Page 172 of No One Was Supposed to Die at This Wedding

“A diversion.” I think it over. “To make him look like the victim.”

“I wouldneverdo that.”

“Me thinks the lord doth protest too much,” Connor says.

“It’s ‘The lady doth protest too much, methinks,’ you dolt,” Fred says. “Hamlet.”

“Does that mean you can’t be a murderer? Just because you’ve memorized some Shakespeare?”

“You’re the one working for Tyler. And I thought we’d decided Shawna was trying to killyou. You andEl.”

“I don’t think so, Fred,” I say.

Fred looks around desperately. “Emma, please. You’re not buying this, are you?”

“I...”

“I love you,” Fred says to Emma. “I do.”

“I know.”

“Oh!” Harper says.

“What?”

“I just thought of something...those texts. The texts on Fred’s burner phone. The ones about meeting up at all those dates and times. Those could’ve been withShawna.”

Why didn’t I think of that?

I take out my phone and pull up the photographs I made of the texts. “What’s Shawna’s number?”

She recites it from memory. It’s the same number.

“I’m sorry, Harper.”

Her eyes fill with tears.

“What are you talking about?” Fred says. “I never texted Shawna.Never.”

“I have photographs of the texts, Fred. It’s the same number.”

Fred’s shaking his head slowly from side to side, but the performance isn’t convincing.

“Just tell us, Fred,” Emma says, taking his hands.

“I didn’t do it.”

“You told me the texts were from an ex-girlfriend. Did you mean Shawna?”

“No, I told you who it was.”

“But it’s not her number.”

“I don’t know how to explain that. Someone must’ve tampered with the phone. I wasn’t involved with Shawna. I’d never. I’ve barely even spoken to her.”

“Then who, Fred? Who did you think you were texting?”

He meets Emma’s eyes, and maybe he’s going to say something, offer up some excuse, but before he can, there’s a hardKNOCKagainst the door.

---