The Deadly Wedding (Abigail Summers Cozy Mysteries Book 5)

A wedding to die for… and a mystery that won’t rest in peace

When psychic medium Hayley receives a cryptic wedding invitation tied to a long-forgotten schoolyard prediction, she and her ghostly friend Abigail Summers—dressmaker in life, sleuth in death—are pulled into a tangle of secrets, murder, and matrimonial mayhem. A cakemaker and a dressmaker are dead, a florist is attacked, and the elegant countryside ceremony in Becklesfield is beginning to look like a crime scene.

As Abigail and her Deadly Detective Agency piece together the clues—ranging from a mysterious painting to a poisoned champagne toast—they uncover chilling truths behind the groom’s polished family image. Meanwhile, the discovery of two bodies near a canal threatens to derail the reputation of their old adversary, DCI Johnson, when one of the victims turns out to be his new girlfriend.

With sharp humour, eerie twists, and an unforgettable cast of spectral and living detectives, The Deadly Wedding is the fifth installment in Ann Parker’s beloved Abigail Summers Cozy Mysteries. Prepare for a murder mystery full of charm, suspense, and spirited sleuthing.

Join Abigail and the gang as they stitch together the truth—before the killer walks down the aisle again.

Excerpt from the book

“Who the hell are Amelia and Daniel?” asked Tom after he saw the invitation while getting ready for work at Gorebridge Police Station.

“I have no idea. I assumed they were friends of yours,” answered Hayley. “It just came.”

“I knew a Danny from police training, but not well enough to be invited to a posh do at Micklebrook Priory.”

“Same here. I seem to remember an Amelia from school, but we weren’t that close. How strange. And it’s less than a month away, which makes me think we’re a bit of an afterthought. I don’t remember getting a save-the-date card.”

“I suppose we could go and then eat and run.”

“I could do the eating part,” Hayley said while rubbing her belly. “I’ll be huge by then.” The psychic medium had not seen that coming. She was now pregnant and would be six months when the wedding took place.

“Good, you can eat for two.”

“And what would I wear? I suppose I could go to the tent shop.”

Tom put his coat on, moved her long black hair to one side and kissed her cheek. “You’ll be the most beautiful one there. But we might not go yet. I’ll ask at work in case anyone else got one. Perhaps it’s one of the detectives or something. Although they wouldn’t ask a lowly constable.”

“I’ll ring round as well. Can you imagine how embarrassing it would be if we got an invitation by mistake and it’s meant for another Tom and Hayley?”

“Well, I’ll be off. Bye, Luna. Behave yourself.”

Luna, who meowed in answer, was getting quite big now. He had first come into their lives after they found a near-dead kitten whose mother had died. He was like their baby, and they worried what he would think of this new life suddenly arriving in the coming months.

“Stay safe, hun. And ring me if anything exciting happens,” Hayley reminded him.

“You mean if there’s anything that the Deadly Detective Agency can look into?”

“No, I’m just being my normal caring self, hun.”

“Hmm. Well, take it easy, and I’ll see you tonight.”

Hayley was hoping there would be a case for them soon. Apart from the odd missing will and lost pets, the last one they had was months ago. A woman and her husband had been shot in the back after he made a deal with some particularly nasty people in Gorebridge. Even then, they hadn’t done much, as the bullets had proved who had shot the Newsomes rather than their sleuthing. Although it was thanks to them that the police had known they were dead, as the ghost of Carol Newsome was found wandering about by Abigail. Even their nemesis, Tom’s boss, Detective Chief Inspector Johnson, had managed to arrest the gang and its boss, Martin Reagan. He usually needed their help but didn’t realise it.

“I’m just going to chill out with Luna, and I might have another go at knitting. Actually, thinking about it, he’s always getting hold of the wool. Maybe that’s why my shawl looks like bubble wrap.”

“Yes, it’s the cat’s fault,” laughed Tom as he walked out the door.