Another turn, and I saw C’ndee and Rabe, huddled together in a far corner of the dining room. Maybe they were cooking up something that would focus suspicion on Darryl for Ronnie’s murder. I was almost certain Tony didn’t kill the caterer. Which left the question: Who did?

The song ended. Sliding his hand to the small of my back, Carlos pressed me close. “A peso for your thoughts, Mace.”

“I was just thinking about Ronnie …”

Before I got the chance to finish, Mama took the microphone from the DJ at the foot of the stage. As she tap-tap-tapped, people covered their ears at the noise pain.

“Listen up, everybody. We’re going to serve the champagne now. But before we do, I just want to say how grateful I am that all of you could be here with us.” Her eyes found my sisters and me in the crowd. She blew us each a kiss. “All my favorite people in the world are here, and it’s only fitting that y’all will share Sal’s and my Special Day.”

She dabbed her eyes with a cornflower-colored handkerchief she carried as the bride’s “something blue.” Sniffling a little, she cleared her throat.

“Now, C’ndee’s going to start opening bottles and the servers will pour and pass.” She raised her voice, aiming it toward the bathrooms way back in the far reaches of the hall. “I surely hope by that time, my new husband will be here to join me on stage.”

A muffled bellow issued from behind the closed door of the Men’s: “Don’t worry! I’ll be there, Rosie.”

Amid laughter, the first pop of a champagne bottle sounded. The crowd cheered. And then pop, pop, pop. The servers quickly loaded glasses onto trays and began making a circuit of the room. They handed out sparkling wine, pink of course, until all the guests held a glass. “Don’t forget the bride and groom,” Mama said into the microphone.

With a flourish, C’ndee draped a white linen napkin across her arm and pulled out a final bottle. It was festooned with a showy bow of celadon tulle and white satin ribbons. She wiggled and worked at the plastic cork. Everyone watched. She hammed it up, raising the bottle, smiling.

“Best wishes to the married couple, from the best caterer in Himmarshee,” she shouted.

Then C’ndee gave a mighty pull, and finally: Pop!

Almost at the instant I registered that this bottle popped more loudly than the rest, C’ndee flinched and clutched at her side. She slumped over. The bottle clattered to the floor, its contents spilling out in a fizzy pink stream.

And slowly a red stain blossomed across the white linen napkin that still hung on C’ndee’s arm.

“Call an ambulance,” someone shouted. “C’ndee’s been shot!”

Women screamed. Teensy howled. Chairs overturned. Guests scrambled for the door or ducked for cover under tables. The DJ sailed off the stage, knocking the pastor’s lectern onto the dance floor. Gun drawn, Carlos guided me as we crouched behind it. His eyes scanned the room. So did mine.

I’d lost sight of Mama and my sisters. Several tables had been flipped onto their sides. I prayed they’d have the good sense to hide behind one of them.

“Everyone remain calm. I’m with the police.” Carlos’ voice was loud, carrying over the strains of “YMCA” on the sound system. Someone wisely yanked the plug on the Village People. “Stay down and stay safe. Nobody move.”

I heard some sobs. A few whimpers. A muffled bark.

And then I saw a flash of pink, the only upright body in the place, moving toward the kitchen door and the exit beyond. “Back of the room by the prime rib,” I whispered to Carlos. “Eleven o’clock.”

“Stop!” He spun toward the moving figure, his voice crackling with authority. “Police!”

Alice Hodges hesitated for a second. And then she reached behind a fake silk dogwood and hauled out the hiding bride. Gun held now against Mama’s head, Alice dragged her backward into the center of the room. Oddly, what I noticed was Mama’s four-foot train, trailing through pieces of prime rib and jus that had spilled onto the floor from the carving table. If Mama got out of this mess, she’d be mad about that. But at this moment, terrified was all she was. Her eyes were huge; her face as white as her gown. If, as Mama had said, the Lord was going to smile down on her wedding today, I prayed he’d get started soon.

Alice waved the gun around the room, getting everyone’s attention. “If anybody tries to stop me from leaving, I’ll kill Rosalee.”

None of us doubted she would.

Time seemed to have stopped. But in reality, only a few moments had passed since the gunshot sounded. I hoped someone had dialed 911 before Alice showed herself. I glanced toward C’ndee, who sat slumped against Rabe on the floor behind one of the tables. His arm was around her, holding her up. The red stain was growing on the napkin.

The hall was as hushed as a church. Whoever had Teensy must have muzzled him. All eyes focused on Mama, but surely not in the way she would have wanted. Suddenly, she squared her shoulders. Then she turned, ever so slowly, to look into the face of the woman who threatened to shoot her.

“You can’t do this, Alice.” I was proud of Mama. Her voice barely shook. “We’ve been neighbors. Friends. You’ve worshipped beside me. The Bible says one burdened with the guilt of murder will be a fugitive down to the grave. You know what the Lord wants you to do. Put down that gun.”

Alice shook her head. “It’s too late, Rosalee. Things have gotten out of hand.”

Carlos motioned for me to stay; then he started inching his way across the floor toward Alice. Of course, I followed right behind him, crawling on my belly, and hoping my giant skirt stayed hidden behind a row of overturned tables. Fleetingly, I realized slithering through spilled wine and food and who knows what else on the floor would ruin the Scarlett gown forever. I had no idea why, but I felt sad about that.

With a plea in her voice, Mama continued, “It’s never too late to do the right thing.”

“You’re wrong, Rosalee. At this point, I have nothing to lose. All I wanted to do was protect our livelihood. That fool husband of mine was finally starting to make a go of it, when she entered the scene.”

Face flushed with rage, Alice pointed the gun to where C’ndee had fallen.

“She made him happy, Ronnie said. That fool thought the Yankee bitch loved him.” Alice shook her head, incredulous. “That morning in the VFW’s kitchen, he told me he wasn’t too old to want happiness. He was going to leave me and share our business with her.” She shrugged. “I couldn’t let that happen. The knife was right there. It was like a sign.”

“So you killed Ronnie because you were jealous of C’ndee?”

Alice’s laugh was a harsh cackle. “Not in the way you think, Rosalee. I couldn’t have cared less about the fornicating. I was jealous about them going into business together. And, then, once the deed was done with Ronnie, once he was out of the way, I knew I didn’t want her as my business rival.” She glanced in C’ndee’s direction. “You heard her crowing just now, bragging about how good she is. I had to shoot her. You eliminate the competition, by whatever means necessary. That’s the most basic rule of commerce.”

I wondered if that’s the way they teach it at Harvard Business School.

“Well I’m sorry about all that, Alice. I truly am.”