Chapter 2: We Are Going to Find Out
The glass didn't move. Nobody touched it.
It sat on the silver tray where the server had left it, condensation beading on the stem, the champagne still fizzing faintly under the chandelier light. The whole ballroom had gone quiet except for someone's nervous cough in the back and the soft hum of the air conditioning. I could feel Vivian's hand still hovering near my arm, and Nora standing three feet away with her arm extended, breathing hard.
I looked at the tray. Then at both of them.
"Mr. Mercer," the venue manager said behind me. He was a guy in his fifties in a charcoal suit, name tag reading CARL, and he had stepped forward like he wasn't sure if he was supposed to handle this or disappear.
I turned to him. My voice came out lower than I expected.
"Call 911. Right now. On speaker. Nobody touches that tray. Nobody clears a glass, nobody wipes a table, nobody leaves this room."
Carl blinked. "Sir, I —"
"On speaker," I said again. "Do it here where we can all hear it."
That stopped him. He pulled his phone from his inside pocket and hit the button. The dial tone rang out loud in the quiet room, then the dispatcher picked up. Carl put it on speaker and held it out a little, his hand shaking.
"911, what's your emergency?"
"This is Carl Reyes, venue manager at The Whitmore ballroom downtown," he said, his eyes on me. "We have a possible poisoning, a drink that was tampered with at a wedding reception. No one has ingested it. The drink is still intact."
"Is anyone ill or injured?" the dispatcher asked.
"No," I said, stepping closer so she could hear me. "My name is Daniel Mercer. I'm the groom. The drink was meant for me. It's a champagne flute. We need police here. No one is sick yet, but no one should touch it."
"Police and medical are being dispatched. Can you keep the drink secure and keep everyone in the room?"
"Yes," I said. "We're locking the doors. Don't let anyone drink anything else until they get here."
I nodded to Carl and he muted the phone slightly, but kept the line open. The dispatcher's typing clicked in the background.
Nora hadn't moved. Her eyes were fixed on the glass like if she looked away it might disappear.
"Nora," I said. "Tell me exactly what you saw. Slowly."
She swallowed. "I was by the champagne table after the toasts. Vivian was alone there. I saw her take something from her clutch, a pill bottle, and she crushed something between her fingers over your flute. Your flute, Daniel. The one with the little ribbon the caterer tied on it. She dusted it in and swirled it with her finger. I came straight over when the server picked it up."
My stomach turned. I looked at Vivian.
Vivian let out a sharp, disbelieving breath. Her tiara had slipped a fraction to the side. "That's insane. That's completely insane. Daniel, you cannot be listening to this."
"I'm listening to both of you," I said.
"She wasn't even invited," Vivian said, her voice rising and then catching as guests stared. "I told you I didn't want her here. You fired her two weeks ago, remember? You walked her out yourself. She was not on the guest list. She showed up in that dress and she has been watching us all night. This is obsession. She wants to break us up on our wedding night and you're letting her."
Nora flinched. "I was invited by your mother, Vivian. And you didn't fire me, Daniel did, because you told him to after I flagged your charges on the company card. Don't rewrite it."
"Stop," I said. It came out sharp enough that both of them went quiet. The dispatcher was still on the line.
Carl was hovering over the tray now. A server had started to reach for it out of habit and Carl put his hand out.
"Don't," I told him. "Cover it. Don't touch the liquid."
Carl looked around, grabbed a clean white linen napkin from the head table, and laid it gently over the flute like a tent, not touching the rim. The glass disappeared under the white cloth. It looked small and wrong to be that important.
"ETA is about eight minutes," the dispatcher said through the speaker. "Officers are en route. Keep the line open. Keep the item isolated and keep everyone separated if you can."
"Eight minutes," Carl repeated for the room. A murmur went through the guests.
I pointed to opposite sides of the head table without thinking about how it looked. "Nora, you stay by the windows. Vivian, stay by the cake table. I will stay here between you and the tray. No one talks to each other until police get here. Carl, lock both sets of doors from inside."
Vivian's eyes filled. "Daniel, I'm your wife. You are not putting me in a corner like I'm a suspect."
"You are not a suspect yet," I said. "You are a witness. Both of you are. And I need you separated so no one can say anyone coached anyone."
Nora had already stepped back toward the paneled windows, her arms crossed tight over her navy dress. Vivian didn't move until I held her gaze, then she took four slow steps to the other side of the table, her white lace gown rustling loud in the silence. The guests formed a loose, uneven circle, phones out but no one daring to film openly.
May you like
I stood in the middle with the covered glass behind me on its tray, the speakerphone crackling softly on the table, and the two women who had just torn my wedding night in half on either side of me. The chandelier light felt too warm.
We waited for the sirens.
