Page 55 of No One Was Supposed to Die at This Wedding

“You know I hate it when you say that!” She takes her plate and puts it down on the floor. “Here, I’ll show you.”

The cat that was looking for scraps takes its cue and races across the room toward her plate. It dips its head and starts to eat, purring deeply.

Everyone is watching now, like it’s a car crash, and nothing happens for a minute, but then the cat goes rigid, and starts to shudder, then falls to the ground stiff as a board.

Dead.44

38This is aclue.

39Made of crème de banane, crème de cacao, Kahlúa, vodka, and half-and-half. Sorry, Catalina, but that soundsdisgusting!

40Interesting fact: Catalina Island has a famous feral cat population!

41To be accurate, everything Connor does is conspicuous.

42It isn’t, actually, but WHATEVER.

43A beat sheet is a document that outlines the beats in a screenplay. There are different theories about how many beats there should be. I’m not sure which theory David subscribes to. Probably none because a beat sheet is supposed to keep your screenplay from beingbad.

44Don’t worry. No actual cats were harmed in the making of this scene.

CHAPTER 9

Is There Only One Detective in This Series?

“Oh, no, no, no, what have you done to Crystal?” a man I later learn is the hotel manager says in distress as he runs up with a waiter. He’s in his forties, with bleached-blond hair and red cheeks that give him a boyish look in his tailored light gray suit and tie.

Failed actor, probably, but I only guess that because it’s true for half of the people you meet in Southern California.

Even in Avalon.

“I think it’s moving,” Emma says, pointing. “Look, there, wasn’t that a twitch?”

“Crystal? Baby, are you okay?” The manager crouches by the cat and starts to stroke it.

Everyone else takes a step closer, holding their breath, as the cat twitches, then springs to life like a cartoon, hissing, with its feet splayed out.

The manager tries to pet Crystal, but she bites him and runs away with a growl that sounds more mountain lion than cat.

The manager holds his bitten hand to his chest and stands.

“Will you look at that?” David says, watching Crystal bound through the room and out of view. “It’s not dead.”

“It must’ve been a seizure,” Allison says. “That happened to my cat once. It’s quite scary.”

“It was a poisoning,” Mrs. Winter says in a voice she learned to project off-off-Broadway.

“What did you do to Crystal?” The manager’s eyes accuse Mrs. Winter.

“I should askyouthat. I could taste it in my food. A good thing I tested it on that beast.”

“There are signs everywhere that saynotto feed the cats.”

“Oh, please, do not be so...What is it my husband is always calling me?”

“Over-the-top?”

She glares at Mr. Winter. “We need to get that food tested for poison before anyone else is put at risk.” She looks down at the floor. “Where did my plate go?”

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