Terror in Taffeta Read Free Page B

to tell her!” I exclaimed. “I mean, don’t we?” I didn’t want to do it any more than she did, but it seemed wrong to withhold the information.
    â€œIt will just ruin her night. Besides, that girl will still be dead tomorrow, right? And it’s not like they were best friends or anything. You need to just let it be.” And with that, she turned back to her guests, beaming, and began air-kissing a stream of well-wishers who had come over to offer their congratulations.
    I looked around for Brody. He’d know what to do.
    Brody Marx was an amazing wedding photographer and one of my best friends in San Francisco. We’d worked together for several years, and I always tried to get him hired when I could. Not that it was difficult. Good, reliable photographers are hard to come by, and you really don’t want to try to track down photos in another country after you’ve flown back home to your own. Most brides agreed that it was worth the small extra expense to fly him in, and it was always nice to have a familiar face among all the chaos.
    Thanks to his height—he’s just north of six feet tall—I was able to pick him out easily in the crowd. He spotted me as I made my way over to him, and his face broke out into a big, broad grin. “Kelsey! There you are. Hey, is Dana feeling better? We wanted to get some group shots.”
    â€œCan I talk to you?” I whispered.
    â€œSure,” he said, holding up a just-one-minute finger to Nicole and Vince.
    I pulled him through a nearby archway into a quiet corridor.
    â€œBrody, Dana isn’t sick. She’s dead!”
    â€œWhat?” He stared into my eyes to make sure I wasn’t joking.
    â€œI thought she’d fainted, but she never got back up.”
    â€œThat’s terrible! What are you going to do?”
    â€œMrs. Abernathy said I’m not supposed to tell Nicole, but I have to tell her, right?”
    â€œHmmm,” he said. “What would Emily Post do?”
    â€œI don’t know!” I snapped. “I skipped that chapter.”
    He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again, sensing correctly that whatever he was about to say should be kept to himself.
    â€œSorry,” I said. “You know how I get when I’m stressed. Oh, man, look at her.”
    Across the room, Nicole and Vince chatted with some guests. Vince said something and she threw her head back and laughed. The radiant bride. It’s a cliché for a reason.
    Brody shook his head. “She looks so happy.”
    â€œI know,” I said. “I hate the thought of taking that away from her.”
    â€œWell, Mrs. Abernathy told you not to say anything, and she’s the one paying the bills for this shindig. I say keep your mouth shut. You can always blame her later.”
    I nodded in agreement. It wasn’t the best plan. But it would have to do.
    *   *   *
    I hadn’t had a bite to eat all night long, so I headed toward the kitchen to see if I could wrangle some leftovers out of the caterer, whose snapper Veracruz had been the talk of the evening.
    â€œAh, Miss Kelsey!” he exclaimed as I walked into the kitchen. “How did you enjoy dinner?”
    â€œIt looked amazing, but it’s been crazy out there and I didn’t get a bite. Can you help a girl out?”
    â€œFor you, señorita ? Of course. Let me see what I can put together.”
    As he buzzed around the kitchen, clanging lids and scavenging for leftovers, I peeked out to gauge how much longer we should wait before we cut the cake. Surely no one would notice if I disappeared for ten minutes. I needed a moment alone so I could figure out what to do.
    â€œHere you are,” he said, handing me a steaming plate that he’d warmed up for me. “There’s plenty left, so come see me if you’re still hungry.”
    â€œThanks—I owe you one,” I said gratefully, taking the food