Mug Shot by Caroline Fardig

you, Stan. You look handsome as well.” He looked fabulous in his designer tuxedo, which probably cost more than my car.
    He leaned in and kissed my cheek, whispering in my ear, “Do you think you can leave your post to have a drink with me?”
    Taking a step back, I said, “Oh, sorry. Not right now. I’ll catch up with you soon, though.”
    He kept smiling, but his eyes were a little cold. “I’ll be waiting,” he murmured.
    Stan wandered off, and I watched him out of the corner of my eye as I directed the other guests to their seats. He would approach a group, and you could see the people visibly stiffen and lean away from him. They’d speak to him for a moment, but then disperse one by one, leaving him alone. It happened several times, and I could tell by the look on his face that it was getting to him. Speculation about Abigail’s accident must have spread like wildfire. I was amazed by how quickly these socialites turned on one of their own, especially on a day when they should have been reaching out to console him. They seemed not to want to talk to him, for any reason, even to press him for firsthand information about Cecilia’s murder. Feeling a little guilty, I resolved not to do the same.
    Once everyone had arrived, Savannah, Carl, and I began shuttling all of the donation items backstage for the auction following dinner. When we had finished, Savannah walked onstage to the podium. “Welcome, everyone, and happy holidays. Thank you so much for supporting the Holiday 5K and our local Christmas Children charity. Before we begin, I want to take a moment to remember our beloved Cecilia Hollingsworth, who passed away last night. I hesitated to go on with the event without her, but a friend of ours convinced me to turn the ball into a celebration of her life.” She glanced over in my direction and smiled. “Cecilia was a true-blue philanthropist, and I want to dedicate this night to her. She worked tirelessly to put the 5K and the ball together for our community, and for that we should all be grateful. Please join me in a moment of silence.”
    The room hushed, and I felt tears spring to my eyes. Despite our horrible relationship, I had never wished Cecilia any actual harm. It was a tragedy that her young life had been cut so short. I hoped this time the police would do a better job of catching the killer.
    I was so lost in my thoughts that I didn’t notice when Savannah started speaking again. I felt Carl link his arm through mine and give me a pull. Before I knew what was happening, I was on a stage in front of four hundred people, all looking at me as Savannah finished saying, “…couldn’t have done it without the help of my husband, Carl, and my friend Juliet Langley.”
    I froze, my heart nearly stopping. I couldn’t get any air into my lungs, and I started seeing bright lights and black spots in front of my eyes. I had to get off the stage,
now.
Jerking my arm away from Carl, I stumbled back behind the curtains and barely made it to the nearest trash can. I retched, getting a couple of weird looks from some of the staff who were working the sound and lighting system. After I finished vomiting, I took in a couple gulps of air. At least I could breathe again, but I thought I might pass out anyway.
    Carl rushed over to me, eyes wide but calm. “Juliet! What happened?” He studied my face and checked my pulse, then gave me his handkerchief. He had quite a comforting bedside manner, which I very much appreciated.
    I wiped off my chin and said quietly, “I have extremely bad stage fright. Like paralyzing.”
    He nodded and turned to one of the staff members. “Could you get her some water, please?” As the girl scurried off, Carl found a chair and led me over to it. “Have a seat. If I can’t get you back to one hundred percent, wifey will have my head!”
    I laughed weakly, holding my throbbing head. This was exactly why I wasn’t a music performer anymore. One horrible night at a concert, I