Chapter 4

It was the day of the wedding. Nine in the morning. I put on black.

Not mourning clothes, but formal.

At nine twenty, the wreath arrived. I looked it over.

The ribbon was perfectly clear.

[David Carter, rest in peace.]

And on the other side, with respect, from his first wife, Rachel Lane.

I told the deliveryman to wait.

At nine thirty, Diane called.

"The police are on the way. Ten minutes out."

"Got it," I replied.

Nine forty. The lobby had started to fill up.

Guests were arriving in a steady stream, talking and laughing on their way in.