Page 117 of No One Was Supposed to Die at This Wedding

“Does this mean we can have the wedding?” Emma asks with a note of hope.

“I’m not sure. I’d ask you to return to your rooms. I have to call all of this in. And we need to secure the body.”

“Are you going to leave him out here?” Harper asks, and shudders.

“We have no choice until a tech team can get here. But we’ll cover him with tarps to preserve whatever evidence you lot have not already ruined.”

“I’m sorry,” I say.

“Let’s hope this is the solution and we won’t have to worry about that. If it isn’t, you all may be looking at an obstruction charge.”

“Do you need anything else from us?” I say.

“I think you’ve all done enough for one day.”

“Yes, yes, of course. Come on, everyone, let’s go. Connor, give her that information about Tyler. The rest of you, follow me.”

I reach out my hand for Oliver. He doesn’t look happy, but he takes it and I give it a squeeze.

Seems like I’ve had to communicate with hand-holding and looks too much on this trip.

As I’ve mentioned, I get a sixth sense about things sometimes. I can tell what someone’s going to say before they say it. And Oliver has something to say.

Something I don’t think I want to hear.

And maybe it’s just the malaise that comes with being involved in a death.

Or maybe what’s coming next is the end of me and Oliver.

That we’re as dead as José.

SANTA MONICA GOSSIP

@SMGossip

#BREAKING:Sources tell me that a BODY has been found at Emma Wood and Fred Winter’s wedding on Catalina Island, and it’s NOT Fred Winter. No word yet on whether foul play is involved. Catalina is under an evacuation order because of the #CASTORM. No word on when authorities can reach the island. #HURRICANEISABELLA

3:14 PM · October 24 · X for iPhone

899 Retweets 40 Quote Tweets 7,567 Likes

CHAPTER 20

Does “We Have to Talk” Always Mean “We’re Breaking Up”?

“We have to talk,” Oliver says after we get back to our villa. We stopped by the Beach Club to get some lunch first, but it was a somber affair. Everyone was whispering and talking in small groups. It felt like high school when something big happened on the weekend, and it was filtering through the ecosystem on a Monday morning.

A man is dead. There have been threats and mishaps. It feels like Italy all over again, and not in a good way.

Is it worse or better that I’m just an observer this time, and not the target?

I’m not sure.

If I were the target, I might have some clue as to the motivations and secrets that drove someone to this desperate act.

But despite what I told Connor yesterday, I don’t know the players here. I could tell you who wanted to kill Emma in high school, but not now. Fred was a poster on Emma’s wall. The others I met on set, but that was an environment where I was more preoccupied with vacillating between being blown over that my book was coming to life and being horrified with how it was changing.

All this to say, I’m not the author here. I’m not plotting all this out in advance and watching it unfold.

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