Free Terror in Taffeta by Marla Cooper Page B

tears, but she held my gaze. “I just feel so alone!” She managed to choke the words out before breaking down altogether.
    I quickly weighed my options. One, stay and help her—but how exactly was I going to do that? Two, fly back home and wish her the best of luck in all her future freedom-related endeavors. The first was disastrous for me, but the second didn’t feel very good, either. Could I really leave her here in a Mexican jail and blithely return to my life back home? I couldn’t imagine how miserable I’d feel if it were me sitting there in that cell.
    There had to be something I could do. Right? As long as I got back by next weekend, I could still pull off the Richardson wedding with my assistant, Laurel, doing most of the legwork. She’d been begging me to give her more responsibilities, so I was sure she’d jump at the chance.
    Besides, I thought, an idea forming, maybe I could be of some help.
    The San Miguel police thought they had something on Zoe, but I had something they didn’t: a guest list that contained seventy-eight potential suspects.

 
    CHAPTER 8
    â€œSo,” I said, plunking a fat binder down on the wooden table in the dining room, causing the chunky goblets of the hibiscus tea Fernando had brought us to jump a little. “I wanted to go through the seating plan and see what you can tell me about the guests.”
    Nicole’s eyes grew big. “You don’t think one of my guests had something to do with the murder, do you?”
    â€œMaybe, maybe not, but it’s a good place to start. Odds are, it was someone she knew.”
    Mrs. Abernathy sighed and rubbed her temples. “You think I’d let a murderer on the guest list? I approved every last person myself.” That was true. She’d vetted the guest list with the gusto of a seasoned politician. “But if it was one of the guests, it’d have to be one of his,” she said, jerking her thumb toward the groom.
    A vein in Vince’s temple throbbed as he pretended to be engrossed with the condensation on his glass. He was exercising remarkable control over his emotions. “I can assure you it is no one from my side of the family,” he said.
    â€œI can’t imagine that anyone we know could have done this,” said Nicole, glancing warily at Vince and stroking his arm in a conciliatory fashion, a move I’d seen over and over again during all joint planning sessions that included her mom.
    â€œBut you’re also sure Zoe didn’t do it, aren’t you?” I said.
    â€œOf course I am!”
    â€œThen let’s get to work. We might not come up with anything, but we have to try.”
    I unclipped the sturdy rings and removed the seating chart, then pushed the rings closed with an efficient snap.
    â€œNow,” I began, “let’s start with who actually knew Dana before this weekend.”
    â€œWell, there’s all of us, of course,” Nicole said.
    â€œRight,” I said, taking out my red pen and circling our names—even mine, although I was pretty sure I’d end up eliminating myself as a suspect.
    â€œNo one from table seven,” she continued, as I crossed them out one by one. “Or table three.”
    â€œWhat about your Uncle Roy?” asked Vince. “He’d never met Dana before, but he sure did follow her around a lot the last few days.”
    â€œThat’s Uncle Roy. He’s just … friendly.”
    Lecherous was more like it, but he probably wasn’t homicidal. “Okay, a question mark next to Uncle Roy.”
    In a few minutes, we narrowed it down to fourteen people who’d had past encounters with the fallen bridesmaid.
    â€œOkay, let’s start with the head table. What about Claire? What was her relationship with Dana?” The other bridesmaid wasn’t particularly suspicious, but the process of elimination is, after all, a process.
    â€œWe were all