Page 89 of No One Was Supposed to Die at This Wedding

I go to the chair in the corner where I put my dress, and fish the phone out of its pocket.

Itisa burner phone, one of those low-tech, pay-as-you-go devices that look like cell phones from the 1990s or the onesdrug dealers use in the movies. Black, with a keypad and a small gray screen. No one’s watching a TV show on this device.

It has a password on it, but something tells me Fred didn’t put much thought into setting that up, and this assumption proves to be right.

I punch in 0000, the factory setting, and the phone unlocks.

“I got it opened,” I say to Oliver, waving it at him with pride.

“What’s in there?”

I navigate through it. He’s received texts from three people. The most recent one is the one from José that he mentioned yesterday, but there are two other numbers that he’s received regular messages from.

The text from José says:This is José, the electrician. I heard you wanted to discuss what happened at the hot tubs? I can meet you at 5 in my office.And then there’s a photo of a hand-drawn map to the basement on a napkin. Fred had responded with a thumbs-up emoji.

“What are you doing?” Oliver asks.

“Calling José.” I dial the number, and it rings twice, then cuts off. “No answer.”

“It’s, like, six in the morning.”

“Aren’t electricians up early?”

“Okay, weirdo. What else is in there?”

I check the other texts. The ones from a 209 area code are just a series of times and locations, like11AM VBand6PM Pier, with Fred once again responding with a—you guessed it—thumbs-up emoji.

The texts from the third number are a conversation about money, and as I read it, it becomes apparent that it’s between him and Tyler.

I tell Oliver what I found. “That’s one mystery solved, anyway.”

“What’s that?”

“How Connor knew the number to Fred’s burner. He was texting with Tyler from this phone.”

“Why?”

“No idea. Maybe he didn’t want Emma to know.”

Emma is totally someone who’d check her boyfriend’s texts.

“Trust but verify” has always been her motto.

“Are they fighting in the texts?”

“Yeah, it’s all about money. Looks like Tyler has him on some payment plan, but he’s missed a bunch of installments...” I keep reading.

The first text to that number is from Fred and says “new number.” Tyler had responded with an amount that made my eyebrows rise to my hairline. Fred had agreed, but more recently, he’d been asking for more time, and saying he’d have it soon. And then in the last couple of messages, he shifted to saying that he just didn’t have it and didn’t know when he would.

Tyler responded with a string of expletives.

And then.

Fred:Tyler, if you don’t stop harassing me about this I’m going to have to tell everyone what you’re doing.

Tyler:You wouldn’t dare.

Fred:Watch me.

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