Episode 1 - Not My Wedding Day

The

piano in the corner front of the stage was pitch black, contrast with the light

coloured garment—white, silver, shades of light blue here and there—that

decorated the room. Except for the clean white tuts. There a young man sat,

fingering them. His long red hair was combed back—helped by a massive amount of

gel—held together with a silver bow at the back of his neck. Like all of

them—he wore clean white garments, borrowed from the church; pants, shoes, long

shirt underneath a white robe that reches his knees. The sleve all buttoned;

his neck, his wrists—properly covered.

Sweet

sound coming from the sole piano—he play with care. Fingers dacing, head

swaying, and lips moving; mumbled the song lyric. Beside him stand the church

choir; consist of boys and girls in the same white garment.

“Can

I go where you go?”

The

guests eyes locked at the front door, where the bride and the groom start walking

in.

The

pianist move his blue-green gaze from the pair, towards the tuts—watching his

own fingers instead. A faint smile creeping up his face—though his chest hide

hundreds bubble of happiness.

----

He

muster another smile—though this one seems more like a grimace. The pain in his

stomach starts to bother him again, but nobody—or at least the guests—need to

know that. So he told himself to behave—hold the pain a while longer. The feast

has reaches it’s peak—just a few wedding ritual and then he can go home and

nurse himself to perfect health—or at least as healthy as he can be.

The

newlywed; a handsome young man worked as a police officer, and a woman who own

a bakery shop across the chapel. Dressed in a traditional white wedding

garment—both of them moving on the dance floor like a pair of white flags. The

man hold the bride in the air as she jumps—her laugh sounds exactly like the

small little bells she puts on the front door of her shop; clear, and happy

sound; warn her whenever a customer coming into her shop.

A

perfect match; both of them. The guest seems to agree with him, all staring at

these two person who move across the dance floor like they are one.

“She’s

married, stop staring at her.” A girl in a white robe and veil chided him. Her

brown eyes laugh with mirth, while her hands holding a tray of glasses; filled

to the brim with dark blue substances that smells like berry, or blueberry

precisely—they reminds him the purpose of his presence in this wedding

ceremony.

“I

didn’t stare at her,” He argue, eyes moving from the dance floor towards the

girl. “At least not like that.”

The

girl rolls her eyes, and smile. “I was just kidding,” She later clarify.

“I

know that, Mary.” He gesture awkwardly at the tray shes holding, and raise an

eyebrow. “ You need help with that?”

Mary

decline his help. “But, can you take up another tray of muffin from the

kitchen? The guest seemed to favour them—only God knows why.”

Yeah,

God knows why he favour them too.

“Sure!”

He grins.

Marie

excused herself, walking to the crowded part of the room and start offering

drinks. He turn around and start to move—slowly; carefull with the pain still

lingering in his stomach—to the opposite direction, towards the kitchen. Where several

trays full of muffins is waiting to be picked up.

-----

Jeffrey

parks his car on the outside of the church ground—for the purpose of easy acces

whenever he suddenly need to leave the wedding party in case of emergency. The

man sighed—he’s just arrived—late, and already planned to leave. What a

horrible friend he is.

Pulling

out his seatbelt, the man take a look on his rearview mirror to check his

appearance. Not bad, he thoughts—aside from looking a bit tired. He promise to

get some rest after the wedding—if everything goes smoothly—and a holiday after

the case is solved. Checking his phone for a massage from Amanda—the blood test

result should’ve come out any moment now—but he found none. A pair of thick

eyebrows creeping upwards—maybe she’s busy. He stepped out of the car, lock the

door, and put the keys in his ****** pocket.

Sounds

of tinkling piano and melodic whisper—or singing perhaps—guide him past the

open gate and rows of cars, towards a grand building. His steps is fast paced

on the cracked old pavements upon hearing the song is about to end.

There’s

two people standing outside—guarding the door. Jeffrey pull out a light blue

card from his coat, hidden in an inside pocket, and give it to the man who

stood in his right side of the door. The big man check the invitation, and nods

in approval.

“Come

in, man. You’re late,” He stated the obvious.

The

detective just nods, face impassive. “Yeah, im sure the groom would love to

remind me about this in years to come.”

Two

sympathic smiles welcome him inside.

-----

“Would

you like some dish, Maam?”

An

elderly woman—all her graying hair tied in a low bun, theres a wrinkle in the

corner of his kind eyes, she chose a humble look by wearing a simple light

purple dress. She turns towards the voice and find herself enchanted by a shock

of red hair—flaming like a fire.

“Oh

my, what a beautiful hair!” she touch her chest, as if she’s going to faint.

Her blue eyes wide staring at the young man—who brought her muffins. What a

sweet lad!

