'Til Death Do Us Part by Kate White Page A

on the other hand, wasn’t so calm. There had been that ugly scene when the six of us had arrived late—Peyton dressing us down while her very dignified mother tried fruitlessly to get her to chill.
    Though there would be limos for us the day of the wedding, that night we’d been expected to drive ourselves. Prudence took Robin and Ashley, and I followed with Jamie and Maverick in my Jeep. As we approached an intersection not far from the church, two cars collided right in front of us. Though no one was injured, both cars had taken a nasty beating and the driver in one insisted that we wait for police. I actually hadn’t seen the accident, though a couple of the girls in the front car had, and they gave accounts to the police when they pulled up a few minutes later. Someone called the restaurant to explain our plight, but apparently the message had never been relayed.
    A fairly minor traffic accident. No one injured. But it would be worth following up on since it was an event that we’d all been involved in.
    Then there had been the wedding and reception. Both had seemed to go off without a hitch. For me, the reception was mostly a blur of eating, drinking, escaping the advances of boorish male guests, and flirting with the bartender-slash-actor I’d promised to call but never had. If something strange had happened that day, I hadn’t witnessed it.
    “What are you writing?”
    I glanced up, startled, to find Peyton standing in the doorway, holding two plates and silverware.
    “Just some notes about today. I’m trying to make sense of things, but I can’t.”
    “I made us some dinner. I thought it might be easier just to have it in here.”
    “Sure, that’s fine. But you shouldn’t have gone to the trouble. I know how awful you must feel.”
    “To be honest, the distraction did me good. Cooking always takes my mind off anything horrible that’s going on around me.”
    “Have you reached David yet?”
    “Yes, he’s home. He sends his apologies—he’s gone upstairs to his office to make some calls about all of this. I know this sounds perfectly dreadful, but we could be sued by Ashley’s parents.”
    Three bridesmaids dead and she was considering how to protect her hide. Well, that was Peyton. But then, more charitably, I admitted to myself that she was right to guard her flank. Many people
did
want a piece of what Peyton had.
    She set the plates and silverware on the red-lacquer chest. The meal was breaded chicken cutlets covered with a chopped-arugula-and-tomato salad. She pulled the bottle of Pouilly-Fuissé from the bucket on the coffee table, refreshed my glass, and poured herself one. Did this mean she wasn’t pregnant?
    “This is great,” I said after taking my first bite of chicken. “You made it yourself?”
    “Yes, it’s simple, really. Chicken Positano. The chicken’s breaded and sautéed and then topped with the salad. It’s better if you marinate the cutlets first in lime juice, but needless to say, I didn’t have time.”
    “It’s just what I needed. So I’ve heard the phone ringing off the hook. Any developments?”
    “Not from the police yet, no. But the press is now on to this. The first two deaths were under the radar. Maybe because Robin and Jamie lived in different states, no one connected them—to each other or to me. But they’ve put it all together now. The press are all fucking hyenas.”
    “Well, at least if there’s press interest, it puts pressure on the police to take it seriously,” I said. “Did anyone on your staff hear or see anything?”
    “Not from what I can tell. They put that cop in the room with us so we wouldn’t talk to each other, but I eavesdropped on as many of the interviews as I could, and no one offered up anything. Do you think Ashley was actually
pushed
?”
    “Three fatal accidents in six months. As of right now, we don’t have any reason to believe they were more than freakish accidents. And yet it does seem to totally defy