Page 181 of No One Was Supposed to Die at This Wedding

“Right after high school. You remember that party in the Valley?”

“There were many.”

“Maybe for you,” I say. “But I only went to one.”

I can almost see her reach back into her memory and fix on it.

“That’s right,” she says. “You did.”

I turn to Simone. Her face is flushed with rage. “That can’t be it,” I say.

“That can’t be what?”

“One mistake when I was eighteen with some guy I didn’t even know you were with. That can’t be the reason all of this is happening.”

“You always think everything is about you,” Simone says.

“I mean, we’re in the movie about my book, so...”

“You don’t knowanything.”

“I’ve been slow, I grant you...but I’m putting it together now.”

“What are you talking about, Eleanor?” Connor asks.

“It’s Simone. The one Shawna’s been taking orders from. That’s what Shawna meant.She’sthe one in charge. The one behind it all.Directingit all.”

“Do you have any evidence of this?” Officer Anderson asks.

“It’s been right in front of us the whole time.”

“What has?” Emma asks.

“The original ending of the movie—it was that Allison was in on it with Connor. It was all a scam to defraud Cecilia of her inheritance. That’s why Connor seduced her and involved her in his investigation. But that wasn’t the ending that was shot. Instead, it was Connor and Cecilia all loved up because of the rewrites by Simone, right, David?”

He nods in response.

“What’s all this about?” Harper asks.

“The script forWhen in Rome. The oneSimonerewrote enough to get partial credit for. It’s what must’ve given her the idea. But then she needed to cover her tracks. That’s why she made the changes. Not to make it better but to hide what the plan was.” I turn to David. “When did Simone start rewriting the script?”

“In pre-production. She pitched me the new ending; I didn’t really have a say.”

“So that’s what this is about.” I look at Officer Anderson. “It’s the oldest motive in the book: money.”

“Isn’t that whatIsaid?” Inspector Tucci says.

“Whose money?” Harper asks.

“Emma’s.”

“But then, that would mean...”

“Yes.”

“Mean what?” Emma asks.

I meet her eyes and try to convey something that I can’t. Because I’m not an actor.

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