and hung it up. I unwrapped my scarf from around my neck and tossed it up on a hook on the wall.
    I left my boots by the door and contacted Whitney for Samantha’s cell phone number. Once I had her number, I typed a brief text message into my phone. “Hi, Samantha Lyn, this is Pepper Pomeroy from the wedding Saturday night. Can we talk?”
    â€œOkay,” came a texted reply.
    I made myself coffee, dialed the number, and Samantha picked up. “Hi.” Her voice sounded wobbly.
    â€œHi, Samantha.”
    â€œHi, Pepper.” She sounded as if she were crying.
    â€œAre you okay?” I asked.
    â€œNo,” she said, her voice watery. “I just . . . I can’t believe Ashley died.”
    â€œOh, honey, I’m sorry. I saw you talking to Ashley that night. Did you know her well?”
    Samantha sniffed. “Yeah, we met at a different wedding. She was nice. She took a lot of Clark’s crap without being mean about it. You know?”
    â€œYes, I know.”
    â€œIt’s just so weird. I’ve never known anyone who died. I mean, one minute she was there and the next she was dead.”
    â€œYou’ve never known anyone who died? Not even, like, your grandparents?”
    â€œYes.” Samantha hiccupped a quiet sad sob. “But they died when I was little. My parents never let me go to the funeral or anything. Pepper, I don’t know what to do. I mean, is there a funeral for Ashley? Should I go? What do you wear? What about like a visitation and stuff? I Googled funerals and it all seems so weird. There’s a protocol, right? Why don’t they teach you about these things at school?”
    â€œOh, honey, it’s okay. I’ve been to a few funerals,” I said. “I have family in the area and my parents have older friends and such. People die. It’s not hard to go to a funeral.”
    â€œCan you help me? I . . . I just want to do the right thing for Ashley, you know?”
    â€œSure, honey,” I said. “I can help.”
    â€œCan you meet me tomorrow afternoon?” she asked. “I’d like to see you in person.”
    â€œSure,” I said. I bit my bottom lip. I wanted to ask her more about her conversation with Ashley but she was so broken up, now was simply not the time. I set up a time to meet her at a local coffee shop.
    â€œWait, why did you call me?” she asked.
    â€œCan we talk about it when we meet?”
    â€œSure,” she said. “See you soon, okay?”
    â€œOkay.”
    It was too bad I didn’t find out a bit more. It would have been nice to be able to tell Detective Murphy about Samantha Lyn’s connection with Ashley. But right now there was nothing to go on but the fact that they had talked and that Samantha Lyn was pretty broken up over it.

Chapter 7

    â€œThanks for stopping by the station,”