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would step in,” Elizabeth offered. Paul’s brother Scott was a city planner in Baltimore.

But Paul shook his head. “I’d rather not. Scotty understood why I chose Tommy instead of him in the first place, but I don’t want to rub it in by substituting him at the last minute.”

“But anybody you ask is going to be a last-minute sub,” protested Elizabeth. “You can’t stand up there by yourself.”

“Well, you could,” I said, just thinking out loud. “Judge Overesch could mention Tommy in his remarks. You know, our good wishes are with him today. Or would that be too much of a downer?”

“No,” said the bridegroom.

“Yes,” said the bride.

I riffled diplomatically through my paperwork while they had a telepathic conversation. She frowned, he smiled ruefully, she sighed fondly, and the thing was done.

“No,” Paul repeated. “It wouldn’t be a downer, it would be exactly how I’m going to feel if Tommy’s not up and around by then. We better cancel the bachelor party, though, that is, if Tommy actually planned one.”

“He picked a date and drew up a guest list,” I told him, “but that was all. I’ll make the cancellation calls.”

“Thanks. Of course, when Tommy is up and around, I’m going to knock him flat for driving drunk. Did you see him leave the party, Carnegie?”

“No,” I said. Misleading, but accurate. The police were keeping mum about Tommy’s role as a murder witness, and so would I. “No, I didn’t see him leave.”

“I’m just sorry you had to see Mercedes,” he said. “It must have been awful. I don’t suppose you can give me a short statement—”

“No!” I said, more vehemently than I intended. I stood up and began to gather my checklists to cover the awkwardness. “I’m sorry, the police asked me not to discuss it, especially with the press, and that means you, doesn’t it? I’ll let you get back to work. Elizabeth, I’ll see you at the dress fitting—”

“Hang on, Carnegie,” she cut in. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

My mind went blank. We had all the contracts, the valet parking, the final head count… “What?”

“I need another bridesmaid.”

“Of course. I don’t know what I was thinking. Do you have someone in mind?”

“Yes,” she said decisively. “You.”

Chapter Eleven

MY FIRST THOUGHT SHOULD HAVE BEEN ETIQUETTE. INSTEAD it was breasts.

Sure, the etiquette was tricky. Would it really be proper for a professional wedding consultant to fill in as bridesmaid, a role traditionally taken by the bride’s sisters and girlfriends? Would it compromise my work as wedding-day coordinator if I were also a member of the wedding party?

But those thoughts came second. What came first was an image of myself in the bridesmaid’s gown, which was pink, plunging, and painted-on snug. The daring décolletage would have displayed Mercedes’ ample charms quite nicely, and Corinne and Angela were going to look like scrumptious confections. I, on the other hand, would look like a celery stalk draped in bias-cut rose-petal satin. When it comes to cleavage, I have very little to cleave.

“Well?” demanded Elizabeth.

“The thing is,” I stalled, hugging my notebook to the bosom in question. “The thing is, I’m going to be so busy that day. And besides, we don’t really know each other, not as friends. Are you going to want me in your wedding photos for years to come?”

“What I want is a third bridesmaid.” She stood as well, and picked up her knapsack and helmet. “Having a gap is going to remind everybody of what happened at the Aquarium. Come on, you’re going to be there anyway, and you won’t be all that busy during the ceremony itself. It’s the obvious solution.”

“But I’m sure you have friends who—”

“Let’s face it, Carnegie. Anybody else I ask is going to be freaked out by the idea of wearing a dead woman’s dress.”

“And you think I’m not?”

“It can’t be any worse than finding her body!”

Paul, who’d begun to look concussed, was saved by the bell: his phone rang. He snatched it up eagerly and turned away from us with an eloquent show of body language: I’m busy working, see? Leave me out of this female stuff. My bride and I obliged him, heading out to the lobby and into an elevator. It was empty, though I’m not sure the presence of strangers would have deterred Elizabeth. Bulldogs could have taken tenacity lessons from Elizabeth.

“Will you do it?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Bottom line,” she said. “How much?”

“You want to hire me as your bridesmaid?”

“Call it a bonus. I can cut