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sporting makeup. Meadow pointed to a nearby photographer. “June Bug, the photographer was saying that he wanted to have a picture of the cake baker with the cake.”
    June Bug’s round eyes grew rounder with dismay.
    Meadow said stoutly, “Come on, June Bug. It’s easy. You stand there and smile. And then Harper and Daniel will have a lovely picture in their wedding book.”
    June Bug trotted off with an expression that evoked a prisoner heading to the gallows. Miss Sissy had already slunk off to stand innocently near the cake, apparently waiting for an opportunity to swipe another piece.
    Meadow leaned over toward Beatrice and said in her stage whisper, “What’s the scoop on Trevor? Have you been able to keep tabs on him?”
    Beatrice gave her an alarmed look. “Meadow, I didn’t think I was supposed to.” She frowned, thinking back over the past couple of hours. “I did see him in the church—he was wearing a suit and looked rather solemn, I thought. His wife was next to him, and she didn’t look very pleased. But I wasn’t sure if she wasunpleased with Trevor being sacked as best man or just upset with Trevor in general. Has he been misbehaving at the reception?”
    Meadow’s husband, Ramsay, walked up next to Beatrice. “
Who’s
been misbehaving at the reception?” he asked in a grim voice.
    â€œMaybe Trevor,” said Meadow. “At least, we don’t know he has, but we’re voting him Most Likely to Misbehave if someone does.”
    Ramsay relaxed a bit. Although the Dappled Hills police chief was clearly off duty, he never knew when he would have to quickly go on duty again in the small mountain town. He was a short, balding man with a quiet air of authority and a stomach that testified to Meadow’s good Southern cooking. Although he seemed to be enjoying the reception, and Beatrice had spotted him dancing with Meadow to the music of the local folk band that was playing, she knew if he had his way, he’d be at home in his favorite armchair, drinking a glass of Cabernet Sauvignon and reading
Walden
for the millionth time.
    â€œSo no immediate threat,” he murmured. “Just Meadow’s imagination running rampant again.”
    â€œMy imagination is doing no such thing!” said Mead-
ow indignantly. “We’ve got precedent! Trevor Garber is a real mess.”
    Ramsay squinted as he scoured the tables under the huge tent. “Oh yes, he’s a real mess, all right. Sitting quietly over there by himself at the table, watching everyone.”
    Beatrice glanced over. Trevor was indeed slumped rather sadly in his chair, watching people dance, eat,and drink. He had a Coke in front of him, which Beatrice assumed was rum and Coke, but this time Trevor didn’t appear intoxicated. Beatrice frowned as she glimpsed a shadowy figure peering around the side of the tent. The figure seemed to be trying to get Trevor’s attention. After a quick glance her way, however, he was gone. Beatrice frowned. Was it her imagination, or was that the man who’d been arguing with Trevor in the restaurant?
    Lyla Wales briskly walked away from her guest-book duties to get a plate of food. Beatrice noted that Trevor tried to catch Lyla’s eye, but she seemed determined not to look his way.
    Meadow sniffed. “He’s probably sitting quietly by himself because he’s alienated half the people here.”
    Ramsay said thoughtfully, “That I can believe. I had to pick him up on a drunk-and-disorderly lately, trying to start a fight in a bar.”
    Meadow gaped at him. “With whom?”
    â€œHalf the bar,” said Ramsay with a shrug. “He didn’t seem to realize he was slightly outnumbered. Perhaps I should have pulled him in for inciting a riot.”
    Beatrice said, “What’s set him off like this? I’m sure Daniel wouldn’t originally have chosen Trevor as his best