Emma scrunched her face and shook her head. A moment later, her eyes widened. “Oh, that’s Chris’s shoe!” she said with a slight grimace. “Sorry. I really don’t know what’s wrong with me. There was one more guest tonight, a friend of mine named Chris. She’s an artist.”

Claire frowned. “Okay,” she said slowly. “And what time did she leave?”

Emma scrunched up her face. “It had to be around twelve thirty. It was before you left, right, Meggie?”

Claire looked over to see a petite woman with bright-pink hair sitting on the couch, her hands folded in her lap.

Meggie nodded. “Yeah, me and Patrick were the last ones here.”

Claire tried not to show her impatience. “Anyone else you’re missing? Anyone else here tonight?”

“Besides the catering crew, no.”

“There was a catering team?”

“Just two people,” she said. “From Daphne’s in Lincolnwood. I can give you their number if you’d like. But they left right after dinner ended, so I don’t think they’ll be of much help.” She paused and looked at the shoe, which was being placed in an evidence bag. “I can’t imagine how Chris could’ve left her shoe here.”

Meggie laughed, a rough, humorless sound that seemed odd for someone with bright-pink hair. “I can,” she said. “Did you see that woman? I don’t know if I’ve ever seen someone drink so much in my entire life. I’m surprised she managed to take her head home with her, let alone her shoes. Maybe that’ll teach you about hiring random strangers you meet on the street.”

“Random strangers?” Claire asked, looking back and forth between the two women. “On the street? What are you talking about?”

“She is not a random stranger,” Emma said with a sigh. “She’s an artist who’s hopefully going to be doing some work for us for the fashion show.”

“Who you literally met five days ago,” Meggie said.

Claire walked over to the couch and sat down next to Meggie. “I’ll need her information too. Did she interact with Mrs. Brighton very much tonight?”

“Not that I noticed,” Emma said. “Oh, and I don’t actually have her info.”

Claire and Meggie responded at the same time.

“What?”

“Why not?”

Emma shrugged. “I gave her my number at the park the other day, and she was supposed to text me so that I had hers, but she never did. And she already knew where I lived, so it wasn’t that big of a deal.”

Claire frowned. “Okay,” she said. “Before I leave tonight, I need you to tell me absolutely everything you can remember about this artist named Chris.”

Chapter 8

Paula

Four days before