Page 141 of No One Was Supposed to Die at This Wedding

We wouldn’t want to cause a panic.

But the central guests—I mean suspects—were told to come to this room, the—wait for it—librarydown the hall from the reception.

Me, Oliver, Harper, Shawna, Simone, Fred, Emma, Inspector Tucci, Connor, Allison, David, and Mr. and Mrs. Winter.

We’re in here waiting for Officer Anderson among the old hardcovers and the new paperbacks and the dark oak furniture that might’ve been burnished with cigar smoke. We can hear the thumping of the music through the walls, and the rain slapping the windows. The lights have been flickering for the last ten minutes, dimming down but not quite out, as the windows are lit up by flashes of lightning out over the ocean.

Because of course they are.

We’re sitting in a circle like we’re at an AA meeting.76Only we’re way too dressed up and there’s no one reciting the Serenity Prayer. We’ve all been looking at one another with the same thought ringing through our heads.

Who killedKen?

I assume that’s what you’re wondering, too.

Let’s eliminate me right off the bat. I know I’ve said I’m out of it before, and you might be thinking that’s a misdirection. I promise you it’s not. This is not that kind of book.77I have no reason to kill Fred or Emma or José or Ken. Emma’s my best friend. She doesn’t owe me money. I’m not secretly in love with Fred. I’ve been paid already for this movie, and I’m not investedin its financial success, other than tangentially.78I’m not a sociopath. So it’s not me.

Ditto for Harper and Oliver. They have even less of a motive than I do.

And Tyler must be out of it as well. If he hadn’t been arrested, then I might be thinking this was anAnd Then There Were None79scenario and he’s hiding somewhere on the island, but nope, he’s in the Avalon jail. Unless he’s working with someone else, which is always a possibility, but doesn’t seem to fit the facts for reasons I can’t quite put my finger on.

I know one thing, though. Fred is worth more to Tyler alive. And I doubt he’s stupid enough to threaten to kill Fred in full public view if that was his plan all along.

“Where’s a whiteboard when you need it?” Connor says, his tone light, almost jovial.

“Oh God, not that again,” Allison says. “Once was enough.”

“What do you mean?” David asks.

“We used one in Italy,” I explain. “To try to solve the murder there.”

“Ah, like outlining.”

“Sure. If you outline.”

He blinks at me slowly, and I can’t help but wonder: IsDavidfeeling desperate right now? Trying to figure out how to finish the task he screwed up?

Because killing Ken had to have been a screwup.

His only crime is looking too much like Fred.

“Wearealready here,” Inspector Tucci says. “I do not see what the harm would be in trying to help Officer Anderson, given our expertise.”

There’s a flash of lightning outside and then a thunderclap almost immediately, its boom echoing through the room, rattling the window frames.

Emma jumps, and Fred puts his arm around her, making a shushing sound. Emma’s always been, well,deathlyafraid of thunder.

“For the last time, you arenotthe authorities,” Simone says. “And you have no expertise.”

“We could try to figure it out just the same,” Connor says.

“Why would we do that?” Simone asks.

He cocks a smile. “Aren’t you curious?”

“About?”

“Who did it and why. I would’ve thought the fact that you’re likely sitting in a room with a murderer would motivate you.”

---