Chapter 4

Isobel lunged toward Delphi, but Peter caught her around the waist.

"Stay put. Don't say anything," he warned.

"We have to help her!" Isobel struggled against him. "You know she didn't do it - they were blanks!"

Peter's voice shook. "Just stay out of the way until things settle down and someone real is in charge."

With a ferocious burst of energy, Isobel wrenched free and dashed across the dance floor.

"Let her go," she cried, her voice breaking. "She didn't do it!"

One of the guards flanking Delphi thrust an arm out, barring Isobel's way. "Sit down, miss. The police are on their way."

Isobel clenched her fists, wild with frustration. "You idiots! You're standing here holding an actress with a prop gun, while whoever shot him is probably in Queens by now!"

The two guards glanced nervously at each other. One gave a sharp nod to the other, who let go of Delphi and started barking orders into his walkie-talkie as he ran toward the main exit.

"Secure the doors! Nobody leave!" he shouted, his orders barely audible over the guests' shrieks and cries.

Delphi's face was shining with sweat, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

"She's hyperventilating," Isobel said. "She needs to sit."

The remaining guard kicked a chair under Delphi and pushed her down roughly.

"Put your head between your knees," Isobel instructed.

But as she started to rub Delphi's shoulders, a flash of billowing black fabric caught her eye. Andrew was running through the small dining pavilion adjacent to the main room. Without thinking, Isobel abandoned Delphi and took off after him. She shoved her way through the buzzing knots of frightened guests and ducked into the pavilion and out a door to the right. She strained to catch a glimpse of Andrew ahead in the mirrors that lined the hall, but instead she saw the reflection of blue uniforms rounding the bend. She darted around a corner and made a sharp left down another mirrored hallway, which led to a smaller dining room decorated in pastels. A glass door was propped open at the far end. She ran out into the park and down a short path that led away from the building, but Andrew was nowhere to be seen through the thick foliage. She hurried back inside and was met by a voice echoing over the loudspeaker.

"Everyone stay where you are!"

Isobel ignored the command and inched along the wall, passing into a Tudor-style room, which was set up for another event but otherwise empty. A sliding door was ajar at the far end. She edged it open and found herself back in the pavilion adjacent to the Jewel Room. Three detectives stood in the middle of the dance floor, with uniformed officers stationed around the perimeter. Her tablemates had made room for a team of paramedics. They huddled around Judge Harrison, although Isobel was certain he was past help.

One of the detectives held up his hands for quiet. "My name is Detective Vitelli, and I need the complete cooperation of every single person in this room. I know this is distressing, but please quiet down. The next few hours are going to be difficult, but they are critically important if we're going to get to the bottom of this. For now, please stay in your seats."

Isobel moved toward the dance floor, but one of the policemen stepped forward. "Miss, please take your seat."

"I'm trying to," she said, pointing to Delphi's table.

She felt the eyes of the room on her as she crossed the floor, but nobody contradicted her. Isobel took an empty seat behind Delphi and leaned forward.

"You okay?" she whispered. Delphi shook her head. Isobel squeezed her shoulder. "Don't worry. I know you didn't shoot him."

Delphi turned, her face ashen. "What if I did?"

"How could you have?"

"What if there was a real bullet in there accidentally? What if somebody replaced Peter's prop gun with a real one?"

Isobel looked at the derringer, which lay on the table, a napkin folded around it. "But you weren't aiming at him. You were aiming at me."

A croak escaped from Delphi's throat. "Are you fucking kidding me? I wasn't aiming. I wasn't planning to actually shoot anyone!"

The paramedics wheeled the judge out on a gurney, his head and body covered with a sheet. Fresh spasms of horror erupted all around, and Delphi gave a low, anguished moan. If she had somehow killed the judge by accident, what would happen to her? Isobel tried to stem a rising sense of panic, but all she could do was stare helplessly at her friend.

Peter and the maître d' stood in the center of the room, engaged in intense conversation with Bethany and Detective Vitelli.

Bethany's voice rose above the others as she pointed an accusatory finger at Delphi. "That's obviously what happened!"

"Nothing is obvious," Detective Vitelli said, his voice topping Bethany's. Isobel leaned forward, listening as Vitelli addressed his officers. "I want a statement from every single person, down to every last waiter and busboy." He turned to Peter. "You. Collect your people."

Peter waved across the room, where Tony was quivering against the wall and Jemma was pacing in a tight circle. Isobel grabbed Peter's arm as he came toward her.

"Andrew's gone," she whispered.

He pulled away, a strange expression on his face. "What do you mean...gone?"

"He just took off. I chased him down the hall, but I think he ran out into the park."

Before Peter could respond, Detective Vitelli and two policemen loomed behind him. One picked up the derringer from the table with a gloved hand and sealed it in an evidence bag. The other addressed Peter.

"I'm Officer Gonzalez. If you'll all come with me, please."

Delphi rose on shaky legs, but Vitelli shook his head, a grim expression on his face.

"Not you. We need to have a private chat."