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butterfly and fill it in to make it look really pretty.”
    Cade found himself squinting as Layla, the redheaded hooker, examined the tattoo on her upper arm.  It looked more like a snake than a butterfly.
    “You sure he won’t charge me too much?”  Layla asked.
    Marci shook her head. “Just tell him I sent you and he’ll cut you a deal. We go back.”
    Cade just bet they did.
    “She’s a wealth of information,” Georgia said dryly. “Maybe she could start her own version of Cosmo in jail.”
    The captain laughed, but Cade felt his blood boil.  Marci Turner was making a sham out of jail.  For God’s sakes, she was practically soliciting clients as if she was opening her own spa. “Okay, where are we on the case?  Did the officers find out anything from the guests? Anyone see anything?”
    “Nothing concrete.” The captain consulted his notes.  “Three women said they thought the shooter was a white male about seventy. Of course, they were all blind as bats and had mimosas for breakfast.” He paused to check on Marci in case she offered more of her body parts for the viewing, but thankfully she’d pulled that tattered wedding gown back down and was busy showing the other girls the artwork her nail tech had done on her toes.
    “I messed that one up when that hateful detective shoved me in the police car,” Marci said.
    Sympathetic moans rumbled from the other women and Dot tssked. “Some of those cops are real pigs. They like to show off their power.”
    Dammit, he was not like that. And he had not shoved her.
    “I know. Just look at this.” Marci twisted her arm sideways, and his gut clenched. Good God. She did have a bruise on her arm.
    One that had his finger indentations all over it.
    “One geezer said he thought the shooter was a female wearing man’s clothing,” the captain continued, oblivious to Cade’s tumultuous thoughts. “Another woman said he looked like her dead uncle Bob.”
    “Good grief,” Georgia muttered. “What a cluster.”
    The captain rubbed his balding head. “Yeah, we’ve got seventy-five guests, half of whom probably had motive to shoot the man and his bride.”
    “We’ll question them all again,” Georgia said. “Find out if any of them knew what Pendergrass had pulled.”
    “Then there are the ones who weren’t invited to the wedding,” the captain muttered.
    Cade flexed his hands, guilt gnawing at him. He hadn’t meant to hurt the woman…
    “Muller?” Captain Rayner barked. “Are you even listening?”
    Cade knotted his hands into fists and vowed to be more careful when handling female suspects. “I heard. But the list is even longer. We have to consider the victims he conned while using his other aliases.”
    “You’re right,” Rayner said. “I’ll start working on that list.”
    “And I’ll start with the wedding guests,” Georgia said.
    Cade frowned. They had a virtual cesspool of suspects.
    He grabbed the file of evidence he needed to show Marci. “I guess that leaves me with the bride.”
    “Her sister stormed in wanting to post bail and get her out,” Rayner said.
    “We have twenty-four hours before we have to release her,” Cade said. “I’m going to use every one of them.”
    Determination renewed, he strode from the room. For all he knew, Marci knew exactly where Pendergrass was headed. She might even know who’d been shooting at him. If someone had discovered their con game, Pendergrass could have known his time was limited. Maybe that was why he’d planned this impromptu wedding. After all, he and Marci had only dated six weeks.
    Pendergrass probably intended to use his honeymoon as a cover to flee the country.
    He would do his job and unearth the truth from her.
    Maybe she was ready to talk.
    And if not, tonight he’d let her sleep in that cell and think about it.  One night on that cot, and she’d probably spill her guts all over the place.
    Then he could track down Pendergrass and lock his ass up. And if Marci was