“Thank

you. Yours beautiful too.”

This

red haired man—or perhaps boy?—charmed and compliment her as if she still a

fine young lady. The old woman laughed in mirth—her late husband would have

rolling in his grave at this.

“The

dish, Maam? It’s chocolate muffin, perhaps you want some?”

“Two,

please.” She held up two wrinkled fingers. The man—slowly—bending his spine and

put down his tray, allowing the old woman to pick the muffin on her own without

having to stand from her chair.

“Tell

me young man, your the pianist right? Whats your name?” The woman bite into the

fluffy brown muffin, and let out a delighted sound at the taste.

“Correct,

Maam. The name is William Rose.”

The

woman opened her mouth, she’s about to talk when the sound of a ringing bell

and loud screams fills the room.

-----

“Are

you ready to ring the bells, Mr. And Mrs. Warren?”

Both

man and woman nods their head, their hand is holding a long chain attached to a

giant bell located on the attic. This is a small tradition from the town, for

the newlyweds to ring the bell by pulling the chain—it takes a lot of effort

for the bell is huge and not easily moved. Both start pulling the chain to the

right side, until a deafening ring is heard—the crowd went clapping—the

newlywed let the chain go—it moves side to side, each followed close by a

ringing sound. They have completed their task.

But

then something fell down from the attic into the stage, almost crushing the laughing

bride—the groom luckily pulled her into his arms—protected her. The crowd went

silent, the groom stood still as a stone. The bride trying to loosen his hold

to see what is falling from the attic. She raised her eyebrow at the gaping

audience, and went to look behind her—to where her husband is staring with his

jaw hanging open.

Theres

a body laid there—a figure of a man with dirty and smelling clothes, bend at

awkward angle from the fall. He laid there unmoving in her wedding aisle, his

eyes staring gloomy at her—unblingking, unfocused. He’s already dead.

The

bride screamed.

-----

The

red head was about to see what was the screaming about when a round of people

running towards the door—mostly woman and a few kids with tears streaked down

their face. He still heard the faint sound of the bell ringing among the

terrified scream.

“Oh,

Dear. What’s happening?” The old woman sounds faint.

He

tried to reassure her, “ I don’t know, mam. Perhaps something—“ A group of

running people crashed hard into him. His tray fell down, and the young man is

pushed towards a set of rectangle shaped table.

The

old woman said something gibberish, he cant understand her, can’t even hear

anything past the sound of bell ringing. The sudden pain where the edge of the

table hit his wound is unbearable—till the world is slipping from his mind.

-----

The

guest is running everywhere, some towards the stage, some towards the exit door

trying to run from a terrifiying scene they just witnessed. “Shit!” Jeffrey

swore when someone knocked their elbow to his ribs, or stepped on his brand new

polished shoe—it’s not about his shoe, more about the deadly heels of the lady

who steppen on him and crushing his toes.

What

was that, anyway? Or perhaps, who? Why something like this happen on a wedding

party? Poor Warren—he’ll send his condolances later, when he finish playing

detective.

“Could

be years away,” He sighed.

Stepped

around the crowd—most of them holding their coats or scarf to their face,

covering their nose from the nasty smell. Jeffrey don’t bother with the

gesture, instead focusing on breathing through his mouth.

“I

can’t get a real holiday can I?” Warren facepalmed, his bride is nowhere to be

seen—running away with the girls apparently.

When

he saw Jeffrey, he let out a smile—it’s a bit strained and slightly manic; he’s

probably in shock.

“Hey,

buddy. You’re coming!” He calls, there’s a sound of amazement in his voice.

“Pretty sure if this—” He gestured at the body. ”—isn’t happenning, you

wouldn’t be here.”

That

was a low blow—Jefrey heard someone snicker behind him.

Warren

must get a grip on himself faster than he thought, because he suddenly summon

his authoritive voice and commands, “Move everybody! Let DI Izbell do his job!”

“And

call the hospital!” A panicked voice from the other side of the room.

Jeffrey

and a few people turned around to see who is that. They seen a girl with white

clothes; one of the choir member, kneeling over his friend who lay motionless

on the floor; also wearing white clothes. There’s also a sobbing grandma over

there. “Oh, my God. Hes bleeding!” The old woman exclaims—almost histerical.

It’s

true. There’s a big red stain on the white garment, right on the upper hips of

the unconscious man. Jeffrey decide to pull out his car keys, and giving it to

Warren. “My car is outside the gate,” He informs Warren—who nods in

understanding and went to take the injured man to the hospital.

Let

DI Jeffrey Izbell take care of the mysterious corpse. Yes, thank you very much.

-----

***Download NovelToon to enjoy a better reading experience!***